After Transmigrating, the Cute Little Zombie Is Spoiled by a Bigshot
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Cen Miao is a zombie who survived in a post-apocalyptic base under the care of his guardian, Caretaker Dad. When the base is destroyed and his guardian passes away, Cen Miao’s soul transfers into the body of a recently deceased human named Cen Miao. The original owner was an orphan adopted by the wealthy Cen family, later cast out after the family’s matriarch gave birth to her own son. Driven from his home with nothing but a backpack, the new Cen Miao is hungry, disoriented, and struggling to navigate a world where humans are no longer prey but potential providers of food and shelter. His path crosses with Qin Zelin, a cold, work-obsessed heir to a powerful business empire. Qin Zelin’s grandfather had promised to care for the original Cen Miao before dying, and Qin Zelin agrees to a contractual marriage to fulfill this obligation. He expects a distant, nominal arrangement that will end in divorce after one year. However, Cen Miao, unaware of human customs and social norms, interprets Qin Zelin’s provision of food and shelter as the actions of a new caretaker. He clings to Qin Zelin with the innocent, dog-like devotion of a zombie who has finally found a safe haven. The core conflict arises from the massive cultural and species gap between the two. Cen Miao does not understand concepts like romantic love, marital duties, or social etiquette. He mimics human behavior by watching online videos, leading to awkward and humorous misunderstandings, such as calling Qin Zelin "husband" and using phrases he does not comprehend. Qin Zelin, initially viewing Cen Miao as a naive child to be managed, finds himself increasingly distracted and protective. He notices Cen Miao’s genuine innocence and lack of malice, which contrasts sharply with the scheming members of the Cen family who had mistreated the original owner. Key turning points include Cen Miao moving into Qin Zelin’s luxurious villa, where he is pampered with food and comfort, and his decision to take a part-time job as a zombie NPC in an escape room to earn money for snacks. This job choice amuses Qin Zelin, who secretly ensures Cen Miao’s safety while trying to maintain the boundaries of their contract. Meanwhile, the original Cen Miao’s brother, Cen Ning, attempts to harass him at school, but Cen Miao’s blunt, unfiltered responses confuse and frustrate his bully. As the story progresses, Qin Zelin’s feelings shift from duty to genuine affection. He becomes jealous of Cen Miao’s interactions with others and insists on accompanying him to social events. The Qin family, particularly Qin Zelin’s eccentric grandfather, warmly accepts Cen Miao, further solidifying his place in Qin Zelin’s life. The narrative moves toward a resolution where the contractual marriage transforms into a real relationship, with Qin Zelin realizing he no longer wants a divorce and Cen Miao learning to understand and reciprocate human emotions, all while continuing to prioritize his love for meat and simple comforts.

Novel Items

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Document
A legal agreement arranged by Qin Zelin's grandfather and Old Master Cen. It stipulates a nominal marriage for one year with financial compensation upon divorce. Cen Miao does not need to fulfill marital duties and can adjust the compensation amount if unsatisfied.
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Black luxury car waiting at the helipad in Silver River One for transporting Guan Xuxu, Jiang Huai, and Chu Beihe to the Jiang family manor.
Vehicle
Cen Miao's personal transportation with cartoon stickers. He was reluctant to give it up but ultimately chose Qin Zelin's Maybach for convenience.
Container
Woven from vines, used for carrying potatoes and other items, given to Lu Xi as gift.
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Old slippers that Cen Miao wanted to keep because he found them cute. Qin Zelin promised to take him to buy new ones just as cute.
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An art easel belonging to Cen Miao that he tried to pack. Qin Zelin told him they would set up a studio at home the next day so he did not need to bring it.
Latest Release
DateGroupRelease
2026-08-11shanghai fantasy c15
2026-08-11shanghai fantasy c14
2026-08-11shanghai fantasy c13
2026-08-11shanghai fantasy c12
2026-08-11shanghai fantasy c11
2026-08-11shanghai fantasy c10
2026-08-11shanghai fantasy c9
2026-08-11shanghai fantasy c8
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2026-08-11shanghai fantasy c5
2026-08-11shanghai fantasy c4

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Let me just say: the stakes in this story are weirdly high even though nothing externally dangerous is happening yet. And I think that's because the author is playing with two different types of conflict simultaneously. On the surface, there's the contractual marriage setup—Qin Zelin wants out in a year, Cen Miao doesn't even understand what marriage means, and everyone involved (except Cen Miao) thinks they have this figured out. But the real conflict is internal, and it's building quietly. Qin Zelin keeps telling himself this is just a arrangement, just to satisfy his grandfather, just to get Old Master Cen's promise fulfilled and then move on. But every scene undercuts that. He's the one who offers the extra steak. He's the one who says "Eat as much as you want." He's the one carrying the luggage. He's telling himself he's in control while his actions say something completely different. And Cen Miao—his stakes are even higher, even though he doesn't know it. He's a zombie soul pretending to be human, in a body that isn't his, married to a stranger who thinks he's naive. If anyone finds out what he really is, everything falls apart. But beneath the survival anxiety, there's this deeper fear: what if Qin Zelin realizes he's not worth caring for? What if the contract ends and he's alone again? The moment he asks "Why did you go by yourself?" with those misty eyes—that's the stakes laid bare. It's not about the marriage certificate. It's about not being abandoned. The author hasn't triggered any external crisis yet, but the tension is already there, humming under every interaction. And that's what makes you keep reading. Not because you're worried about zombies or villains, but because you can see these two people hurtling toward something neither of them expects, and you're desperate to see what happens when the contract can no longer contain what they're feeling.
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There's something really profound happening beneath the comedy here, and I want to talk about it because the author keeps coming back to these two motifs—food and smell—and using them to explore what it means to be cared for. Cen Miao hasn't eaten real food since the base was destroyed and Caretaker Dad died. Every meal in these chapters is loaded with emotional weight. The steak he devours isn't just sustenance; it's the first genuine act of kindness he's received in what feels like forever. When Qin Zelin offers him the untouched piece, Cen Miao sees a good person—the same kind of person Caretaker Dad was. Food becomes the language through which care is expressed, and Cen Miao's desperate eating is really a desperate hunger for connection, not just calories. And the smell thing—let's not gloss over how weird and beautiful that is. Cen Miao is drawn to Qin Zelin's scent the way a survivor is drawn to warmth. In the apocalypse, smell meant danger (zombies) or safety (food, clean clothes, living people). Here, Qin Zelin smells like safety. Like a thousand times better than the smell of zombies. When he asks to smell Qin Zelin again and again, he's not being romantic in any conscious way—he's being a creature who associates that scent with survival. But the reader sees something else: this is intimacy. This is someone reaching out, clumsily, desperately, for connection. The slippers are another symbol I can't stop thinking about. Cen Miao refuses to leave them behind, and Qin Zelin says they're old and he'll buy new ones. But Cen Miao wants THESE ones because they're cute. They're his. They're the last thing connecting him to the life he had before everything fell apart. And Qin Zelin, in his own awkward way, says they're just as cute as whatever new pair he'll buy. He's not dismissing Cen Miao's attachment—he's validating it.
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"Don't need the slippers... They're old." That line hit me harder than I expected. The half-underground apartment scene is where the worldbuilding stops being exposition and starts being emotional. You've got Qin Zelin, this wealthy CEO who just got married for convenience, following Cen Miao into this tiny, simple space, and the contrast between their two worlds is laid out in every detail. The suitcase stuffed with clothes, the fuzzy slippers Cen Miao refuses to let go of, the easel he wants to bring along. These aren't just props—they're the entire biography of a person who lost everything after his grandfather died. And then there's the car scene, which is basically worldbuilding through sensory contrast. Cen Miao pressing his hands against the window, taking in a world with no zombies, no destroyed buildings, plenty of supplies. The author doesn't need to info-dump about the apocalypse because we feel it through Cen Miao's reactions. The fact that he's comparing the Maybach to his cartoon-sticker-covered electric scooter and still choosing the car (but grumbling that the scooter is cuter) is such a perfect character moment wrapped in worldbuilding. The marriage registration office scene is another standout. The staff's dramatic internal monologue about forced love tropes—"Chapter One Hundred Eighty: Why did you run again, naughty child? Naughty children must be locked up~"—is hilarious, but it also grounds the story in a very specific cultural context. This is a Chinese web novel universe where these tropes are instantly recognizable, and the author is playing with that expectation brilliantly. The whole scene feels like a rom-com set piece, but underneath it is this genuinely poignant story about two lonely people who don't fully understand what they're signing up for.
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I need to dedicate an entire note to Old Lin's WeChat conversations with the Old Master because they are absolutely phenomenal. [AAAOld Lin] Old Master! It's done! Young Master just brought him back! [AAAOld Lin] He's incredibly good-looking! Young Master must have fallen in love at first sight! [AAAOld Lin] [BlossomingWealth.jpg] This man is running an entire intelligence operation from the servant's phone and I love him for it. The bracketed usernames, the emoji descriptions in square brackets, the casual reporting like he's a spy—'Young Master seems a little shy and wants to sleep in separate rooms' while the reader knows he literally just made a plumbing excuse. The comedic timing of Old Lin suggesting the second-floor shower is 'broken' is perfect. And Qin Jianye's (the Old Master's) responses are equally brilliant: 'That brainless guy, shy? I think he's just trying to defy me!' This man has such a specific, hilarious relationship with his son. He's simultaneously proud ('this successor is doing so well') and deeply suspicious ('He refused before, and now suddenly registers and sleeps separately. He's trying to anger me.') The generational comedy gold. The actual dialogue between Qin Zelin and Cen Miao is also distinctive. Qin Zelin speaks in short, clipped sentences—'Not expensive,' 'Let's go,' 'Finish it.' He's a man of few words who expresses care through actions (buying all the jerky, ordering extra cheese). Cen Miao's dialogue is softer, more questioning, with these adorable moments of confusion: 'Is it expensive? If it's expensive, I won't buy it.' and 'Humans are stingy!' (╯-_-)╯~╩╩ The narrative voice itself is this perfect blend of third-person limited (mostly following Cen Miao's perspective) with occasional dips into Qin Zelin's internal experience. The author's voice has this wry, affectionate tone that lets you laugh AT the characters while also rooting for them.
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The pacing in this section is absolutely masterful. Let me walk through why. Chapter 4 starts with the most mundane activity—going to a supermarket. Dog slippers, beef jerky, daily necessities. It's cozy, domestic, almost boring. And that's the point. The author is establishing normalcy, intimacy, the quiet moments of two people who just got married learning to exist in the same space. Cen Miao following Qin Zelin 'like a little tail'—this is where the relationship starts feeling real, not contractual. Then Chapter 5 pivots HARD. We go from cheese potatoes and vegetable-eating discipline to a full-blown bathroom encounter that leaves Qin Zelin taking cold showers, followed by a phone call with Cheng Cheng that escalates into a POLICE RAID on a millionaire's villa at night. The whiplash is intentional and brilliant. One moment it's domestic fluff, the next it's 'the police are at your door and your husband's the suspect in your best friend's mind.' The chapter structure itself is clever. Each chapter ends on a note that propels you forward: Chapter 4 ends with Cen Miao asleep on the sofa (warm, cozy). Chapter 5 ends with the police arriving (chaos). Chapter 6 ends with Cen Miao loosening his collar and Qin Zelin losing his mind (tension). The author never lets you settle into one emotional register for too long. The Old Lin WeChat group chats are also a pacing device—they provide comedic relief between scenes while simultaneously advancing the plot (the Old Master's involvement, the bodyguard's reactions). It's like having commentary tracks that also move the story forward. And that final line of Chapter 6—'Cen Miao's delicate brows furrowed'—is a perfect cliffhanger that makes you immediately want to read the next chapter.
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Let me just say—the pacing in this novel is absolutely perfect. Every chapter ends on a beat that makes you immediately want to read the next one. Take the scene where Cen Miao is trying to sneak more strawberry jam and gets caught by Qin Zelin. The tension builds, he tries to bribe the maid, the maid betrays him, and then he just... gives in and eats the vegetables. But instead of ending there, the author has him immediately pivot to taking selfies of himself. The shift from food comedy to romantic tension to self-obsessed humor happens so smoothly you don't even notice the tonal changes. And the phone call with Cheng Cheng? That's where the pacing really shines. We get exposition about the marriage, the part-time job, the escape room NPC thing—all woven into this hilarious conversation where Cheng Cheng is slowly realizing his friend might be the bottom in this marriage. The chapter structure alternates between domestic comedy scenes and these quiet moments where Qin Zelin is alone in his study, distracted, watching Cen Miao from afar. Those quieter beats are essential—they give the comedy room to breathe and make the romantic tension feel earned rather than rushed. The escape room job setup at the end? Perfect cliffhanger. I need to know what happens when Cen Miao goes to work as a zombie NPC. The author knows exactly when to pace things fast and when to slow down. Masterful.
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