Ch 22: Opening a Survival School Before the Zombie Outbreak

Fangzhou’s student forum also had a group chat function in private messages, making it convenient for students who did not want to reveal their identities to continue communicating anonymously.

Su Huaijin pulled the classmate who had written the public account article into a group chat. As soon as she joined, she changed her ID to: LittleFreckles.

— Yes, she really liked her freckles. She thought they were cute.

Then the two of them began the headache-inducing task of preliminary review.

After an entire night of hard work, they shortlisted several suitable candidates and sent the list to Fu Qing.

Fu Qing opened the list Su Huaijin had sent and ultimately selected two more members.

One was skilled at video editing and could turn educational content into short videos for platforms like Douyin, Kuaishou, and Xiaohongshu, expanding the reach. It would also give parents who had read the text version another channel to “verify” the information, making them more likely to believe it.

The other was a girl originally preparing for an arts entrance exam in broadcasting and hosting. She had an excellent voice. She said, “If necessary, I can wear a suit, put on heavy makeup, and a wig. Then you can Photoshop a news background behind me. Wouldn’t that instantly boost credibility?”

After saying that, she even delivered a perfectly articulated “Good evening, dear viewers” on the spot.

Su Huaijin gave her an enthusiastic thumbs-up. “This is great! You’re in!”

Fu Qing increasingly felt like she was straying down the path of fabrication and crime…

She reassured herself: this was absolutely not inciting minors to commit wrongdoing, nor was it an offline base for online rumor-mongers. This was spreading the truth.

After passing the principal’s review, Fangzhou’s Rumor Team (crossed out), Propaganda Team was officially established.

Unfortunately, the criterion Fu Qing had added—“priority given to those with platform operation experience or existing online influence”—still had not yielded anyone qualified.

Fu Qing was not disappointed. The current lineup was already well-balanced. Each member had their own strengths. Combined with ordinary students forwarding and sharing content, it would be enough to extend their influence to parents and even older relatives in family group chats.

Drops of water made a river. Grains of sand formed a tower.

Even if, in the end, the system did not acknowledge these efforts and did not grant teaching points, helping more people indirectly prepare for the apocalypse would still count as a good deed.

Fu Qing took a broad view.

…

Once the four-person team was formed, they worked at full speed and quickly produced article after article.

LittleFreckles’ public account gained several thousand followers in just a few days. Nearly every Fangzhou student contributed one follow. The rest of the followers largely came from local students secretly tapping “follow” on their parents’ and grandparents’ phones during weekend visits.

Out-of-town students also casually shared posts in daily life, allowing the new account, “@TeacherFangHasSomethingToSay,” to enter the view of many elders.

When parents asked who “Teacher Fang” was, students often rolled their eyes and replied vaguely, “Just a very authoritative blogger. Anyway, just follow.”

More than half the content shared by @TeacherFangHasSomethingToSay came from discussions summarized on the forum. The outreach team often simply transformed them into polished articles and videos.

Who was Teacher Fang? Every one of them.

After seeing that parents responded well to the content, the group confirmed the method worked and became even more motivated.

In the past few days, Fangzhou displayed a curious new scene.

Students with avatars of trendy celebrities, anime characters, or abstract memes were solemnly sharing posts on their social feeds like:

“Starting Exercise at Sixty Isn’t Too Late! Ninety-Nine-Year-Old Becomes Oldest Marathon Registrant, Says Long-Distance Running Prolongs Life.”

“Stop Believing Health Checkup Rumors! National Medical Authority X Furious at Online Misinformation!”

“Economic Turbulence? Country A Strikes Again? Prices of These Goods Will Rise. Recommend Stockpiling Early!”

“Eighty-Year-Old Man Insists on Fitness. Strangers Think He’s a Thirty-Year-Old Programmer. Here’s His Secret.”

“Most Effective Self-Defense Training. Practice Ten Minutes a Day. In Old Age, You Can Take on Eight Robbers Alone!”

…

Weekend. Dorm 1111.

Song Rushuang was packing early. It was Mid-Autumn Festival, and she was going home for dinner.

Of the three roommates, only she was local. The other two could not go home for the holiday. Zhang Han propped her feet on the desk, looked up briefly from her phone, and said enviously, “So nice. I miss home too.”

Shen Qingqing, wearing glasses and reading, glanced up without speaking and tapped the end of her pen against Zhang Han’s foot.

After a few weeks together, their bond had grown, and their true personalities had begun to show. Song Rushuang had realized that although Shen Qingqing seemed shy, she was actually strong-willed and decisive.

Zhang Han obediently lowered her feet, though her fingers continued tapping rapidly on the screen.

Watching their interaction, Song Rushuang smiled. “I’ll bring you mooncakes when I get back.”

Then she looked at Zhang Han. “What are you doing? I’ve never seen you this focused on studying.”

“Here.” Zhang Han generously showed her the screen.

It was her social media homepage, displaying a post she had just shared.

“A good article worth sharing! Forward to someone you care about!”

Below was a shared article link.

Song Rushuang: “…”

Zhang Han explained, “The second girl from next door and Qingqing have already liked and commented. Can you help boost my engagement too? I need to screenshot it for my dad. He thinks articles with more likes seem more credible.”

Was there really a connection?

Song Rushuang scrolled down. Sure enough, there were two comments.

1112 Second Girl: “[Thumbs up][Thumbs up][Thumbs up]”

Qingqing (1111 Queen): “[Rose][Hug][Sunshine]”

Song Rushuang looked at Shen Qingqing, who appeared calm and continued reading, and felt complicated.

She had the strange feeling that before zombies ever infected them, these flower-like college girls had already been assimilated by some mysterious middle-aged virus.

Zhang Han, still holding her phone, mused aloud, “Do you think I should change my username to ‘Supreme Goodness Like Water’? Feels like that would sound more convincing.”

Song Rushuang glanced down again and noticed that beneath the serene, middle-aged-style comments, one of Zhang Han’s former classmates had replied:

“?? Why do you sound like my second grandpa now?”

“Stop. I’m scared…”

Song Rushuang withdrew her gaze thoughtfully.

She felt that on the ride home later, she ought to draft another post. Besides targeting middle-aged and elderly audiences, they should probably design a different kind of scheme—no, outreach method—for younger friends too.

Somehow, the nature of their school seemed to be getting stranger and stranger…

When Song Rushuang left campus, her originally light steps grew noticeably heavier.

She remembered the message her mom had sent earlier. Tonight’s dinner was with her cousin Song Xiang’s family.

Somehow, she had a feeling this meal would not be peaceful.

Thinking about her parents’ recent behavior, Song Rushuang sighed, rubbed her cheeks, and boarded the bus into the city.

…

An hour later, she was sitting in a private room at a high-end restaurant, stiffly accepting enthusiastic servings of food from her parents.

“If it weren’t for Xiaoshuang this time, your mom and I might’ve been in real danger. I told you that name was well chosen. She was bound to make something of herself,” Song Jianguo said cheerfully as he poured yogurt for his daughter.

At the other end of the round table sat Song Xiang’s family of three. Song Rushuang’s father, Song Jianguo, and Song Xiang’s father, Song Aiguo, were biological brothers.

Sometimes Song Rushuang felt her dad must have inherited the family naming style. That was how she ended up with her name.

Rushuang—“like two.” A heartfelt wish that his precious daughter would be “worth two people.”

How simple and sincere.

Her mother, Xu Mingyu, chimed in seamlessly, “University really changes a person. She’s grown up. So alert.”

Listening to her parents’ awkward praise, Song Rushuang nearly buried her face in her plate.

Ever since her parents returned from Country R, they had repeated this speech to every relative and friend, always ending with, “All thanks to our Xiaoshuang…”

It was just a reminder. Did it really warrant all this? So embarrassing.

That said, she did feel a little lingering fear.

If not for the principal’s reminder those days, which kept her thinking about doomsday scenarios, she would not have been so vigilant. Though so far, it seemed like maybe she had overreacted…

Xu Mingyu, exhausted from praising, took a few sips of water.

Song Xiang’s mother, Xu Feng, seized the opportunity. “Xiaoshuang, how’s your school? We didn’t get to look around last time. The facilities inside should be decent, right?”

Song Rushuang thought: what a loaded question.

Last time, Song Xiang had made quite a fuss about Fangzhou’s small gate. Three weeks had passed, and they still had not let it go.

Three weeks ago, Song Rushuang herself had been unsure. But she was not the same person anymore.

Was campus size really that important? Did they have realistic zombies? Full-campus holographic simulations? Academic buildings whose outer walls were climbable?

Did they? Did they? Did they?

She laughed inwardly but only nodded modestly. “It’s fine. The campus is newly built, so everything’s very new. A lot of facilities use the latest technology. The cafeteria cooking and serving, even the supermarket checkout, are fully automated. Dorms are four-person rooms, each with a bathroom. We have air conditioning and can cook and boil water ourselves.”

She modestly… and at length… showed off.

Halfway through, Song Rushuang suddenly realized Fangzhou’s conditions were genuinely excellent.

Setting aside its special nature and educational goals, even if you compared just the tangible conditions with other schools, it would beat many of them.

The campus was small, but so was the population. There were rarely long lines. One wristband handled everything on campus. No need to download endless apps. The dorm conditions easily surpassed those of her friends’ universities.

And the cafeteria’s free fruit and soup were high quality. Robot cooking eliminated hygiene concerns. The ingredients were fresh and delicious…

The advantages went on and on.

In the past few weeks, Song Rushuang had never encountered anything frustrating while adapting to campus life. Only now did it hit her.

Fangzhou was actually incredibly presentable.

She had been so busy lately that she had not noticed her high school group chat constantly complaining about campus facilities, about struggling to adjust to dorm life, about conditions being worse than at home… She had not related to any of it.

Fangzhou had optimized everything else so students could focus entirely on improving themselves and preparing for the apocalypse.

Her feelings grew complicated.

But that was not what Song Xiang’s family wanted to hear.

Xu Feng looked visibly deflated and exchanged a glance with Song Aiguo. “It’s really that good?” she muttered.

When they had dropped Song Xiang off, they had followed him all the way to his dorm. It was a six-person room connected to another six-person room, twelve students sharing one bathroom. The facilities were old. There were mysterious stains on the wall beside the bed. Xu Feng had scrubbed at them in disgust.

Song Aiguo had hauled luggage up and down several times, sweating heavily. The dorm fan creaked loudly but barely produced any breeze.

Hearing that Song Rushuang’s dorm had air conditioning did not improve his mood.

Since childhood, Song Xiang had been overshadowed by his cousin in everything. This was finally one thing he could boast about. He was not giving it up easily.

He scrutinized her and changed the subject. “By the way, Cousin, how’s your military training? I’m exhausted.”

After a pause, he added casually, “But ours is pretty cool. The school brought in laser shooting equipment that simulates live ammunition. It feels just like a real gun!”

He even showed photos from his practice session.

The gun in his hands did look quite realistic.

Song Aiguo perked up proudly. “Xiaoxiang’s military training even got featured in Huazhou Daily.”

“Oh? That’s impressive. Let me see,” Song Jianguo said, taking the phone with interest.

Laser shooting simulations were indeed worth bragging about.

But Song Rushuang was no longer the same Rushuang.

Her perspective had changed.

Comparing in her mind, she nearly laughed.

Fangzhou did not have military training, but they had that opening-day simulation drill.

What was hardcore? What was realism? Creating a full-campus holographic simulation that let you experience a real apocalypse and zombie outbreak without realizing it—that was next level.

Okay, she had cursed a lot at the time, but…

Totally worth it.

Unfortunately, she could not talk about the drill. Even if she wanted to, she could not.

Reluctantly, she said, “That does sound impressive.”

Just as she had predicted, the reunion dinner was once again soured by subtle competition.

Song Rushuang quickly lost interest, poking at rice grains at the bottom of her bowl and even considering sneaking a glance at the forum on her wristband.

The projection shielded outsiders. They would not see.

As she thought this, she heard Song Xiang bragging that their school had given every student mooncakes for Mid-Autumn Festival.

“Oh, that’s nice,” Song Jianguo said sincerely, oblivious to the subtext. Then he turned to his daughter. “Xiaoshuang, did your school give anything?”

Song Rushuang was usually helpless about her dad’s lack of subtlety.

But this time, her eyes lit up.

Dad. Excellent question.

She casually adjusted her wrist and deliberately revealed the sleek, clearly expensive electronic watch. “The cafeteria probably added special dishes for the holiday, but I came home, so I missed it… Though our school benefits are decent. At the start of term, everyone got a watch. My roommate says it works even better than the latest model from that fruit brand.”

“Benefits are decent.”

“Got a watch.”

“Better than the fruit brand’s newest model.”

Song Xiang’s face instantly twisted as if he had swallowed a fly.

Song Rushuang let out a small laugh and suddenly found that these family dinners were not so bad after all.

₊˚.🎧📓✩

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