“When someone asks you ‘Do I look pretty?’ they want you to compliment them. The only correct answer is ‘Yes, you look pretty.’”
“When someone says someone confessed to them and they don’t know what to do, they’re feeding you dog food. The only correct response is to immediately express your envy and jealousy so they can feel satisfied.”
“As for what you actually think or feel—it doesn’t matter.” Song Jingshuo patiently explained. “They have eyes and mirrors—they know whether they’re pretty or not. And the person who confessed knows better than anyone whether they like the other person or have feelings.”
“Everyone comes with a clear purpose—they expect you to say what they want to hear. No one wants to hear the truth.”
Gao Yuxuan suddenly understood: “No wonder girls always hit me!”
All his life.
A life mystery finally solved.
Li Jiangbing was shaking with laughter.
“Don’t you laugh.” Gao Yuxuan, embarrassed and angry, turned his aim on Li Jiangbing. “You’re no better than me—playing dumb with Su Yu. What about you? Waiting for Su Yu to confess to you too? Let me tell you, Su Yu is not Zhang Lesi.”
Li Jiangbing immediately stopped laughing: “Don’t talk nonsense. Don’t go around gossiping about girls—don’t you care about her reputation?”
Gao Yuxuan refused to back down: “How am I talking nonsense? Nobody’s blind.”
You couldn’t hide your favoritism.
Saving her a good seat in the car.
Carrying heavy things for her.
Always thinking of her first when something good came up or when distributing stuff.
Within the bounds of what he could do, making things as convenient for her as possible.
Some things didn’t need to be said—they showed up in actions.
The ceding of benefits and power was the most obvious sign.
But when Su Yu tried to show she was interested, he started playing deaf and dumb, leaving her completely baffled.
Even Song Jingshuo encouraged Li Jiangbing: “You said yourself that Su Yu is different from Zhang Lesi. A girl like her won’t make the first move. You have to pursue her actively.”
Li Jiangbing stared at the TV screen: “Pursue what? You want a vocational school grad like me to pursue a female master’s degree holder? Even with ten times the guts, I wouldn’t dare. This whole thing is doomed from the start.”
The room fell silent for a moment, with only the sounds of the game characters firing and the villains squealing.
Song Jingshuo and Gao Yuxuan paused for a beat.
Day in and day out fighting zombies, seeing each other every day—everyone was a familiar face. They’d forgotten that in normal society, they were actually… very different.
Gao Yuxuan pursed his lips, trying to think of something to say to smooth things over, but couldn’t come up with anything. He shot Song Jingshuo a pleading look.
Song Jingshuo said: “Right now, what use are degrees and money?”
Right, right—old Song to the rescue! Gao Yuxuan quickly chimed in: “Exactly! Who cares about that now? If you ask me—”
“Don’t. Just shut up.” Li Jiangbing said irritably.
“Even if what you say is true, that makes it even worse.”
“In normal, peaceful times, someone like her would never have looked twice at me. Why is she looking now? Because times aren’t peaceful.”
“For her, this is a noble fallen on hard times.”
“For me, this is taking advantage of someone in distress.”
“If I did something like that, my mom would beat me to death.”
“Forget it.”
Li Jiangbing’s face was covered by the mask, and he kept his eyes fixed on the TV, not meeting their gaze.
Song Jingshuo and Gao Yuxuan couldn’t see his expression at all.
—
President Xu came back humming a little tune, carrying a backpack.
When he saw his employees, he handed over the bag: “Here—take this and share it.”
Everyone cheered.
There were chips, chocolate, and drinks. Two bottles of soda were split among everyone with cups—just one sip per person.
But it was satisfying.
Other employees who’d joined the combat team also brought things back. Seeing President Xu share his haul, they brought theirs out too.
Wu Yan and Tao Xiaoxiao even brought out several grapes as big as oranges.
The youth apartments didn’t have those—they were exclusive to Jixiang Jiayuan. They came from a ground-floor resident’s courtyard, grown big by the two wood-types, Xue and Qian—grown and picked on the spot. The ones that weren’t picked stayed small and green, inedible. No one could steal them even if they wanted to.
For now, this was an exclusive perk of Jixiang Jiayuan—only original resident owners could receive them.
Sister Wu and Xiaoxiao were in management roles, so their treatment was now equivalent to Jixiang Jiayuan owners.
President Xu concluded: “See? I told you. You can’t stay on the sidelines. Either get on the front lines or get into management.”
The combat team didn’t just earn higher performance points—there were also various hidden perks when going out. Collectively gathered items were managed uniformly, but whatever you scavenged for yourself was yours to keep. That’s why everyone carried cross-body backpacks when heading out—to grab as much as they could.
President Xu hadn’t been prepared on his first day—he’d been dragged out and had to grab a bag on the spot.
“Alright, eat up. Come on, let’s have a meeting.” President Xu clapped his hands.
Similar to the youth apartments’ work meeting, everyone talked about which position they’d taken, what they’d done, how tired they were, how many performance points they’d earned, and what perks they’d gotten.
Director Yu said: “The management is solid, especially over at the youth apartments. I had a chance to chat with that Song Jingshuo today. Guess what company he’s from? Shengda! He’s the one who came up with the performance points system.”
Shengda was a top-tier name in the finance industry—getting in meant you were top talent.
President Xu suddenly understood: “No wonder.”
After some discussion, President Xu said: “First, I think the Tech District Provisional Government, though young, is on the right track in every aspect and has potential for sustainable development. We should stay here and settle down.”
They didn’t really have anywhere else to go anyway.
“Second, we must not split up. Even though the company is gone, the more unfamiliar the environment, the more we need to stick together. Being alone definitely won’t work.”
Everyone nodded, some even letting out sighs of relief.
In truth, they’d been more worried that President Xu and Director Yu—both superpower users—might abandon them.
There was already an invisible line forming between superpower users and ordinary people. The youth apartments’ youthfulness and strong team spirit kept that line from being too obvious.
But no one in President Xu’s company was stupid—they all sensed it.
In the end, they reached a consensus.
Though the company was gone, they were now a family—a big family.
Everyone had to contribute to this “family.” Aside from the two who cooked well and were fixed in that role, everyone else would take on positions and earn performance points.
From the group’s combined performance points, the two cooks would receive their compensation.
Since President Xu, Director Yu, Sister Wu Yan, and Xiaoxiao—who had already entered management—earned more than others, these four were exempt from household chores.
Everyone else would take turns doing cleaning and other household tasks.
A fairly stable and united little group had formed.
In the future, as the number of refugees grew, more and more such groups would emerge—bonded by blood, by affection, or by shared interests.
It echoed Jiang Cheng’s words: No one can live alone.
—
Over at the youth apartments, it had taken two days to get large-scale planting sorted out. Auntie Xue and Auntie Qian could finally catch their breath.
Auntie Xue noticed that Song Jingshuo had been cultivating seedlings of several fruit varieties, but no grapes. On the morning of September 7th, she brought him a vine with leaves and unripe grape clusters: “Take this home and plant it.”
Song Jingshuo thanked Auntie Xue and took the vine home to start it in a pot.
People in the community had helped him collect lots of flowerpots and foam boxes—there was now a huge pile of seedlings in his place.
Only a portion had been selected for large-scale planting; the rest were just being cultivated, kept on hand in case of future need.
Zeng Qiang, the agricultural researcher, specialized in fertilizers.
He complained that Song Jingshuo and the other wood-types had essentially made his profession obsolete.
Normally, if you gave plants unfermented fertilizer, the roots would burn and the plant would die. But with wood-type superpowers, the plants could survive, forcibly absorb the nutrients, and grow.
So what was the point of someone like Zeng Qiang, a fertilizer researcher?
Even so, complaints aside, Zeng Qiang still carefully used whatever materials were available to make high-quality potting soil for Song Jingshuo’s seedlings.
With proper soil, Song Jingshuo didn’t have to check on the seedlings multiple times a day. He could just leave them at home and they’d grow naturally without needing his constant attention.
Waiting for the day when humanity would need them to thrive once more.
Song Jingshuo got the grapevine and asked Zeng Qiang: “What fertilizer should I use?”
Zeng Qiang said: “Nitrogen-based fertilizer is best for the seedling stage. Go look around—I think there’s still some left.”
Song Jingshuo went back to his place and searched. There were still several boxes of soil left unused. He dug out a foam box marked with a marker: “N” for nitrogen. He poked a hole in the soil with his finger and planted the small vine.
No technique at all.
No leaf-pruning, no angled cuts, no attention to temperature or moisture—none of it.
Just that simple—stick it in the soil, activate his superpower, and roots grew, anchoring firmly into the earth.
It would make an agricultural researcher green with envy.
The vine still had a cluster of tiny green grape buds hanging from it. Song Jingshuo casually accelerated their growth, wanting to taste some grapes.
He had to admit, even he was a bit tired of strawberries—time for a change of flavor.
The tiny green buds visibly swelled and grew larger.
Of course, Song Jingshuo controlled the process, only letting the grapes grow and ripen while keeping the vine from stretching upward.
But as he channeled his superpower, he felt the vine’s intense need to spread—to grow longer, thicker, stronger, to coil and wrap around.
This was his first time accelerating a vine plant—it was indeed a novel experience.
Most of the other vegetables were focused on growing leaves and wanting to bloom.
A thought suddenly flashed through Song Jingshuo’s mind—what if he used his superpower to accelerate the vine itself, rather than the fruit?
The moment the thought crossed his mind, he couldn’t resist trying it.
Song Jingshuo used his superpower at maximum capacity every single day. He’d work until he was exhausted, rest, then go again. From morning to night, no days off.
But because, like Li Jiangbing, his ability was non-offensive, few people paid attention to just how strong his superpower had become.
Only Auntie Qian had remarked yesterday: “You’re really fast at accelerating things—must be nice to be young.”
Song Jingshuo focused his mind, and a surge of superpower coursed through the vine’s veins.
The vine instantly exploded upward, shooting all the way to the ceiling!
It stayed there, needing no support—entwined with itself, twisting into a pillar-like column between the foam box and the ceiling.
Upright. Dominant.
Completely unlike those leafy greens lying flat on the ground.
Song Jingshuo crouched down, hands resting on his knees.
He stared up at it for a long moment, then reached out and touched the vine…
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