Author Archives: sandy

On the way back, Song Rushuang and the others unexpectedly ran into another car from Fangzhou.

After activating the wristband’s map function, the only real-time information it could display was the location of other Fangzhou wristbands.

On the road ahead, three small glowing dots were moving straight toward them.

When the two vehicles met face to face, both sides stopped at the same time with unspoken understanding. Heads popped out of windows, followed by simultaneous exclamations of “Oh hey!”

They actually knew each other.

In the opposite car sat Qin Yufei, Yu Cheng, and Wang Huai’s roommate.

Their reason for teaming up was roughly the same as Song Rushhuang’s group. Each dorm happened to be short one member, their usual teammates were unavailable, so they paired up and headed out together.

The convoy behind Song Rushhuang also stopped. A member of the armed police stepped out to ask about the situation, and Zhang Han quickly explained, “They’re our classmates. They also came out after receiving a rescue request.”

Then she asked Qin Yufei, “Where are you heading?”

Qin Yufei gave an address. “A couple posted a request for help. They were on weekend duty shifts. When they got home, they discovered the child’s grandparents had taken the kid out and never returned. They searched the usual places but found nothing. Someone told them about a mahjong parlor the grandparents often visited, so they asked anyone nearby to check.”

Song Rushhuang and the others: “……”

What a coincidence.

Sun Wei hesitated, then pointed behind them. “Uh… maybe you should check the bus behind us?”

Qin Yufei and the others: “?”

They jumped out and ran straight to the bus. After explaining the situation and boarding, their eyes immediately locked onto Jiājia.

Yu Cheng compared her with the photo posted on the forum and looked up in surprise. “It’s her!”

Wang Huai said blankly, “…We spent nearly two hours fighting to claim this mission, and it’s already done?”

Saving the little girl early was obviously a good thing… but somehow it felt like they had zero participation.

Hearing that the family was being transported to a nearby elementary school, Yu Cheng said, “Both of the girl’s parents are doctors. They should be able to care for her themselves. Why don’t we just take them home directly?”

The plan to send everyone to the school had only been a precaution, since they had gone so long without food and there was concern about possible complications later.

But if family members were capable of caring for them, there was no need to occupy additional medical resources.

The medical staff on the bus conducted one final examination of the three family members. After confirming their vital signs were stable, they allowed them to disembark.

The girl’s home was not far away. Translated on Hololo novels. Since they were already here, Song Rushhuang’s group decided to go along.

Following the address, they arrived at the building. Before they could even confirm the unit entrance, a couple burst out from inside, supporting each other as they stumbled forward.

Ignoring the possibility of zombies outside, their eyes searched frantically among the two parked vehicles. When they saw Jiājia jump out of the car, the dull exhaustion in their eyes instantly lit with brilliance.

After confirming again and again that she really was their daughter, their emotions broke all at once.

“Jiājia!!”

Jiājia’s lips trembled as she burst into tears. “Mom! Dad!”

Seeing the parents’ haggard faces and bloodshot eyes, Song Rushhuang knew that while Jiājia and her grandparents had suffered over the past three days, the two left waiting at home must have endured something even worse.

They had rushed out the moment they saw two vehicles arrive. Who knew how long they had waited upstairs?

How many times hope had risen, only to collapse again.

And yet, in this apocalypse, Jiājia’s family could still be considered fortunate.

At least their loved ones had returned to them.

How many others had left home that afternoon saying they were just going out for a while, never to come back again?

Even though the students had experienced similar scenes many times in simulation pods, they still felt deeply moved.

Jiājia’s grandparents also stepped off the bus but did not dare approach, stopping at a distance. Suddenly, the grandfather dropped to his knees before his son and daughter-in-law, prostrating himself on the ground as he muttered repeatedly, “I have no face to come back and see you…”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

The grandmother struck herself in remorse, her lips trembling too hard to form words.

Jiājia’s mother turned her head away. Her father stood still, looking at his weeping parents. After a long silence, he finally said a few words.

“It’s dangerous outside. Let’s go upstairs first.”

His tone was stiff.

The group of students exchanged glances quietly, just as they were wondering whether it was time to leave, when Jiājia’s mother suddenly noticed them and hurried forward.

“Are you the classmates of the person who replied to my message earlier?”

Over the past two days, one parent had stayed home while the other searched outside. Translated on Hololo novels. They had spent two full days combing through every children’s playground and park Jiājia often visited.

Several times, they had nearly been attacked by infected people. By the time they reached their limit, exhausted beyond endurance, they finally posted a plea for help that morning.

They had not expected a reply so quickly. The responder was a student with an out-of-town IP address who said he studied in City S and had reposted their situation on his school’s forum—

“I haven’t returned yet, but my classmates are all very kind. Someone will definitely go help you. Don’t worry too much!”

He was the first person to reply, and the only one before the network went down.

Jiājia’s mother had placed nearly all her hope in that single message. But as time ticked by, the couple could no longer sit still.

Rather than trust strangers, they decided to grit their teeth and go out searching again themselves.

Even if this time they never came back, it was better than staying home knowing their daughter was suffering somewhere outside.

Before they could leave, the two vehicles arrived and brought back the daughter they had longed for day and night…

Jiājia’s mother had always been an atheist, yet at that moment she felt as though fate itself had guided events.

At the same time, countless people were posting pleas for help online.

But that student had happened to see hers.

He had replied.

And the warmhearted classmates he mentioned had truly brought her daughter home safely.

The shadow of despair dispersed. The day had been sunny all along, but only now did she feel the sunlight truly fall upon her.

Overwhelmed with gratitude and unsure what to say, the woman thought for a long moment before blurting out, “Please leave your contact information. Our whole family will definitely come thank you in person later.”

The circumstances made preparing gifts inconvenient.

But such a great kindness felt impossible to leave unacknowledged.

“Oh, right, and what school are you from? We’ll have a banner made and send it over…”

The moment she said this, several students simultaneously pictured the infamous “Save My Dog’s Life” banner hanging in the gym back at school. They forced awkward smiles, hurriedly trying to banish the mental image.

“There’s really no need to go through all that trouble.”

“We appreciate the thought.”

“We didn’t actually do much.”

“Yeah, as long as Jiājia and her grandparents are safe, that’s enough.”

Jiājia’s father joined the conversation, looking firmly unconvinced. “How can that be? At least leave a contact method. You have to let us properly express our thanks.”

Seeing the conversation on the verge of turning into a tug-of-war right there downstairs, everyone nearly forgot where they were.

While politely refusing, Song Rushhuang and Qin Yufei even took the time to eliminate two zombies that had quietly wandered closer to watch, never interrupting their conversation.

Jiājia’s parents stared blankly, momentarily forgetting what they were saying.

Realizing they would soon attract even more zombies if this continued, Sun Wei suddenly had an idea.

“We won’t leave personal contact information,” she said quickly. “If you want to express thanks, just @Fangzhou directly.”

After all that persuasion, finally gaining a piece of information, Jiājia’s mother asked eagerly, “Is that ‘Fangzhou’ like the ‘ark’ in Noah’s Ark?”

Zhang Han traced the character in the air. “No, Zhou as in oasis.”

“Fangzhou, Fangzhou,” the couple repeated seriously several times, finding it familiar. “Isn’t that the name of a school?”

“Uh… yes,” Sun Wei replied. “Our school organized a volunteer rescue group. If people around you need help, you can include that keyword when posting.”

“Of course, our manpower is limited, but we’ll help wherever we can,” she added carefully.

Jiājia’s parents nodded repeatedly. In their eyes, these students had already become towering figures, so admirable they could hardly find words strong enough.

“You’re incredible.”

“Please stay safe.”

If they could find Jiājia, then they could bring hope to other families too.

Seeing zombies approaching again, the students quickly ushered the still-thanking family upstairs, clearing out the nearby zombies along the way. Only after finally getting back into the car did they collectively let out a long breath.

Suddenly remembering something, Zhang Han turned to Sun Wei in the back seat. “We don’t actually have an official social media account yet, do we?”

Sun Wei waved a hand confidently. “You forgot I’m in the publicity team? Once we get back, I’ll gather people and set one up.”

Zhang Han gave a thumbs-up. “That’s impressive.”

So this was what it felt like to hold real authority.

“The compilation thread was already claimed by Xiao Su. I’ve got to contribute something too,” Sun Wei shrugged. “Besides, I didn’t just think of this on a whim. I was already considering it on the way here.”

“Right now everyone is gathering help requests from all over the internet and reposting them on the forum. The sources are messy, verification is hard, and the workload is huge. Plus people still have to reformat everything manually. It’s inefficient. We might as well open an account to receive submissions directly, then organize teams through the forum.”

“After teams are formed, we can update progress in real time through the official account. That way other civilian rescue groups know someone is already responding and won’t duplicate efforts,” Sun Wei explained logically. “Even if people don’t directly tag us, as long as they use certain keywords, we can search by keyword and save time filtering information online. Overall, the benefits outweigh the drawbacks.”

“This morning when I was browsing Weibo, I saw that some volunteers already created shared spreadsheets maintained collaboratively. We could cooperate with those accounts and have them organize existing requests by region and pass them to us.”

After all, Fangzhou only had about two thousand people. It could not match the sheer number of capable volunteers across the internet, and this time they had been a step slower.

Sun Wei had realized that similar online accounts were already quite mature. Someone had clearly anticipated how difficult it would be for certain regions to request help.

They had not only created public shared documents but also assembled more than twenty groups of volunteers working in shifts, ensuring someone was online nearly every hour.

Most of those volunteers could not leave their homes, but they could handle coordination work, freeing Fangzhou students from tedious administrative tasks.

Realizing Sun Wei had genuinely thought everything through, even planning potential collaborations, the other two stared with mouths open before bursting into applause.

“Amazing!”

“As expected of Sister Wei!”

Sun Wei practically preened under the praise, unable to hide her pride as she waved grandly.

“Let’s go. Back to school!”

Saving those nineteen people was only the beginning. They still had much more to do today.

₊˚.🎧📓✩

Lying flat on the ground like this was not a solution. Besides, who knew how many zombies had crawled here before them. Maybe it was just her imagination, but Song Rushuang felt she could smell decay in the air.

“Where’s the entrance to the basement?” she asked decisively.

“You have to go around outside the complex,” one elderly man who still had some strength replied. “Next to the noodle shop entrance, there’s a staircase going down…” He hesitated, then added fearfully, “But we tried pushing the door before. There’s a monster outside. It even bit Old Zhang to death.”

The two girls’ brows twitched. They had already encountered zombies face to face.

From the sound of it, the old man who encountered the zombie had been killed outright. Tragic, yet in a grim way fortunate. If he had survived long enough to be carried back inside for treatment, everyone in the room would probably already be infected.

“Got it. Wait here,” Sun Wei said.

As the two turned to leave, worried voices came again from the small window behind them. “Girls, be careful out there! Shouldn’t you call more people for help?”

Whether because elderly people naturally had poorer hearing or because hunger left them too weak to observe outside, they seemed unaware of what the three girls had just done outside.

After calling Zhang Han over, they drove the car out of the complex and parked along the street beside the former noodle shop.

A few zombies still wandered the street. Unfortunately, unlike the enclosed space inside the complex, clearing them completely would not be easy.

After a quick discussion, they decided Zhang Han would stay in the car on standby. If any zombies moved toward the entrance, she would honk the horn as a warning and drive off to lure them away.

Song Rushhuang and Sun Wei would go down to rescue the people, maintaining constant contact through their wristbands.

With the plan settled, the two rescuers got out and searched around the noodle shop. Sure enough, they found a concealed staircase leading downward.

Two or three zombies lingered near the door, persistently scratching at it, perhaps having heard movement from inside through the panels.

They dispatched the zombies in a few swift moves and dragged the bodies aside. Song Rushhuang knocked on the door.

After a delay, the sound of furniture being moved came from within.

Sun Wei listened for a moment, impressed. “How much stuff did they pile against this door?”

Then again, it made sense. A group of frail elderly people had few other means of protecting themselves.

After a while, the door opened a narrow crack. When the people inside confirmed it really was them, the wrinkles on an old man’s face trembled, and cloudy tears rolled down immediately.

They guided the sobbing elder inside to sit down, afraid his agitation might cause another medical emergency.

Once the door closed, the choking stench inside made both girls frown.

More than a dozen people had been trapped in a poorly ventilated basement with a corpse for three days. The smell was exactly what one would expect.

Sun Wei used her wristband to notify Zhang Han that they had located survivors and asked her to use the car’s radio to try contacting nearby soldiers or armed police for evacuation support. Meanwhile, Song Rushhuang began asking questions.

“How did you all end up here? We came because someone heard a little girl crying. Where is she?”

With rescue finally arriving, everyone’s spirits lifted. Two or three elders who still had strength began explaining all at once.

The two girls finally understood.

This really was a hidden card and mahjong parlor, quite well known among nearby elderly residents. Many retirees, bored during the day while their children were at work, would come here to play cards and mahjong.

The basement environment was poor, but once people got absorbed in gambling, no one paid attention. Many arrived after lunch and stayed until nearly midnight.

On the day the virus broke out, plenty of people had come as usual. They started playing after noon and continued until around five or six in the evening. Translated on Hololo novels.Only when some people left early to cook dinner did anyone realize something was wrong.

Weekends were normally lively here. Why, aside from the lunchtime group, had no one else come all afternoon?

Old Zhang, who hurried out to go home, screamed shortly after leaving. He stumbled back into the parlor, slammed the door shut, and died against it before he could say a word.

The others discovered in horror that his throat had nearly been torn apart by a bite.

At the same time, beastlike growls came from outside.

There was more than one. Footsteps paced back and forth, accompanied by pounding and scratching at the door.

Terrified, the group first assumed animals from a wildlife park had escaped, or perhaps tigers or wolves from the nearby mountains had entered the city.

It was not impossible. The area around City S was mountainous, and every few years rumors spread about starving wild animals descending into urban areas.

They had thought someone would eventually notice the disturbance and call firefighters to rescue them.

Instead, they waited an entire night with no help arriving.

With no other option, they turned to the only small window and asked Jiājia, the youngest child present, who had been brought there by her grandparents, to try climbing out and seek help.

The crying people heard came from Jiājia as the others lifted her toward the window.

Unfortunately, the window was too narrow. Even for Jiājia, squeezing through was extremely difficult. Her head and shoulders easily became stuck. Worse still, during the first attempt, after struggling for a long time to push half her body outside, several monsters in the distance heard the noise and began shambling toward them.

Jiājia burst into terrified sobs, and the elders hurriedly pulled her back inside.

Their strongest attempt had failed. Later, when the monsters wandered elsewhere, they tried again several times. But with no food, Jiājia grew weaker and weaker. Each attempt became harder than the last and took longer, yet none succeeded.

That had been the source of the crying.

As for why no one had called for help, it was because Jiājia’s first attempt had shown them that noise attracted the monsters’ attention. After that, they no longer dared make a sound.

“There wasn’t any food in the card room?” Sun Wei asked, puzzled.

“No,” the elders shook their heads weakly.

They were too exhausted; even answering took effort.

It turned out there were many cheap eateries upstairs, and most customers were elderly people unwilling to spend money. Many even arrived carrying leftover steamed buns from breakfast wrapped in plastic bags. Snacks like biscuits or instant noodles simply never sold.

Over time, the owner stopped stocking such items altogether. The only thing provided in the parlor was hot water for tea.

Banning outside food was impossible. There were several similar parlors nearby, and if the owner tried that, customers would disappear the next day.

After becoming trapped, the elders survived three days solely on the small amounts of food and water each had brought.

On the final day, hunger grew unbearable. Translated on Hololo novels. They even divided and ate the tea leaves that had already been brewed in their cups.

The basement’s soundproofing was too good, and the signal too poor. They had no idea what was happening outside and had even missed the live news broadcasts from the previous two days.

When they finally went out, the shock awaiting them would likely be immense.

Sun Wei and Song Rushuang exchanged a glance and quietly stepped outside, using their wristbands to notify Zhang Han and the incoming rescue personnel to temporarily conceal the situation outside from the elders.

They would wait until the group had eaten, rested, and recovered some strength before telling them.

Song Rushuang continued asking, “Where’s Jiājia?”

“She’s here.”

Several elders hurriedly led her over. In a separate mahjong room, Jiājia lay sleeping on a mahjong table, covered with a short-sleeved shirt. At the sound of movement, she barely lifted her eyelids. Her breathing was faint.

The elders, many of whom had grandchildren of their own, looked both heartbroken and guilty.

“Her grandparents saved all their food for her,” one said softly. “But the child is sensible. She secretly saved some and fed it back to them when they were too hungry to endure. Now she’s starving too.”

In the corner, the grandparents leaned against the wall, half-asleep, guarding their granddaughter.

The grandfather’s upper body was bare. The shirt covering Jiājia was likely his.

When they saw Song Rushuang, they tried to speak excitedly, but no strength remained beyond faint sounds.

For a moment, Song Rushhuang did not know what to say.

Could she say they loved their granddaughter? Yet they had brought a seven- or eight-year-old child into a smoke-filled gambling parlor because of their obsession with playing cards.

Could she say they did not love her? Yet at the edge of life and death, they had given her their only food.

She swallowed the swirl of emotions and rummaged through her pocket. To her surprise, she found a lemon candy she did not remember putting there. Melted once by the heat and hardened again, it stuck to the wrapper. She struggled to peel it open and quickly fed it to Jiājia.

“Hold on a little longer. The rescue team will be here soon.”

Hope lit up the elders’ eyes, followed by a stream of grateful thanks.

Song Rushhuang waved her hand. “You’re being saved because someone outside noticed something was wrong, and also because of Jiājia’s efforts.”

After being terrified by zombies like that, and still trying again and again afterward, even many adults might not have had that courage.

The elders nodded repeatedly. “Yes, yes, we’ll remember this kindness.”

They had tried to save as much food as possible for Jiājia, but there simply had not been enough.

After waiting so many days and finally seeing hope arrive, a surge of strength seemed to return to their exhausted bodies, sustaining them a little longer.

About twenty minutes later, nearby armed police arrived. They efficiently cleared the remaining zombies and even moved the bodies farther away before escorting the elders out.

Seeing sunlight again after three days, their knees nearly gave way beneath them. But soon they noticed something strange.

Why was everything outside so empty?

And why were all the people who came to rescue them carrying guns?

They boarded a bus used for evacuations. Emergency personnel distributed IV fluids and blankets, while another medical team boarded with equipment, checking each elder’s temperature, blood pressure, heart rate, and overall condition.

These medical staff also wore heavy protective gear.

The situation was better than expected. Aside from four elders with underlying conditions like hypertension and diabetes whose states were more critical, everyone else, including Jiājia, was simply weakened by hunger and dehydration. A few days of recovery would be enough.

All of them would be transported to a nearby elementary school.

Under normal circumstances, the four more serious cases would have been sent to hospitals for further examination. But now every hospital in the city was already overflowing, with no beds available, so nearby facilities had to be used instead.

The bus curtains were tightly drawn and even sealed with wide tape along the edges, completely blocking the outside view.

Though uneasy, the elders’ weakness dulled their thoughts. Under the reassurance and care of experienced medical staff, their emotions gradually stabilized.

Outside the bus, the leading officer expressed his thanks to Song Rushhuang and the others.

“…If you had arrived even half a day later, those four probably wouldn’t have survived. The rest would have been in serious danger too. You saved the lives of nineteen people.”

“I’ve heard of Fangzhou for a long time. I didn’t expect to encounter its students personally today. Truly impressive young people.” His gaze held clear admiration before he straightened solemnly. “On behalf of these nineteen citizens and their families, I once again offer you our sincere gratitude.”

Song Rushhuang hurriedly waved her hands and briefly explained how they had received Shi Yue’s help request.

“So I have one request,” she added. “When you leave, could the convoy pass by the main entrance of the complex?”

The officer blinked, then immediately understood and agreed with a smile. “Of course.”

…

Some time had passed since Song Rushhuang and the others had driven away.

From what Shi Yue and her roommates saw before they left, the girls seemed to have discovered something behind the flowerbeds. But once the car moved out of sight, they could not see what happened next. All they could do was sit anxiously by the bay window and wait.

What if those people came back?

“Do you think they found the child?”

“I don’t know,” Shi Yue shook her head, then suddenly perked up. “Wait. Do you hear that?”

It sounded like several gunshots.

The three immediately pressed themselves to the window. About ten minutes later, they finally spotted a familiar white car slowly passing the entrance of the complex.

“It’s them!” Shi Yue recognized it instantly. “Did they rescue the people?”

They were so anxious they could hardly bear it, wishing they had telescopic vision to see whether the little girl sat in the back seat.

The white car disappeared from view. Just as they were about to look away, they froze.

Behind Song Rushhuang’s car appeared an armored riot-control vehicle. Its pure black body and imposing shape radiated authority.

The armored vehicle led the way. Behind it followed a large bus, flanked and guarded by additional vehicles.

As the convoy passed Qinghuanli’s entrance, it deliberately slowed, as if intentionally conveying a message.

Shi Yue trembled all over, suddenly on the verge of tears.

After a long silence, one roommate said uncertainly, “Did they slow down… for us?”

“It was just rescuing one child. Why would they dispatch a whole bus…”

The other roommate trailed off midway, realization dawning. “Wait… could it be more than one person trapped inside?”

Enough people to require a bus for evacuation… just how many had been trapped down there?

The three stared at each other, dazed.

It felt as if, without realizing it, they had done something truly significant.

₊˚.🎧📓✩

Qinghuanli was not a large residential complex. All the buildings were arranged in a ring around a massive circular central flowerbed. There was barely any space between buildings, and they were built tall, with windows packed tightly together. Standing in the middle felt like being at the bottom of a deep well, the oppressive weight hitting you head-on. From where they were, they could already take in the entire complex at a glance.

Of course, that also meant every resident could see them just as clearly.

More and more zombies gathered. The population density here was high, and who knew how many shared rentals were hidden inside. The number of zombies lurking out of sight was, unexpectedly, not small at all.

Song Rushuang stopped overthinking. She grabbed a knife and got out as well. Before leaving, she popped open the sunroof, and did not forget to shut the car door on her way out.

Earlier, she had honked not only to draw the attention of residents upstairs and check the little girl’s location, but even more to lure out the zombies hiding in the shadows and clear them out ahead of time.

A prepared head-on fight was always better than being ambushed by a zombie suddenly popping out of some corner while they were focused on searching for someone.

*

“Do you see anyone coming?”

On the eighth floor of one of the buildings on Qinghuanli’s west side, Shi Yue could not stay put in her room any longer. Uneasy, she stepped out. Hearing movement, another roommate poked her head out from her bedroom.

In the living room, the roommate on watch sat cross-legged on the bay window seat, hugging a book to pass the time. She shook her head at the question, frowning. “How could it be that fast? And honestly, I don’t think it’s likely. I’ve been watching for ages, and there hasn’t even been a single car passing on the road outside…”

That help message had been sent through Shi Yue’s account, but it had actually been a joint decision the three of them made together.

They did not dare go out. They could not see exactly where the little girl was, could not confirm the situation, and it was hard to call the authorities for help. All they could do was try their luck by posting online.

What if some civilian rescue team happened to be patrolling nearby, saw the message, and came to check?

In their imaginations, simply confirming the girl’s condition, rather than rescuing her immediately, should not have been that difficult for professionals.

But after sending the message, their unease only grew.

Their minds filled with every kind of grim thought.

Even though they had been careful with their wording and included everything they could observe, what if they still missed something, or caused ambiguity, and the rescuers overlooked a risk?

…What if the infected were even more terrifying and difficult than they had imagined?

What if the network was bad and the message had not actually gone through, or no rescuers ever arrived, and the girl died quietly wherever she was trapped?

What if, what if…

In despair, Shi Yue had even considered going out herself to take a look, but quickly abandoned the idea.

She truly did not dare, and she did not have the ability.

“Do you think someone will really come?”

It was not their watch shift, but Shi Yue and the other roommate clearly could not rest either. Translated on Hololo novels. They sat down together on the bay window seat, and one of them asked quietly.

“I don’t know. I don’t think the odds are good.” Shi Yue picked at her finger. “Our complex isn’t small. At the very least, a few thousand people live here, right? That girl’s crying is so loud everyone can hear it, but no one has come down to help.”

She could not blame them. After all, she herself did not dare go out.

There were plenty of people standing at windows like they were, looking around, probably all willing but unable.

But if no one among the thousands right nearby would step forward, could they really expect outsiders to travel all this way specifically to help?

Shi Yue felt miserable and helpless, and could only comfort herself that at least they had tried.

“What if…” one roommate bit her lip, then swallowed the words. “Forget it.”

The other asked, “What were you going to say?”

“I was thinking, what if we take out a few packs of the instant noodles I stockpiled and ask in the complex group chat whether anyone is willing to go down and check? We could lower the noodles from upstairs as payment. But trading a few packs of instant noodles for something this dangerous just feels…” The woman sighed.

These past few days, people in the complex group chat had been intermittently begging for food. If they were willing to offer supplies, maybe someone really would take the risk.

But would that not mean using food as bait, sending someone desperate into danger?

If something went wrong, she could not forgive herself.

Besides, the instant noodles were hers, but the roommates got along well. If she ran out later, would Shi Yue and the others really ignore her? What her idea would consume, in truth, was their shared stockpile.

Thinking of that, she shook her head awkwardly. “I’m just talking.”

Shi Yue exchanged a look with the other roommate and said softly, “Let’s wait a little longer. If no one comes before nightfall, we’ll think of something else.”

As she spoke, one of them, sharp-eyed, caught sight of something and straightened abruptly. “Look. Is that car coming this way?”

All three rushed to the window, pressing to the glass to look down, and sure enough, a car drove into the complex.

“Is it here to help?” Shi Yue brightened.

But then, before their eyes, the car stopped, honked its horn, drew in a swarm of zombies, and two young women jumped out.

It was completely unlike the professional team she had imagined. Even from this distance, it was obvious they were young, probably students.

How… how could it be a few students?

Shi Yue stared, dumbfounded. When she snapped back to herself, sheer panic seized her. “I wrote that there were several zombies! Didn’t they see? What are they doing!”

And looking at the two of them, both had short hair and wore long sleeves and long pants, their skin covered up. They looked crisp and capable. But their protection seemed to end there. No protective suits, no helmets, no riot poles or steel forks to keep zombies at a distance.

Were they just well-meaning amateurs?

Shi Yue’s voice went shrill, then cut off as if someone had clamped a hand around her throat, because at that very moment Zhang Han raised her arm and brought a fire axe down with ferocious force onto a zombie’s face.

The three of them reflexively shut their eyes, but they were a beat too slow. They saw the axe sink halfway in, and when it was yanked out, a loud splash sent a wide sheet of red spraying out.

All three turned pale, their faces going almost purple, as if their own skulls were throbbing with pain.

“My grandpa chops firewood like that at home…” one roommate whispered.

Switching the firewood for a human head in her mind, she covered her mouth, feeling like she might vomit.

Realizing the girls actually had some skill, they finally felt less panicked, but they still watched with tense attention.

Across the way, more and more faces appeared at windows in the other building. Shi Yue even saw several people, after clearly seeing what was happening below, make shocked backward waving motions to call more companions over.

In an instant, it was no longer only a few hundred or a thousand pairs of eyes watching Zhang Han and the others.

Not long after, another girl jumped out of the driver’s seat and casually shut the car door. Shi Yue was completely sure now.

There were really only the three of them.

Their courage was a little too much…

Noticing the “audience” upstairs, Zhang Han did not slow down, but she could not help muttering, “If only I had a hat.”

Being stared at so directly was kind of awkward.

But the three of them did not have the principal’s level of skill. Even with a gas mask, it would not hinder her movements. A simple baseball cap would block part of their field of vision, and none of them dared take that risk.

“Move faster,” Sun Wei said, amused. “And you’re still thinking about that at a time like this.”

Upstairs, Shi Yue and the others had no idea what they were saying. They only felt that the atmosphere seemed… unexpectedly relaxed.

Was that an illusion?

Down below, the three girls dispatched several zombies in the blink of an eye, moving with ease.

Before the blackout, Shi Yue and her roommates had seen videos uploaded by netizens. Translated on Hololo novels. In many of them, zombies would stand up again after being knocked down. But none of the zombies killed by these three girls rose again. Each one twitched on the ground for a moment, then went completely still. Their efficiency was obvious.

But Shi Yue had a higher vantage point and a wider view. Not far away, near Building 8, even more zombies were running out after hearing the commotion.

She had not noticed earlier, but now she saw that the entrance door to Unit 1 of Building 8 was not fully shut, only loosely closed. With no one outside before, the zombies inside had likely been searching for residents in the stairwell, without any reason to come out.

In the space of a blink, seven or eight emerged. No one knew how many more were still inside.

“Oh no, oh no…” Shi Yue was about to cry. She was now basically sure these girls had come because of her post, but the zombies swarming them were more than double what she had described.

She wanted to save someone, not hurt anyone.

“We have to think of something.”

“We posted that together. We can’t get them killed.”

The other two roommates were panicking too.

Building 2, where Shi Yue lived, directly faced Building 8. It was in almost the opposite direction from where Song Rushuang and the others had parked. If they tried, they might be able to draw the zombies’ attention and stall them until the girls below dealt with the rest.

With that thought, Shi Yue and her roommates shoved the window open with all their strength, without caring about anything else.

The window of an older building screeched harshly against the frame. Several zombies turned their heads at the sound. Seeing it work, the three women felt a surge of hope.

But before they could even shout, one of the girls below somehow broke out of the encirclement, sprang onto the car roof in two quick steps, and leapt straight toward the lead zombie coming out of the unit entrance. Before she even landed, she grabbed its head and twisted.

The zombie’s head that had just turned away was twisted right back, by an extremely “forceful” method.

Shi Yue and her roommates practically had their eyes fall out.

That was not just turning it around. Twist a few dozen degrees more and its head might have come clean off.

The zombie collapsed limply, motionless. The girl finished it off with another strike. Then she lifted her head, found Shi Yue’s direction, pressed her index finger to her lips, and made a gesture for silence.

Shi Yue and her roommates froze, uncertain.

Was she… telling them not to make noise?

When Shi Yue and the others nodded hesitantly, the girl turned back to deal with the remaining zombies.

One zombie after another fell. Shi Yue watched so intently that she did not notice a phone had appeared beside her at some point.

With limited battery, except for the brief hour when there was internet, their phones were basically powered off. They could not bear to waste charge.

But at that moment, Shi Yue’s roommate opened the camera, aimed it at the three girls, and began filming in earnest.

“If one day the virus gets wiped out, or the network improves and we can upload videos… we can’t let the outside world never know what they did, right?”

Noticing the others’ looks, she explained in a low voice.

*

To be honest, Song Rushuang had not expected Shi Yue and the others to risk drawing the zombies away. Most people simply watched in silence.

But she truly did not need them to do that.

Qinghuanli looked like it had been built some years ago. Unlike newer residential designs with clean, simple facades, this complex had a messy web of protective grilles and exposed pipes across the exterior. A mid-level zombie could absolutely climb up that.

Although at a glance she had not yet spotted anything beyond low-level zombies, it was not unheard of for an evolved zombie to have a moment of strange clarity and mix among its slow-moving companions.

Shi Yue and the others might not have thought that far, but Song Rushuang was here to save someone. She could not have the little girl still unrescued while three well-meaning bystanders got dragged into danger.

When the last zombie fell, Song Rushuang climbed onto the car roof again and carefully scanned the area to confirm whether any zombies remained.

After looking, she remembered something, lifted her head, and met Shi Yue’s gaze. The three women shook their heads at her.

It seemed there were no more.

Song Rushuang gave an OK hand sign and called to Sun Wei and Zhang Han, “Let’s go. We need to figure out where the trapped child actually is.”

She remembered that when they first drove in, the zombies had been concentrated at the base of that building. She did not know whether they had been trying to climb up and failed, or whether there really was something there.

Now that the zombies were cleared, Zhang Han stayed in a spot with good visibility to keep watch, while Song Rushuang and Sun Wei circled past the flowerbed below and finally saw what had been hidden by the shrubs.

Near the base of the building, close to the ground, there was a small rectangular window, roughly 40 by 25 centimeters. No one could possibly crawl out through it.

“This is…” Song Rushuang froze. “A half-basement?”

It hit her at once. The ground-floor storefronts had a raised floor level. The developer had probably taken advantage of that to build a half-basement beneath. The other buildings, not being street-facing, had no such design, which was why Shi Yue had never thought of it.

Everything became clear. The sign outside the unit entrance read that Floors 2–30 entered here. That meant the entrance to -1 should be outside as well, just like the first floor. If Shi Yue had passed by without paying attention, it was completely normal that she would not know the basement existed.

As for residents on the second and third floors, first, there was a full floor between them and the basement, so they might not hear what was happening below. Second, if, as Shi Yue said, most people here were renters rather than owners, they might not know about the basement either.

But what was the basement used for?

“I’ll do it.” Sun Wei stepped forward, turned on the flashlight built into her student wristband, and shone it through the small window.

What she saw made both of them gasp.

Inside the room closest to the window sat a mahjong table. On it were dried-out tea cups and an ashtray filled to the brim with cigarette ash.

The door stood open. Beyond it, they could see a larger hall with several more card tables. A number of people sat slumped in chairs or lay against the wall, but the flashlight beam did not reach far enough. They could only make out vague silhouettes.

Noticing the light, someone lying on the floor struggled upright. They squinted, their movements already extremely weak.

Sun Wei switched the flashlight off. Song Rushuang called out, “Is anyone in there?”

At that voice, the people inside, sitting and standing, began moving one after another. The two girls felt their scalps prickle. They had only come to rescue a little girl. Who would have expected so many people hidden down there?

It took some time for the group to gather at the room. There were about a dozen in total, men and women, but all were middle-aged or elderly.

After being trapped for three days, some of them could barely stand without support.

The moment they saw Song Rushuang and Sun Wei, tears poured down their faces. “Save us. Please, save us!”

The two exchanged a look and saw the same feelings in each other: absurdity and anger.

…In the basement of this building was a hidden gambling parlor.

Was the little girl’s crying that Shi Yue had heard because one of these elderly people had brought a granddaughter along?

₊˚.🎧📓✩

After camping on the forum for a full hour and refreshing countless times, Song Rushuang finally managed to “snag a job.”

When she claimed it, she had not even read the details. The moment the words “City S” flashed before her eyes, her hands moved faster than her brain. She immediately posted the prewritten team-formation reply in another thread. Only after confirming again and again that she was the first person to sign up did Song Rushuang quietly let out a sigh of relief and finally take the time to check the request itself.

According to the form, the help request had been posted in a local secondhand trading group. The poster’s ID was Yueyue, real name Shi Yue.

Song Rushuang privately messaged Su Huaijin to obtain the original post.

According to Shi Yue’s description, she was in her twenties and had come to City S from elsewhere for work, renting a bedroom in a residential complex called Qinghuanli. After the virus outbreak, she and her two roommates had stayed indoors the entire time. Since they usually avoided eating out or ordering delivery and cooked for themselves, they had stocked plenty of supplies and were managing fairly well.

However, during the daytime on the second day, they suddenly heard the sound of a little girl crying from downstairs.

At first, the three assumed it was a child from a quarantined household crying. But after thinking it over, they realized Qinghuanli mostly consisted of shared rentals occupied by migrant workers, and very few residents had children. Moreover, the direction of the sound felt wrong.

【It felt… like it was coming from underground.】Shi Yue wrote.

The child cried for two consecutive days. On the first morning, her voice was still loud. She cried twice before seemingly being comforted by an adult nearby.

But that same night, again at midnight, and once more the following day, the girl cried three more times. Each time her voice grew weaker and the crying lasted longer, as if the adult comforting her was becoming slower to respond.

Feeling that something was wrong, Shi Yue and her roommates took turns keeping watch. Whenever the child began crying, they pressed against the window and searched desperately in the direction of the sound. All they could see were four or five zombies gathered beside the flowerbeds near the neighboring building, but they never saw the girl herself.

【The building where the zombies gathered faces the street side of our complex. The entire first floor consists of rental storefronts, and the zombies are gathered on the inner side facing the residential area. That unit used to be a noodle shop, but it closed at the start of the month. A new owner had just taken over and was renovating. The weekend when the virus broke out was their scheduled day off, so there shouldn’t have been any workers inside. It should have been completely empty.】

As Shi Yue continued writing, even she seemed unsettled by it:

【So we truly have no idea where the little girl actually is.】

【As for the upper floors above the noodle shop, during one observation we saw figures moving behind the windows on the second and third floors. Judging by their silhouettes, they weren’t children, probably residents drawn out by the crying as well. We’re fairly certain the crying isn’t coming from above the third floor.】

【The child’s crying is getting weaker. She probably won’t last much longer. If there are any capable and kindhearted people nearby, could you please go check the situation? Our district will soon begin power rationing again. This message was written in advance. If a child’s life can be saved, it would at least count as doing some good.】

【Below are my contact details, specific address, and the infection situation I’ve observed…】

One Fangzhou student happened to be in that secondhand group as well. After scrolling through cached chat history, they discovered that Shi Yue had previously sold a yoga mat there, listing Qinghuanli as the pickup address, which largely confirmed the reliability of the information.

Power rationing had been implemented nationwide by region, and City S was no exception. Electricity to Qinghuanli’s district had already been cut off at ten in the morning. By the time Song Rushuang saw the message, it was already impossible to contact Shi Yue again that day.

But since another student had already verified the credibility of the information…

Song Rushuang considered it and decided it was still worth going to take a look.

Qinghuanli was a little over forty minutes’ drive from Fangzhou. Since Fangzhou itself was located in a relatively remote area, the distance was not far at all.

The route avoided the congested city center, making traffic unlikely. Even driving cautiously, a round trip would probably take only two hours.

But if the situation was real, she might be able to save the little girl’s life.

Having made up her mind, Song Rushuang explained the situation to her parents.

Over the past two days, she had already demonstrated her abilities through various sparring sessions against simulated zombies and had tactfully mentioned that she is a part of the elite team.

Surprisingly, upon learning she had been selected for the elite team, her parents showed not only worry but also a faint sense of pride.

“Really? You’re that amazing? But isn’t it a bit dangerous?” Xu Mingyu frowned, yet the corners of her mouth tried to lift while praising her, her expression awkwardly caught between concern and delight.

A perfect embodiment of mixed joy and worry.

Song Jianguo praised her as usual: “That’s my daughter! Out of more than two thousand students, only five were chosen. Incredible… But the zombies you fight probably aren’t ordinary ones, right? Is there anything we can help with?”

Song Rushuang: “……”

Should she respond to the praise first, or comfort their emotions first?

In any case, after two days of emotional back-and-forth, and after learning that their actions were usually carried out under the principal’s supervision, Xu Mingyu and Song Jianguo seemed somewhat reassured. Though still worried, they gradually accepted the situation and even trained more diligently every day.

This time, Song Rushuang simply showed them the help request post. “It’s not very dangerous. Just a few low-level zombies. Ordinary civilians just don’t know how to deal with them.”

“You say that like you’re not an ordinary civilian,” Xu Mingyu replied irritably. Still, after reading the request, her heart tightened at the thought of the little girl.

They did not stop her again, but Song Jianguo still asked uneasily, “You’re going alone?”

“No. I’ll find a few more people on the forum in a bit and we’ll go together…”

Song Rushuang was still soothing them when someone suddenly knocked on the dorm door.

When she opened it, Sun Wei and Zhang Han were standing outside.

After greeting Uncle and Auntie, Zhang Han blurted out impatiently, “Xiaoshuang, was that post yours?”

“Let’s go as a three-person team! We tried forever and couldn’t grab anything. Good thing Hanhan recognized your ID.” Sun Wei said.

The forum was anonymous, but you could use a fixed alias. The four roommates in the same dorm all basically knew each other’s regular handles.

Song Rushuang grinned. See? No need to recruit on the forum at all. The chosen teammates had delivered themselves to her doorstep.

A lot of the people forming teams already had fixed squads. They took missions to build coordination. But Song Rushuang did not really need that. The five-person elite team already had enough chemistry. Besides, Su Huaijin had the forum to manage, and Shen Qingqing was not around.

Of the remaining two, Zhang Han was a typical lifestyle-focused player who mostly stayed on campus and did not have a fixed team at all. Translated on Hololo novels. As for Sun Wei, after Song Rushuang and Shen Qingqing joined the elite class, she had gone to team up with a few girls from the neighboring dorm. They usually ran simulation pod dungeons together and such.

But two of those girls still had not returned, so Sun Wei came back to play with Zhang Han and Song Rushuang.

After a few days together, Xu Mingyu and Song Jianguo had grown quite fond of Zhang Han and Sun Wei too. Hearing that the three would act together eased much of their worry.

With the team set, Song Rushuang logged onto the forum and replied under her own post:

[Team is full, sorry!]

The disappointed applicants scattered at once, just like Song Rushuang had done over the past hour, and went off to look for new teams.

Everyone was grinding way too hard. Who knew how long they would have to keep refreshing before it was finally their turn.

*

The three submitted a leave-of-campus request to Fu Qing through their wristbands, listing their return time as the same day. Approval came within two minutes. They drove off in Song Rushuang’s car.

Neither Zhang Han nor Sun Wei had left the campus since the apocalypse began. In only a few short days, looking at the streets outside gave them a sense of having crossed into another lifetime.

Song Rushuang was better off. She had gone once to Tian Xuejun’s place, but that had still been only around Fangzhou. Once they drove beyond the school’s surrounding area and the scenery shifted from desolate to gradually more bustling, all three fell silent.

Zombies wandered everywhere, the blood on their clothes still fresh, enough to show how gruesome their deaths had been before mutation. Corpses lay strewn across the roads. Bloodstains were everywhere.

Shop windows along the route had been smashed; shelves inside were toppled and scattered in total chaos. Translated on Hololo novels. Hearing the car’s engine, zombies crawled out from all kinds of dark doorways and windows. Their pallid faces turned slowly like sunflowers tracking the car’s path, heads tilting back as they roared.

These zombies were like rats and cockroaches in the sewers. You never knew how many more of their kind were hiding in the dark.

Fortunately, Song Rushuang drove fast enough that before the zombies could fully react, the car was already through the areas where they were clustered.

They could feel it: behind every street-facing window, countless eyes were hiding, watching them alongside the zombies.

The survivors’ gazes were heavy and bleak. For an instant, the three even hated how sharp their senses were.

Because they could not save that many people, and knowing those people existed was painful enough.

Song Rushuang kept both hands on the wheel, slowed down, and carefully steered around the bodies in the road.

No one knew whether a corpse’s family or friends were still hiding nearby, watching their dearest person rot slowly under the sun.

“This morning I ran into that special-ops member with the surname Zhou downstairs at the dorms. She said the authorities have already organized crews to start collecting the bodies off the roads.” Sun Wei said softly. “They’ll bring them back to confirm identities, then cremate them together, and family can come claim them afterward.”

“But there are too many. The workload’s enormous. By now they’ve probably only cleared a small part of the city.”

Going out onto the streets to haul bodies was not something just anyone could do. The military had to be deployed for it too, because wherever the bodies were densest, the zombies were usually thick as well.

There were too many places that needed manpower. The three could easily imagine how stretched thin the top must be.

But…

Song Rushuang and Zhang Han glanced out the window. Flies were already swarming in dark clouds above many of the bodies, and the heads were not something you could bear to look at closely.

Zhang Han said quietly, unable to bear it, “This isn’t that far from Fangzhou. I’ll register it.”

Fangzhou had a dedicated “body recovery team.” With ample manpower, they had cleaned the areas around the school thoroughly. But they had not expected that only a few streets away, so many corpses had already piled up. If it continued like this, it would only take a few more days before residents along the street were affected.

Strictly speaking, they did not have the authority to handle bodies, but extraordinary times called for extraordinary measures. After hearing about it, Bai Xianglei and the others had expressed support.

Before cremating each body, Fu Qing would have students take photos for record and note the location where it was found, so relatives could later confirm identity. A portion of the ashes would also be collected into an urn and stored together with the photos and file. In the apocalypse, this was already remarkably humane.

As for what the remaining ashes were ultimately used for later on, Bai Xianglei and the others chose, selectively, to pretend they had not heard.

Once Zhang Han registered it through her wristband, the body recovery team would be able to take the bodies away the next time they passed through.

Song Rushuang’s wristband, meanwhile, was used for navigation.

Student wristbands could download maps, but obviously they could not show real-time traffic flow the way a certain map app could. That part required experience.

Every Fangzhou student had undergone relevant training and specialized memorization. They knew City S almost like the back of their hand. From inconspicuous alleyways to the locations of hospitals and police stations, and even the usual traffic on the main roads, they had it all in their heads. After getting their driver’s licenses, they would team up on weekends to go drive the roads for practice. Even out-of-town students like Zhang Han were more familiar with this city than many locals.

So before setting off, the three had already plotted a route: avoiding high-traffic roads prone to congestion and avoiding roads with key facilities like hospitals. The route they chose proved exactly as expected, with few cars and few pedestrians.

Along the way, they also ran into a patrol convoy. Both sides stopped. Several armed soldiers got out and knocked on their window, and seeing three young women inside, immediately asked whether they needed help.

But after hearing that they were Fangzhou students, the soldiers’ expressions shifted. They only said, “Be careful,” and waved them through, without even giving much of a lecture.

That surprised the three.

Fangzhou’s reputation seemed to have already spread among the troops…

It felt like having a special pass. And the feeling… was kind of nice.

After exactly forty minutes of driving, the entrance to Qinghuanli came into view. According to Shi Yue’s description, the barrier gate at the entrance had been smashed by zombies and was stuck raised. The inside of the complex was fairly spacious as well, so a car could drive straight in without fear of getting blocked and trapped.

When they arrived, it was exactly as described, and their goodwill toward the contributor shot up.

She was not asking for help for herself, but for a little girl she did not even know, and she had even spent precious internet time to do it. That alone was enough to earn respect.

Not to mention she had written everything in great detail, which not only spared a lot of trouble but also helped ensure the safety of whoever came to help.

Inside the complex was a circular flowerbed. The three found an empty space to park. Sitting in the car, they swept their gaze across the area, and sure enough, several zombies heard the movement and came shuffling over from the same direction.

Sun Wei had paid attention to the roadside signs before entering and pointed toward a building nearby. “I looked from outside just now. The storefront on the first floor of that building is under renovation. There’s no one inside. That should be it.”

The unit entrance stood open, giving a direct view of the elevator lobby. Though it was daytime, the interior looked dim and eerie, and they could not make out details.

The ground-floor storefronts here seemed completely separated from the residences on the second floor and above. A sign beside it read: Entrance for Floors 2–30 This Way. In other words, if you entered through that door, there was no “first floor” inside for residential access.

Song Rushuang thought for a moment, then suddenly hit the horn.

The parked car let out a sharp, jarring blast. The zombies, sluggish a moment ago, immediately became excited and surged toward the vehicle.

Zhang Han and Sun Wei both jumped, reflexively drawing a blade and hefting an axe. Before getting out, Sun Wei even slapped Song Rushuang’s arm, clutching her chest as she complained, “Next time you do something like that, can you at least warn us first!”

Zombies were one thing, but a sudden horn in this absolutely silent environment was terrifying.

Even so, the two hopped out before the zombies could surround the doors, each taking a direction and starting to clear them out.

A few clean swings later, several zombies dropped.

Shi Yue had not been wrong. These really were low-level zombies, and dealing with them was not difficult.

Only…

Song Rushuang frowned, looking at the residents who had been drawn by the noise, poking their heads out from second- and third-floor windows and even higher. Most looked like young adults. No parents’ generation, and no children either.

So where, exactly, was that little girl hiding?

₊˚.🎧📓✩

On the third day of the apocalypse, Fangzhou.

Outside, water and electricity rationing had already begun, but those living on campus were not greatly affected.

The largest share of agricultural water relied mainly on the river bordering the plains, which eased a significant portion of the burden. Domestic water, meanwhile, depended primarily on the water treatment system Fu Qing had installed long ago.

The system’s water treatment facilities not only recycled wastewater but also included a rainwater collection and filtration system as supplementary supply.

Originally, as long as everyone conserved a little, this was already enough for the shelter’s residents. But now the outside world was nearly cut off from water entirely. With summer passing and winter only a few months away, rainfall would inevitably become even scarcer, while the shelter’s population would steadily increase. Fu Qing could not help but worry.

To prepare for trouble before it arrived, she wanted to drill another well.

Though she called it drilling a well, providing for the daily needs of several thousand people in the shelter would clearly require far more than a single well.

Fortunately, the system marketplace sold a complete groundwater extraction package that included the well itself, pumping equipment, and supporting facilities.

Since Fangzhou lay close to a river, its groundwater resources were abundant. Once the well was completed, water usage on campus would no longer be a concern.

Of course, such a convenient facility came with an equally impressive price.

【Groundwater Extraction System】500 Teaching Points

【Currently Held: 216 Teaching Points】

Fu Qing could only sigh as she looked at it.

Even worse, Zhao Yunxiao, who was in the capital, had 24 teaching points forcibly deducted every day.

The balance left in her account was not even enough for him to stay another week.

If this continued, then someday soon, while everyone in the capital laboratory was deep in heated discussion, someone sitting quietly to the side might suddenly vanish into thin air and refresh back onto campus…

That would surely frighten the elderly professors half to death.

Fu Qing wanted to send Zhao Yunxiao a message reminding him to be careful, but she truly did not know how to bring it up.

What was she supposed to say? That the family was so poor they could no longer afford to keep him working away from home?

Too embarrassing.

Teaching points earned no interest sitting in the account, while purchased items generated value immediately. So unless she was saving for particularly expensive equipment or facilities, Fu Qing almost always spent everything as soon as she obtained it.

She had once imagined that one day teaching points might run short, but she had never expected to become this strapped for resources.

Resting her chin in her hand, Fu Qing reviewed the main sources of teaching points outside of missions.

First was Favorability. Translated on Hololo novels. Over two days it had risen from 83% to 87%. Compared to its previous stagnation, this was practically a rocket-like leap.

Fu Qing guessed this might be related to the parents arriving at Fangzhou.

Having gained protection there and avoided the dangers of surviving outside was clearly a major factor influencing the students’ favorability after the apocalypse began.

Second was Influence. After revealing the truth to the major figures and gaining their trust, Fu Qing had received a one-time system reward.

The extra teaching points remaining after buying bracelets for the parents came from that reward.

But compared to upcoming expenses, it was merely a drop in the bucket.

Having just increased her influence, Fu Qing genuinely could not think of anywhere else to squeeze out additional rewards in the short term.

Third was Exploration Value, the reward granted by the system when she previously discovered the existence of the Devotees.

The truth of the world, including the existence of world consciousness, the opposing relationship between the Zombie King and the system, and these core secrets, were already known to Fu Qing. If everything were compared to a game, she suspected she had essentially cleared this storyline.

So where else could she obtain more teaching points?

Fu Qing sat in her office, lost in deep thought.

At the same time, the students were not idle either.

In the dormitory, Song Rushuang lifted her arm and sniffed herself to check whether she smelled.

Tracking down the hooded woman would take considerable time, and Xue Ran’s training also required effort. As a result, Fangzhou’s students found themselves unexpectedly free during this period.

Song Rushuang continued maintaining her daily exercise routine as usual.

Having just returned from morning training, she felt covered in sweat.

With Fangzhou under water restrictions, showers were allowed only once every two days, each limited to five minutes. But the weather was so hot that stepping outside meant immediately breaking into sweat. When she could not bathe, Song Rushuang could only wipe herself down with the wet wipes she had stockpiled.

Even so, she still felt sticky all over.

She could only comfort herself by thinking that this was already far better than life outside.

Over the past two days, she had also gone online, chatting with old classmates and friends through social media, roughly learning how harsh their lives had become.

Since yesterday, even chatting required timing it precisely within the brief half hour when the network was available. After only a few exchanged sentences, the connection would disappear again.

The content of the chats had also changed from the first day’s mutual comfort, fear, and complaints into only a few extremely brief exchanges.

Today, Song Rushuang even received a mass message from a middle school classmate. It was clearly a long block of text prepared in advance before network access returned. At the very beginning was a large line:

【Urgent plea for help from villagers of xx Village! 367 people trapped, mostly elderly, weak, sick, and disabled. Power and water cut off. Emergency phone lines constantly busy and unreachable. Food supplies critically low. We have no way out. Please help spread this message!!】

To make it more eye-catching, several red exclamation mark emojis followed in a row.

Song Rushuang carefully read the plea for help.

This classmate seemed to have returned to their hometown with their parents for summer vacation. They originally had train tickets to leave on the second day after the virus outbreak, but ended up trapped in that village instead.

It was hard to say whether that was fortunate or unfortunate. If they had left a day earlier, they might have been stranded on the returning train instead, which would have meant having absolutely no chance of escape.

But being trapped in the village was not much better. The village was not particularly remote geographically. Several roads connected it to neighboring villages, with frequent travel between them. That very night, several zombies had wandered into the village along the main road. After sensing human presence, they lingered and refused to leave.

Many of the villagers were elderly people left behind and children, completely incapable of resisting zombies. Some were bitten to death, and the survivors hid inside their homes, too afraid even to step outside.

They tried calling the police, but the lines were endlessly busy. Even when someone finally managed to get through once, they were only told to register their situation on a website and wait for rescue.

But with millions registering and rescue forces far from sufficient, they had waited two days and could no longer endure it.

This morning, Song Rushuang’s classmate, a university student, took action first. While no zombies were nearby, they called out through a window to neighbors across the way. Messages were passed from household to household, one after another, until they compiled statistics on how many people were still alive in the village and how many zombies remained.

Then they edited the message directly and, during the brief window of network access, mass-sent it to various group chats and social platforms, hoping a kindhearted person might see it and come help.

After finishing the message, Song Rushuang checked the village’s location and felt a pang of regret.

It was simply too far away. Even if she wanted to help, she could not possibly get there in time.

Helpless, she could only share it to other group chats and her Moments feed.

But just after posting, when she returned to the homepage, she saw a neat row of exclamation marks indicating the message had failed to send. She glanced at the upper right corner and, as expected, the network was gone again.

Remembering something, she switched back to Moments and confirmed that the post had not gone through either. Song Rushuang almost laughed from frustration.

She was angry at the unstable network and worried about that classmate at the same time.

Because this meant they might have to wait another twenty-four hours.

And across the entire country, how many villages like this existed? The xx Village plea had only been sent because Song Rushuang’s classmate, a university student home for summer vacation, knew how to use the internet. But many more elderly people and children living in villages did not know how to use smartphones at all. Translated on Hololo novels. They could only listen to the endless busy tone of emergency lines and wait for death in despair.

Not every village would encounter someone like Shen Qingqing. Most people had no ability to fight back against zombies at all.

Not to mention that even if someone managed to send out a message like this classmate did, rescue would most likely never arrive.

Civilian rescue teams might still handle floods, earthquakes, or typhoons, but zombies were completely beyond their professional scope.

Thinking this, Song Rushuang opened the student forum on her wristband.

The internet could not be used, but this piece of black-tech still operated normally. If she could not seek help through public group chats, asking fellow students should at least be possible.

Maybe some students who had not yet returned to campus were near xx Village.

According to the description in the plea, the village only had low-level zombies, about eleven or twelve in total, scattered throughout the area. Any Fangzhou student could handle them easily.

The forum page refreshed. The moment Song Rushuang saw the homepage, she froze.

【31 people trapped at Hongxin Hotpot Restaurant on Qing’an Road, City A, including staff and customers. Food sufficient, but one customer has heart disease and urgently needs medication】

【Over one hundred workers trapped at Huiguang Furniture Factory in the western suburbs of City O. No food or water for two days. Urgent!!】

【Forwarded from group chat: Landslide caused by heavy rain in Yong’an County, City C. Many injured require transport for medical treatment, and housing collapse has left people without shelter. Rescue personnel were said to be on the way but have not arrived after a full day. Suspected accident en route or possible latent infected individual in the vehicle… Anyone nearby able to check the situation?】

【Anyone in City F? Chun Garden Kindergarten on Heping Road…】

【I’m in City Z, returning in two days. Please compile all City Z requests and send them to me…】

【People in City F gather here! Planning to organize a temporary team】

The past two days had been too busy. Hosting Bai Xianglei’s group, running around with the principal, and settling and caring for her parents meant Song Rushuang had barely browsed the forum.

In just over a day, countless posts had appeared. As she scrolled downward, she noticed the surge in posts had begun around the time power restrictions started.

Clearly, many people shared the same idea she had. Since posts could not be forwarded through social apps, they came to the still-connected forum to seek help.

Just as Song Rushuang prepared to join the growing wave of requests, her finger moved and accidentally refreshed the forum, revealing a newly posted thread pinned at the very top.

Title: [Master Thread for Compiled Help Requests | Water Restrictions | Posting Format in Main Post]

Main post:

[There are too many related discussions on the forum. After a quick look, I noticed many duplicate posts, so I’m taking the liberty of creating a compilation thread to prevent repeated information and unrelated discussions from burying help requests. I will repost what I see. Before submitting new requests, please check whether it has already been posted. If not, please follow the format below. Thank you for your cooperation!

Location (Province/City/County)

Specific address and surrounding conditions (road access, etc.)

Type of assistance needed (zombie elimination / food or water shortage / medical shortage / situation confirmation…)

Risk assessment (number of zombies, strength level)

Have official authorities been contacted? Any response received?

Urgency level (how long they can hold out, to help prioritize assistance)

Requester name or online ID

Requester contact information

…

There may be oversights, please feel free to add suggestions! I’ve also opened another thread for students in different regions to form rescue teams. Those interested in participating, see here →【Click to jump to link】

Reminder: please verify authenticity when reposting requests. Prioritize requests where the requester can be contacted directly or quickly verified. Also, to avoid wasting precious rescue resources, for those who have already contacted authorities, please confirm their queue position on the official website.

If you wish to claim a rescue mission, private message me. I will confirm promptly and reply in the corresponding post so others can focus on different tasks.

Finally, everyone participating in rescue efforts must prioritize personal safety.]

Poster: CheeseIsPower

…

Seeing the poster’s name, Song Rushuang felt it was exactly as expected.

Little Su really was an action-taker. How did she always manage to move one step faster than everyone else?

There were still several days before the official believer-hunting mission began, and many online pleas for help had already been circulating for three days. These people urgently needed assistance now, and the optimal rescue window happened to fall within these remaining days.

The two goals did not conflict, and it prevented students from sitting idle at school.

With the outside world losing internet access and civilian rescue teams unable to deal with zombies, the Fangzhou forum was the most suitable place to post such requests and the most likely place for them to receive responses.

Not long after the thread was posted, it was highlighted and pinned, clearly because Su Huaijin had contacted the principal immediately after posting.

Within only a few minutes, more than a dozen help requests appeared in the thread, and that was while many others were still editing and verifying information.

Impressed by how effective the method was, Song Rushuang filled out her middle school classmate’s request according to the format and posted it as well.

She then jumped into another team-forming thread to see whether there were any local missions in City S.

But one look left her speechless.

It was not that there were no missions in City S, but they were impossible to claim.

Fangzhou itself was located in City S, so local students were naturally the most numerous. In the team-forming thread, more than a dozen teams formed in the blink of an eye, all already full.

Each team consisted of five people. Everyone knew the hunting mission would begin soon, and they were likely treating rescue operations as a warm-up.

Otherwise, given Fangzhou students’ strength, five people were unnecessary. Simpler missions could easily be completed in teams of two or three.

But if that were allowed, there would be even less chance of getting a slot.

Song Rushuang watched helplessly as new missions appeared in the compilation thread, only for corresponding claim posts to show up instantly in the team thread, faster than delivery riders snatching orders.

Song Rushuang: “……”

Unacceptable. Strongly unacceptable. Couldn’t they leave at least a little chance for someone with slower reflexes like her?!

₊˚.🎧📓✩

Hearing the voice outside, Shi Guangyao’s expression changed instantly. Like a startled bird, he nearly sprang up from his chair.

His parents, however, sensed nothing wrong. His father even replied instinctively, “Who is it?”

As he spoke, he walked a couple of steps toward the entryway.

It was only the second day after the outbreak. Most households still had supplies, and military convoys passed through the streets every few hours broadcasting updates. Overall social order was still being maintained.

Neighbors, rather than distrusting one another, were mostly encouraging each other, trying to survive together.

Guided by official messaging, most people still regarded the situation as merely a wider and more severe “flu,” believing the country would eventually find a solution. Few had realized humanity might be facing an existential crisis.

History had proven again and again that when world-shaping events first occur, people are often slow to grasp their significance.

Some were beginning to worry about food supplies, but those calculations had not yet surfaced openly.

So Shi Guangyao’s parents were not overly cautious.

He hadn’t expected his father to respond so quickly. It was too late to stop him now. Anger aside, this was not the time to argue. Shi Guangyao rushed back to his room, grabbed a dagger, hid it behind his back for courage, and carefully followed his father.

Seeing his caution, his parents felt a trace of fear themselves and began to regret answering so quickly.

At that moment, the person outside replied.

“I’m from the neighborhood committee,” the steady voice said. “Just here to notify you of a few things and then I’ll leave. It’s not very safe outside. Could you open the door?”

Hearing that it was “community staff,” the parents immediately relaxed.

Just as they were about to open the door, Shi Guangyao suddenly stepped forward and looked through the peephole.

A man stood outside, bundled up heavily. He wore multiple layers of masks, a riot-control suit, and a riot helmet.

Shi Guangyao recognized the equipment. It was the same set kept in the equipment corner beside the security booth at the entrance of their residential complex.

The man outside asked again, “Hello?”

He glanced nervously behind him, as if afraid of something.

His mother urged softly, “Let him in. There are zombies everywhere now. The hallway isn’t safe either…”

That reminder struck Shi Guangyao. If zombies were attracted here and the man were bitten outside, the smell of decay would be the least of their worries. If he turned into a zombie and lingered at their door, that would be far worse.

After hesitating two seconds, Shi Guangyao unlocked the door and pulled it open.

The moment he saw what stood outside, he cried out and tried to slam the door shut. But a hand shot in from the side, and a foot wedged firmly against the bottom, locking the door open.

Despite his heavy build, Shi Guangyao could not overpower the man no matter how hard he strained. The door was forced open again.

He staggered backward in terror, reaching for the dagger in his pocket.

Four adult men stood outside.

Besides the one who had spoken, two others had been hiding in blind spots along the staircase where the peephole could not see. Only after the door opened did they descend casually. All wore riot gear, and one held a steel fork weapon.

Another man stood farther down the stairs, climbing up only after hearing movement. He carried a riot shield, apparently responsible for lookout and defense against zombies.

Four men, clearly coordinated and fully equipped.

Shi Guangyao’s heart trembled. His grip on the dagger weakened.

The blade could not pierce riot armor, and he had no confidence he could strike any exposed gaps.

The man at the door looked him up and down and smiled. “Don’t close the door. We really are from the community. Just a quick survey and we’ll leave.”

“There are more of us because it’s dangerous outside. We serve the people, sure, but we can’t risk our own lives either, right?” he added casually, stepping inside first. The other three chuckled and followed.

Four strong men filled the narrow entryway completely.

As if entering their own home, they immediately began looking around at ease.

Only then did Shi Guangyao notice they were wearing gloves. His pupils shrank in fear.

Gloves. To avoid leaving fingerprints?

The power was out across the complex, meaning surveillance cameras were likely offline. These men were still cautious enough to wear gloves. If they truly intended harm, all they needed was to clean up afterward, leave the door open, and lure zombies inside. His entire family could disappear without a trace.

Darkness swam before Shi Guangyao’s eyes. Terror drained all resistance from him, and he retreated behind his parents.

His mother squinted, trying to recognize the faces hidden behind masks. When she saw one man’s exposed eyes, she suddenly exclaimed, “You… aren’t you—”

The man’s gaze turned instantly cold.

Shi Guangyao clamped a hand over her mouth. “It’s nothing! Nothing!”

He had recognized him too. The man was one of the residential complex’s security guards, identifiable by a large mole near his brow.

That meant the others were likely rotating guards as well. The complex’s security had always been poor, often hiring temporary workers who changed frequently. Many were migrant laborers working in the city.

The security booth had beds. Night-shift guards often slept there between rotations.

With the outbreak, these men likely couldn’t return home and might have gone hungry since yesterday afternoon. Who knew what they might do now?

In the apocalypse, they had taken riot gear, disguised themselves as community staff, and gone door to door. Whatever their purpose, it could not be good.

If they realized their identities were exposed, his family might not survive.

Shi Guangyao didn’t want to die, and he certainly didn’t want to be dragged down by others. Translated on Hololo novels. He pressed his hand over his mother’s mouth with all his strength. Her eyes filled with tears as muffled sobs escaped her until his father finally pulled them apart.

The leader watched coldly and snorted. “At least you understand the situation. Don’t forget, I know where you live. Keep your mouth shut about things you shouldn’t say, or else…”

He tapped the knife at his waist.

The family nodded frantically.

Perhaps because it was still early in the apocalypse, the men showed some restraint and did not attack outright. After delivering their threats, they began rummaging through the home.

With the front door closed, the apartment became a sealed room. They dropped all pretense, overturning drawers and cabinets like bandits. Within moments, the once tidy home was in chaos.

One man found the locked storage room, twisted the handle, and turned toward Shi Guangyao.

Shi Guangyao swallowed instinctively, remembering the storage-room key hidden in his bedroom.

He had hidden it fairly well. Maybe… just maybe…

His thoughts churned chaotically. In his despair, Shi Guangyao even clung to a faint hope that the man might somehow overlook the suspicious room, as if suddenly struck blind.

But the next second, the man grinned at him, then lifted his foot and kicked hard at the lock.

The wooden door shuddered violently, slamming against the wall behind it and revealing a room packed to the brim with supplies.

The man needed only one glance before wild excitement filled his eyes. Remembering Shi Guangyao’s earlier evasive behavior, he instantly understood.

“You didn’t seriously think I’d need a key to open a lousy door like this, did you?”

He glanced strangely at Shi Guangyao’s parents, who stood protectively in front of their son, and sneered, “Who exactly is this lock meant to keep out? Don’t tell me… your own family?”

Shi’s mother turned deathly pale, and his father clenched his teeth.

Had their family truly become so twisted… that even home invaders could mock them?

His father swayed slightly and was steadied by his mother. Their eyes met briefly, but neither spoke.

The man called his companions over to move the supplies. Each of them carried woven sacks. They dropped the empty bags open on the floor. The one holding the shield blocked the doorway while the other three began stuffing items into the sacks.

As they worked, they casually tore open packets of biscuits and devoured them greedily.

Shi Guangyao watched crumbs scatter across the floor, his heart twisting in pain.

Those biscuits had long shelf lives. Even he had been reluctant to eat them.

But to these men, stolen supplies were windfalls from heaven. There was no need for careful rationing.

After filling several large sacks, they still weren’t satisfied. They searched the rest of the apartment, taking many of his mother’s gold and silver jewelry pieces and two watches belonging to his father.

Neither parent dared protest. Money meant nothing now. They only prayed the men would take enough and leave them alive.

Room by room, the search continued, until they reached Shi Guangyao’s large south-facing bedroom. The door was unlocked; one man pushed it open casually.

Slumped on the floor, Shi Guangyao suddenly remembered something and jerked his head up.

He wanted to stop them, but he lacked the courage.

Moments later, a shout came from inside:

“Hey! Come look! There’s a ton more stuff here!”

“With all these instant noodles and water, plus what we already got, we’ll eat well for a long time. We’ve hit the jackpot! Hahaha!”

The man barely restrained his laughter, only holding back for fear of attracting zombies.

The others hurried over, dragging out boxes of instant noodles and bottled water from beneath the bed and the bottom of the wardrobe.

The bedroom door stood wide open. Nothing could be hidden. Though Shi’s parents could not see inside, the scraping sounds of heavy objects being pulled and the men’s excited chatter told them everything.

They turned toward their son in disbelief.

Since when had there been food stored in his room?

His father cautiously stepped closer and glanced inside. The brand of instant noodles looked familiar. They were the very ones the family had bought together at the supermarket.

They had trusted their son completely. They had bought so much food over several trips that no one remembered the exact quantities. None of them knew when Shi Guangyao had secretly moved so many supplies into his own room.

Darkness swam before his father’s eyes.

The truth was, the couple had already discussed this quietly the previous night.

They had bought enough supplies to last two or three months even with normal consumption, and perhaps half a year if rationed carefully. With news broadcasts promising future airdropped supplies, they felt there was no need to be so frugal.

But their son had been emotionally unstable lately. Thinking about the hardships he had endured over the past year, they feared upsetting him further. So they endured hunger themselves, always prioritizing his feelings.

Those four men had gone hungry for a day before risking robbery.

But what about Shi’s parents? They too had barely eaten for an entire day and night, waking that morning with stomachs painfully empty.

Who could have imagined that while they starved themselves for their son’s sake, he had secretly hidden so much food and water in his own room?

There was still empty space in the storage room. It had never been completely full. Hiding supplies in his bedroom under such circumstances could only mean one thing.

He had been guarding against them.

Thinking of their deceased relatives, Shi’s mother finally broke. She pointed at her son, her finger trembling uncontrollably.

“What were you thinking, Guangyao? Even if you hadn’t hidden it, how could your parents ever let you starve? Why? Why would you do this?”

Her voice trembled with grief.

They could not understand. Ever since he was small, hadn’t the best things always been given to him first? He was the only boy of his generation. During holidays, relatives favored him most, giving him the thickest red envelopes.

Every privilege, every kindness, every sacrifice had been for him. Yet how had it led to this insatiable selfishness?

What had all their devotion brought them in return?

Indifference when it mattered most? Or being the first ones pushed forward as shields in a crisis?

Shi’s mother remembered how, just yesterday, when he learned she had gone outside that morning, he had nearly forced her out of the house in panic.

Her heart went cold.

At last she realized that the son she had raised for nineteen years, loved to the bone, did not love her at all.

He only loved himself.

What made it even more ironic was that she herself had taught him to behave this way.

The man who had first discovered the stash was still bragging to his companions:

“See? I told you this family was suspicious. The evening before yesterday they suddenly went crazy, driving out several times. Every trip they unloaded a pile of stuff and rushed off again. I happened to be on patrol once and saw them carrying down a bunch of supermarket bags and canned food. Must be that hoarding addiction people talk about online. Worked out nicely for us though.”

“Plenty of others saw it too. Even if we hadn’t come, once they ran out of food in a few days and got hungry enough, someone else would’ve.” He snorted, clearly seeing nothing wrong with what they were doing.

Shi Guangyao’s head snapped up.

He had never imagined that his own hoarding had exposed them and drawn these people to his door.

If only he had been more careful…

Endless regret surged through him. The way he stared at the men’s backs turned venomous. He wished the food they were eating had been poisoned, wished they would collapse on the spot, bleeding from every orifice.

That was his food. His hope of survival.

His hatred was naked, undisguised.

All his life, no matter what trouble he caused, his parents had always cleaned up after him. He had grown used to acting without restraint. But this time, something went wrong.

First, one of the men suddenly turned around and met his gaze.

The look in Shi Guangyao’s eyes startled him. The man’s expression darkened instantly.

“You little bastard, what are you staring at?!”

It was their first time committing a home invasion. Excitement mingled with fear of being caught. Seeing Shi Guangyao’s vicious, scrutinizing stare, as if memorizing their faces forever, triggered that fear. Before he could think, the man had already rushed forward with a knife raised.

“What are you looking at?!” he snarled through clenched teeth. “Planning to call the police?!”

The second unexpected thing was that Shi Guangyao’s parents, who should have been standing in front of him, reacted a fraction too slowly.

Their eyes were unfocused. By the time they realized what was happening, the blade was already slashing toward their son.

They screamed and shoved the attacker away at the same moment the knife struck.

Shi Guangyao clutched his face and let out a piercing scream, collapsing backward onto the floor.

The other three accomplices rushed over in shock. One glanced at Shi Guangyao writhing on the ground, screaming endlessly, and grabbed the attacker’s arm before he could strike again.

“You can’t kill him!”

Still comparatively calm, he lowered his voice.

“Don’t kill him. Those two clearly dote on their son. Leave the kid alive and they’ll stay quiet to take care of him. They won’t come after us.”

“If he dies, they’ll have nothing left to worry about.”

Clearly the strategist among them, he was trusted by the others. The attacker, breathing heavily, finally lowered his knife.

The man stepped toward the shaken parents and pointed the blade at Shi Guangyao.

“This time it’s his eyes. Next time, it won’t be.”

Red-eyed, the couple shielded their son.

Blinding pain and sudden darkness drove Shi Guangyao into hysterical wails.

But no matter how loudly he screamed, no help would come.

His cries blended with the distant screams of people being attacked by zombies, like streams merging into the sea. Those who heard had long grown numb, simply covering their ears in silence.

After delivering the threat, the man stood up and signaled to his companions. They deliberately left behind one box of instant noodles, lest desperation drive the family to do something unpredictable.

Shi’s father hurried off to find the medical kit. His mother’s hands trembled as she pressed a towel over her son’s eyes, two streams of blood seeping down from beneath it.

The family looked as though their very spirits had been drained. The parents no longer even had the strength to care about the stolen supplies.

Before leaving, the man turned back. Half mockery, half consolation, he said,

“Look on the bright side. Maybe losing his eyes isn’t such a bad thing. He never used them for anything worthwhile anyway.”

What should have been seen, he failed to see. What should not have been watched so closely, he watched obsessively.

The front door slammed shut.

Shi’s mother flinched. Somewhere nearby, her husband seemed to stop walking, perhaps having heard those words as well.

Silence fell over them.

Only Shi Guangyao’s weakening cries echoed through the apartment, each one fainter than the last.

₊˚.🎧📓✩

“Attention all residents: In accordance with the Emergency Response Regulations, starting today at 18:00, civilian gas supply nationwide will be fully suspended. Please shut off the gas valve in your home immediately…”

Zhao Ya stood by the window. Through the gaps between residential buildings, she could see a convoy moving slowly along the empty road in the distance.

In the middle, escorted by two dark green armored vehicles, an emergency broadcast truck drove on, looping the same announcement over and over.

The broadcaster’s voice was steady, clearly meant to soothe the public, yet it still filled her with wave after wave of despair.

“Attention all residents…”

It played once in standard Mandarin, then again in the local dialect. The two versions repeated as the convoy gradually drove farther away.

Only then did Zhao Ya close the window.

Just before it shut completely, she heard a heavy sigh from somewhere above or below. “Ai…”

Zhao Ya bit her lip, locked the window carefully, and left the balcony.

In the living room, Grandma Zhang was holding a picture book and telling Yaya a story. Seeing Zhao Ya come back, she hurriedly set the book aside. “Well? What did it say?”

“First water and electricity rationing, now they’re shutting off the gas too. I think the internet won’t work before long either.” Zhao Ya was deeply troubled, but with a child present she didn’t dare let her face show too much despair.

Grandma Zhang, on the other hand, was perfectly calm. “We stocked up plenty at home. No need to panic. Besides, it’s not like we’ve never lived through days like this.”

She wasn’t like the younger people who couldn’t live without the internet. Translated on Hololo novels. In a moment like this, she was the steady one.

Zhao Ya sat down beside her mother, leaning into the warmth of her body as her own agitation slowly eased. Noticing Yaya looking at them with curiosity, Zhao Ya suddenly felt her cheeks heat up and stood. “We can’t waste time. We need to hurry and get a few more things ready.”

Last night, after learning power rationing was coming, she’d cranked the fridge to its coldest setting and shoved some meat inside, freezing it rock hard along with the frozen foods below. Translated on Hololo novels. She’d even copied a method she’d seen online and frozen a few bottles of mineral water in the storage room, trying to extend the food’s shelf life as much as possible.

Then she’d started eating through the things on the upper shelves, the stuff that didn’t store well.

But there was too much. Even with three people eating, they couldn’t finish it all, and with food so precious they didn’t dare eat freely. They could only rack their brains for other ways to preserve it.

First, relying on freezing food solid, then keeping it that way until the next one-hour window of electricity to freeze it again in a cycle was completely unrealistic. One hour wasn’t enough to refreeze food properly, and repeated thawing and freezing would breed bacteria inside. Zhao Ya didn’t dare do that.

She could practically foresee it: fresh produce, along with the frozen foods in the fridge, would be consumed within a few days. After that, her family would have to live on whatever snacks and canned goods they had stored indoors.

Even so, they were still better off than most.

In the homeowners’ group chat for Zhao Ya’s complex, some young people living alone had already begun begging for food this morning. Everyone else was worrying too, wondering what they’d do once the vegetables at home ran out.

Watching the messages, Zhao Ya remembered there were still a few packs of instant noodles at her place. Since she and her family likely wouldn’t be able to go back anytime soon, she privately messaged a young woman in the group she’d interacted with a few times, giving her her address and the password for the keypad lock.

If she got truly desperate with hunger, she could go to Zhao Ya’s place and take the instant noodles and whatever rice, noodles, seasonings, and the like were left. At least it might help her hold on a little longer.

Just be careful not to run into zombies.

The girl nearly cried with gratitude.

Listening to the repeated thanks, Zhao Ya’s feelings grew complicated. If not for Song Rushuang, she and Yaya might have ended up in the same situation.

And now, on top of rationed water and electricity, even gas was being cut. People who were already worried became even more so.

Zhao Ya wanted to cook up everything that couldn’t keep in the fridge, but her cooking skills were only average. She knew only a few simple home-style stir-fries, and in a summer without air conditioning, cooked dishes wouldn’t stay fresh for even a day or two. She stood in the kitchen, helpless.

At some point, Grandma Zhang came in. One look at Zhao Ya and she knew what she was thinking. With a sigh, she shoved her toward the door in disgust. “Go on. While there’s still hot water, wash Yaya’s body and hair. Later, if you want hot water again, it’ll be a hassle.”

Kids weren’t like adults. Their resistance was weaker, and bathing in cold water could make them sick easily.

Their bathtub was already filled with stored water. Translated on Hololo novels. It wasn’t drinkable, but it was enough to heat a basin and wipe down properly.

Zhao Ya had nearly forgotten that, but she still hesitated. That was when Grandma Zhang said, “Leave the kitchen to me.”

She opened the fridge and took out a chunk of pork belly wrapped in a plastic bag. “I’ll render some lard. Then I’ll divide out some flour and rice and toast it. I’ll use another portion to make travel cakes. Once they’re dried, they’ll keep for a while. When you’re done washing her, come help me knead the dough.”

“Toast flour?” Zhao Ya understood the rest, and she knew raw rice could be toasted too, but toasted flour was something she’d never actually eaten.

“It’s yóuchámiàn,” Grandma Zhang explained. “You toast the flour with animal fat, sugar, and salt. You can even add sesame and peanuts. It’ll keep for quite a while.”

Zhao Ya’s eyes lit with understanding.

She knew yóuchámiàn. Back in the Long March, soldiers were said to carry it too. It stored well, and when you wanted to eat, you just mixed it with hot water into a paste. If you didn’t have hot water, you could eat it dry or mix it with cold water. Nothing could be more convenient.

Animal fat, salt, sugar, all of them were good for extending shelf life.

Sealed properly, toasted flour could last at least half a year. That wasn’t much worse than raw flour’s shelf life, but when it came time to eat, it was far easier to prepare than flour.

Rice kept longer than flour, so before the gas shutoff they should prioritize processing the flour first, then the rice. Toasted rice could keep three to six months. The remaining flour could be turned into travel cakes, which would keep one to two months as well.

Handled this way, with all the flour processed and only part of the rice toasted while the rest was left as-is, their staple food supply for at least the next year would be secured.

And if they got sick of it, they could always change things up with other foods.

Thinking that far, Zhao Ya finally relaxed.

While she’d been floundering, her mother had already arranged everything neatly and methodically. Zhao Ya felt a little ashamed. In this household, it seemed like the only thing she was good for was labor.

She was a graduate-school alum, yet she still couldn’t match her mother, a little old lady who’d only finished middle school. Was that really fair?

Why couldn’t schools offer a few classes that taught life skills alongside academic knowledge?

Zhao Ya sighed to herself.

But at least it was her own mom, not someone else. She quickly got over it, rolled up her sleeves, and went to wrangle her daughter into a bath.

*

“Damn it, damn it, why won’t it load?”

Shi Guangyao clutched his phone, scrolling down again and again, trying to refresh the webpage.

All he could see was the small loading circle spinning endlessly while the page itself remained blank.

He checked once more. The network was still connected, but the signal had already dropped all the way from 5G to 2G.

“There’s still electricity, so why is there no internet?!” Shi Guangyao roared.

And it wasn’t just him. The same thing was happening in households everywhere.

Civilian networks hadn’t been completely shut off yet, but once power rationing began, it was practically the same as losing internet altogether.

Because of their high energy consumption, 5G base stations were the first to be turned off. As for data centers, once servers lost power they required a full reboot, which took at least half an hour. In the end, the actual usable internet each day might amount to less than thirty minutes, and even then the speed was painfully slow. Sometimes refreshing a page took several minutes, making it exhausting just to check the news.

Phone calls and text messages with family and friends still worked. Watching videos online, however, was out of the question.

But just last night, things hadn’t been like this.

When the stay-at-home order first began, people couldn’t go outside, and nearly all information exchange moved online. Every app had been bustling with activity. Yet overnight, not only did webpages refuse to open, even when they finally loaded people often discovered that during those offline hours, there were barely any new posts on the front page.

Users who had once been active gradually fell silent. Some had encountered danger. Some were busy preparing before water and electricity were cut. Others simply chose to spend their limited time with family and friends instead of chatting with strangers online.

During that brief half hour when the internet worked, it hardly mattered whether social media posts could even be sent out. Even if they were posted successfully, how many people would actually see them?

Influencers stopped chasing traffic and returned to real life.

Once power rationing began, the internet became a deserted wasteland even earlier than the streets.

It inevitably sparked panic.

A kind of panic born from living in a bustling city yet slowly losing all connection with others.

For people living alone and lacking basic life skills, the fear was even more overwhelming. Suddenly trapped at home without preparation, they had no idea what to do and could only seek answers online.

How long food lasted. How to cook it. What needed to be preserved. What tasks should be prioritized before water and power outages…

Without search engines, they either didn’t know these things at all or only had vague notions.

Not just people in their twenties. Even many in their forties and fifties depended heavily on the internet.

With the sudden loss of access, some people might not even know how to get to the nearest hospital once they stepped outside.

In fact, voices online last night had already predicted that the government might soon restrict water and electricity supplies. Many major bloggers urged people to store water, fully charge electronics and power banks, and download essential information in advance.

But no one expected rationing to arrive so quickly, or to be implemented so drastically.

One hour of electricity per day rendered the internet almost meaningless.

As for water rationing, although there was no fixed usage window, the flow from taps had been reduced to a mere trickle. Someone calculated that even if the faucet ran twenty-four hours a day, it would collect less than twenty liters of water.

Twenty liters per household. What did that mean?

Just for survival, each person needed at least two liters of drinking water daily. The UN refugee standard set the minimum total daily water usage per person at 7.5 liters.

Living alone was one thing. But for larger households, without stored water they would drop to bare survival levels within days relying solely on tap supply.

Some people online tried to reassure others, saying these were only temporary measures. Rationing was better than a complete shutdown. Once the zombies were cleared, normal supply would gradually resume.

But the reassurance did little to ease public fear. Zombies still needed to be eliminated, but people still needed to live. If they couldn’t survive until the end of the apocalypse, what use was clearing the streets of zombies?

In just a single day, the situation had deteriorated this far. People finally realized reality was worse than they had imagined. Even the state could no longer fully maintain everyday life, only doing its best to preserve the minimum conditions for survival.

Everything else, people would have to handle themselves.

Once that realization set in, many began to break down emotionally.

Including Shi Guangyao.

Since yesterday, he had followed online instructions and made some preparations, but it was far from enough.

The flood of information online the night before had been overwhelming. New posts appeared every second. Afraid of missing something, he bookmarked countless articles and videos that were too long to finish immediately, planning to watch them later one by one.

After staying busy all night yet absorbing little actual information, he took a short nap. When he woke and tried to continue, he was met instead with news that electricity would soon be cut.

Shi Guangyao felt like the sky had collapsed.

After waiting forever for power to return, he rushed to open his bookmarks. But whether from bad luck or not, an entire hour passed without a single page successfully loading.

Just as his frustration peaked, the desk lamp beside him suddenly went dark.

The power was out again.

“AHHH!!” Shi Guangyao nearly exploded with rage.

He grabbed the desk lamp beside him and hurled it straight at the closed bedroom door.

Just then, the bedroom door was pushed open. Shi Guangyao’s mother, who had just stepped inside, nearly got hit by the flying desk lamp. She hurriedly dodged aside. Watching the lamp smash against the doorframe and shatter into pieces, her heart sank halfway.

But remembering why she had come, she swallowed and gently urged, “Guangyao, come out and eat something.”

“The broadcast outside just said gas supply will stop this afternoon. Your father and I hurried to cook whatever food we still had at home. You barely ate anything yesterday. At least fill your stomach.”

In truth, it wasn’t only Shi Guangyao who had barely eaten. His parents hadn’t eaten much either.

There had still been electricity last night, so the food in the refrigerator could be stored. To conserve supplies, dinner had only been a bowl of vegetable soup with leftover rice from two days before.

More than ten hours had passed, and they were already starving.

When they heard that natural gas would soon be shut off, others felt despair, but a flicker of relief unexpectedly passed through his parents’ hearts.

If the gas was about to be cut, then at least they finally had an excuse to cook.

Thinking this, his mother tugged nervously at her clothes and forced a smile. “You need to eat well to have the strength to get through this. You eat first. We’ll eat later. Go on.”

Shi Guangyao, still bent over and breathing heavily from throwing the lamp, sweat soaking his hair and sticking it greasy against his face, obscuring half his eyes, glanced at his mother gloomily.

Without saying a word, he strode past her and headed straight for the dining room.

His father was setting out bowls and chopsticks. He hadn’t dared cook much, only stir-fried the remaining cabbage and sliced in a palm-sized piece of meat.

Steam rose from the rice and vegetables on the table. He swallowed repeatedly at the sight.

Shi Guangyao sat down, seemingly satisfied. He scooped up a mouthful of rice and asked, “What are you planning to do with the rest of the food?”

His father answered cautiously, “We’ll cook whatever can’t keep first. Some flour we’ll make into flatbreads and dry them so they last longer. The frozen food needs to be cooked soon too. After cooking, we’ll put it back in the fridge and let the remaining cold air keep it cool. It should last another couple of days. We’ll finish it within that time.”

Many of those frozen items had been bought at the supermarket just two days earlier because of their long shelf life. Now they couldn’t even be stored. His father felt heartbroken.

As for other preservation methods besides dried flatbread, neither he nor his wife knew much.

They had heard of roasted rice and toasted flour, of course, but had never made them themselves. How much oil, sugar, or salt to add, they had no idea.

If they didn’t try, the food might last a few more days. But if they ruined it during preparation, that would be an even greater waste.

So they didn’t dare experiment lightly.

Even though there was still some time before the gas shutoff, they suddenly didn’t know what to do.

Shi Guangyao frowned at the frozen food laid out on the counter, his heart aching as if bleeding.

Fortunately, although fresh food wouldn’t last as long as expected, they had bought plenty of longer-lasting supplies. Thinking of the biscuits and canned goods in the storage room, he sighed and reluctantly accepted that some food loss was inevitable.

Though he still resented Fu Qing, seeing many people online describe their own shortages over the past day made him realize his family had far more food than most. The comparison finally restored his sense of balance, and he began to feel smug about his own foresight.

He shoveled rice into his mouth, eating more than half the dish of vegetables by himself before finally putting down his chopsticks, still unsatisfied.

His parents watched from the side. Though hungry themselves, seeing their son devour the food like that filled them with a complicated tenderness.

Only after he finished did they serve themselves rice, dividing the small remaining portion of vegetables between them.

His father didn’t even waste the leftover soup, mixing rice into it and slurping the bowl clean.

It was rare for the family to sit quietly together like this. Seeing that Shi Guangyao seemed calmer after eating, his mother hesitated before speaking.

“Guangyao… something’s been off about you these past two days. Tell your father and me honestly. Did you already know this virus was going to break out?”

The preparations he had made were too deliberate, and his reactions afterward had been strange as well. Over the past two days, his parents had quietly discussed it and arrived at this suspicion.

“If you knew… why didn’t you tell us earlier?” she asked, her eyes reddening.

Just last night she had learned that her sister and father had both been bitten to death by monsters.

His father’s side of the family had fared no better. His elderly parents had gone out the day before and were still missing. They barely knew how to use smartphones. The chances of survival seemed slim.

Realizing their son might have known everything in advance yet never tried to warn anyone, focusing only on dragging them to the supermarket to stockpile supplies for himself, resentment inevitably grew in their hearts.

Even if he was their son… they still had other family members.

Their neighborhood had descended into chaos early on. Security was poor. From yesterday afternoon until late into the night, screams and cries for help had echoed nonstop from downstairs.

It chilled them to the bone.

Shi Guangyao’s mother simply could not understand how her son could remain so cold, listening to neighbors die one by one without saying a word.

Shi Guangyao had been in a good mood after eating, but at her words, the smile vanished from his face. He looked at them coldly and suddenly asked, “Are you blaming me?”

“I… we…” They were left speechless.

He recalled the struggles of the past year. He had once wanted to tell them, but found himself unable to. That pain had gradually turned into anger at his parents’ helplessness.

They were his parents, yet they couldn’t help him with anything.

He had no one to confide in. He had endured the entire year alone, even bringing them along to stockpile supplies so they could live well. And now they still thought he hadn’t done enough?

What else was he supposed to do? Knock on every door and try to save neighbors he barely knew?

He let out a cold laugh. “If they died, that’s because they were useless. They deserved it. What does that have to do with me? Why should I go out of my way to help them?”

“But… your grandparents and your aunt have always loved you so much…”

The mention only made his mother think of her dead sister and father again. Tears streamed down her face. His father turned away silently.

Shi Guangyao watched them expressionlessly, about to say something cutting, when someone suddenly knocked on the front door.

A voice came from outside.

“Is anyone home?”

₊˚.🎧📓✩

As soon as the plan was finalized, several people stood and left at Tian Xuejun’s signal to begin making arrangements.

They needed to coordinate with the local government, screen personnel, recruit volunteers, organize training sessions, and even arrange housing for the volunteers and their families. All of this had to be completed as quickly as possible.

The first group to be mobilized would naturally come from S City itself.

Although there was no direct proof, since Fangzhou was located in S City, the Zombie King would most likely concentrate its Believers there.

As for other regions across Huaguo, they would have to rely on local monitoring first. Once signs of intelligent infected activity were detected, requests for assistance would be sent to Fangzhou. The process would take several days back and forth, but there was no better solution.

There were simply too many provinces, cities, districts, and counties across the country. Even the national military could not provide full territorial coverage. Resources inevitably had to be concentrated in key areas, let alone Fangzhou, which had only a little over two thousand people.

Fortunately, the number of intelligent infected should not be very large.

While manpower was gradually falling into place, another, more critical problem emerged: how were they supposed to locate the Believers?

They were operating in the open, while the enemy remained hidden. The only certainty was that the enemy would likely target shelters, power stations, hospitals, and similar facilities.

But aside from reinforcing those locations, there seemed little else they could do.

They could only respond after the Believers made a move, allowing Fangzhou to dispatch teams reactively. Always being one step behind was far too passive.

“Can’t we use surveillance systems?” Song Rushuang asked. “I’ve heard that surveillance footage can now be combined with AI. Could AI identify special zombie traits? Maybe we could locate them before they act. Zombies don’t just appear out of nowhere. Before reaching their targets, they must pass through monitored areas.”

Her suggestion was quickly rejected by a bespectacled technical specialist.

“With current technology and conditions, that’s unlikely to work,” he said.

“Our nationwide surveillance network relies primarily on civilian internet infrastructure for data transmission. Once networks collapse, most cameras will fail immediately, and that’s not even considering power outages. Surveillance centers also require technical staff for maintenance. A single provincial monitoring center often employs over a hundred personnel across different roles. To keep national monitoring running at even a minimal level, we’d need at least seven or eight thousand core technicians.”

“And protecting those technicians would require even more manpower.”

“On top of that, data centers consume enormous amounts of electricity. A provincial data center can use as much power as a small hospital. If electricity becomes scarce, hospitals will obviously be prioritized. Adding AI analysis would increase power consumption even further. Spending that much manpower and electricity just to locate perhaps a few dozen or a hundred intelligent infected simply isn’t cost-effective.”

“Even if surveillance remained operational and AI performed initial screening, human verification would still be required, and those personnel aren’t even included in the seven or eight thousand technicians I mentioned.”

“And even then, AI plus manual review would still miss targets. Accuracy would be too low, efficiency too poor…” He shook his head with a sigh.

Though others lacked his technical expertise, they quickly understood.

Facial recognition could accurately match individuals appearing in surveillance footage with their identities. The problem was that they did not know who was a Believer and who was not.

Appearance alone was useless. Aside from brute-type zombies, most zombies looked almost identical to normal humans.

They had hoped surveillance might save manpower, only to realize maintaining surveillance itself required enormous resources.

“…,” Song Rushuang rubbed her temples.

Even with careful planning, reality rarely unfolded as smoothly as expected. Real-world constraints existed everywhere.

Sometimes the issue was not impossibility, but the need to abandon an option after weighing competing priorities.

For students accustomed to solving problems with clear answers, this was a lesson that required time to understand. In reality, theory alone was not enough. One had to consider feasibility, real-world limitations, and implementation. Every step afterward was as difficult as solving the original problem.

Finding the correct answer was only the beginning.

Fu Qing, who had been quietly listening, suddenly spoke.

“If we don’t need the entire national surveillance system running, and only maintain S City’s monitoring center, would the power consumption remain manageable?”

The technician nodded immediately. “Absolutely.”

At present, because of Fu Qing and Fangzhou, S City had become one of the most prioritized locations in the country outside the capital. Translated on Hololo novels. Resources and personnel were already being funneled there.

Fu Qing considered this for a moment. “If we abandon searching for all Believers and instead focus on locating a single specific individual, would it still be difficult?”

The technician answered without hesitation. “The main technical challenge is distinguishing intelligent infected from ordinary humans and normal zombies. But if you already have a specific target and can provide identifying information, locating them becomes much easier.”

Fu Qing visibly relaxed.

“I do have a specific target. She’s a young woman who came to S City from another region for work. She was also one of the victims of the major urban village fire last May. She didn’t die at the scene. She was sent to the hospital, then mysteriously disappeared after a week of treatment. Of course, hospital records may list her as deceased.”

She quickly provided a series of details. “Following this lead shouldn’t make it difficult to determine her identity.”

The elite-class students immediately felt a flash of realization.

A codename surfaced in all their minds at once:

Hooded Woman (Scar).

When Fu Qing had revealed the existence of the Zombie King, she had also mentioned the identity of the woman who fought her in Xishan that day.

Several of them slapped their foreheads internally. How had they not thought of this earlier?

As for Fu Qing’s remark that records might have been altered, it was naturally because the Zombie King possessed hacking abilities.

The fire had caused massive public attention and government scrutiny. Secretly removing the hooded woman from the hospital exceeded the System’s and Zombie King’s “attention blind spot” capabilities. The Zombie King would certainly have needed to arrange careful cover-up measures afterward.

Seeing Tian Xuejun and the others looking puzzled, Fu Qing explained, “This woman’s codename is Phoenix. It probably means rising from the ashes. She was one of the Zombie King’s earliest recruits, holds a high position among the Believers, and worships the Zombie King with near-fanatical devotion.”

“If we find her, we might be able to follow the trail and locate the Zombie King and the Believers’ hideout.”

Wasn’t that far more efficient than activating nationwide surveillance and searching for a needle in the ocean?

Back then, the Zombie King had begun laying its plans from the final exam assessment, sending Phoenix and several Believers to ambush the students, then using the bodies to lock onto their location, even personally slipping its consciousness into Fangzhou and hiding inside the simulation pods to strike at Fu Qing. That entire chain of schemes had finally reached the moment where repayment could be demanded.

It had even delivered leverage straight into Fu Qing’s hands.

Tian Xuejun’s eyes lit up at once. “Go check it. Now.”

Someone beside her answered briskly and hurried out of the conference room, returning moments later with news.

“I pulled the Fire Department’s dispatch records and the ambulance deployment logs. In the 5/17 major urban-village fire incident, the first receiving hospital was First Hospital, the closest one. Later, some patients were transferred to Ruian Burn Specialty Hospital. Among them, there’s a twenty-eight-year-old female patient who matches the description. She was recorded as dying late at night one week after admission. That same night, a patient’s family member suddenly stormed into the ICU with a knife and stabbed two on-duty doctors and nurses to death. Three more were severely injured.”

He glanced down at the record in his hand and continued rapidly. “The hospital fell into chaos trying to treat the injured staff, and the death record for that female patient was added later.”

In other words, the record and the handling of the body afterward were very likely falsified.

And anyone who could testify was either dead or badly injured. If the night was mentioned again, what people would remember would be the terror of the attack. The dead patient would barely register.

“As for the family member who carried out the stabbing,” the investigator added, “according to the person in charge, they had already reached a settlement with the hospital earlier that day. No one knows why, just a few hours later, he suddenly snapped.”

The students traded a look. Su Huaijin said, “That was probably the Zombie King. It’s very good at stirring up people’s emotions.”

Tian Xuejun nodded, but the technical specialist suddenly frowned. “You said she had extensive burns. What about her face?”

Before Fu Qing could respond, the investigator said, “According to the materials we received, her face was also severely burned. These are photos taken by the hospital at the time.”

He opened a file on his laptop. The moment it appeared on screen, people who caught a glimpse nearby gasped, some unable to look directly.

They simply could not imagine how someone burned that badly could have survived.

The technician frowned deeply. “That makes things tricky. In the past, once we had her identity, if she used public transport or shopped, we could locate her immediately. But now, with most social activity halted, finding people through surveillance depends mainly on facial recognition. With extensive facial burns, recognition success rates will drop sharply.”

“And in these photos, her original features are destroyed, and the wounds haven’t healed yet. With scarring and contracture likely after healing, it’s hard to use treatment-period images to simulate what she looks like now.”

He looked at Fu Qing again. “And you said she usually wears a hat. That makes it even harder.”

Fu Qing had anticipated the complications. She recalled some explanations she’d read online. “As far as I know, besides facial recognition, there are alternative identification methods. Gait analysis, ear-shape recognition, things like that.”

“Yes, ear recognition can reach over sixty percent accuracy,” the technician said hesitantly. “But in that photo, her ear is burned too…”

“If the burned part later regrew, wouldn’t that still be usable as an identifying feature?” Fu Qing asked.

“But if it regrew, then her old ID photo in our database wouldn’t be a useful reference,” the technician replied quickly. “We’d need a new photo taken after healing. And if she never shows her face or her ears, we still won’t be able to find her.”

“That’s fine. One more layer of hope is still hope.” Fu Qing waved it off. “As for the reference you need… I don’t have recent photos, but I do have a piece of her ear. Can you analyze using that?”

Everyone, including the technician, fell silent.

For a moment, they suspected they’d misheard.

Tian Xuejun stared blankly and asked it outright.

Fu Qing repeated patiently, “I have a piece of her ear. Last time we fought, I shaved it off.”

This was when Lu Yan and Hao Zhenye’s sharp eyes really deserved praise. A thin sliver like that, and they still managed to find it in a pitch-black forest and bring it back.

Fu Qing had already observed that the Zombie King’s ability could regenerate Phoenix’s flesh, but regrown parts would look drastically different from the original. It still functioned, but it would not look quite normal.

So Phoenix’s fingerprints and ear structure were likely very different now compared to before the injury.

However, if newly regrown flesh was injured again, then after it healed, it would not change all over again.

The proof was the hands Lu Yan had picked up. They all looked exactly the same.

The technician’s jaw nearly hit the table. “But if her ear was cut off, then we… we…”

Then what are we even analyzing?

Fu Qing thought for a couple seconds and realized she’d skipped a key detail. “Sorry, I forgot to mention: she was granted flesh-regeneration. Even if it’s cut off, it’ll grow back, so don’t worry.”

Seeing how intense their reactions were, she swallowed what she was about to add, namely that she also had several right hands that could be used for fingerprint analysis.

For now, fingerprints weren’t especially useful. Better not to shock them further.

As for gait analysis, it required walking footage. Translated on Hololo novels. Phoenix had been elusive ever since being recruited, and even if they found older surveillance clips, infection might have altered her gait, making the footage unreliable. So it was set aside.

Fu Qing did know a place where surveillance might once have captured Phoenix: the foot of the mountain where she had dumped a body. But that was nearly a year ago, and scenic-area surveillance typically kept footage only ninety days. The retention window had long passed.

So ear recognition became their only viable route.

On the spot, the technician made a call to summon people to Fangzhou to retrieve the ear. While waiting, he spoke with open excitement. “If we combine ear recognition with her pre-injury facial data, plus height and body-type parameters, we can push accuracy above eighty percent. The remaining cases can be handled through manual review. At that stage, the number of technicians required becomes very small.”

“Don’t worry. Unless she never goes outside or never takes off her hat, we’ll find her sooner or later.” He patted his chest, confident.

His training demanded constant calm, which was why he’d poured cold water on everyone’s ideas earlier. But now that a workable method existed, he was more excited than anyone, and even Tian Xuejun couldn’t help showing a faint smile.

When someone arrived with an insulated container, the technician, despite his fear of human remains, happily followed along to Fangzhou.

With the meeting over, the Fangzhou group and Bai Xianglei prepared to get in their vehicles and return to the school, but Tian Xuejun suddenly called out to stop them.

“Principal Fu Qing, you should have received the notice, right? After six p.m., natural gas will be fully shut off.”

She worried Fu Qing had been too busy these past two days to check announcements.

Natural gas was flammable and explosive and relied heavily on routine maintenance. With everyone sheltering at home, it could become a major safety risk.

So after six p.m., supply would be cut as an emergency measure. Only certain critical facilities would retain independent gas systems.

Fu Qing responded briefly, “I’ve already received the notice. Fangzhou has relied on underground biogas tanks and solar power for a long time, so there’s no need to worry.”

Tian Xuejun nodded. “Good. Besides gas, civilian networks will probably be cut within half a month. Make sure you’re prepared.”

She felt Fu Qing and the others likely didn’t need the reminder.

A network collapse was unavoidable. Even if they wanted to prevent it, without enough maintenance personnel, urban networks would degrade step by step until only military networks remained.

In addition, starting at noon today, the country had begun implementing electricity and water rationing. And it wasn’t a minor reduction. Daily power was cut to one hour, water flow reduced to the minimum, all to extend supply for as long as possible.

Hearing this, Song Rushuang and the others felt their hearts sink.

Living in Fangzhou, with wristbands enabling communication, losing internet and power would not affect them much. But for everyone outside Fangzhou, life was about to change completely.

This was only the second day after the apocalypse began.

₊˚.🎧📓✩

Previous

Zhou Hao stayed home for two days. Only after the supermarket’s business license had been officially transferred to Zhou Li’s name as the new legal representative did she finally board the business car waiting to take her away.

Zhou Li came out to see her off. “Are you sure you don’t want me to take you there?”

“No need,” Zhou Hao said. “But if you ever want to go on a trip with Mom, I can make time.”

Zhou Li politely declined.

She traveled through different worlds almost every week—domestic trips held little appeal now.

“Take care of yourself. If anything happens, you can ask Aunt Mu for help,” Zhou Hao reminded.

“You too, Mom,” Zhou Li said.

With that, Zhou Hao closed the car door.

The car pulled away quickly.

From the front seat, Attorney Liu Chunyi glanced at the rearview mirror. “You didn’t tell her about the logistics park?”

“Not yet,” Zhou Hao replied calmly. “It’s not the right time.”

The business car didn’t drive toward the train station but instead took a turn toward the outskirts of town—just eighteen kilometers from the Zhou family home.

The state had quietly planned a logistics park here, covering more than forty thousand square meters. No public bidding had ever been announced, yet construction had already begun before the project was even made public.

That was because this was no ordinary logistics park. It was a fusion of a military logistics base and civilian logistics complex.

Officially, it was a “State-Owned Commercial Logistics Project.”
Unofficially, it was a classified national logistics base, with security clearance on par with a military facility. Very few people knew its true purpose.

Zhou Hao took out an unfinished floor plan of the logistics park. The map only showed Zone A in detail. Zones B, C, and D each had one factory building drawn, surrounded by vast blank areas—empty and bare.

Zhou Hao began sketching in the margins of those blank sections.

If Zhou Li had seen this map, she would have noticed that the lone buildings in Zones B, C, and D were labeled respectively as:
“Orka Energy Center,” “Pharmaceutical Research Institute,” and “Fluorites Research Center.”

Time passed quietly. Eventually, the sound of rotor blades filled the air—a helicopter approached and landed on a cleared field nearby.

“Your pickup’s here,” Liu Chunyi said.

Zhou Hao folded up the blueprint and boarded the helicopter.

Inside sat an elderly man, who handed her a tablet. “These are the new warehouses under your authorization. You may handle their inventory as you see fit. For safety, we’ve prepared materials from the early to mid-20th century—fans, refrigerators, air conditioners, computers, internal-combustion engines, and the like.”

Zhou Hao swiped across the screen, memorizing the warehouse IDs, authorization codes, and coordinates.

The old man smiled. “No rush. Get some rest first. You’ll have plenty to do after midnight.”

*

Zhou Hao slept in the base.

When she woke, the entire facility was eerily silent.

The electronic clock on the wall was frozen at 00:00:00.

She washed her face, picked up the tablet the old man had given her, and walked straight to the cafeteria.

The cafeteria was full of people, but everyone sat motionless—like statues frozen in time.

Zhou Hao ignored them, took a tray, served herself food, and sat down in a corner to eat.

Before long, a digital panel appeared before her.

It displayed an interface titled Auction Hall, with two tabs: “Bidding” and “Trading.”

In the “Bidding” tab appeared a string of ancient Buddhist prayer beads—carved from Phoebe zhennan wood more than three hundred years old, each bead etched with scripture.

“So, it’s an ancient-world instance again…” Zhou Hao chuckled softly and placed her bid.

After a while, the panel blinked: Transaction complete.

Then a message popped up: Please select delivery point.

Zhou Hao glanced at her now-empty warehouse on the tablet and promptly designated it as the delivery site.

After bidding, the “Trading” tab lit up with new activity—a purchase order.

She skimmed through it quickly, then entered the warehouse codes and authorization numbers one by one until the screen confirmed: Code verified. Authorization granted. Please select items and quantities.

Sweet potatoes: 20,000 jin.
Old grain: 100,000 jin.
Military canteens: 500 units.
Disaster tents: 500 units.
…

Zhou Hao calmly operated the auction panel, filling each order line by line.

For a long while, she continued the same process.

When no more requests appeared, she finished her last bite, placed the tray back at the return area, and went to her quarters.

During the time-freeze, she couldn’t sense the passage of time—whether it was twenty-four hours or five days, she had no way of knowing.

Finally, the clock began to tick again:

00:00:01
00:00:02

Five minutes later, the old man entered with a doctor in tow.

As the doctor performed a check-up, Zhou Hao handed over her marked order sheet. “Looks like that world suffered another natural disaster.”

All the requested materials were post-disaster relief supplies.

Of course, since it was an ancient-era plane, they couldn’t offer high-tech goods or magical creations—only common treasures suitable for exchange through the interplanar market.

The old man said to his assistant, “Register everything and get it listed for auction immediately.”

“Yes, sir.”

The doctor soon finished the exam. “Ms. Zhou’s health is fine.”

“I told you, I didn’t need a check-up,” Zhou Hao said with a light laugh. “After crossing so many worlds, if there were any problems, they’d have shown up long ago.”

The old man’s tone turned serious. “No one knows what long-term exposure to time-stasis might cause. You need full monitoring after every cycle.”

Zhou Hao glanced at the clock and smiled. “It’s already past midnight. You should rest, sir.”

The old man said nothing more and left.

Zhou Hao opened the window. Below, the logistics base stretched across the mountainside, glowing with lights.

While most of the world slept, a small number of people were only just beginning their work.

Listening to the soft, familiar hum of machinery and wind outside, Zhou Hao slowly drifted back to sleep.

That night, she dreamed—something rare for her.

She dreamed of a night over twenty years ago, in a spring rain, when she and a dozen villagers, including A-Rong, crowded into Zhou Ping’s house to watch the national news broadcast.

Though China’s economy had taken off, few could afford a TV.

Only three households in the village owned one.

One was a shopkeeper who ran a small store by his fishpond—he built a wooden shack over the water and refused to let too many people stand inside at once, afraid it would collapse. But to draw business, he’d play cartoons to lure the children.

Another family had made money working in the special economic zones. For appearances’ sake, they bought a television. When the couple was away, they made the elders and kids lock the doors so no one could come in and steal it.

The third household was Zhou Ping’s.

His father was a well-known carpenter in the area, who’d saved quite a bit. Zhou Ping, claiming it would help him find a wife, convinced him to buy a TV.

There was a wide open space in front of their old house, so every evening villagers gathered there to watch the news.

The children would stay for a drama or two, hurrying home by nine to sleep.

Zhou Hao and A-Rong had gone to high school together, and since A-Rong was dating Zhou Ping, the two managed to squeeze inside the house to avoid watching in the rain with bamboo hats.

That night, the news reported that the Fifth National People’s Congress had revised the Penal Code—abolishing the crime of “speculative profiteering.”

Time passed.

A few years later, one summer, the town announced a plan to build a new country road that would connect over a dozen nearby villages.

The road happened to pass right in front of Zhou Hao’s newly built home.

That same year, Zhou Hao opened a small grocery store on the first floor of her house.

On the night of its grand opening, after closing up and locking the rolling gate, she was about to check inventory in the back when someone started banging on the door.

Thinking it might be some thugs, she grabbed a hatchet and opened the small side door.

The moment she did—she froze.

The newly paved country road was gone.

In its place stood a primitive tribe, and before her was a group of strangely dressed… natives.

(The End)

☢️☢️☢️

After Zhou Hao returned, Zhou Li temporarily put her interplanar trade operations on hold, and the system conveniently went into “offline” mode.

If not for the vending machine still functioning, Zhou Li might have thought that plane-hopping had all been a dream.

Even so, she couldn’t help feeling grateful that she always returned to the Earth plane after every journey. Otherwise, after staying too long in other worlds, she might start to feel estranged here—and others would surely notice the cracks in her disguise.

After lunch, Zhou Li dutifully accompanied Zhou Hao to inspect the warehouse. She also handed over the restock list to the on-duty manager, asking him to have the goods transferred so they could be delivered to the supermarket that night.

Zhou Hao glanced at the list, surprised. “No wonder the shelves in the store looked a little empty—you need to restock this much?”

Zhou Li gave a dry laugh. “Yeah… business has been a bit too good lately.”

Zhou Hao didn’t doubt her. “You can tell just by the number of same-city delivery guys going in and out.”

Ever since Zhou Li had launched the store’s mini program, customers could place orders directly online.

When delivery couriers arrived, they didn’t even need to handpick items—the vending machine system had already sorted everything. The courier simply showed the QR code and collected the prepared package.

Since the system handled it all, there had never been a single mistake. As a result, the mini program had earned overwhelmingly positive reviews.

Couriers loved picking up orders from the Good Life Supermarket—they never had to worry about wrong items leading to complaints. In fact, customers often left five-star ratings and even small tips.

Though the supermarket officially closed at night, the vending machine kept running—effectively turning the little shop into a 24-hour business.

Leaving the warehouse, the mother and daughter ran into Aunt Rong.

Aunt Rong chatted warmly with Zhou Hao and couldn’t help praising Zhou Li. “Little Pear really is capable—more than you were at her age.”

Zhou Hao laughed. “That’s how it should be—each generation surpassing the last!”

Aunt Rong invited them over for tea, but Zhou Hao waved her off. “Not this time. I’m only home for two days, and there’s still plenty to handle!”

“Only two days again?” Aunt Rong said. “Good thing you left the supermarket to Little Pear! Otherwise, if you still opened one day and closed three, you’d never make a profit!”

“That’s true,” Zhou Hao said. “So I’ve decided to officially transfer the supermarket to Little Pear.”

Zhou Li froze in shock.

Her mother’s expression stayed calm, and Aunt Rong didn’t react much either.

Once they left, Zhou Li finally blurted out, “Mom, you’re giving up the supermarket?”

“I brought the lawyer this time to take care of the transfer paperwork,” Zhou Hao said, then paused. “Why, don’t you want it?”

“I still have my civil service exam to prepare for!” Zhou Li said.

“You can deal with your assets after you pass,” her mother replied matter-of-factly.

Zhou Li stayed silent.

“What’s wrong? If you’ve got thoughts, tell Mom,” Zhou Hao said gently.

Zhou Li turned and ran back home.

Watching her retreating back, Zhou Hao suddenly saw the shadow of that stubborn teenage girl she used to be.

Behind the house, Mu Kun was washing the bamboo steamers used for buns. Seeing Zhou Li running from the village road, she called out, “What’s the rush, Lili?”

“Hi, Aunt Mu,” Zhou Li greeted politely.

“Where’s your mom?”

“Chatting with someone in the village.”

“With Aunt Rong?”

Zhou Li nodded.

She was about to head inside but hesitated, crouched beside Mu Kun under the pretense of helping, and asked, “Aunt Mu, have you known my mom for a long time?”

“For as long as our houses have been here, that’s how long,” Mu Kun said.

“Aunt Rong said my mom used to open the supermarket for one day and close it for three. What’s that about?”

“What else could it be? She’s lazy,” Mu Kun said bluntly.

Zhou Li: …

She muttered, “Then how did she make money?”

“How would I know? I always wondered that myself! I once asked her to take me along to make money—she refused. Your mom’s stingy, don’t you think?”

Zhou Li: …

So your feud goes way back, huh?

From the distance came Zhou Hao’s voice: “Why don’t you go ask the world’s richest man to take you along instead?”

Mu Kun replied without missing a beat, “I could—if I knew him!”

“You’ve got some nerve!”

“I’ve got the perfect egg-shaped face, thank you!”

Zhou Li quietly retreated from the “battlefield.”

Once home, she shut the windows to block out their bickering and asked the system, “System, tell me honestly—was my mom a sales rep before?”

The system responded in its usual mechanical tone, “Question exceeds clearance. No answer required.”

Zhou Li said, “I always thought it was strange—you chose to bind me. There are countless supermarket owners in the world, including big-chain managers who could have generated massive interplanar profits for you in no time. Why pick me—and our tiny shop? Maybe your target was our store from the start, and whoever owns it gets bound.”

System: “Error.”

“What’s wrong with that logic?”

“Question exceeds clearance. No answer required.”

Zhou Li: …

Unable to dig anything out of it, she gave up.

But thinking it over, she realized her theory had holes.

For example, whenever the supermarket engaged in cross-planar trade, time on the Earth plane froze—so there was never a need for her mom to “open one day and close three.”

Secondly, Zhou Li had lived with her mother for so many years—if their supermarket had ever traveled to another plane, there was no way she wouldn’t have known.

She was also certain that their home had never contained any kind of black technology far beyond the current era’s capabilities, let alone any unscientific items such as artifacts from the Infinite Plane or magical creations from the Magic Plane.

She still remembered when she was a child, a villager once badmouthed her mother in front of her, saying that her mother would be arrested for illegal reselling.

Back then, she didn’t even know what that meant. Looking back now, those people must have suspected that her mother was using the grocery store as a cover to trade in bulk goods.

Of course, the fact that her mother had lived well all these years—never arrested, and even saving enough to co-invest in a large supermarket project with a state-owned commercial company—proved that she had never broken the law.

But that still didn’t completely rule out the possibility that her mother had once been bound to a system.

After all, Zhou Li had attended school in the city since middle school, living in the dorms and only coming home on weekends.

If her mother had engaged in interplanar trade, she could easily have done it while Zhou Li was away.

As for why there had never been any items out of place for this era at home—well, Zhou Li had managed to erase every trace of someone else living there before her mother’s return; surely her mother could do the same.

There was, however, one thing that had always quietly bothered her—her biological father’s identity was a mystery.

Though she didn’t care anymore, there had been rumors in the village for years.

Villagers said they’d never seen her mother with any man, and that she’d never once told anyone who the child’s father was.

Thinking of the system’s stories about “love-brained reps,” Zhou Li began to wonder if her father might have been someone from another plane.

Or—perhaps not even that.

What if her mother had drunk something like the Mother-Child River water or the “Water of Life,” and that was how she became pregnant?

Just then, there was a knock at the door.

The door wasn’t locked, so Zhou Hao turned the handle and peeked in. “Little Zhou Li, still mad at me?”

“I’m not mad,” Zhou Li said.

She’d already soothed herself.

Zhou Hao walked in and said, “If you don’t want this little supermarket, then I won’t give it to you.”

Zhou Li: …

Why did this sound like she was refusing a billion-yuan inheritance?

Her mother continued, “But you have to tell me honestly—are you really not interested in running a business at all?”

Zhou Li said, “I’m really not interested in business. But… if running it means meeting all kinds of people and seeing different worlds, then maybe it’s kind of interesting.”
(What she really meant was: seeing other worlds sounds fun.)

Zhou Hao looked at her for a long moment before saying, “You still have more than ten years to decide whether to inherit the family business.”

Zhou Li: ?

“Civil service exams usually have an age limit of 35, right?”

Twenty-two-year-old Zhou Li: …

Her mother asked, “Then tell me, why were you unhappy when I said I’d transfer the supermarket to you?”

Zhou Li glanced at her. “Because… it feels like I’m being pushed forward. If my life is a ship, I want to be the one steering it.”

When she’d unexpectedly inherited the supermarket and gotten bound to the system, she’d accepted it quickly enough—but deep down, it had always made her uneasy.

Her life plans had been disrupted. She didn’t even know what consequences this change might have for the people around her.

Zhou Hao said softly, “That’s my fault—for making you uneasy. I just wanted to give you more freedom. Once the supermarket’s under your name, you can change how it runs without asking me first. No matter how it goes, I’ll always have your back. You don’t need to worry. Besides, you’ve been doing great with the store, haven’t you?”

Zhou Li thought to herself, That’s only because I have the system. If they ever unbound, she doubted she could keep it running half as well.

The system chimed in at that moment, “Sales rep, no need to worry. Even if unbinding occurs, everything that belongs to you will still belong to you. The system will not reclaim any property… unless you request it.”

Zhou Li: “…Thanks for your inspiring words and validation.”

Seeing her daughter fall silent, Zhou Hao stepped forward and hugged her, sighing. “I really shouldn’t have sent you off to live at school so early. Maybe that’s why you have such low security. This is Mom’s fault.”

Then she actually started sniffling.

Zhou Li: “…Mom, that’s a bit much.”

Her mother was never the sentimental type.

For as long as Zhou Li could remember, her mother had been someone who paid back grudges and never swallowed an insult. Take her feud with Mu Kun, for instance—when Mu Kun opened a stinky-snail-noodle shop, her mother immediately started selling durian at the door.
You stink up my air, I’ll stink up yours—mutual destruction if you’ve got the guts.

And when villagers gossiped about her, her mother would show up the next day with police officers in tow.

That was why every time Zhou Li came home from school, she found fewer familiar faces in the village. Some had “gone to work elsewhere,” others were simply too embarrassed to stay after Zhou Hao’s confrontations.

Zhou Hao suddenly pulled a small handkerchief from nowhere and dabbed at her eyes. “See? You are still mad at me.”

“I’m not.”

“Then say you love me.”

Zhou Li: …

“Go on.”

Zhou Li gave in. “Mom, I love you. Okay?”

“There’s my good girl.” Zhou Hao broke into a broad smile and planted a kiss on her head.

Zhou Li went completely numb.

As Zhou Hao left the room, her gaze lingered for a moment on the bedside table—but quickly moved on.

After the door closed, Zhou Li glanced at the table, where a Treasure-Spitting Golden Toad figurine sat beside an orka energy crystal.

That crystal had been “spit out” just before her mother came in. It didn’t look exactly like an elemental gem, but it was still decorative enough that her mother probably hadn’t noticed anything odd.

It was too late to hide it now, so Zhou Li just tossed it into the drawer and let it be.

Then the system asked suddenly, “Are you really not considering transferring the supermarket to your name?”

Zhou Li raised a brow. “You’re being unusually forward—does putting it under my name benefit you somehow?”

“The transfer would streamline many operational procedures and unlock additional services,” said the system. “For instance, the Bureau now offers mortgage-based loans to sales reps. As a loan bonus, the All-Language Conversion Service—normally energy-gated—would become free.”

“Why would I need a mortgage loan?”

“It’s the same principle as business owners who don’t need money but still take bank loans.”

Zhou Li nodded. She understood.

But she wasn’t especially interested in any “language conversion” service.

The system added, “With that service, you could comprehend any language or script.”

The phrasing sounded like a hint. Zhou Li thought for a moment, then asked, “Even the complex magical languages of the Magic Plane?”

“Included.”

…

Just as Zhou Hao was about to go downstairs, Zhou Li suddenly threw open her door and shouted, “Mom! I’ll inherit the supermarket!”

☢️☢️☢️