I am He Si.
My former name was He Si (Why Die).
When I was little, my elementary school teacher asked every child to go home and ask their parents about the origin of their name.
I went home and saw my mother sitting by the bed, her arms and face covered in red and purple bruises.
I hesitated but still asked.
Why is my name He Si (Why Die)?
Mom said it was because she wanted to ask me—why don’t I just die?
Then she hit me.
Same as usual—she used the heel of her high heels to strike my back over and over.
It hurt so much.
Blood seeped out, sticking to my clothes.
I was in so much pain.
When I took off my clothes to bathe at night, another layer of skin would peel off…
I held back my tears, gritting my teeth, waiting for Mom to tire herself out.
If I cried, she’d hit me harder.
Even though I was only seven, I already knew how to survive.
Mom finally got tired, and my back was numb from the pain.
I crawled out of the room, hoping she wouldn’t suddenly regain her strength and chase after me.
Once I made it out, I sighed in relief.
But then a pair of leather shoes appeared in front of me.
They were dirty, with a tear at the toe.
I knew—Dad was home.
Dad had been drinking. He drank every day.
The next second, just like countless days before, he smashed a liquor bottle against my back.
It hurt so much.
At least it was empty…
Dad, why is my name He Si (Why Die)?
I’m a good kid. I’m the most obedient.
I still remembered the teacher’s assignment—to ask my parents.
Dad crouched down, grabbed my hair, and yanked my head up.
His expression was terrifying, like he wanted to devour me.
He said:
Why don’t you just die?
You little bastard…
I cried.
I didn’t dare cry loudly because Dad would hit me if the neighbors heard.
I could only sob silently.
Truthfully, I rarely cried.
But when Dad cursed me like that, I couldn’t help it.
Because after he finished, he’d start kicking me.
Once I couldn’t stand, he’d go inside and beat Mom.
After beating her black and blue, he’d either sleep or go out to drink again.
When Mom was hurt, she’d look at me with even more hatred.
Everything was like an unbreakable cycle.
I lived like this, like a pitiful little bug.
Going to school was the happiest time for me.
Dad sent me because he said all the neighbors’ kids went, and it’d be weird if I didn’t.
I liked Dad. Even though he hit me, I got to go to school, read picture books, and listen to the teacher’s stories.
I also liked Mom. Even though she cursed me, when Dad wasn’t beating her, she’d hold me gently and whisper me to sleep.
I didn’t know why my parents were so unhappy.
But if hitting me made them feel better, then it was okay.
A family should be harmonious. I wanted them to be happy.
But then—
Dad killed Mom.
Dad said Mom was filthy, that I was a rapist’s child.
Mom said she was forced, that she didn’t know whose child I was, that she didn’t dare risk aborting his baby.
Dad said he didn’t want to see us, that he’d kill both of us.
Mom said he was insane, that he wasn’t like this before.
They argued louder and louder, and my head spun.
I saw Dad pick up a kitchen knife and slash Mom’s throat.
Her head rolled to the floor, her eyes staring at me.
I was so scared.
I ran.
Covering my head, I ran farther and farther.
I heard Dad calling after me, but I didn’t dare look back.
I heard neighbors screaming, police sirens wailing…
I was terrified.
I could only keep running.
I shouldn’t exist in this world, right?
Why don’t I just die, right?
I asked myself as I ran.
I don’t know how long I ran.
I was exhausted.
Dad didn’t catch me. No one was behind me.
I leaned against a tree in the park and fell asleep.
When I woke up, I was lying on a tattered bed.
The house was old, with gaps in the roof tiles and wind whistling through the broken window.
The bed creaked as I moved.
The room smelled sour and foul.
An old woman, much older than Mom, smiled at me with wrinkled eyes.
She was kind to me.
Kinder than anyone I’d ever met.
I lived with her for five years.
She gave me a new name—He Si (Why Live).
She never hit me.
She always smiled at me.
She’d pat my head with her rough hands.
The plain rice porridge she made was warm.
She’d mend my torn clothes and shoes.
She’d take me out to collect scrap.
I loved collecting recyclables the most.
Especially near schools.
We’d always find cheap books, and she’d let me read them before selling them.
I was so happy.
Until—
One night, I overheard her on the phone.
She asked, “Can a twelve-year-old’s heart be transplanted?”
She asked, “Can a twelve-year-old’s kidneys be sold for surgery money?”
I stood behind the door.
Shadows swallowed me.
I’d never felt so cold before.
So this was how terrifying the world was.
It wasn’t that I shouldn’t have been born—it was that this world shouldn’t exist!
It wasn’t that I should die—it was that everyone in this world should die!
Hahaha!
I did nothing wrong. The world was wrong.
I, He Si, at twelve years old, made a vow.
I would destroy this world with my own hands.
At twelve, my heart had already endured more than twelve years’ worth of suffering.
I ran away and ended up in an orphanage.
No one dared bully me there because I was the fiercest, the cruelest.
I could go to school.
I worked hard. I was smart.
I topped every exam.
After high school, I earned a full scholarship to the world’s top university, with a direct path to a Ph.D.
I went because it had the best labs.
At twenty-seven, I finally succeeded.
I created the most beautiful thing—
The zombie virus.
I was its first test subject.
And its master.
Zombies—what a perfect existence.
No emotions, no pain, no conflicts.
Just endless running, chasing, or permanent death.
I loved my research. I never forgot my vow.
After six months of preparation, I chose my birthday as Doomsday.
I was meant to be born.
I came to bring death to all of you.
Hahahaha.
In a crowded supermarket, I hid my smile.
I watched people come and go, oblivious.
They were hypocrites, monsters in human skin.
They didn’t know their doom was coming, lost in their fake happiness.
I wanted to laugh.
At their stupidity, their misery.
But then—
I saw her.
She was tiny, standing on tiptoe, pouting because she couldn’t reach something.
I couldn’t resist helping her.
Something about her felt different.
She seemed to know what was coming, calmly preparing for the apocalypse.
When it arrived, she remained unfazed, as if she’d expected it.
I couldn’t help but follow her.
She killed my zombies, but I wasn’t angry.
She thought the church could suppress them, not knowing I feared nothing.
I followed her inside, helped her deal with thugs, became her teammate.
And turned everyone else in the church into zombies.
She didn’t know.
Later, we traveled together.
I didn’t care where we went—I just wanted to follow her.
We met a group of arrogant superhumans.
Their mockery of her annoyed me.
So that night, I turned them all into zombies too.
She didn’t know.
I loved feeding her.
It felt familiar, though I couldn’t remember why.
Watching her cheeks puff up like a hamster’s as she took food from my hand, chewing slowly with closed eyes.
That satisfied joy was addictive, like poison.
Qiqi.
Her name was lovely.
But her friend despised her eating habits. I didn’t like that.
And Lu Jiang—the way he looked at her. I didn’t like that either.
I planned to deal with them, but her friend struck first.
I didn’t expect to feel so furious.
Seeing the pain in her eyes as ice pierced her foot, I nearly tore that woman apart on the spot.
But I held back—I didn’t want to scare her.
I turned that woman into a zombie. From then on, she’d suffer endlessly.
Lu Jiang became a zombie too. Now he couldn’t look at her like that.
I didn’t expect her to save me.
Why was she kind to me?
I didn’t want to think about it.
I just knew I was happy.
I wanted a world with only her and me.
Then she’d be mine alone.
I’d never owned anything before.
Now, she was all I wanted.
Vibrant, alive, human.
The only human I didn’t hate.
The only one I didn’t want to turn.
But then—
She died.
Killed by despicable humans.
I didn’t have enough power to destroy humanity so quickly.
Her death unlocked my full potential.
I killed them all.
Now, I only had ten years left to live.
I brought her back to our home.
The only place that ever felt warm and happy.
I gazed at her peaceful face, so sweet, like an angel.
Qiqi, should I turn you into a zombie too?
Then you could stay with me.
Would you be scared?
Don’t be.
I’ll protect you, always.
Qiqi, my Qiqi.
Open your eyes.
I’m so happy.
I see you again. So beautiful.
I’ll work hard to restore your consciousness.
Just the two of us in this world.
Doesn’t that sound perfect, Qiqi?
I’m so happy.
Qiqi.
Don’t even think about leaving me.
Or should I call you—
Zuizui?
**[4] Are You Angry Today?**
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