Song Bin's teeth chattered as he watched Jing Shu unzip the sealed body bag. The old man, with experienced foresight, covered his nose.
A moment later, an overwhelming stench spread. Song Bin almost vomited his dinner from the night before, while Jing Shu merely wrinkled her brow and held her breath, her expression unchanged.
The old man chuckled. "See? It's still fresh. Hasn't started to rot yet, and the insects inside haven't burst out. Otherwise... TSK TSK, that sight would really make your skin crawl."
Upon hearing this, Song Bin's legs weakened, and he almost fell to the ground. In the four years of the apocalypse, he had always worked in an office; he had never witnessed such a scene.
The deceased's face was twisted, a ghastly pale tinged with blue. Their hair stood on end, and their body was rigid. Only the stomach was somewhat swollen. At a glance, it seemed almost like a normal death.
