Song Jingshuo was not included in the Combat Team’s roster. He was assigned to the logistics team.
Song Jingshuo had no objection.
The situation now was completely different from two months ago. Logistics were just as important.
As long as the order upheld by the majority still existed, force was not the only path to power. Being in logistics wouldn’t marginalize him or cause him to lose influence.
After the meeting ended and he came out of the clubhouse, he saw Manager Wang diligently fertilizing the soil.
Manager Wang had lost contact with his family and had no superpowers of his own.
After Cao Jiacai died yesterday and several others left, only four property management staff members remained: him, Yang Xinyan, Sister Pan, and Xiao Fang.
That morning, Sister Pan had seen how short-staffed they were and had proactively offered to help with cleaning. Manager Wang was so startled that he quickly snatched the broom back: “You go do your thing, go do your thing. Isn’t there a meeting later?”
He absolutely refused to hand the broom over to Sister Pan. Helpless, Sister Pan could only use her superpower to help—
Wherever she walked, dust swirled and followed her, like tiny tornadoes hugging the ground. She took a stroll around the neighborhood, gathered all the dust, then compressed and hardened it—turning it from dust into pellets—and moved it all into the flower beds.
The neighborhood looked much cleaner.
Luckily, the residents themselves were decent people and didn’t litter randomly.
With so few people, Yang Xinyan now had to do physical labor too.
Manager Wang was working even harder. The grass that had been raked up from yesterday’s vegetable planting had dried out, and today he burned it into plant ash. He was a city guy and didn’t really know much about these things—Sister Pan just told him what to do, and he followed her instructions.
It was actually pretty nice working under Song Jingshuo.
Sister Pan came over and touched the plot where he’d spread the plant ash. The soil churned on its own, as if mixing itself.
Once it was evenly blended, Sister Pan taught Song Jingshuo: “This is for your beans. Beans love plant ash. When we plant beans, we mix the seeds with plant ash—it also keeps pests away.”
She also reminded him: “But you can’t use plant ash with manure. Plant ash neutralizes manure—if you mix them, the manure won’t work.”
Song Jingshuo was shocked: “Do people still use manure in rural areas now? Don’t they use chemical fertilizers?”
Sister Pan: “For the grain you city folks eat, they use chemical fertilizers. But for our own private plots, we still prefer manure. Chicken and pig manure work great. The grain and vegetables grown with it taste better too.”
Song Jingshuo: “…”
Song Jingshuo brought over his soaked beans and planted them.
Sister Pan enjoyed watching him grow vegetables. Even though she said she wasn’t much of a farmer, she still had an affinity for soil and crops.
Song Jingshuo grew soybeans the size of grapes, which delighted Sister Pan to no end.
She reminded him to save seeds each time, then felt the soil: “Whew, that’s intense—this plot is spent. Switch to a new one and let this one rest.”
Song Jingshuo asked Manager Wang: “Is there no more plant ash?”
Manager Wang: “All gone.”
Song Jingshuo was about to switch plots when Manager Wang added: “But the property management has chemical fertilizer.”
Song Jingshuo: “…”
The neighborhood also had large green areas that needed maintenance, so they had chemical fertilizer. It was in the storage room.
Song Jingshuo pinched the bridge of his nose: “If we have chemical fertilizer, why were we using plant ash?”
Manager Wang looked wronged: “Sister Pan insisted.”
Sister Pan nodded: “It was me. We don’t like using chemical fertilizer. And Old Ma and Old Jiang told me yesterday they wanted to make soy milk. Beans grow better with plant ash.”
Alright.
Manager Wang called security guard Xiao Fang to help move the chemical fertilizer.
Sister Pan took the opportunity to educate Song Jingshuo about soil fertility—explaining crop rotation, fallowing, fertilizer application, and what crops preferred which nutrients.
Song Jingshuo listened patiently. He had now fully accepted his superpower. And since he’d taken on this job, he was determined to do it well.
As he listened, he looked up and saw a person standing there holding a foam box. He had no idea how long they’d been there. Clearly, they’d been listening to Sister Pan and waiting for the right moment to interject.
The face was familiar, but not very familiar—the kind you recognized but couldn’t put a name to.
Song Jingshuo asked: “Something you need?”
The person quickly stepped forward: “I’m looking for Sister Pan—no, I’m looking for both of you.”
He held the foam box out toward Sister Pan: “Sister, you can tell if soil’s fertile just by touching it, right? Take a feel of this?”
Sister Pan did as he asked, touched it, and let out a little exclamation: “Not great. Too strong—it’ll burn the roots.”
“Exactly, you’re absolutely right. Because it hasn’t had enough time to fully decompose—it’ll definitely burn the roots. And I don’t have the right conditions for high-temperature composting, so I had to use deep burial and let it break down anaerobically on its own.” The man wasn’t upset at all—on the contrary, he was delighted that Sister Pan’s judgment was so accurate.
He turned to Song Jingshuo: “But I figured that since what you’re growing isn’t ordinary planting—you have a certain degree of control over the growth process—could you prevent the plants from getting root burn when using fertilizer that hasn’t fully decomposed?”
Song Jingshuo asked: “What do you do, buddy? Agricultural research?”
“Exactly, agricultural research.” The man looked up to the heavens and let out a long sigh. “I’m a new-age agri-tech professional who’s been deep in agricultural research projects—and I got neither earth-type nor wood-type superpowers. Where’s the justice in that?”
Sister Pan came from a farming background and had gained earth-type powers—he could understand that and even agreed with it.
But Song Jingshuo—an off-roading, watch-wearing, hair-gel-spraying finance guy—was wood-type.
Heavens, open your eyes, would you?
The new-age farmer is right here!
Look at this genuine agricultural researcher’s sun-darkened skin. Then look at the one you chose—clearly the type of guy who does face masks at home.
Song Jingshuo was quite perceptive and vaguely sensed some dissatisfaction directed at him.
His radar for that kind of thing was particularly sharp.
He sized the man up and analyzed: “Wasn’t it said that physical fitness is the first threshold for getting superpowers? Your body fat percentage is too high—you probably don’t exercise much. You still need to hit the weights.”
He even folded his arm across his chest to show off his muscles.
That shut the man up. The agri-researcher pushed the foam box toward Song Jingshuo: “Give it a try.”
Song Jingshuo had brought down more than just beans from his apartment.
The greens he’d planted yesterday had already produced seeds, which he’d saved. He’d soaked them at home too. Even if they hadn’t sprouted yet, pre-soaking saved superpower energy during acceleration.
Sister Pan added: “Try growing some small greens.”
Perfect.
Song Jingshuo dropped a few seeds into the foam box. He accelerated their growth like he had yesterday, and soon roots and shoots appeared, quickly growing larger.
But then Song Jingshuo frowned: “Hmm?”
The agri-researcher said: “It’s starting to burn the roots, isn’t it?”
He explained to Song Jingshuo: “Root burn happens when the fertilizer concentration is too high, causing water inside the plant’s roots to flow back into the soil, which dehydrates the plant and kills it.”
Sister Pan suddenly understood: “So that’s how it works. I knew about root burn, but I never knew why it happened. So that’s it.”
Song Jingshuo also said: “So that’s how it works.”
He could now feel that pulling force coming from the soil.
The tiny seedlings seemed to be screaming.
Song Jingshuo focused, extending his superpower deep into the roots, wrestling against the force from the soil.
He won easily. The few seedlings settled down and grew beautifully into plump, sturdy little greens.
Song Jingshuo’s eyes lit up: “This soil is excellent!”
As long as you could overcome that pulling force and protect the roots, the growth that followed was especially easy.
It was like those kids who don’t need their parents to chase them around with a spoon—they just eat big mouthfuls on their own, getting full and growing strong.
Just then, Manager Wang and Xiao Fang returned with a flatbed cart loaded with bags of chemical fertilizer: “Here it is—this is all we’ve got.”
Song Jingshuo asked: “Just this? No more?”
He didn’t know much about it, but it didn’t look like much. He turned and asked: “Sister, is this…”
“Not enough,” the agri-researcher said excitedly. “That was just for one meal yesterday. You have to consider feeding hundreds of people three meals a day. And the fertilizer absorption rate when you accelerate growth isn’t comparable to normal crops’ absorption cycles and amounts.”
“I’m telling you—it’s not enough.”
Manager Wang thought to himself, If there’s not enough fertilizer, isn’t that bad news? Why are you so happy?
He quickly defended himself: “This is what was left over from before. Since we don’t fertilize in autumn and winter, we were going to wait until next year to buy more. So this is all that’s left.”
In truth, only Song Jingshuo didn’t know that Manager Wang was lying.
The neighborhood’s greenery was supposed to receive an additional round of fertilizer in September—to store nutrients for a safe winter and to promote sprouting the following spring.
Sister Pan, Xiao Fang, and the agri-researcher all knew it. The first two knew because they’d been dragged into that work around that time every year, and the latter was a professional.
Song Jingshuo—the wood-type superpower user—was the only one who was completely clueless.
The real situation was that after the first outbreak ended, Manager Wang had returned to work and found that many residents had died.
Later, although he had taken possession of many vacant units, he realized he couldn’t put them to use—couldn’t even earn a cent in rent.
That was bad.
It meant that property fees for the second half of the year would drop sharply.
He’d been right—fee collection was indeed underwhelming.
So Manager Wang started cutting the budget. The landscaping maintenance budget was slashed, and the fertilizer for autumn and winter was never purchased.
Sister Pan and Xiao Fang both knew.
But they knew Manager Wang well—he was their former boss. So neither of them said anything.
The agri-researcher knew too. But he’d been observing Song Jingshuo’s vegetable growing since yesterday and had seen Manager Wang working hard, albeit clumsily.
A middle-aged man who couldn’t go home, wasn’t a resident, and had no superpowers—it was a bit heartbreaking. No need to expose him.
Song Jingshuo didn’t know Manager Wang had deceived him, but he understood why the agri-researcher was so happy.
He asked: “What’s your name, buddy?”
The man replied: “Zeng Qiang.”
“Zeng Qiang.” Song Jingshuo said. “How do you make this fertilizer? What do you need, and how much can you supply?”
Zeng Qiang said: “Large-scale, unlimited supply—but let’s talk somewhere private.”
Sister Pan, Manager Wang, and Xiao Fang watched as Zeng Qiang carried the foam box and walked off to a distance, with Song Jingshuo following. The two of them stood under a tree and talked.
Xiao Fang clicked his tongue: “What’s there to say that needs to be kept from us?”
Manager Wang rested his hands on his belly: “Pfft, I can figure it out with my toes.”
Xiao Fang: “Huh?”
Manager Wang said: “He’s definitely asking for perks. With so many people to feed from now on, Xiao Song’s ability is crucial—but it has to be paired with fertilizer. So he becomes important too. Since he’s important, he’s asking for better treatment.”
Sister Pan disagreed: “What perks are there to speak of? Name one.”
Manager Wang couldn’t come up with anything.
Sister Pan: “Right? There are none. Everyone’s the same.”
The strong went out to fight zombies; the less strong helped around the neighborhood.
At today’s meeting, they’d even said that with so few property staff left, they wouldn’t have her cooking anymore—her superpower should be used for other things. From now on, cleaning and such would be rotated among everyone.
There were no perks. Everyone had to do some kind of work.
Everyone ate together, and they all ate the same thing.
There was no difference in treatment.
It wasn’t like Cao Jiacai—a toad dreaming of a bunch of city girls.
And Xiao Song wouldn’t be offering girls to him anyway.
If he had that kind of idea, Zhang Lesi and Su Yu and the others would beat him to a pulp.
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