Jiang Cheng walked past several aisles without spotting Song Jingshuo, but luckily she saw Li Jiangbing. She shot him a look, and he immediately fell into step beside her.
They were perfectly in sync.
Li Jiangbing lowered his voice: “What’s up?”
Jiang Cheng said: “Candles. Lighters. Quilts.”
“Huh?”
Jiang Cheng’s ability was a storage space. Since she was here, of course she was going to take some things—no way she’d leave empty-handed.
But Li Jiangbing hadn’t expected these items. He asked, puzzled: “Shouldn’t we be grabbing rice, grain, and meat?”
“It’s different now,” Jiang Cheng said. “This time is different.”
In fact, people were already starting to push shopping carts around and load them up. After all, since they were here anyway, no one was leaving empty-handed.
Jiang Cheng found candles and lighters.
Li Jiangbing watched her touch the items with her hand—and they vanished.
Jiang Cheng frowned.
Li Jiangbing asked quickly: “What’s wrong?”
Jiang Cheng said: “The candles are pretty heavy.”
Heavy meant high mass. Her space wasn’t limited by shape—how much it could hold was determined by mass.
You could simply think of it as weight capacity.
Jiang Cheng didn’t take everything—she left some behind.
Li Jiangbing had noticed that Jiang Cheng always left room for others. She never pushed people who weren’t her enemies into a corner.
But someone like that cleaning lady from the property management who’d staged a walkout—that woman named Liu or whatever—was an enemy. And with enemies, Jiang Cheng left absolutely no room.
Li Jiangbing really admired Jiang Cheng’s way of doing things.
Maybe at first, he’d just realized she was quick-witted and could quickly become the center of a group, and he wanted to latch onto a good thing.
But later on, he genuinely came to like Jiang Cheng and sincerely wanted to be her partner.
Song Jingshuo must feel the same way.
Seeing that many people were already pushing carts and grabbing items, Jiang Cheng didn’t go to the bedding section. She led Li Jiangbing straight to the warehouse.
Good—the warehouse shelves were clearly labeled too. The two of them followed the signs.
There was no one in the warehouse except for a few zombie corpses. As they walked, Jiang Cheng explained: “I’m worried that water, electricity, gas, and heating might not be guaranteed this time.”
Li Jiangbing was stunned and hesitated: “No way, last time…”
“I said it—this time is different from last time,” Jiang Cheng said. “Jiangbing, how many people were in our complex last time? How many do we have now? How many people were in Jixiang Jiayuan last time? How many are there now?”
“Apply that ratio to the government and the military.”
Li Jiangbing processed her words, and cold sweat began to form on his forehead.
Because when Li Jiangbing had been a militia member, he’d been led by active-duty military personnel. He’d gotten to know them pretty well.
He’d learned that even the soldiers and officers didn’t know exactly how many people the military had lost. The higher-ups had never released any data.
You could say that at the time, it wasn’t a priority. But looking at it another way, it could also be because the losses were so severe that the government decided not to release the numbers, considering the potential impact or political factors.
An officer he’d become close with had once explained that when a major natural disaster strikes domestically, the military enters a Level 1 combat readiness state to prevent foreign powers from taking advantage of the situation.
If the losses were too heavy, it was entirely possible they wouldn’t be announced for fear of attracting covetous eyes from foreign forces.
After that, the whole country had resumed work, and it had only been a little over a month. The state hadn’t had time to recruit and replenish its forces yet.
Under these circumstances, the military had been dealt another devastating blow.
As for the government… just look at Jixiang Jiayuan—none of those office workers had come back!
Government employees worked in government buildings too, didn’t they?
“Last time, formal rescue operations didn’t start until Wednesday,” Jiang Cheng said. “But that doesn’t mean the government wasn’t doing anything on Sunday, Monday, or Tuesday. In fact, they must have been mobilizing from Sunday onward—otherwise, how would our water, electricity, gas, and communications have been secured?”
“But the premise of all that was that the government still existed.”
“Mayor Zheng, Mayor Sun, and the others survived in their own homes over the weekend, then gathered together to form a new provisional government and took on the responsibility of leadership. That’s how everything that followed happened.”
“This time—how many government officials are still alive? Can a provisional government even be formed again?”
Li Jiangbing’s footsteps grew heavy.
He really felt he wasn’t cut out for thinking about these things. Not only did it give him a headache, but it also made him anxious.
In the end, Li Jiangbing had his own approach: “Just tell me what to do. Whatever you say, I’ll do.”
That was the easiest way!
Don’t make him worry about anything!
Now it was Jiang Cheng’s turn to sigh.
“My space is too small,” she said. “Honestly, most other things can be solved somehow. What I’m most worried about is winter.”
If everything went as she predicted, not only would water, electricity, and gas be unreliable—what winter needed most was heating.
They followed the signs to the bedding section.
In the warehouse, everything was in bulk packaging. A lot of it came in crates. That’s why Guo Jun and Brother Dong had been able to find crowbars in here.
The crates were heavy too—they couldn’t waste space capacity on them. Jiang Cheng pointed at the crates: “Take these apart.”
Without a word, Li Jiangbing turned around, grabbed a crowbar, and started prying them open.
He only needed to crack them open enough for Jiang Cheng to reach her hand in.
The quilts were packed tightly together—Jiang Cheng just had to touch one package, and in an instant, she could clear out the whole crate.
It was really convenient. Jiang Cheng even found a moment to joke with Li Jiangbing: “Which is heavier—a pound of cotton or a pound of iron?”
Li Jiangbing gave her a look like she’d lost her mind: “Do you even have to ask?”
He said with certainty: “Iron, of course! I’ve never heard of cotton being heavier than iron!”
Jiang Cheng: “…”
Alright.
There were all kinds of quilts—soybean fiber quilts, wool quilts, down quilts, seven-hole quilts, nine-hole quilts.
Jiang Cheng didn’t discriminate—she packed them all into her space.
These quilts took up a lot of volume but didn’t weigh much. In fact, by the end, she’d stored more than she’d expected—a nice surprise.
“Let’s go.” With her space completely stuffed—and even a little overstuffed—Jiang Cheng led Li Jiangbing out of the warehouse.
Outside, it had turned into a full-on shopping scene.
Ever since the last disaster, it was said that people across the country had developed a hoarding disorder—probably a form of PTSD from the previous zombie outbreak.
So this time, there was none of the urgency around supplies that there’d been last time.
People were mainly focused on dividing up the fresh produce and fruits from Mai Duoduo. And the fresh meat. Mostly because if you didn’t take it today, it would go bad in a couple of days anyway.
Master Guo said there was still a lot of frozen meat, fish, and shrimp in the cold storage—that could wait. Today, they’d take the fresh stuff.
Song Jingshuo was with Auntie Pan and two Wood-type aunties in the plant section.
The potted plants here were mostly succulents, money trees, cacti, kalanchoe, mint, and the like.
What was truly valuable to Song Jingshuo and the others were the potted strawberries and cherry tomatoes.
And beyond that—seeds. Vegetable seeds.
The aunties said: “Take it all, take it all! There’s only the three of us Wood-types anyway.”
Auntie Pan reminded them: “You should take all the fresh fruit and vegetables too—take them back and try them out.”
Because many plants didn’t necessarily need seeds.
Song Jingshuo kept a deadpan expression the whole time.
You couldn’t change the ability the heavens gave you, but accepting your fate wasn’t the same as being happy about it.
Zhao Yi and Gao Yuxuan came over, squeezed Song Jingshuo aside, and got close to the aunties for a chat: “What do you do for work? How’s your health? Why do you think you ended up Wood-type? Any theories of your own?”
The aunties had been looked down on when the teams were first divided. But later, everyone realized that the group of uncles and aunties led by Zhou Wang actually weren’t weak at all.
Of course, they weren’t strong either—but they genuinely weren’t holding anyone back. They were around average, normal people’s level.
Considering their age, their physical condition was actually very good.
When Zhao Yi and the others asked, sure enough, they confirmed that the two elderly women and the other old folks brave enough to put on armor and go out to kill zombies were all the type to do morning exercises in the park or dance in the square at night.
The kind of seniors with more energy than young people.
The aunties exchanged a smile and said: “Of course there’s a reason.”
“The two of us are well-known for being great at growing flowers and vegetables.”
“Pfft, it’s no surprise at all that we got Wood-type abilities. If we didn’t have Wood-type, who else would deserve it?”
“You young men should come by our homes sometime and see how well our plants are growing!”
After interviewing the aunties, Zhao Yi couldn’t help stealing a few glances at Song Jingshuo.
His actions were so obvious that Song Jingshuo had long since stopped bothering with pleasantries: “Say what you want to say.”
Zhao Yi asked: “Do you like growing flowers and vegetables too?”
Song Jingshuo smiled in a way that was unsettling: “What part of me makes you think that?”
Gao Yuxuan, meanwhile, interviewed Auntie Pan: “Auntie, you have an agricultural household registration, right? Why do you think you ended up Earth-type instead of Wood-type? We all feel like you’d be more suited to Wood.”
“You young folks just think us farmers are born to farm,” Auntie Pan said, dismissive of their stereotypes. “If we liked farming that much, why would we come to the city for work? If farming was so great, why did Old Luo spend money to learn how to be an electrician?”
Farmers were simply assigned arable land at birth and naturally tied to the soil—that didn’t mean they were born wanting to farm.
Gao Yuxuan felt he was gaining some insight. But he pressed further: “But didn’t you used to grow vegetables behind Building 6?”
That should mean she liked farming, right?
Auntie Pan said: “Oh, that was because the property management was paying good money to order vegetables. I figured I could keep the money in the family—grow them myself and earn it. Who knew the manager wouldn’t let me? Said the Building 6 residents complained, and they plowed it all under.”
So that was it. Gao Yuxuan and Zhao Yi got the information they wanted.
In the end, Zhou Wang decided to take Brother Dong in.
Because after Gao Yuxuan and Zhao Yi finished interviewing others, they came over to interview the two of them too, asking them to race each other as a test.
At the researchers’ request, the two of them indeed ran a lap around the supermarket together.
Brother Dong won.
Not only was he faster, but he wasn’t even out of breath.
Zhou Wang was a bit winded.
They looked at each other.
One asked: “Why are you winded?”
The other asked: “Why aren’t you winded?”
Brother Dong said: “What’s there to get winded over from a little running like that? Daily labor is harder than this.”
He laughed: “You’re clearly an office worker—look at that belly.”
He even gave Zhou Wang’s protruding beer belly a playful pat.
Zhao Yi and Gao Yuxuan watched Zhou Wang’s belly jiggle from the pat.
They felt they could now basically formulate a description of how superpowers worked.
Just then, Zhou Wang’s phone rang.
It was an unfamiliar number.
But Zhou Wang answered anyway—his number was posted on the community’s resident forum. Many people at Jixiang Jiayuan had his cell phone number.
When someone unfamiliar called, it showed up as an unknown number.
“Hello, this is Zhou Wang.”
The caller was indeed from Jixiang Jiayuan: “Zhou Wang, this is Longlong’s grandma. You know—Longlong from Building 4, not the Longlong from Building 1.”
This kind of self-introduction was meaningless to Zhou Wang.
Because whether it was Longlong from Building 1 or Longlong from Building 4, Zhou Wang had no memory of either.
But he’d taken too many calls like this. He could only pinch the bridge of his nose to ease his headache and said: “Just tell me what you need—I’m busy here.”
Longlong’s grandma quickly said: “It’s about that—Xiao Huang is back.”
Zhou Wang paused: “Xiao Huang? Huang Xuetao?”
Longlong’s grandma: “Yes. His mom calls him Xiaotao—I’ve heard her.”
Zhou Wang was both shocked and relieved: “He’s alive!”
That kid had been his little shadow during those two months, calling him several times a day and meeting up multiple times.
The more he got to know him, the more he realized Xiao Huang was the classic “other people’s kid.” He’d even told his own child: “You should be like Brother Xiao Huang.”
Spending that much time with a kid like that, it was natural to develop feelings for him.
Zhou Wang’s joy lasted only a second before Longlong’s grandma continued: “He came home, grabbed a kitchen knife, and left again. We asked him where he was going, and he said he was going to save his mom. Oh, that’s just not going to work. But he wouldn’t listen—he got on his bike and rode off. A few of us old folks thought it over and decided to give you a call.”
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