Author Archives: sandy

Ch 178: The Cannon Fodder Won’t Play Along Anymore [QT]

Half a month later, Mu Xing left the Seeking Immortality crew.

He hadn’t had many scenes to begin with—if filmed seriously, he could have finished in two days.

But after Director Zhou saw him in costume, his expectations doubled from five to ten. He even had the scriptwriter change the script on the spot.

Additional scenes were written for Zhuo Qingbi. Originally, these had only been fleeting mentions in the male lead’s memories, but now Mu Xing was asked to act them out.

During filming, Director Zhou realized Mu Xing actually knew so much: playing instruments like guqin and jade flute was one thing, but he could even perform sword-flower routines!

His fight scenes were sharp and elegant—the action choreographer had nothing left to do.

With Mu Xing setting the bar so high, Director Zhou became more and more dissatisfied with the other leads, raising his standards by several notches.

The cameraman followed Mu Xing happily every day, shooting loads of behind-the-scenes clips.

When Mu Xing left, Director Zhou even handed him a business card, speaking with reluctance, saying he hoped they could work together again someday.

Mu Xing accepted it with thanks.

But deep down, he knew clearly: the reason this role suited him wasn’t because of acting skill, but simply because he had seen real cultivators before, and was only recreating what he’d witnessed.

He feared he would have to let down Director Zhou’s goodwill.

Back home, Mu Xing terminated his contract with the company, just as planned.

When Old Master Mu heard he didn’t want to be a celebrity anymore, he was so delighted he immediately gave him two villas.

Mu Xing: “…”

Alright, I get it. You’re all making fun of me.

When Mu Lin learned he’d quit the entertainment circle, she again asked if he wanted to work in the family company. Mu Xing quickly refused.

He stayed home with Mu Jiangtao for over half a year, and sought out a pottery master in Nan Province.

With enough time and money, he preferred to spend his energy exploring new and interesting fields rather than working hard to earn more wealth.

All those skills he had—guqin, flute, painting—were things he had mastered over long stretches of past lives.

No matter how much money one earned, it couldn’t be taken through reincarnation. But learning such crafts gave him joy, and even in another world, those skills would remain.

The Mu family’s young master pulled his suitcase quietly to an old courtyard more than a hundred years old, visited the master, and became an ordinary apprentice.

Half a year later, he sent his first finished product back home.

A chubby little rabbit—very rough.

He even sent a video to Mu Jiangtao: “Well? Am I amazing? Master Zhang praised me for having talent.”

Mu Jiangtao snorted in disdain: “Please. No one would want this even for free.”

Yet when Mu Lin came home and saw it sitting on the multi-treasure cabinet in her father’s study, she laughed: “Dad, where did you pick up this thing off a rug? It looks out of place here.”

That cabinet was filled with antiques and precious artifacts. Among them, the fat rabbit was utterly out of place.

Mu Jiangtao glanced at his eldest daughter, gave a soft hum, and with a hint of pride in his voice said: “Your brother made it himself. I dislike it, but he insisted it was his first piece and made me keep it safe.”

Mu Lin: “…”

After a moment’s silence, she said: “Actually, the rabbit… isn’t that bad.”

That very night, Mu Xing received a call from his sister.

Mu Lin said her desk looked a bit empty and asked if there was something she could place on it to make it less plain.

At first, Mu Xing didn’t get her meaning, and excitedly suggested she keep fresh flowers on her desk—it would brighten her mood every day.

Until Mu Lin “casually” mentioned: “Dad said you’ve been able to make some simple little things lately?”

Mu Xing finally understood what she meant.

If you want something, just say so—why go in circles?

He held back a laugh and said: “Yes, though I’m still not skilled. Out of my first batch, only that rabbit looked passable. Now I’m making a second batch. If something good turns out, I’ll send one to you.”

Mu Lin answered with a reserved “mm” and added: “Nothing too fancy.”

“Got it.”

A month later, a package arrived at the front desk of Mu Corporation headquarters.

Seeing the recipient’s name, the staff immediately called the CEO’s office.

Five minutes later, Mu Lin opened the box and stared at a white, round-bellied maneki-neko.

It wore a red cord with a little bell around its neck, smiled with crescent eyes, and raised a paw as if waving to her.

Just then, Mu Xing called.

“Sis, did you get what I sent you?”

Mu Lin looked at the chubby cat and asked slowly: “That cat?”

“Mm!” Mu Xing asked her, “Isn’t it cute? Compared to Dad’s rabbit, isn’t it a big improvement? The surface is smooth, the color even. Master said I could set up a street stall and make a living now.”

Mu Lin was silent for a moment, then said: “…Cute.”

She struggled for over half an hour before finally placing the cat-sized ceramic on her desk.

When her assistant came in with documents, the little thing was the first thing that caught her eye.

She looked at Mu Lin in surprise. The CEO was always serious at work, and her office style was simple and efficient. But this cat—

It was very abrupt.

Mu Lin noticed her assistant standing there for a long time, eyes fixed on the cat on the desk.

The corners of her lips curved into a smile, and she said softly: “My brother gave it to me.”

Then she emphasized: “He made it himself.”

Seeing the assistant still not reacting, she took the initiative to ask: “Isn’t it cute?”

The assistant tilted her head and met Mu Lin’s eyes directly.

The CEO was staring at her straight on, clearly waiting for an answer.

She immediately said: “Cute! Super cute! Young Master Mu is truly multi-talented! President, you and your brother have such a good relationship!”

“Mm.” Mu Lin made a sound, then added with disdain: “Already such a grown man, yet still like a child, liking these flashy little things.”

The assistant shivered, quickly placed the documents on the desk, and left.

Outside the office, she recalled the smile on the CEO’s face and thought to herself—who would have guessed, the CEO is actually a brother-con.

Seeking Immortality finally aired.

This lavishly produced xianxia drama, with a powerful cast, was one of the most anticipated TV series of the year.

With its tight plot, intense conflicts, top trending stars, and well-done promotion, its popularity kept climbing from the very start. Even if it wasn’t a mega-hit, its ratings were already secured.

The popularity of the main actors rose sharply, and their fan counts soared.

Then came episode thirteen, when the male lead mistakenly entered the forbidden ground, and Mu Xing’s little junior uncle appeared for the first time.

In the silent realm, he was the guardian of Qingyue Sect’s most mysterious and dangerous Sword Tomb.

Carrying a long zither on his back, as radiant as the bright moon, his gaze calm and detached as he looked at the male lead: “Disciple of Qingyue Sect? Do you know this is the sect’s forbidden ground? Intruders must be punished.”

The male lead, stunned by his bearing, was momentarily speechless. The next instant, a fierce gust struck him, and he fell unconscious.

One line of dialogue, less than half a minute of screen time.

The audience went wild.

#LittleUncle, an exiled immortal from the heavens#

❣╰(⸝⸝⸝꒳⸝⸝⸝)╯❣

Ch 177: The Cannon Fodder Won’t Play Along Anymore [QT]

When Mu Xing entered the crew of Seeking Immortality, he quickly discovered that everyone there treated him with unusual friendliness.

His assistant had been reassigned by the company—young, capable, soft-spoken, and able to arrange everything just right.

Even though Mu Xing had already told the company through Zhong Ling that he planned to terminate his contract after finishing this drama, the company still sent their most versatile assistant to take care of him without complaint.

This drama was also the original body’s obsession. It was in this production that, because he cared too much about Jiang Shengyu and wanted to prove himself, he overexerted and failed.

The junior disciple he played had been completely overshadowed by the protagonist played by Jiang Shengyu.

Mu Xing decided that finishing this drama properly and clearing away the original body’s obsession would be repaying the karmic debt of using his body.

Whenever he was reminded that he carried some responsibility, he was not as carefree as usual.

Even though he didn’t like repeatedly performing as someone else in front of the camera, Mu Xing still decided to act seriously and finish this xianxia drama.

As soon as he joined the crew, he earnestly sought out Director Zhou Huai and told him that he had never acted before, so if he did poorly, he hoped the director wouldn’t hesitate to scold him strictly.

Zhou Huai was surprised by the little master standing before him.

Who in the industry didn’t know about the recent explosive scandal?

He knew he had a “big Buddha” in his crew, and rather than being excited to cling to him, he felt troubled: such a person would be hard to manage. If the performance was poor, it would be hard to criticize.

These past days, he had been consoling himself that fortunately, Mu Xing was only playing the protagonist’s junior disciple, a fourth- or fifth-ranked supporting male. Even if his performance was bad, it wouldn’t ruin the whole drama.

But unexpectedly, Mu Xing approached him first, with such humility.

Seeing the seriousness on his face, Zhou Huai knew he genuinely wanted to act well.

He felt relieved, and smiled: “Then be prepared. If you perform poorly, I will scold you.”

Mu Xing frowned bitterly: “Okay, I’ll try to get scolded less.”

Zhou Huai found this young man interesting, with a good temper—completely different from what he had imagined.

When Jiang Shengyu entered the set, the first thing he saw was Mu Xing chatting with the director, Zhou Huai, who actually had a smile on his face.

He sneered inwardly at such sycophancy, but outwardly he smiled and went over to greet them: “Director Zhou, Mu Xing.”

Zhou Huai glanced at him, his smile unchanged, and nodded.

He was fairly satisfied with Jiang Shengyu as the lead actor.

But Mu Xing’s humble expression from a moment ago instantly turned cold.

Jiang Shengyu pretended not to notice Mu Xing’s indifference and said apologetically: “I still owe you an apology, Mu Xing.”

Mu Xing said with great disdain: “No need. To me, this matter is already in the past.”

Jiang Shengyu looked at him expectantly: “So you’ve forgiven me? I do have some acting experience—if you have any questions, you can always come ask me.”

Mu Xing stepped back: “No. Just because it’s in the past doesn’t mean it never happened. You and Qin Song—I don’t want to deal with either of you again.”

When Jiang Shengyu tried to speak further, Mu Xing glared fiercely: “The only reason I’m not bothering with you is because I have a good temper. That doesn’t mean what you did is forgivable.”

He threatened: “If you keep getting in my way, watch out. I really might blacklist you like those domineering CEOs on TV!”

Jiang Shengyu: “…”

He paused, unable to tell if Mu Xing was joking or serious, and didn’t dare go closer.

Zhou Huai, seeing that the key cast members had arrived, called them to change clothes, get styled, and shoot the costume photos.

Mu Xing’s outfit was a pale-blue disciple robe with a white base—the uniform of Qingyue Sect, the sect the male lead belonged to in Seeking Immortality.

Jiang Shengyu also had this outfit, but his photoshoot involved not just this costume, but two others as well.

Costumes weren’t new to Mu Xing. In fact, because he had once practiced cultivation, when he put on this sect disciple outfit, his posture and demeanor instinctively carried an understanding of what it meant to be a cultivator.

After the stylist finished dressing him up and looked at Mu Xing standing there, she clutched her chest and gasped, face flushed, and quietly asked if she could take a photo with him.

Mu Xing agreed, took the picture, then stepped out—just as Jiang Shengyu came out of the opposite dressing room.

Jiang Shengyu was wearing the exact same disciple outfit.

At a glance, his pupils shrank.

He stared at Mu Xing for a long moment, before barely forcing out a smile: “Mu Xing, you look good in that.”

Mu Xing agreed wholeheartedly: “Thanks, I think so too.”

Jiang Shengyu said nothing more, turning toward the set with slightly hurried steps.

Mu Xing followed, the two arriving one after another at the photoshoot site.

Several other leads were also wearing disciple robes. But as they saw the pair approach, they couldn’t help but glance over, their expressions complicated.

Everyone knew something of the online scandal involving Qin Song, Jiang Shengyu, and Mu Xing.

Some said Qin Song had treated Mu Xing as a substitute for Jiang Shengyu, since the two looked somewhat alike.

In modern clothes, the resemblance wasn’t so obvious. But now in ancient costumes, wearing identical disciple robes, that faint similarity became far more noticeable.

They really did look a bit alike.

A slight resemblance wasn’t what Jiang Shengyu minded. What he minded was that, at the very first glance of Mu Xing just now, the first thought that flashed in his heart was—stunning.

He was the male lead.

But in costume, he was outshone by Mu Xing.

Not just in looks, but in aura and bearing.

His role, the male lead Xiao Chengyu, had plenty of scenes together with Mu Xing’s role, the junior disciple Yuan Zhen. When the time came, how would the audience see him?

Zhou Huai had clearly noticed the two of them as well.

He frowned as he sized them up for a while, then suddenly called out loudly: “Mu Xing, come over here.”

Mu Xing walked over unhurriedly, his whole person like a clear breeze and bright moon. The onlookers even felt a strange illusion—that the person before them wasn’t the Mu Xing they knew, but a true cultivator.

Zhou Huai realized it too.

He looked at Mu Xing and said: “You really suit this costume. You look very much like a cultivator.”

Mu Xing smiled, brimming with spirit: “Thank you, Director, for the praise.”

Zhou Huai rubbed his temples: “That wasn’t a compliment. Do you think you look like an average-talent junior disciple who only cares about food, drink, and fun?”

Mu Xing thought about it. He could do food, drink, and fun—but average talent… what exactly did that look like?

He looked at the director, a little lost.

Zhou Huai glanced at Jiang Shengyu in the distance and shook his head: “And besides, in the same costume, you’re more eye-catching than the male lead. That doesn’t work. It doesn’t match your character.”

Jiang Shengyu: “…”

He felt all the eyes around him land on him, and it was humiliating.

Zhou Huai actually meant nothing else. He was always blunt, never very good with words. In his early years he had offended people, and had been obscure for years before clawing his way back with pure skill and reputation.

He studied Mu Xing for a long moment before saying: “I’ll give you two suggestions.”

“First, I’ll have the stylist make you look plainer. You’ll also need to learn to hold back, restrain your aura.”

“Second, for example with Yuan Zhen, I have another role that would suit you better.”

He hesitated, then admitted his bias: “I personally think the second suggestion is better.”

Mu Xing was curious: “What role?”

In fact, the very first moment Zhou Huai saw Mu Xing in costume, he thought of that character.

The Sword Tomb Guardian of Qingyue Sect, the former sect leader’s last disciple, the male lead’s junior uncle—Zhuo Qingbi. A character who appeared late, with few scenes, but a role like a white moonlight.

Mu Xing knew this figure. In a story where the male lead and female lead loved but could not be together, and with the second female lead he bore the tragic fate of destined ill-fated lovers—though named Seeking Immortality, most of the plot revolved around the male lead’s revenge and tangled romances—Zhuo Qingbi was a different kind of flower altogether.

The former sect leader’s last disciple, born with a sword bone, an extraordinary talent, living alone in the Sword Tomb since childhood, cut off from the world, wholly devoted to pursuing immortality.

In the end, to protect the Sword Tomb, he sacrificed himself, becoming the great formation, his body turning to dust.

He had no secret lineage, no emotional entanglements. From his first appearance, he was a high-realm cultivator, a True Lord of Divine Transformation, immersed in cultivation, who ultimately fell for his conviction.

Zhou Huai hesitated only on one point: “This is the role. It has fewer scenes than Yuan Zhen. But I can guarantee, if you can capture that feeling, the impact will be far greater than Yuan Zhen’s.”

Yuan Zhen in the script was basically the male lead’s “follower,” with nothing remarkable in the character design.

But Zhuo Qingbi was different. With this role, as long as it was played well, it would definitely be the white moonlight.

Mu Xing reviewed the script in his mind and nodded: “Alright, I’ll play this one.”

His straightforwardness left Zhou Huai’s prepared persuasion caught in his throat.

He asked: “So quick to decide?”

Mu Xing said: “I just want to play a role to prove myself. Between Zhuo Qingbi and Yuan Zhen, I think the former is better.”

Zhou Huai was overjoyed: “Then it’s settled!”

He told the stylist to redo Mu Xing’s look, while calling the assistant director to find another actor for Yuan Zhen.

The onlookers had listened to the entire exchange.

They watched Mu Xing, without hesitation or even discussing with his agent, casually give up a fairly significant fourth male lead role for a minor background character with less than ten minutes of total screen time.

They could only call it the willfulness of a young master.

Jiang Shengyu let out a breath of relief: the male lead and junior uncle had only two scenes together, and almost no overlap in the frame. His worries were gone.

❣╰(⸝⸝⸝꒳⸝⸝⸝)╯❣

Ch 106: My Multiverse Supermarket

“Xiao Gan, why are you out so early?”

In North Central Street of Lonewind Island, a woman dressed in black stepped out of a narrow, damp, and decaying alleyway.

At the mouth of the lane, she quickly sidestepped a splash of filthy black water thrown out from a bucket nearby.

The old woman who’d thrown it looked slightly embarrassed, but couldn’t bring herself to apologize. She settled for a casual greeting instead.

Du Xiaogan gave a slight nod.

The old woman added, “You really shouldn’t be going out these days. What if they mistake you for one of those riot troublemakers and haul you off? Ah, and who knows if Ah Cai and the others will ever come back alive. You can’t even blame them—who would cause trouble if life weren’t already unbearable?”

Du Xiaogan clearly had no time for her chatter. Without replying, she left coldly, walking several streets away until she entered a shabby private clinic with a broken lightbox sign.

Seeing the silhouette behind the frosted window, she rasped, “Dr. Chu, any news about the medicine?”

Dr. Chu looked up. Instead of answering, he asked, “Did you hear the explosions last night?”

Du Xiaogan froze for a moment, then nodded.

“That was the sound of the Li family’s escort ships going down,” Dr. Chu said. “Three of them. Each one cost the Lis billions before the apocalypse. All gone overnight. The situation’s gotten tense—within a hundred nautical miles around Lonewind, no ship dares to sail now.”

“Even fishing boats?”

“Even fishing boats,” Dr. Chu confirmed. “So, when your medicine will arrive—I really don’t know.”

The words hit Du Xiaogan like ice water. After a long silence, she said softly, “If you hear anything, please let me know immediately.”

“I will,” said Dr. Chu.

Du Xiaogan hesitated a moment, then finally turned and left.

A patient in the clinic asked, “What medicine is she looking for? Why not just go to the hospital?”

“Something special,” Dr. Chu replied. “The hospitals don’t have it.”

The patient understood right away.

The official smuggling channels were tightly watched by the Li family. Any attempt to move contraband always drew attention, so the larger, government-run hospitals were ironically the ones with the fewest supplies.

Small private clinics like Dr. Chu’s, which relied on covert trade with passing fishing boats, actually had more access to black-market medicines.

That was why such little clinics still existed, even when the hospitals offered free treatment.

Everyone in the apocalypse had their own struggles, and no one paid much mind to Du Xiaogan’s situation. The patients soon changed the subject, whispering about whether last night’s explosions were connected to the riots in North Street two days prior.

The riots had been suppressed, but the air over the island remained heavy.

The calm was only surface-deep—underneath, dark currents were already stirring.

The Li family’s planted agents were secretly conspiring to spark another riot.

Suppress it once, twice—by the third time, backlash would be inevitable.

As noon approached, the island’s broadcast system crackled to life. Loudspeakers at every street corner played the voice of the island’s secretary.

“Good afternoon, everyone. This is Xu Ouge, secretary to the island master. On behalf of the island master, I have several announcements to share…”

Xu Jiayi’s orders had been brief, but as secretary, Xu Ouge couldn’t just repeat them word for word.

The island master’s intent was clear to her—but ordinary citizens might not understand unless it was spelled out.

So, she prepared a full “policy explanation” announcement.

In just an hour, she finished the statement.

First, she provided a detailed account of how the North Street riots had been handled and assured the people the unrest wouldn’t spread further, calming public fear.

Next, she shifted the blame toward the Li family—making it clear who was truly behind Lonewind Island’s suffering.

Then, she tied in the Li family’s conflict from the night before and introduced Newborn Island—telling everyone that Newborn Island was now offering trade channels for much-needed goods, and that Commander Xu Jiayi was personally negotiating to secure more supplies.

Finally, once public sentiment had been guided to optimism and hope, she announced the new Coral Harvest Decree—encouraging the citizens to collect coral in exchange for money to buy the incoming goods.

By the time the announcement ended, there was no anger left in the streets—only excitement.

“You can trade coral for money?”
“How much is coral worth?”

Every alley and street corner buzzed with discussion.

Xu Ouge, having received more detailed guidance from Xu Jiayi, told everyone that the better the coral’s condition and shape, the higher its value.

The island’s main office would purchase coral directly from the people, and once supplies arrived, those who sold coral would have priority access to buy food and necessities.

…

In a small house on North Central Street, Du Xiaogan returned home carrying a dead bird. She shut the door and turned—just in time to see her grandmother pushing out a wheelchair.

Seated in it was her younger sister—so thin she looked like a skeleton with a head, like a broken porcelain doll from some horror story. Her limp body slumped sideways against the cushion, head tilted, motionless. The only sign she was alive was the faint, restless flicker of her eyes.

Grandmother asked, “Did you get the medicine?”

After a pause, Du Xiaogan said quietly, “No.”

Grandmother’s eyes dimmed with disappointment, while the lashes of the girl in the wheelchair trembled slightly. Her gaze was filled with pain and hopelessness.

If she could speak, she would have begged them to give up—to stop clinging to that endless, futile treatment.

Du Xiaogan bent down to meet her sister’s eyes. “Don’t give up. You’ll get better. I’ll find a way.”

Grandmother hesitated, lips parting but no words coming out.

Then Du Xiaogan said, “Grandma, did you hear the broadcast? There’s a new artificial island near Lonewind’s waters. Anyone who can build something like that must be powerful—and you must have heard, they have plenty of supplies. I think… they must have medicine too.”

Grandmother asked quietly, “You’re going to harvest coral?”

“Yeah.”

Du Xiaogan didn’t tell the whole truth.

Her sister hadn’t taken her medication for five days now. The illness that had once been held at bay by the drugs was worsening, harder to control each hour.

She knew her sister was suffering—trapped in a motionless body, unable even to cry out from the pain.

If this continued, her condition would only deteriorate.

Du Xiaogan wasn’t sure whether Newborn Island even had the medicine her sister needed. Even if they did, she would have to collect coral, sell it to the authorities, then wait for them to import supplies from Newborn Island—at least three to five days.

Her sister didn’t have that long.

So she decided to harvest coral and sneak onto Newborn Island herself.

She didn’t want her family to worry.

“The sea’s dangerous, isn’t it? What about the drowned corpses?” Grandmother fretted.

“They’re easier to deal with than zombies,” Du Xiaogan said.

Knowing her granddaughter often went out fishing, Grandmother believed her experience would keep her safe.

After plucking and cleaning the dead bird she’d brought home, Du Xiaogan used it to make soup.

Her sister could only swallow liquids. Grandmother would handle the feeding. Once the soup was done, Du Xiaogan set out again.

Newborn Island.

Xu Jiayi and her subordinates were having lunch.

The supermarket offered fresh produce and frozen meat.

Xu Jiayi had bought vegetables and meat, thawed them in the shop’s microwave, and cooked a hearty meal using her field cookware.

“I almost forgot what real tomatoes taste like.”

“And these eggs—they don’t smell at all!”

“Of course not. They’re clean eggs, no contamination.”

“Clean eggs… huh. On the island, one of these would cost at least a silver coin.”

“How much is that compared to two membership points for a tea egg? Damn, it’s hard to convert.”

Just then, a scout slipped quietly up to Xu Jiayi’s side.

“Commander, we found the Li family’s fifty soldiers on the west coast.”

Xu Jiayi glanced toward the distant supermarket. “Dead or alive?”

“Alive—but they’re not right.”

“What do you mean?”

“They’ve lost all motor function.”

Before Xu Jiayi could respond, Qi Jiayu came walking toward her.

“Deputy Qi,” Xu Jiayi greeted. “Had lunch yet?”

“Already, thank you,” Qi Jiayu said with a smile. “I actually came to ask whether you’re interested in those fifty uninvited guests.”

Xu Jiayi raised a brow. “They’re from the Dusa Archipelago’s forces—not ours.”

Qi Jiayu waved a hand. “Don’t get me wrong. We know who they are, and we know their attack on Newborn Island has nothing to do with you. But since they came uninvited, we can’t exactly feed and house them. Throwing them into the sea seems too heartless, though, so I thought I’d ask if you’d like to take them.”

Xu Jiayi: …

You killed over five hundred people when you sank three escort ships, and that didn’t seem too heartless to you?

Qi Jiayu seemed to sense her thoughts. “Oh, I forgot to mention—those three escort ships weren’t sunk by us. They destroyed themselves. We only defended ourselves.”

Xu Jiayi froze.

That truth was even more terrifying than if Newborn Island had sunk them.

The Lis weren’t stupid enough to turn their own guns on themselves—meaning their systems must have been hacked.

If Newborn Island could infiltrate the Li family’s ships, could they also hack Lonewind’s systems?

Qi Jiayu said gently, “No need to worry, Major Xu. Newborn Island values peace. We never provoke others.”

Xu Jiayi steadied herself. “Understood. If you don’t want to keep the captives, we’ll take them back and handle it.”

Relieved to unload the burden, Qi Jiayu nodded.

Xu Jiayi had spent half a day on the island already. She still had duties waiting on Lonewind, so she prepared to depart.

Before leaving, she gave Zhou Li her contact information and arranged to bring coral tomorrow for the first trade. She also promised to help connect her with the Su family—owners of oil fields and the easiest path to acquiring heavy fuel.

Zhou Li, in turn, offered her a 10% discount once the deal went through.

Xu Jiayi left two soldiers behind as liaison officers.

Zhou Li didn’t mind them staying.

She uploaded Xu Jiayi’s purchase list to the auction house. As soon as sellers saw it, they began preparing shipments for bidding.

Night fell.

An Fengxuan came to Zhou Li with news: Xu Jiayi’s two liaison soldiers had caught a stowaway sneaking onto the island and had reported it to her, asking what to do.

Zhou Li: …

She immediately told them to release the person.

“There’s no such thing as illegal entry on Newborn Island. As long as someone’s a customer, they’re welcome here.”

The two liaison officers were mortified.

They’d only acted out of habit… had they just ruined their commander’s plans?

“We’re so sorry!” they blurted out.

Zhou Li waved a hand. “It’s fine, I know you meant well—but you should apologize to her.”

By her, she meant the stowaway.

The two soldiers turned and apologized.

The woman ignored them completely.

Her gaze had locked onto the supermarket sign from the moment she saw it—and up close, her eyes were shining with awe.

But she hadn’t forgotten her reason for coming.

“Excuse me,” she asked, voice hoarse from exhaustion, “do you sell medicine here?”

☢️☢️☢️

Ch 105: My Multiverse Supermarket

Qi Jiayu knew Xu Jiayi’s true purpose was to gauge Newborn Island’s strength—but time was short. The little boss would be leaving in just a few days, and Qi Jiayu had to help boost sales while she still could.

So she didn’t waste time. She led Xu Jiayi and her group straight to the small supermarket by the beach.

Xu Jiayi assumed the choice of location was deliberate caution—that they didn’t want outsiders near the main complex in the island’s center, and so had brought them to this small lookout building instead.

But when she saw the sign above the door, she froze. “Good Life Supermarket?”

Qi Jiayu said, “That’s right. You can browse for whatever supplies you want here. If you’re ordering in bulk, you can place your order first—our little boss will handle the restocking.”

Xu Jiayi swallowed her many questions about the island and decided to focus on the supply situation instead.

“How much can you provide at most?”

“As much as you can pay for,” Zhou Li answered with a smile as she stepped out of the shop.

Originally, she wouldn’t have had that kind of confidence—but ever since the auction house began accepting trade-in goods, her supply channels had widened considerably.

The voice sounded familiar to Xu Jiayi. Then it clicked. “You’re the little boss of Newborn Island?”

Zhou Li nodded. “That’s me.”

Xu Jiayi wondered—why “little boss”? Did that mean someone else, a parent or superior, was the real decision-maker behind the island?

“Are you authorized to make trade deals yourself?” she asked carefully.

“I am.”

Xu Jiayi thought about it. The island had the power to instantly sink three escort ships. Whoever truly controlled it was clearly someone powerful operating behind the scenes. The so-called “little boss” and Qi Jiayu were probably just the emissaries handling day-to-day dealings for the real master.

Since the true authority didn’t want to show themselves, pressing further would only risk offense.

Instead, she pulled out a list of urgently needed supplies and handed it over. “I need these.”

Zhou Li glanced through it. There were over a hundred items—mostly food, water, and everyday goods, but also a section of seeds.

Apparently, since Zhou Li had said no weapons were for sale, several weapon types had been crossed out.

“You’re buying seeds?” Zhou Li asked. “That means you have a cultivation area. If that’s the case, you must’ve already stocked up on seeds. Why buy more?”

Xu Jiayi explained, “The cultivation zone was planned a year ago, but since then Lonewind Island has been under constant pressure. We’ve gone through our reserves and need to replenish. If your island doesn’t have any, then—”

“Who said we don’t?” Zhou Li interrupted, seeing through Xu Jiayi’s tactic but not minding it.

Even the clearly nonessential items on the list didn’t bother her. She knew what Xu Jiayi was doing—padding the list to test the other party’s inventory and pricing power.

If the supermarket couldn’t produce everything, they’d look weaker in negotiations. And if Zhou Li was the type to be easily flustered, Xu Jiayi could then bargain her way into getting more for less.

“These items are all available,” Zhou Li said, “but I’m not sure you can afford them.”

“How much?” Xu Jiayi asked.

Zhou Li asked the system to calculate.

A moment later, the result came back: “Rounding down the small change, it totals 7.837 billion membership points.”

Xu Jiayi didn’t know what prices were like on Newborn Island, but in the inflation-ridden apocalypse, 7.8 billion units for a year’s worth of supplies for over 8,000 people was an incredible bargain.

Still… “Membership points?”

Qi Jiayu had prepared for this. She took out a membership card and explained that standard currency wasn’t accepted—only valuable goods could be exchanged for points.

Xu Jiayi found it reasonable.

After the archipelagos split apart, each island had formed its own economy, and the old monetary system had collapsed.

Many islands had invented their own currencies. Lonewind Island hadn’t, but it used the common metal coins circulated throughout the Anhai Archipelago—gold, silver, and copper.

The Anhai seas were rich in natural resources—gold, silver, copper, iron, oil, and gas.

The Dusa Archipelago, ruled by the Li family, held most of the gold and silver mines.

The Su family’s Anxi Archipelago had oil, natural gas, nickel, and asphalt deposits.

A third major archipelago mined copper and iron.

Even before the apocalypse, barter with gold and silver had been common.

After the fall, General De’an’s Li family monopolized the precious metal mines and began minting coins—gold, silver, and copper—and the other islands followed suit.

Fortunately for Lonewind, De’an’s youngest son had built a treasury there, hoarding coins, gemstones, and antiques.

Xu Jiayi produced one gold, one silver, and one copper coin. “How many points for each of these?”

Zhou Li couldn’t be bothered checking purity by hand—she just tossed them into the auction system.

The readout: gold coin 78% purity, silver coin higher, copper coin mixed with aluminum and low-grade metals.

At the current rate, 24k gold was worth 771 yuan per gram, 18k about 578 yuan. The 78% pure coin was priced at 75% of 24k gold’s value. Silver was 9 yuan per gram; copper barely worth mentioning.

“This gold coin weighs 3.11 grams—worth 1,797.58 points.”

After a quick calculation, Xu Jiayi realized that silver and copper coins weren’t worth trading—they’d barely fetch anything.

But Lonewind’s treasury didn’t have many gold coins left, maybe a hundred thousand. Even if she exchanged them all, it wouldn’t reach 7.8 billion points.

Her thumb and forefinger rubbed together unconsciously—a telltale habit.

Her subordinates knew that gesture well. Their commander was thinking about raiding the Lis again.

Li De’an’s son had hoarded massive wealth, but Xu Jiayi couldn’t rely solely on plundered reserves forever.

Whenever she found the chance, she sent teams to intercept the Li family’s treasure ships carrying mined gold.

“You like blockading Lonewind?” she’d once said. “Then don’t blame us for robbing your gold shipments.”

To maintain control and prevent others from rebelling like Xu Jiayi had, the Li family kept a tight grip on every mining island.

Gold and silver were shipped back to the main island immediately after extraction.

One of the gold-producing islands had a transport route passing within fifty nautical miles of Lonewind.

That was where Xu Jiayi struck, three successful raids before the Li family finally rerouted the convoys—an expensive adjustment.

In retaliation, they’d strengthened ties with other archipelagos, pressuring ports to seize any cargo ships linked to Lonewind.

Most regional powers gave the Lis face, leaving Xu Jiayi no choice but to buy through intermediaries and smuggle goods in.

Qi Jiayu, unaware of what Xu Jiayi was plotting, suggested helpfully, “Valuables aren’t limited to coins. Corals and gemstones work too.”

Xu Jiayi blinked. “Corals?”

This planet had no shortage of coral or mineral resources.

Islands with advanced technology had long since made deep-sea mining routine.

Coral, the product of massive reefs of coral polyps that grew around nearly every island, was especially abundant. Its growth rate rivaled that of trees on Earth—if one mined away a centimeter today, two days later it would grow back.

Zhou Li didn’t know coral on this planet grew so fast. Out of environmental concern, she said, “You still need to be careful about the ecosystem. Overharvesting could cause coral extinction, couldn’t it?”

Both Qi Jiayu and Xu Jiayi were startled.

Xu Jiayi turned to one of her officers. “Can coral go extinct?”

The officer replied, “The zombie virus can pollute the oceans. If the ocean ever lost its self-purifying capacity, then yes—after hundreds or thousands of years, coral could die out. But that’s only if the seas lose that ability.”

What she didn’t add aloud was that even if every human on the planet turned into a zombie, the oceans’ self-cleansing system would still remain intact. Unless the entire planet suffered an extinction-level event, coral extinction was practically impossible.

When Qi Jiayu explained the coral’s growth rate to Zhou Li, the latter was stunned.

Qi Jiayu said, “Before the apocalypse, the island-states would send people each year to harvest coral. But some didn’t—so coral accumulated, forming reefs, and after about a decade or two, those reefs would become new islands.”

Zhou Li: …

She didn’t know whether to be relieved that coral on this world wasn’t facing extinction, or to complain that the auction house had been pointlessly undervaluing it.

Still, overexploitation was never good. Even trees on Earth grew fast, but not fast enough to keep up with human logging.

“When there’s too much of something,” Zhou Li said, “its value drops. I hope you understand that.”

She was giving them a warning in advance.

Knowing how the auction house worked, if she dumped several tons of coral on the market at once, the price would plummet.

Xu Jiayi nodded. “Understood. Rarity is what gives something worth.”

The thought that she could solve Lonewind Island’s supply crisis not through raids but simply by harvesting coral lifted her mood considerably.

She didn’t believe coral mining would harm the environment—after all, what truly affected coral growth was zombie-virus pollution. Even if she didn’t order the mining, many coral colonies would die anyway.

In fact, by encouraging her people to fish and thus reducing the number of floating corpses near the island, she had improved the local environment, allowing coral polyps to thrive again.

Thinking of other tradeable goods, Xu Jiayi pulled out a crystal that shimmered in shifting rainbow colors. “Would you accept this kind of sea fluorite?”

Zhou Li recognized the term “fluorite,” but she’d never heard of sea fluorite before.

It certainly looked similar, though. Unsure, she submitted it to the auction system for appraisal.

The results appeared instantly:

【Sea Fluorite, 403g】
Year: —
Date of Extraction: —
Current Owner: Xu Jiayi
Starting Price: 1,500 yuan (suggested)
Buyout Price: 3,000 yuan (suggested)
Note: Formed in deep sea; may shine even brighter in a world of magic.

Zhou Li was surprised—it was actually quite valuable, more than fluorite on Earth.

On Earth, fluorite cost only about 3,100 yuan per ton—roughly 3 yuan per kilogram.

But what caught her eye was the note.

Could it mean that sea fluorite was worth more in a world where magic existed?

That gave Zhou Li an idea—she recalled one of her system’s selectable “science-and-magic hybrid” planes.

Maybe she could stockpile some of this and sell it there.

Her mind made up, Zhou Li asked, “Is sea fluorite difficult to mine?”

Xu Jiayi instinctively calculated her answer.

Could it be that the little boss was especially interested in sea fluorite?

If so, maybe she could inflate the price by claiming it was hard to extract.

But she quickly quashed the thought.

If the little boss asked an expert and learned the truth, lying would destroy the fragile goodwill she’d just built.

“Mining difficulty isn’t high,” Xu Jiayi replied honestly. “Before the apocalypse, Lonewind Island already had a mature extraction line.”

“Before the apocalypse?”

“Yes. Unfortunately, the mining site is about sixty nautical miles from the island. Due to the blockade, we can’t reach it anymore.”

In truth, deep-sea mining mainly focused on rare metals, oil, and gas—sea fluorite was just a byproduct.

“Oh,” Zhou Li said mildly. She had no interest in the blockade, nor did she offer to help Lonewind break through the Li family’s naval cordon just to collect fluorite.

Seeing she wasn’t going to press further, Xu Jiayi decided to treat sea fluorite as an optional trade item.

She ordered her men to return and start collecting coral, then announced a coral-harvesting decree to the island’s people.

She also recorded a short video in the small supermarket to reassure the citizens—telling them that she’d secured a way to solve Lonewind’s supply shortages, but that unity was essential.

Zhou Li didn’t mind her shop being filmed.

She knew the news would quickly reach the Li family—and soon spread across all the Anhai Archipelagos.

Free publicity, essentially.

And as for being targeted?

Well, the fate of the Li family’s escort ships spoke for itself.

☢️☢️☢️

Ch 104: My Multiverse Supermarket

Dusa Archipelago, Vila Island.

When word came that three escort ships had been sunk, Li Zairen’s vision went dark—then he collapsed flat onto the floor.

His subordinates panicked, shouting for a doctor while slapping and pinching him in desperation.

A few moments later, Li Zairen came to.

“My escort ships…” he croaked, eyes wide and hopeful—perhaps this was all just a bad dream.

Yes, it had to be a dream. Just earlier, he’d gone to bed in high spirits after hearing about Xu Jiayi’s recent setback. From that moment onward, everything—being shaken awake in the middle of the night, hearing about his ships being destroyed by a defenseless artificial island—all of it had to be part of that same dream!

His men dared not answer, terrified of setting him off again.

But one look at their faces told him the truth.

Fury surged through him as he reached for the phone on his desk—the one directly connected to the Dusa Archipelago’s Defense Department. One call would mean an all-out war.

“Major General,” one aide warned quickly, “if you report this, the General will find out.”

Li Zairen froze. Then he withdrew his hand.

Of course—the old man would hear of this soon enough, but not yet. Not until he had things under control.

He knew well that his uncles and brothers were circling like sharks, waiting for a misstep. If word reached the patriarch and he couldn’t give a proper explanation, the old man would strip him of his command immediately.

“What we need to do now,” his aide suggested, “is find out exactly what happened—then shift the blame onto Lonewind Island. Or, better yet, drag the others into it too.”

Li Zairen’s eyes brightened. “Yes. If they’re all implicated, Father won’t single me out.”

As for whether that might weaken the Dusa Archipelago’s overall power? He couldn’t care less—what good was strength if he lost his authority anyway?

Still, the thought of those three sunken escort ships made his heart ache.

Since the apocalypse, the Li family hadn’t been able to build a single new vessel.

Two years ago, after an internal feud, Li Zairen had claimed one destroyer and five escort ships as his share.

Among the three that were now gone, one was a stealth missile frigate—his pride and joy.

He never imagined it would end up on the ocean floor because of this foolish operation.

If he had known, he would have sent a few patrol boats to scout instead of risking his fleet.

Xu Jiayi, meanwhile, had no idea Li Zairen had fainted—but she could easily picture him fuming and sleepless, pacing in rage.

The thought alone made her laugh out loud.

After all, he’d sent those ships just to strut and intimidate Lonewind Island, only to end up humiliated and stripped bare.

The officers gathered in her office were in good spirits too.

The gloom brought on by the Sulawesi cargo seizure and the North Street riot finally began to lift.

Still, one cautious officer voiced concern. “Won’t the Li family send reinforcements? They’ve dominated the Dusa Archipelago for years—they won’t just take this loss quietly.”

They remembered too well how, after Xu Jiayi had killed General De’an’s youngest son in self-defense, the Li family had retaliated with three medium warships and seven escort vessels.

Thankfully, Lonewind Island’s anti-air defenses had intercepted most of the missiles.

Xu Jiayi’s counterattack had sunk an escort ship and several speedboats.

Then, as luck—or fate—would have it, an outbreak of the zombie virus had spread aboard the Li fleet, forcing them to retreat before Xu Jiayi could capture their ships.

When brute force failed, the Li family resorted to blockades, hoping to choke the island from within.

Now that Newborn Island had sunk Li Zairen’s three escort ships, it was as though someone had slapped General De’an across the face. There was no way the Li family would let that stand.

Everyone on Lonewind Island knew what kind of people the Lis were.

They couldn’t touch the mysterious, dangerous Newborn Island—so they’d surely turn their wrath toward Lonewind instead.

Xu Jiayi snorted. “So what? Barefoot people aren’t afraid of those wearing shoes.”

She turned to her secretary. “Are the personnel for tomorrow’s landing ready?”

Ever since seeing Newborn Island’s offer of trade, she had decided to send a small team to investigate.

If they could buy supplies, all the better. If not, it was still a legitimate reason to observe the island up close.

The secretary nodded. “Eight have been selected. Here are their files.”

They were all elite soldiers with excellent physical conditioning.

Since firearms were prohibited on Newborn Island, they prioritized those capable of defending themselves barehanded if necessary.

After reviewing the files, Xu Jiayi nodded. “I’ll go too.”

The room erupted in protest.

She was the heart of Lonewind Island—if something happened to her, what would they do?

Xu Jiayi said calmly, “The Li family won’t move again right away after such a loss. You’re enough to keep order here. As for North Street, the riot may be suppressed, but mishandling it will only plant future trouble. I’ll go to Newborn Island myself—give our people something to believe in.”

Xu Jiayi’s word was law. Once she decided, no one could dissuade her.

By dawn, she was already on a boat, leading eight soldiers toward Newborn Island.

7:00 a.m.

Zhou Li yawned as she pushed open the supermarket doors.

Gazing at the sunrise, Zhou Li said to the system, “Good thing we didn’t move locations—otherwise we wouldn’t have such a beautiful view.”

Ever since the system had taken over management of the artificial island, Zhou Li had unlocked the entire island map.

The system had suggested, “You could move the supermarket to the B1 floor of the shelter. That way, when you leave, you can simply lock the shop doors, and no one will know where you went. It’ll make others less likely to target Newborn Island.”

Zhou Li had countered, “That makes sense, but putting the shop inside the shelter means anyone wanting to buy something would have to enter it. Wouldn’t that expose the shelter’s internal layout? Even if I close the shop afterward, won’t they still suspect the supermarket and the island’s defense system are connected?”

Smart people, she thought, would guess it anyway—even if she moved the shop all the way down into the engine room.

So she decided it was better to keep the supermarket on the surface and create a sort of “illusion array” inside the shelter to mislead people.

The plan was simple: make everyone believe the little supermarket was just a regular store that restocked from within the shelter, and that the real bulk of the supplies was stored in the shelter’s warehouse.

Zhou Li explained all this to Qi Jiayu and her companions.

She trusted that, now that they had found peace and stability, they wouldn’t betray her or abandon the island.

Maybe once they’d dreamed of living on Lonewind Island—but after witnessing Newborn Island sink three escort ships without breaking a sweat, they knew exactly where the safest place in the world was.

And even if they did betray her, Zhou Li wouldn’t lose much—Newborn Island had been a free bonus.

If this island ever became inhospitable for her supermarket, she could just move elsewhere. Somewhere out there, another island would surely welcome her with open arms.

Then Zhou Li said to the trio, “Starting today, Qi Jiayu will serve as acting island master. Fang Qin and Lin Le will be deputy island masters.”

Qi Jiayu: …

No wonder the little boss had introduced herself to Xu Jiayi yesterday as the owner of a supermarket, not the island master. So this was what she had in mind.

An Fengxuan explained, “The little boss leaves the island for a few days at a time, so it’s necessary to have an acting island master. There’s no one better suited than you three.”

The women accepted the responsibility with enthusiasm.

They also took on the task of drafting basic governance rules for the island. An Fengxuan, drawing from her corporate experience, occasionally offered suggestions based on her company’s management structure.

But before that, they had to deal with the aftermath of the fifty “uninvited guests.”

After the defense system upgrade, its enforcement methods had evolved too.

Before, it simply created a vacuum zone to suffocate intruders briefly before expelling them.

Now, it used their own earpieces to unleash sonic attacks.

This new measure was far from merciful—fainting was the mildest consequence. Most victims would suffer permanent deafness, brain injury, or partial paralysis.

Qi Jiayu and the others had tied the men up overnight.

At first, they’d worried about them escaping—but by morning, though the men were awake, they sat motionless, eyes dull and vacant like broken puppets.

Startled, Lin Xiaole had run to Zhou Li first thing to report the “abnormality.”

Zhou Li hadn’t witnessed the punishment herself, but the system had told her what happened.

She said, “That’s normal. Sonic attacks do cause neurological abnormalities.”

She knew that in this world, sonic weapons existed only as theory—but even theoretical ones could kill.

The defense system wouldn’t go that far—it avoided fatalities—but disabilities were another matter.

“Sonic attacks?!” Qi Jiayu was dumbfounded.

The little boss actually had that kind of advanced weapon?

Here, sonic weapons were still a speculative concept, not an existing reality.

Zhou Li didn’t want to linger on weapons talk. “Anyway, what are you all doing here so early?”

Qi Jiayu remembered the real reason. “Uh—just received a wireless transmission. Lonewind Island is requesting permission to land.”

Zhou Li sighed. “Next time, just use the radio to contact me. No need to run all the way here in person.”

Doing so only made it obvious that she was the one in charge of Newborn Island.

Qi Jiayu explained, “We were worried the lines might be tapped.”

They hadn’t worried about such things before, but after last night’s events, their sense of caution was sharper than ever.

Zhou Li thought for a moment and asked the system, “Can the defense system prevent eavesdropping?”

The small supermarket used to block all external signals—so if that protection now covered the entire island, maybe it could block interception too.

The system replied, “All island communications are now encrypted.”

Relieved, Zhou Li told Qi Jiayu, “It’s fine. Everything on the island is fully encrypted.”

Finally, she instructed Qi Jiayu and An Fengxuan to handle the reception of Lonewind’s delegation.

Newborn Island had a modest dock, just large enough for a 20-meter yacht.

Xu Jiayi, having come in peace, arrived through the “front door.”

Once the yacht was secured, she disembarked first.

At the far end of the dock stood two figures—one relaxed, the other carrying the unmistakable air of a soldier.

Xu Jiayi approached and greeted the woman in front. “Hello, I’m Xu Jiayi.”

Qi Jiayu hadn’t expected the famous island leader to come in person.

Seeing her idol up close, she couldn’t help but grin.

“Hello! Welcome to Newborn Island.”

After a pause, she remembered to introduce herself. “I’m Qi Jiayu, in charge of coordinating trade between the island and the outside.”

Xu Jiayi: …

Since the apocalypse began, she’d never met anyone so eager to sell supplies.

Her gaze shifted to the other woman. “And you are?”

“My name’s Fengxuan. I’m a security guard,” An Fengxuan said.

Xu Jiayi: ?

A security guard? Sure, that was a common enough job—but somehow, it felt completely out of place on this island.

☢️☢️☢️

Ch 103: My Multiverse Supermarket

While the Lonewind Island patrol ship was trying to establish contact with the artificial island, they discovered that their communication channel was being monitored.

The patrol captain immediately switched to an encrypted frequency and reported to Xu Jiayi.

Xu Jiayi said, “Inform the artificial island to change to an encrypted line.”

The captain relayed her words, but the other side replied, “No need—saves me from repeating myself.”

Xu Jiayi: …

She simply switched the line directly to “frontline mode” and connected with the artificial island herself.

“May I ask why your island has entered Lonewind Island’s waters?” she said, taking the initiative to assert control.

At the same time, it was a way to prevent the escort ships—those listening in—from interfering in the exchange.

Qi Jiayu, however, didn’t care for such political games.

She already knew Zhou Li’s goal: to expand the small supermarket’s business far and wide.

And to make Newborn Island travel the world, they’d need to buy fuel—a perfectly legitimate reason.

Qi Jiayu said, “We didn’t mean to intrude. Our fuel ran out as we passed near your island, and we had no choice but to stop here. Would your island perhaps have any fuel for sale?”

Xu Jiayi: …

The other party’s tone was so open and sincere that her combative stance faltered for a moment.

After a pause, she answered, “I regret to say, our island doesn’t have the kind of fuel you require.”

Qi Jiayu said, “We haven’t even said what kind we need yet.”

“To power something as massive as an artificial island efficiently, it must be heavy oil,” Xu Jiayi said flatly.

Qi Jiayu smiled. “Looks like you know your stuff.”

“If that’s all, please depart—” Xu Jiayi started to say, but stopped halfway. She suddenly remembered—they had stopped because they were out of fuel. How could they possibly leave now?

Qi Jiayu understood what she hadn’t said and continued, “Even if your island doesn’t sell heavy oil, might we request permission to remain in these waters for a while? In return, your island is welcome to trade for supplies with us.”

That last sentence killed the rejection forming on Xu Jiayi’s tongue.

Her pupils tightened slightly. Then she warned, “End communication and prepare your defenses immediately.”

Before she could even be curious about what kind of supplies the artificial island possessed to speak so boldly, Xu Jiayi realized her words might attract scavengers—hyenas that would descend on the island and tear it apart.

At that very moment, the escort ships had already lowered more than a dozen small boats.

Each one carried a squad of armed men, equipped with the most advanced firearms of this world.

It was clear that their commanding officer had already given the order—to attack.

Before the operation, the escort fleet had sent drones for reconnaissance.

The discovery shocked them: the island had very few living beings—no visible guards at all.

They suspected people might be hiding, but infrared imaging showed no heat signatures—neither outside the main building nor within the forest.

There wasn’t even a single watchtower.

This confirmed it: the island was a civilian shelter-type artificial island—one built privately, without military involvement.

And anyone wealthy enough to build such a thing would belong to the richest 0.01% of humanity.

Through quick data cross-referencing, the command identified several possibilities.

Their experts concluded it was highly likely the island once belonged to Higin Hirthus.

Back when Higin had built his artificial island, the news had spread widely—until, not long after, both he and the island had mysteriously vanished.

“The people on that island definitely aren’t Higin,” one of the experts said firmly. “If he were still alive, he’d have announced himself already.”

That matched his reputation—Higin Hirthus loved attention and would never operate quietly.

“So something must have happened to the island.”

Having confirmed that there were no ships, speedboats, or visible defenses, the escort captain decisively ordered his men to storm the beach and seize control.

The small boats sped in, smashing through a few floating “drowned corpses” near the shallows before sliding onto the sand.

The soldiers jumped out and advanced quickly toward the target area.

Then—

A synthetic electronic voice suddenly echoed across the beach and through the comms:

“Warning! Entry onto this island with thermal weaponry is prohibited!”

The sudden announcement startled everyone—on the beach and within the island alike.

It was the first time Qi Jiayu, Fang Qin, and Lin Xiaole had heard such a warning.

What confused them even more was that none of them had triggered it.

Who had broadcast that voice?

A chill ran down their spines.

Then Lin Xiaole said, “Doesn’t that sound… like the voice of Xiao Wan, the vending machine assistant?”

Qi Jiayu and Fang Qin fell silent.

So—the one controlling the broadcast system was Xiao Wan, the artificial intelligence assistant?

Had AI really advanced to the point it could detect who was carrying thermal weapons?

Wait—was this what the little boss had meant by her ‘protection system’?

…

On the beach, the Li family’s private soldiers froze for a second at the broadcast—but then brushed it off and pressed forward.

A moment later, a piercing, shrill sound erupted in their earpieces.

Within seconds, the entire squad convulsed and collapsed—foaming at the mouth, unconscious.

The escort captain saw the anomaly and tried to contact them, but got no response.

His face changed instantly.

There might be no troops or mercenaries stationed on the island—but there was definitely high-level technology.

“Sir, what now?” his deputy asked.

Should they send in more men—or open fire?

Just then, the communication line between the artificial island and Lonewind Island reconnected.

The escort captain decided to wait—he wanted to hear what the other side would say first.

Newborn Island, Control Center.

Zhou Li picked up the shipborne radio handset and said calmly, “Thanks for the warning.”

On the other end of the line, Xu Jiayi’s expression darkened.

That voice… it wasn’t the same as before. Someone new was speaking.

What had happened on the artificial island?

Had Li Zairen’s private troops already taken control of it?

But the patrol ship had reported no sounds of combat—only that the ten or so squads who had landed had lost all contact shortly afterward…

While she was still lost in thought, the voice spoke again: “Allow me to introduce myself. I’m the little boss of Newborn Island.”

Newborn Island? Xu Jiayi thought. So that was the name of the artificial island.

And “little boss”? Not “island master”?

She found that oddly fitting. She herself didn’t like being called “island master” either—she preferred “Major” or “Commander.”

At the radio, Zhou Li continued cheerfully, “I also run a small supermarket. So if you or your people need supplies, you’re welcome to come ashore and shop.”

It was the second time Xu Jiayi had heard mention of the island selling supplies.

Her curiosity overrode her worry. “What kind of supplies?” she asked.

“Everything except weapons,” Zhou Li replied. “Most everyday necessities can be found here.”

Xu Jiayi’s breath quickened. “Food and clean water?”

Zhou Li laughed. “Sharp eye. Those are our supermarket’s bestsellers.”

For a moment, excitement and relief flooded Xu Jiayi’s mind.

But soon she forced herself to calm down.

This Newborn Island… was no ordinary place.

In this post-apocalyptic world, food and clean water were the scarcest commodities—yet they were being offered for sale as if it were nothing?

That kind of large-scale trade only happened when powerful forces were behind it.

For example, Lonewind Island’s smuggled goods came from the Su family, who controlled the largest archipelago in the Anhai Sea—the Anxi Islands.

The Anxi Islands were blessed with fertile land ideal for farming.

Even though the zombie virus contaminated soil and water, the Su family had filtration and sterilization systems that reduced the pollution level.

Production had fallen sharply, of course, but with the world’s population now only 7% of what it once was, their harvests were enough to feed the entire archipelago.

Still, those crops carried trace toxins. Long-term consumption inevitably damaged health.

Yet no one had a choice—starve, or live sick and suffering, clinging to survival for another day.

Beyond their plantations, the Su family also built factories across the islands.

Anyone who could pay the price could buy what they needed to stay alive.

The Su family could do that because they had the resources and the power to back it up.

So what was Newborn Island’s backing?

…

Zhou Li had no idea Xu Jiayi was lost in speculation. She continued, “Everyone is welcome to come aboard and trade. Oh, and just a reminder—Newborn Island values peace. We don’t like violence. So please do not bring thermal weapons when you come ashore. Cold weapons also can’t be used to harm others. Otherwise—well, the fifty uninvited guests currently on the island should serve as a warning example.”

The escort fleet captain listening in exploded, kicking over a chair.

Now he was sure—those fifty soldiers were dead.

“Fire! Sink that thing!” he roared.

Fifty elite soldiers—gone. This insult would not go unanswered!

If they couldn’t land, they’d bombard it instead.

His men immediately sprang into action.

The escort ships adjusted course, heavy cannons swiveling toward Newborn Island.

At the captain’s signal, a barrage thundered out.

The explosions were so loud that even Xu Jiayi, back on Lonewind Island, heard them.

She tensed and quickly radioed her patrol ship. “Who fired?”

“It’s the Li family’s escort fleet,” came the reply.

Xu Jiayi ordered her patrol to retreat from the area immediately to avoid being caught in the crossfire.

Once her orders were issued, she looked again at the radio and asked cautiously, “Does your island need support?”

Zhou Li replied serenely, “No need.”

Her tone was so calm that Xu Jiayi began to suspect she had anti-air missiles.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly—yet the clock showed that only thirty minutes had passed.

Then the bombardment ceased.

Xu Jiayi waited in silence.

Finally, a report came from the scout ship.

—Newborn Island was still intact.
—The three Li-family escort ships had turned their guns on one another.
Within twenty minutes, all three had sunk.

[Author’s note]

Escort fleet: Why are we shooting each other!?
System: Take a guess. [puppy emoji]
Boss Zhou: The defense system upgraded? It can counterattack now?
Unicorn System: That’s the power of a top sales champion. [dog emoji]

☢️☢️☢️

Ch 102: My Multiverse Supermarket

Xu Jiayi had never shown mercy to those aligned with General De’an.

When she first took control of Lonewind Island, she had purged it in blood for three days and nights.

Because of that, her reputation among the upper ranks was terrible.

Yet among the common people, she was respected—because she was one of the few island rulers in the apocalypse who genuinely cared for civilians.

She never collected taxes from her people and strictly forbade her soldiers from harassing them.

She provided free medicine to the sick, sent orphans and disabled elders to the charitable hospice for care, and actively encouraged citizens to learn self-defense.

She distributed weapons freely and even urged women to go out and fight zombies.

She opened up all vacant houses, renting them at very low prices to refugees from other islands, and allowed them to fish in Lonewind’s surrounding waters to make a living.

…

Many of Xu Jiayi’s policies were mocked as naïve and softhearted—some even ridiculed her as a “saint.”

Perhaps because her methods had been too mild this past year, people had forgotten just how ruthlessly she had dealt with her enemies before.

And now, under the deliberate agitation of certain schemers, North Street was in chaos.

North Street lay in the northern part of Lonewind Island. It was the location of the main port—the only route on and off the island—and had become home to most of the new immigrants.

With such a mix of backgrounds, it was naturally the most unstable district.

Not that anyone dared to rob or kill under Xu Jiayi’s rule, but frequent disputes broke out among residents over trivial conflicts.

Coming from a military background, Xu Jiayi lacked experienced administrators. The mediators she sent often failed to resolve the root of these disputes.

Most people, cowed by authority, would pretend to make peace—while grudges quietly festered beneath the surface.

So while today’s riot was triggered by news of the Sulawesi freighter being seized, the real cause lay in the long-buried resentment between the old residents and the newcomers.

One of the ringleaders was a man named Zhang Shen, who had immigrated only a few months ago.

He had once lived under General De’an’s regime in the Dusa Archipelago.

When his wife became pregnant, they realized they couldn’t afford to stay—the medical fees there were astronomical, and even if the baby survived, they couldn’t feed it.

Hearing that Lonewind Island provided free healthcare, they decided to relocate.

Others mocked them for it—“In the apocalypse, when you can barely feed yourselves, you still want kids?”

Zhang Shen had simply said, “Even now, life needs a little hope.”

This wasn’t their first child. Before the apocalypse, they’d had three—ages six, four, and two.

None of them survived the first year after the outbreak.

Their parents had died too, leaving only the two of them.

They lived on in numb despair, questioning what point there was in such hunger and cold—until his wife became pregnant again, giving them a reason to keep going.

After moving to Lonewind Island, Zhang Shen went fishing daily.

Most of the fish were virus-tainted, but some were still safe to eat.

He sold his catch to a native who had leased him a boat, but that man often underpaid him.

Zhang Shen endured it a few times, but as his wife neared labor, he desperately needed money for baby formula. When he tried to negotiate a fair price, tempers flared, and they nearly came to blows.

The island guards intervened, but locals often sided with their own kind, claiming the newcomers were freeloaders.

Zhang Shen had to swallow his anger and carry on.

A few days ago, his wife gave birth to a baby girl.

They’d heard of smugglers selling infant formula, so they paid in advance for a dozen cans.

But that morning came news that the Sulawesi had been seized—the shipment gone, the money lost.

Zhang Shen snapped.

Anxious, furious, and full of old grudges, he lashed out—others joined in, and soon, the brawl spread.

New immigrants and original residents clashed, and the conflict escalated into a riot.

…

Xu Jiayi rubbed her temples.

“Newcomers, old residents—none of that matters,” she muttered. “The real cause is scarcity. If we had enough resources, people wouldn’t tear each other apart over scraps.”

“Should we suppress it?” her adjutant asked.

Her gaze sharpened. “Arrest the ringleaders. Tell the troops—no firearms.”

Suppressing a riot was easy; dealing with the aftermath was not.

The blockade already had people on edge. If anyone spread rumors about her using violence, panic would erupt across the island.

So while she sent officers to interrogate those arrested, she herself went out to calm the civilians.

It was past midnight when she finally returned to her office.

She had just closed her eyes for a brief rest when her secretary knocked and entered.

“Is the interrogation done?” she asked.

“We’ve questioned twenty-three main suspects. Over seventy others are still awaiting interrogation,” the secretary reported, then hesitated. “Commander, we’ve received a patrol report—an island has been spotted seven nautical miles southeast. It’s currently surrounded by Li family escort ships.”

Because of the blockade, Li Zairen frequently sent patrol and escort fleets to patrol nearby waters.

Xu Jiayi’s eyes opened. “An artificial island?”

She knew there were no natural islands within a hundred nautical miles to the east or south.

If something appeared just seven miles offshore—it had to be a movable artificial island.

“Yes,” said the secretary. “The patrol boats are awaiting orders.”

Lonewind’s patrol fleet was authorized only to monitor its own territorial waters. Unless the Li ships fired first, they could not engage.

So when the patrol encountered an unknown artificial island encircled by Li family vessels, they had no choice but to stand by.

“Authorize the patrol to make contact,” Xu Jiayi ordered. “Find out who they are and what they want.”

Newborn Island.

After crawling northwest for thirty long hours, the artificial island finally sputtered to a halt around ten p.m.—completely out of fuel.

Zhou Li sighed. “If only I had an Orka energy core from the interstellar world, this fuel problem would be nothing.”

A single ton of Orka energy could power Newborn Island for fifty years.

Speaking of Orka, she remembered the Orka energy crystals she’d stashed inside her E-class item, Treasure-Spitting Golden Toad.

That little toad produced three crystals per day, and by now, she’d collected over fifty.

The crystals were small—each the size of a button—but incredibly versatile. A single one could power a light brain for eight years or an agricultural light generator for over a year.

They weren’t worth much in the interstellar market, but since Zhou Li got them essentially for free, it was pure profit.

Suddenly, Qi Jiayu’s voice came through the radio. “Little Boss, we’ve spotted three escort ships from the Dusa Archipelago. They’ve surrounded us.”

The radios had been found in the island’s control center. Most were broken, but An Fengxuan had tools to repair a few, distributing them so everyone could stay in contact from different areas.

Zhou Li asked, “Did they say anything?”

“Not yet,” Qi Jiayu replied. “No communication so far.”

“Looks like they’re not here to make friends,” Zhou Li said coolly.

Thanks to her crash course from the others, she now knew that the Dusa Archipelago was controlled by the Li family—General Li De’an’s clan.

The Dusa chain had more than eight hundred islands and reefs, making it the second-largest archipelago in the Anhai Sea.

Zhou Li wouldn’t normally judge before meeting someone—she preferred to see for herself who was right or wrong.

But this kind of behavior—surrounding first, talking later—was just plain bullying.

According to Qi Jiayu, under the Inter-Island Convention, the sea within ten nautical miles of any island was considered its territorial waters.

Newborn Island was only seven or eight miles from Lonewind Island—well within its jurisdiction.

Yet the Li family’s ships had surrounded them before Lonewind Island even responded. That was blatant overreach.

“They might try to board,” Qi Jiayu warned.

“Let them,” Zhou Li sneered. “If they can break through the system’s protection, they deserve the prize.”

Qi Jiayu guessed the boss had her reasons for confidence—and she too wanted to see just what that so-called protection system could do.

Just then, the radio crackled again—this time, it was a transmission from a Lonewind Island patrol boat.

☢️☢️☢️

Ch 83: Opening a Survival School Before the Zombie Outbreak

News spread through the village even faster than Shen Qingqing had expected. Not long after dinner that very evening, several people came knocking at their door.

When Shen Mingjiang called her out of her room, confusion was written all over his face. “Qingqing, your Uncle Zhao and the others are looking for you. They said you mentioned the relocation housing construction has been suspended. Did you get something wrong?”

Shen Qingqing had been browsing the forum. Hearing this, she instinctively covered her glowing wristband, then remembered her father could not see it anyway and calmly stood up.

“I’ll go talk to them.”

When she stepped into the courtyard, she saw several people had indeed gathered there. Zhao Hailin was among them.

Everyone looked anxious. The moment they saw Shen Qingqing, they immediately began asking what was going on and where the news had come from.

Zhao Hailin looked especially skeptical. “Qingqing, this isn’t something you can joke about.”

Shen Qingqing first soothed the worried uncles and aunts, then replied unhurriedly, “Why would I joke about something like this? Or does Brother Hailin think I’m lying?”

“I never said the relocation housing had stopped construction. Aunt Li and the others were just chatting casually with me. As for what to do, that’s something each of you should decide for yourselves.”

She looked unwilling to elaborate further, even frowning slightly, clearly displeased.

That reaction only confirmed what people already suspected. Shen Qingqing knew something, but she could not share it openly with too many people.

Anyone used to following gossip knew that the more secretive and evasive a piece of news seemed, the more it fueled imagination.

Several people’s expressions immediately shifted. Their eyes darted about as if silently reaching decisions. Uncle Zhao even cast a suspicious glance at his own son, Zhao Hailin.

Shen Qingqing remained perfectly calm. She had not lied. She truly had never said construction had stopped. Everything was simply Aunt Li and the others’ interpretation.

Even if villagers tried to verify it, they would find nothing conclusive.

Less than a month remained before the apocalypse. Shen Qingqing’s only goal was to get everyone to stockpile seeds, resume farming, and prepare food and supplies before that time. For this, she was willing to use any method, even deception, and did not mind coaxing people into following her advice.

Once the virus outbreak began, no one would have the energy to investigate whether her words had been true or false anyway.

In a village that emphasized collectivism so strongly, looking out only for oneself was never the smart choice.

Among those present, only Zhao Hailin looked displeased.

In fact, during the half year they had not seen each other, he had gotten married.

The Zhao family had hoped the wedding would overshadow the embarrassing memory he left with the villagers that night.

But during the ceremony, the hall had been decorated entirely in festive red. Yet when villagers saw that color, all they could think of was Zhao Hailin’s red underwear from the night the wild boar entered the village. The entire wedding had taken place amid suppressed snickering.

Looking down from the stage, every guest’s face was red from trying not to laugh.

Only the bride and her family had no idea what was going on. After the wedding, they learned the truth from others. Her parents became furious, and the newly married bride was so humiliated she stayed indoors for three full days.

From that moment on, Zhao Hailin held a grudge against Shen Qingqing, though entirely one sided.

Originally, his embarrassment might not have been so severe. After all, anyone facing a full grown wild boar would look frightened while fleeing. But Shen Qingqing had appeared midway, escaping the boar unharmed and even cleverly luring it into a septic pit, successfully subduing it.

Her actions only made Zhao Hailin look even more incompetent by comparison.

Under normal circumstances, he might have considered the relocation housing news more carefully if it had come from someone else. Translated on hololo novels. But now he seemed determined to oppose Shen Qingqing directly.

“My source is absolutely reliable,” he declared firmly. “We might even move next year, at most within half a year. If you’re not afraid of wasting effort, then go ahead and keep farming.”

Shen Qingqing gave a light laugh. “Fine. Let everyone decide for themselves.”

They held each other’s gaze for a moment. Zhao Hailin snorted and turned away.

Shen Qingqing watched his retreating back, then calmly withdrew her gaze.

He was not worth her attention, nor was he any real opponent.

Her thoughts were focused far more on distant S City.

Someone was still waiting for her there.

While the two argued, the Shen family stood nearby watching, stunned by the unexpected turn of events.

At noon they had still been praising Zhao Hailin’s capabilities. Yet in the blink of an eye, Shen Qingqing now seemed to stand in opposition to him, each with their own group of supporters.

She had only gone out for one afternoon. What exactly had she done in such a short time?

In City A, inside a certain villa, the air conditioner hummed loudly as Sun Wei sat with a laptop in her arms, typing rapidly on the keyboard.

The door opened and sounds came from the entryway. Sun Wei snapped her laptop shut, jumped off the sofa, smoothed her hair, and walked forward with a bright smile.

“Dad, Mom, you’re finally back! I missed you so much,” she said sweetly.

Her parents, who had been away on a business trip for days, were startled by their daughter’s sudden enthusiasm. Sun Wei’s mother, Liao Yahui, rubbed the goosebumps on her arm and said sternly, “Speak normally.”

Sun Wei: “…”

Her movement to cling to her mother’s arm froze awkwardly. She cleared her throat. “What’s wrong?”

Liao Yahui replied, “Ask yourself. Usually only Erniu comes to greet us when we get home. When have you ever been this proactive? Go on. What are you planning this time?”

Sun Wei: “…”

Erniu was the border collie their family kept.

Sun Wei’s father, Sun Miao, craned his neck and looked around. “Where’s Erniu?”

“I sent her to a dog training school…” Her parents had been away on a business trip for half a month, yet the first thing both of them did upon returning home was look for the dog. Sun Wei felt exhausted, suddenly realizing just how “distant” her own family relationships were compared to people like Zhang Han.

Her parents were always busy with work, and Sun Wei had often stayed home alone growing up. Later, after she started working in social media, she became busy herself, and communication with her parents grew even less frequent. During high school, under the pressure of adolescence and college entrance exams, she had even had a major argument with them over it.

Liao Yahui and Sun Miao had wanted her to major in business management and enter the family company after graduation. Sun Wei insisted on continuing in science and finding her own career path. The disagreement escalated into a serious conflict, ending with Sun Wei throwing the income from her side business in front of them as proof.

Her parents did not understand the emerging social media industry and feared its instability, while Sun Wei could not be bothered to explain. Their relationship remained tense until she graduated from high school.

After she entered university, physical distance ironically brought emotional closeness. Though they rarely spoke when sitting at the same dinner table before, they now occasionally called each other on video to check in.

Since returning home for summer vacation, Sun Wei had been thinking constantly about how to bring her parents to Fangzhou.

Her combat skills were only slightly better than Zhang Han’s. Translated on hololo novels. Compared to ordinary people she was already quite capable, even able to hold her own against specially evolved zombies for a long time and sometimes eliminate them. But she still lacked confidence in escorting both parents safely across cities alone during the apocalypse.

After all, she was only one person. If zombies entangled her, her unprotected parents would be in serious danger.

Many students in the same city were already forming teams on the forum to travel together when the time came. Still, if possible, Sun Wei wanted to “trick” her parents into going to S City before the virus outbreak.

She had planned this for a long time. Now that Liao Yahui and Sun Miao had finally returned from their trip, the perfect moment to act had arrived.

Under her parents’ questioning gazes, Sun Wei sighed. “Alright, I really do have something I want to discuss with you.”

…

The three sat at the dining table.

Sun Miao asked, “What is it?”

It was rare for his daughter to ask them for help, and a quiet sense of happiness rose in his heart. Beside him, Liao Yahui maintained a proud expression and resisted asking first, though she unconsciously sat up straighter.

Sun Wei said, “Before I explain, take a look at the map around my school.”

She swiftly pulled out a printed Gaode map she had prepared in advance.

Fangzhou appeared isolated on the map. Nearby were only auto repair shops serving long haul freight trucks. To the west stretched a barren plain, and beyond a river further west lay mountains. The entire map looked desolate, with barely any labeled locations. There was not even a convenience store near the campus.

Sun Wei had enrolled alone, and her parents had never visited, so they had no idea the area around her school was so remote. They looked surprised and confused.

After laying the groundwork, Sun Wei finally reached the main point. “You know our campus is newly built. The surrounding area hasn’t been developed yet.”

In the fabricated impression shared between her and her parents, “Fangzhou University” was supposed to be a century old prestigious institution, so she could only explain the discrepancy as a different campus.

“We can’t even order delivery most of the time. Only on weekends can we go into the city for decent food. The cafeteria food is terrible, there aren’t many dishes, and the campus store barely stocks anything.” She paused, then emphasized guiltily, “We eat terribly. Terribly!”

“Look at me, I’ve lost weight!”

She stood and spun around to demonstrate.

Liao Yahui looked at her daughter with a complicated expression. She felt Sun Wei had not become thinner at all, but noticeably stronger and healthier compared to before.

But Sun Miao could not tell the difference.

In his eyes, even if his daughter gained more weight, she would still only be “just right.”

After examining her carefully, he could not hide his concern. “You have lost weight. Why didn’t you tell us earlier? I could’ve mailed you food!”

Sun Wei sat back down, looking troubled. “I do buy food for myself, but online orders are mostly convenience foods. Tasty but unhealthy. And it’s not just me. You haven’t seen my roommates, they’re all pale and skinny…”

Thinking of Shen Qingqing and Song Rushuang, who could now punch down small zombies, and Zhang Han’s muscles from digging fields, she felt slightly guilty.

“And not everyone can afford to buy food online. Most people still rely on the cafeteria,” she added. “There are quite a few financially struggling students at our school.”

Now Liao Yahui began listening seriously.

The couple were traditional entrepreneurs who believed wealth came from society. Every year they donated significant sums and provided aid supplies to children in mountainous regions. Topics involving disadvantaged students always caught their attention.

Sun Wei changed direction. “So, I decided to contract a cafeteria stall to improve students’ meals. I already contacted the school. As a student entrepreneurship project, they allow individual students to lease cafeteria stalls. Before the holiday, I signed a contract, and renovations have already started.”

Her parents exchanged looks, clearly surprised that their daughter had secretly accomplished so much.

In truth, Sun Wei was completely making this up, but she spoke with such seriousness and had real earning experience from her profitable high school side business, so Liao Yahui and Sun Miao were actually convinced.

She continued, “My stall will officially open next semester. But I wasn’t satisfied with the local suppliers I contacted, so I was wondering if you’d be interested in working with me.”

“I’ll handle operations. You could manage sourcing and supply. Profit sharing can be discussed,” she said in a businesslike tone.

Liao Yahui was the chairwoman of a well known catering group in City A.

Sun Miao laughed. “So after all that, you just want to do business with us?”

Sun Wei was still so young.

Yet her sharp business instincts, quickly identifying student needs and taking action, filled him with pride.

The income from a single university cafeteria stall meant little to them, but Liao Yahui suddenly realized this might be an opportunity to spark her daughter’s interest in business.

Since they would not be local, Sun Wei would handle most operations herself, which could also train her. A win win situation.

City A and S City were close enough that transportation costs would easily be covered by their supply pricing.

She nodded. “No problem.”

Once Liao Yahui agreed, the matter was essentially settled. Sun Wei suppressed a smile and said seriously, “If we’re doing this, we should do it properly. How about you come with me for an on site inspection? I can also show you around my campus.”

If she had simply invited them to visit her school, the busy couple would almost certainly refuse. At best, only one might come.

But once business was involved, their attitude changed completely, becoming intensely serious.

Sun Wei had precisely targeted their weakness.

“As for when to go… renovations are still ongoing, so it’s dusty right now,” she said thoughtfully. “Let’s go together to S City at the end of August. The weather will be cooler then, and I can drive you there.”

As expected, both nodded again.

Holding back laughter, Sun Wei coughed lightly and continued, “Since we’re going anyway, we might as well bring the supplies along. I’m thinking of opening a barbecue stall. For the first week’s stock, maybe about five hundred kilograms of chicken, eight hundred kilograms each of beef and lamb to start, plus charcoal, sauces, vegetables…”

Liao Yahui shot upright in disbelief. “…How much?”

A medium sized barbecue restaurant would only use that much in an entire month!

She could not help blurting out, “Are the students at your school reincarnated starving ghosts?”

Sun Miao sat there blankly, murmuring, “Just how bad must that cafeteria food be…”

₊˚.🎧📓✩

Ch 82: Opening a Survival School Before the Zombie Outbreak

Zang Lijun stood there stunned for quite a while.

Her daughter’s hand was dry and warm, the palm covered with calluses that had appeared at some unknown time. Their roughness pressed painfully against her heart, filling her with a sour ache that almost brought her to tears.

Ever since Shen Qingqing returned home during winter break, she had noticed the changes in her daughter.

Although Zang Lijun did not know what Qingqing had gone through outside, she knew that in order to leave this small village, her daughter must have worked far harder than she could imagine.

“I want to go,” she said, forcing herself to meet her daughter’s calm gaze. “I want to see it.”

She wanted to see that world she had never once stepped into.

“Okay.” Shen Qingqing smiled.

A heavy weight in her heart finally lifted. She gently patted Zang Lijun’s hand in reassurance, stood up, and said lightly, “Then I’ll book the tickets later.”

“Do you have money on you? I still have a little here. I’ll transfer it to you first.” Zang Lijun hurriedly began searching for her phone.

“No need.” Shen Qingqing stopped her. “I have money.”

Before the college entrance exams, Shen Qingqing had planned to find part time work as soon as she started university. She had already researched student wages in S City. A job at a restaurant combined with tutoring would cover her daily expenses and allow her to save a little for life after graduation.

But after entering Fangzhou, those plans naturally fell through.

She had already told her family she would work part time and did not need living expenses from home. After enrollment she discovered her plans had changed, yet it was difficult to explain why she suddenly had no time to work.

Fortunately, food and housing cost almost nothing for financially disadvantaged students. Combined with the occasional small transfers from Shen Mingjiang and Zang Lijun, she managed to cover daily necessities and seasonal clothing, barely getting by.

Not long after starting school, Shen Qingqing noticed that her classmates were exhausted from training and did not want to move after returning to the dorms. An idea struck her, and she began offering services in the girls’ dormitory to pick up packages and fetch meals on behalf of others.

Her prices were low, with discounts for monthly subscriptions and even cheaper rates for entire dorm rooms signing up together. She quickly built up a large customer base.

After two semesters, she had actually saved quite a bit of money, enough to enroll in driving school and still have extra funds to stockpile supplies.

By the latter half of the semester, everyone had begun busily purchasing goods. Now, the small storage space Shen Qingqing kept at school was almost completely filled.

As for the money used earlier to rent a car and buy seeds for home, that had come from Shen Mingjiang.

The vegetable plot needed seeds anyway, and since Zang Lijun could not drive, buying supplies was usually inconvenient. When Shen Qingqing said she wanted to rent a car to go to the county town and could bring things back for the family at the same time, Shen Mingjiang readily transferred her the money.

Every cent Shen Qingqing earned was precious to her. Spending her own savings to stockpile supplies for the household was out of the question.

But she still had enough to buy her mother’s train ticket.

Mother and daughter sat together in rare closeness, discussing travel plans. Zang Lijun temporarily pulled herself out of the distressing feeling that her daughter was leaving and began imagining which places in S City they might visit.

She listed attractions one by one while Shen Qingqing listened with a smile, occasionally adding suggestions.

Grandfather and grandmother had the habit of taking afternoon naps. Not wanting to disturb them, and both feeling an unspoken desire to keep this conversation private, they sat instead on small stools beneath the eaves and chatted quietly.

Summer afternoons were the hottest time of day, but the mountain village was relatively cool. Shen Qingqing had built many trellises, now covered in layers of lush green leaves that rippled like waves when the wind blew. Sitting close together, mother and daughter spoke softly, finding a rare sense of peace and beauty within the vibrant scenery.

At that moment, Shen Mingjiang returned home, interrupting their conversation.

He had gone to the county town that morning and had not come back for lunch. As soon as he arrived, he gulped down a large jar of water and wiped his mouth, saying, “I rode back with Old Zhao. He said that once we move into the relocation housing, the government might give meal subsidies, basically covering food and lodging.”

His loud voice woke the two elderly people sleeping inside. Old Man Shen slapped the bedside table with a bang. “I told you we shouldn’t have done all this work. Now look, repairing walls and turning the soil, and we’re about to move anyway. Wasn’t all that effort wasted?”

Though he had not participated in any of the labor, he was the first to complain.

Grandma Shen also sat up, astonished. “Really? They give you a house and food too?”

She had originally been the most unwilling to move, but hearing this made her waver.

She was old and in poor health. If she could eat without farming, who would still want to work under the blazing sun every day?

Had she truly not wanted to move into a new house before?

It was simply to save money.

“Yeah. They said there are many elderly people in our village, and since the relocation housing doesn’t allow vegetable gardening, lots of people don’t want to move,” Shen Mingjiang said while serving himself a bowl of leftover rice straight from the pot, too hungry to even heat it before eating. As he ate, he shared the news he had heard. “If we don’t move, the policy can’t be implemented, so of course the government will have to come up with solutions.”

Listening to this, Zang Lijun felt both happy and worried. Translated on hololo novels. She secretly glanced at her daughter, afraid Qingqing would feel discouraged.

Unexpectedly, Shen Qingqing remained completely calm, showing none of the panic one might expect if plans had been disrupted.

Only after Shen Mingjiang finished eating and set down his bowl did she speak.

“Dad, where did Uncle Zhao hear this from? I checked the Housing and Urban Development Bureau’s official website before and didn’t see this policy. Maybe I should call them again to confirm?”

“It came from official sources. It can’t be wrong. Maybe Uncle Zhao just misunderstood.”

The Old Zhao Shen Mingjiang mentioned was Zhao Hailin’s father.

Shen Qingqing actually understood that the information most likely originated from Zhao Hailin. That uncle, like her own father, only knew how to work hard and understood nothing about policies. He probably did not even know which direction the local housing bureau’s entrance faced.

Rumors like this usually spread from one person to another until many people accepted them as truth.

Sure enough, when she asked further, Shen Mingjiang said, “Hailin told him. It should be reliable. He has lots of connections. Maybe he heard some insider news that hasn’t been officially announced yet. So don’t spread it around, alright? It wouldn’t be good for Hailin if rumors got out.”

Grandpa Shen nodded repeatedly, praising him. “Hailin has wide connections. Being able to learn news like this, the Zhao family is truly fortunate to have a grandson like him.”

After saying that, he shot Shen Qingqing a disappointed look, as though lamenting wasted potential, feeling that this granddaughter of his was like a sealed jar, dull and uncommunicative.

She had been home for so long and still had not gone around visiting neighbors. How could she possibly amount to anything in the future?

Shen Qingqing let out a cold laugh inwardly.

Zhao Hailin only worked odd jobs in the county town. When he was not working, he spent his time drinking and playing cards. The people he knew were either fellow laborers or unreliable drinking and gambling companions. Information coming from such channels could never be trustworthy.

And talking about “bad influence”… Zhao Hailin really knew how to flatter himself.

But the rumor had clearly already spread through the village.

She finally understood why, when she returned during winter break, many people like her grandmother had still resisted moving, yet in only half a year the atmosphere in the village had changed completely. Suddenly many families had stopped farming this year, lying idle while waiting to relocate. So this was the source.

People’s minds in the village had already begun to waver. The rumor must have circulated for quite some time before finally reaching the Shen family.

Shen Qingqing had seriously researched the relevant policies. It was true that many local governments provided meal subsidies for elderly people who had lost farmland, offering a few yuan per meal and even free meals after reaching a certain age.

But as far as she knew, no such policy had been introduced locally yet. Besides, the past was the past. Times were different now, and many things had quietly changed.

Ordinary people were unaware of those changes, but Shen Qingqing understood them better than anyone.

“I’ll go check,” she said immediately. “Don’t just believe rumors.”

Grandpa Shen snorted. “Check what? They already said it’s an unpublished policy. Without Hailin, you wouldn’t have any way of knowing.”

Finally having something that seemed to dampen his granddaughter’s confidence, he looked visibly pleased.

Shen Qingqing pretended not to hear him. After washing the dishes, she returned to her room, closed the door, opened her phone, and began searching keywords.

Half an hour later, her gaze stopped on a piece of local news.

Shen Qingqing had been shut inside her room for quite some time. Zang Lijun wiped the table while glancing worriedly toward the tightly closed door.

Just as she could no longer hold back and was about to knock, the door suddenly opened.

Shen Qingqing hurried out, eyes bright and shining, without the slightest trace of discouragement.

“Mom, I’m heading out for a bit,” she said quickly.

Zang Lijun asked, “It’s so hot outside. Where are you going?”

Shen Qingqing tossed back a reply as she left, “Going to ‘visit the neighbors.’ I’ll be back before dinner.”

The Shen family: “?”

Grandma Shen looked at the blazing sun outside and raised her eyebrows. “She’s been back for over a month and never visited anyone when it was cool. Now she picks the hottest time of day… did she get heatstroke and cook her brain?”

Or had Grandpa Shen’s earlier praise of Zhao Hailin somehow provoked this granddaughter?

Even Grandpa Shen himself felt surprised, never expecting his words to have such an effect.

Only Zang Lijun remained worried about her daughter. She turned and took out mung beans and rock sugar, preparing to cook some sweet mung bean soup for when Shen Qingqing returned.

…

As Shen Qingqing approached a certain house, her steps slowed.

Ahead was Aunt Li’s home.

She knew that some of the village women often gathered together when they had free time, chatting while working.

Aunt Li’s family grew melons and fruits, with vines climbing tall wooden frames that blocked most of the sunlight, making the courtyard the coolest place around. Every summer it became a popular gathering spot. As Shen Qingqing drew near, she indeed heard laughter and conversation coming from inside.

She deliberately walked slowly past the open gate. Sure enough, someone noticed her.

“Hey, Qingqing,” Aunt Li called warmly.

Shen Qingqing stopped and greeted them.

The other women smiled. “We heard you came back a while ago but never saw you. What have you been busy with at home?”

“Doing homework?”

“No, wait, I heard university students don’t really have homework.”

They talked over one another. Aunt Li went inside and brought out a small stool for her. “Sit down, Qingqing. I just cut some watermelon. Perfect timing, come have a few slices. Nice and cold, very sweet.”

Aunt Li had been one of the people chased by the wild boar before. Shen Qingqing had drawn the boar away, indirectly saving her, and since then Aunt Li’s impression of the girl had completely changed.

She deliberately placed a larger slice of watermelon in front of Shen Qingqing.

Shen Qingqing acted as though it would be rude to refuse. After thanking her, she sat down and answered their questions. “I haven’t been busy with much. I just opened up a small vegetable garden in our courtyard and have been taking care of it lately.”

One of the women looked surprised. “You opened new land? You’re moving soon anyway. Why bother? Haven’t you heard the relocation housing covers food and lodging?”

Shen Qingqing looked as though she were hearing this for the first time and shook her head firmly. “Food and lodging included? That’s impossible.”

Her tone was unusually certain. The women exchanged glances, and Aunt Li asked, “Why impossible? Did you hear something?”

Zhao Hailin was known as a young man with “many friends” and “connections,” so his words carried weight in the village.

But Shen Qingqing was no less credible. As a university student studying in a major city and someone who had even been praised by officials from the Forestry Bureau, her words were equally convincing to the villagers.

Perhaps she had heard some news while away from home.

Shen Qingqing indeed said, “The economic situation has been very bad lately. Haven’t you watched the news? Companies are laying people off, many are unemployed, and there have even been disturbances. Society is very unstable right now. The government’s money is all being used for unemployment subsidies!”

“Forget meal subsidies, which were optional to begin with. Right now, whether there’s even enough funding to continue building relocation housing is still a question!”

Her brows were tightly knit, her expression full of worry, as if she had been troubled by this matter for a long time.

As she spoke, she pulled out her phone, found the earlier news article, and showed it to them.

“Look, a county in a neighboring province had the same problem. The government tightened its finances and diverted funds elsewhere. The funding chain broke, and construction on relocation housing was suspended indefinitely. No one even knows what will happen next,” she said, letting them glance briefly at the headline before putting the phone away with a sigh. “You don’t realize how many people are unemployed or bankrupt right now. When people have no money, things go wrong. Quite a few people have already died in S City this year.”

“Compared to that, relocation housing is a small matter. In their eyes, whether we move earlier or later doesn’t really matter. But if unemployment payments fail to go out, that’s a matter of life and death.”

What Shen Qingqing said was not entirely wrong. With the current level of social unrest, the government would naturally prioritize more urgent problems, and relocation housing would likely fall lower on the list.

However, she could not easily find news matching the local situation, and the article she had just shown was actually an old report from several years ago, unrelated to current finances.

Fortunately, everyone had focused only on the headline and failed to notice the publication date.

Aunt Li slapped her thigh anxiously. “How can that be? They already promised food and lodging!”

“Exactly! If we can’t farm, are we supposed to live on air? We’re already in our fifties and sixties. Are we supposed to go out and find jobs as waitresses at this age?” the other women complained.

One woman, more clear headed, voiced a doubt. “But Qingqing, this news isn’t about our area, right? Maybe it won’t affect us.”

Shen Qingqing shook her head. Translated on hololo novels. After hesitating for a few seconds, as if finally making up her mind, she said, “You don’t understand. This is only what gets reported.”

“When they finally announced the funding collapse and construction halt, it was already close to the handover date. They only admitted it because they couldn’t delay any longer. Before that, they were trying to patch the funding gap. They could afford to wait, but we can’t. We’re the ones waiting to move into new homes,” she said. “So we have to notice changes in the situation ahead of time ourselves.”

The women nodded as they listened. Shen Qingqing continued, “As for the current situation… let me put it this way. A big city like S City should have better finances than our area, right? If things there are already this chaotic, do you really think our side is doing better? It’s just being kept quiet.”

She deliberately spoke vaguely. The evasive tone made her sound even more credible.

There was no helping it. People in the village responded well to this kind of delivery.

One aunt asked uncertainly, “Then Qingqing, what will you do in the future? Lijun said you might stay in S City.”

“That’s not certain anymore,” Shen Qingqing sighed. “Otherwise, why do you think I rushed to start farming?”

Hearing this, everyone suddenly understood.

Everything connected at once. No wonder Shen Qingqing had hurried to open a vegetable garden and renovate the old house. She had been preparing for the future all along.

So what was the point of going to university? In the end, she still had to come back to farm.

The thought flashed through their minds, then quickly faded. No, that was not quite right. At least she had gone to S City, gained knowledge, and even shared such valuable information with them.

They had thought Shen Qingqing foolish for repairing walls and planting crops right before relocation. Now they realized they themselves had been the foolish ones. Shen Qingqing must have learned some inside information about the relocation housing and was indirectly hinting to them through news from another county.

If they still failed to understand, then they would truly be stupid.

Thinking this, they secretly glanced at Shen Qingqing.

She said nothing, merely maintaining an inscrutable expression.

That only convinced them further.

She was definitely hiding something she had not said!

An aunt surnamed Zhang hurriedly stood up. “No, our fields have been lying abandoned since the start of the year. I need to go buy seeds right away.”

“Me too.”

“Qingqing, thank goodness for you. Otherwise we’d still be kept in the dark, waiting for blessings to fall from the sky.”

Someone else complained angrily, “That Zhao Hailin, spreading nonsense like that. Maybe he was paid off, lying to keep us from making trouble.”

Shen Qingqing quickly said, “Not necessarily. Maybe Brother Hailin was fooled too.”

“That’s true. He’s never been very reliable anyway…”

Perhaps recalling Zhao Hailin’s earlier performance dealing with the wild boar, the women all showed expressions of painful remembrance and suddenly felt it entirely plausible that he had been deceived.

Matters requiring careful thinking were clearly more trustworthy when explained by a university student.

They stopped dwelling on it. One by one, they left. After finishing her watermelon, Shen Qingqing also politely said goodbye.

Before she left, Aunt Li insisted on pressing the remaining half of the watermelon into her hands. “This is to thank you. You must take it!”

Looking at how mature and composed Shen Qingqing had become, Aunt Li suddenly sighed. “You’ve grown so well. The Shen family is truly fortunate to have a daughter like you.”

Words completely opposite to Grandpa Shen’s made Shen Qingqing’s emotions suddenly complicated.

Lowering her eyes, she bid Aunt Li farewell and began calculating quietly in her mind.

Given how fond the village women were of gossip, this news would spread throughout the village within a few days.

Those willing to believe it would naturally begin farming again. One month would be enough time for them to buy seeds and restore the now abandoned vegetable plots.

The Shen family would no longer be among the small minority with functioning farmland. At least when the apocalypse arrived, they would not become easy targets.

More than that, if enough families resumed farming, enough to outnumber those lying idle, they could even unite to protect their fields together.

At last, a solution to the problem had begun to take shape. Shen Qingqing let out a long breath of relief, her steps growing noticeably lighter.

₊˚.🎧📓✩