In the evening, after the combat teams had brought back the survivors and dinner was over, a work meeting was held at the clubhouse.
While others were speaking, Jiang Cheng noticed that Song Jingshuo kept touching his left wrist with his right hand. There was something on his left wrist.
Before, that spot had held his luxury watch. Now it looked like a wooden bracelet.
Jiang Cheng narrowed her eyes and looked more closely—it wasn’t wood. It was vine.
Several thin vines twisted together into a ring like a bracelet, with a tiny green leaf attached.
The leaf was so small you wouldn’t notice it without looking carefully. She only spotted it when Song Jingshuo unscrewed his water bottle and quietly poured water over his wrist.
So it was alive.
Jiang Cheng knew it definitely wasn’t a “bracelet.”
The opening was too small—practically flush against his skin. There was no way he could have “put it on.”
…It must have grown directly onto him.
Song Jingshuo wore a watch because it was a mark of a successful man. But he wasn’t the type to wear jewelry.
What kind of thing, for what reason, would need to be worn on his wrist at all times?
Jiang Cheng narrowed her eyes.
She knew Song Jingshuo too well—he wouldn’t do anything unnecessary or useless.
She looked up and met Song Jingshuo’s gaze.
He’d clearly noticed her scrutiny. He raised his left hand to his chest, rotated his wrist, and gave Jiang Cheng a slight smirk.
Jiang Cheng raised an eyebrow.
Song Jingshuo knew she’d figured out most of it.
—
Splitting the combat team into separate squads had greatly improved efficiency. After two days of operation, the squad leaders and team members—especially the newly recruited ones—had more or less gelled.
Jiang Cheng decided: “Tomorrow, I’ll lead a team to clear out Renxin Hospital.”
She’d been thinking about the hospital for days now.
With more and more people arriving, Zhang Lesi no longer went out with the combat team—she stayed home and “practiced medicine.”
Her diagnostic superpower had made her a “miracle doctor,” but her healing ability could only treat external injuries—it was useless against illness.
Fortunately, everyone who’d been found sick over the past few days only needed medication.
But sooner or later—and this was certain—with so many residents, someone would eventually need surgical care. They’d need anesthesia, instruments, sterile environments, and so on.
They had to plan ahead. They couldn’t wait until the moment arrived to act—that would be too late.
Tomorrow’s tasks for each squad were assigned, and the meeting adjourned.
Jiang Cheng and Song Jingshuo went their separate ways. Neither asked about the vine bracelet, and neither brought it up.
Instead, Li Jiangbing caught up to Song Jingshuo, slinging an arm around his neck: “What were you two giving each other looks about just now?”
He couldn’t be left out of anything.
Song Jingshuo pried his thick arm off and said: “Come on—I’ll show you something.”
They found a corner of the community, and Song Jingshuo demonstrated.
Li Jiangbing’s mouth hung open for a long time before he finally closed it, utterly speechless: “Even you… and Jiang Cheng has Moli… and here I am…”
Heaven was too unfair. The one who should have been the main combatant—and he got water-type.
He asked Song Jingshuo: “So are you going to join the combat team?”
“No.” Song Jingshuo didn’t even consider it.
Those days were long past—the time when you needed combat prowess to establish authority in the group was over.
The framework was already in place.
The combat team had more than enough members and was expanding every day. New refugees moved in, got a day to decompress, and on the third day they started working. There was no shortage of fighters.
Everyone just needed to find their own place.
Song Jingshuo was now universally recognized as the provisional government’s second-in-command and the overall manager of material resources.
Everyone knew his superpower wasn’t offensive, but no one disobeyed his instructions—not even the strongest superpower users.
All of this was because, under Jiang Cheng’s leadership and everyone’s collective effort, they had built a small-scale orderly society.
When order existed, there was no need to use force to suppress others.
Of course, that order had almost been broken by Cao Jiacai. Back then, no one’s superpowers had been trained up to the level they were at now. Cao Jiacai’s combat strength had been on a completely different tier.
But Jiang Cheng had held the ultimate trump card—the deadliest ace.
If Cao Jiacai hadn’t jumped out, Jiang Cheng might not have revealed Moli. Or maybe she’d been waiting all along for Cao Jiacai to make his move, so she could give Moli a legitimate reason to show his power.
In any case, if you really wanted to talk combat power, Moli wasn’t just on a different tier—he was on an entirely different plane of existence, and absolutely loyal to Jiang Cheng.
Jiang Cheng held the highest combat power. She didn’t want to become a tyrant. She wanted order.
That was everyone’s good fortune.
On the morning of September 8th, Jiang Cheng led her team to seize Renxin Hospital. A group from Changxing District contacted her: “We’ve established the Changxing District Provisional Government.”
Once again, it confirmed that the government had been systematically eliminated.
Jiang Cheng had long been certain of this.
If anyone from the government were still alive, there would have been at least some sort of announcement by now.
If anyone from the government were still alive, they would have mobilized the military. No matter how many soldiers were still alive, they’d still be stronger than ordinary civilians.
Li Feng’s phone could no longer be reached.
Jiang Cheng guessed he was dead.
Even if he were alive, it would be hard to get in touch.
The Eastern Military Region wasn’t in S City—in fact, it was closer to N City and J City than to S City, not to mention all the smaller counties and towns.
It was only because S City was so important that last time they’d abandoned surrounding cities, sacrificing smaller counties and towns, and funneled the main manpower and supplies to S City first.
Jiang Cheng didn’t spend a single second missing Li Feng. In fact, she didn’t miss him at all.
He was just a partner from a brief collaboration.
Any partner from the youth apartments was closer and more important to her than him.
In the afternoon, Jiang Cheng met with the Changxing District group at the TV station, broadcast the good news of the Changxing District Provisional Government’s establishment, and updated the scrolling subtitle information.
The idea on September 6th to broadcast all distress messages on TV had been a brilliant move.
Just yesterday alone, they’d received numerous messages saying “We’ve already rescued the trapped people in XX Building.”
One after another.
Yang Xinyan cried as she entered the new information.
When asked why she was crying, she said she didn’t know either.
Now, with updated information, those who had the ability to rescue people wouldn’t go to places that had already been cleared.
Yue Chao and the other TV station staff had even created an electronic map, marking the safe zones in Shilong District, Changxing District, and the Tech District in green.
Compared to the Tech District, the Shilong and Changxing base areas looked like tiny green peas.
The entire residential area of the Tech District was a green safe zone.
They also integrated information like “XX Building has been cleared—no zombies left” and “We’re now using XX Mall as our base—survivors nearby can come to us for refuge.” These were displayed as subtitles and also marked on the map.
Scattered specks of green.
Like sparks.
—
The half-grown youth scouts at No. 14 High School were anxious after seeing the new broadcast.
That morning, when they’d gone to rescue others, they’d run into another rescue team—and both groups were trying to save the same people.
Though they’d cooperated happily and bravely…
“If we don’t establish the Guangxiu District government soon, someone else is going to beat us to it!”
“Exactly! There are more of us. Those people today only had a few dozen. Since we have more people, we should be the government!”
The students were frantic, afraid someone else would establish the district government first.
All they could think about was “We want to be the government!”
They put their heads together to figure out how to become a government.
First, they had to confirm that the district government really was completely dead. Then, the people could spontaneously establish a government.
“Where exactly is the Guangxiu District government building?”
“I know—it’s on Huairou Road!”
“Where’s Huairou Road?”
Even though these middle schoolers had been born and raised in this city, they weren’t all that familiar with the city’s districts.
Many students only knew the route from home to school, and maybe a few commercial areas where they’d hung out with classmates.
Outside their own living zones, they were lost.
Fortunately, there were maps.
After confirming the location, the next issue was transportation: “How do we get there?”
To clear out an entire district government building full of zombies, they’d need a large force. They couldn’t just walk.
It was a bit far.
“Teacher Zhang, you know how to drive, right?”
Everyone hoped Teacher Zhang could go find a public bus on the street to use as their vehicle.
Look at those people in the Tech District—their awesome “blade vehicles” were public buses. You could even see the route number—535.
But Teacher Zhang firmly refused: “No.”
“You’re all still minors. We’ve already discussed it—we’ll stay here and protect your safety and well-being.”
“Establishing a government isn’t something kids should be worrying about. Don’t let your minds run wild—let the adults handle it. Our Guangxiu District is big—there will definitely be capable people who step up.”
But we are the capable people! Why can’t the teachers understand that?
The “we” in Teacher Zhang’s mouth included not only the teachers but also the parents.
In other words, the adults had already discussed it and completely dismissed their ideas.
The middle schoolers were utterly deflated.
It was like getting a great score of 98 on an exam, running excitedly to show your parents, only to be criticized: “How did you lose two points? Reflect on that.”
The teachers and parents, as the “adults” of No. 14 High School, were now busy taking care of the rescued refugees, running around like headless chickens.
They thought that by firmly refusing, that would be the end of it.
But they forgot—kids at this age are the most rebellious.
—
That night, the cafeteria lights were still on.
Teacher Zhang went to check—many students were kneading dough.
These past few days, since everyone took turns helping in the cafeteria, many students had learned to cook—and even how to steam buns.
“What are you doing?” the teacher asked.
A quick-witted and articulate student immediately said: “With so many refugees, we’re making them some steamed buns.”
“Oh.” The teacher was a little moved.
They might have wild ideas, but they were good kids.
The teacher reminded: “Don’t stay up too late. Get some rest.”
The students agreed.
But the teacher forgot—when kids this age want to do something, how can you stop them?
—
The next morning, the teachers and parents woke up to find the school unusually quiet.
In the cafeteria, only the aunties were there, looking confused: “Still not up? Why isn’t anyone coming for breakfast?”
The teacher sensed something was wrong and ran to the classrooms where the students slept—empty.
A parent ran over: “I checked—the bike shed is half empty! Those little brats!”
Among those little brats were their own kids. Their wings had grown strong.
—
The autumn morning breeze was a bit chilly.
A chorus of sneezes echoed along the road, but there was even more laughter.
And the crisp ringing of bicycle bells.
No cars? They’d use bicycles.
They’d built iron cages—each cage covering seven or eight bicycles, all linked together.
Students who couldn’t ride sat on the connecting bars between the bikes.
The outside of the iron cages imitated the “blade vehicles”—a skirt of blades all around.
But bicycles weren’t fast enough to produce the instant head-chopping effect of the blade vehicles.
That didn’t stop the kids. Their young minds quickly came up with a solution—they could adjust the blades, launching them out to kill zombies.
The Tech District had evolved their “blade vehicles”.
The students had failed at imitating the “blade vehicles” and instead developed their own “blade carts.”
They killed zombies all along the way.
Luckily, Guangxiu District was in the north—the closest of the eight major districts to the Tech District, a suburban area.
That meant the Tech District convoy had to pass through Guangxiu District every time they entered the city.
Over the past two days, the convoy had expanded with more teams and vehicles, each squad taking different routes.
Going in in the morning, coming out in the evening—one round trip already cleared out large numbers of roaming zombies on the streets.
The students saw many headless zombies and heads rolling everywhere on the streets.
“Ew, that stinks!”
“So gross!”
Though it stank, the wind brushing past the youths as they raced toward their goals and ideals was too cool and gentle.
A journey in poverty or a journey in wealth—neither could compare to a journey in youth.
Young people—go do what you want to do.
By the time you’re grown up, it’s too late!
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