She was in her forties, with the kind of
mature beauty that made people look twice even when the world had turned
ugly. Her hair was usually tied back while she worked, and there was a
calm elegance in the way she moved that had not disappeared despite the
lack of proper salons, the shortage of fresh clothing, and the fact that
she had to carry a weapon whenever she left the apartment. The
apocalypse had changed her circumstances, but it had not made her
helpless. She had spent years managing work, people, and practical
problems, and much of that experience still mattered.
At first, though, Mother Yan had been frustrated by how little of her
old life seemed useful. She could organize supplies and plan meals, but
she could not repair a damaged door as quickly as Bai Li, and she could
not fight a zombie with the same ease as Yan Cijin. She had worried that
she would become another person everyone had to protect. Her daughter
