Zhang Lesi instantly became the center of attention.
She’d actually been pretty prominent before too—trapped and resource-scarce, everyone had realized the importance of a doctor. Almost everyone was polite to her, even if they weren’t close.
But now, she was even more important.
Jiang Cheng asked: “Can you use your ability to treat him?”
Zhang Lesi said: “There’s no need. He’s not sick or injured—just exhausted and hungry. He needs rest and food. Get some energy into him as soon as possible. He needs to eat. Who lives nearby? Get him some sugar-salt water first! Anyone from Building 3?”
Building 3 was the closest to the East Gate. Someone immediately ran home to make sugar-salt water.
It was still a bit hot out, so everyone moved Xiao Huang to the shade under a tree and first gave him a couple sips of plain water.
Xiao Huang opened his eyes, a bit dazed.
Surrounded by adults, he tried to get up, but they stopped him: “Lie down, lie down. Don’t move.”
His mind gradually cleared, and he remembered everything. He said nothing, just lay there, staring at the treetops above.
Leaves swayed in the breeze, sunlight breaking through them in flickering patches. Every now and then, patches of blue sky and white clouds were visible.
How beautiful it looked—and yet, under such beautiful sunlight, why was the world a living hell?
What had turned the world into this?
Where had the zombie virus come from?
Though his eyes were lifeless, Zhang Lesi said his physical condition wasn’t serious.
Jiang Cheng was more concerned about the Development Zone Government Building.
Zhou Wang and Brother Dong said: “From the first to the third floor, we didn’t see any living people. As for above the fourth floor—no idea. It didn’t look like there were any survivors.”
Zhao Yi and Gao Yuxuan asked Zhang Lesi: “Can you heal? Treat illness or wounds?”
Zhang Lesi looked at her own palms: “I don’t know—haven’t tried. But I do feel a… what should I call it, ‘energy’ or ‘power’?”
The two experts quickly defined it: “Energy! Energy!”
They firmly believed in science.
“Energy” sounded very scientific.
“Qi” sounded like qigong healing and street-corner medicine peddlers—not cool at all.
Zhang Lesi could indeed feel the energy in her body, and it seemed to have a certain affinity with the human body—it should be able to affect it. But without any experiments to prove it, she couldn’t just jump to conclusions.
She was a medical student too—also a believer in science.
Zhao Yi and Gao Yuxuan exchanged a glance, silently extended their fists, shook them three times, and stopped together.
Zhao Yi: scissors. Gao Yuxuan: rock.
Gao Yuxuan won.
Zhao Yi resignedly went to find Cui Haiyang: “Got a knife? A small one.”
Cui Haiyang had been grinding his skill since yesterday. Yesterday, bending the steel pipe had been tough—straightening it back had been a chore, leaving him sweaty.
Today, metal in his hands could reshape as easily as Play-Doh.
His steel pipe was now used to secure the two wheeled office chairs, so he looked around.
They were standing on Jixiang West Street, outside the Youth Apartments’ East Gate.
Over at Jixiang Jiayuan, elderly residents had also heard the news and kept coming over to check on Xiao Huang.
Cui Haiyang scanned the area and spotted a metal plate on a concrete utility pole—the kind stamped with the pole’s serial number. He walked over, touched it, and it reshaped into a small knife.
The blade was thin and looked quite sharp.
Zhao Yi didn’t take it—he stared at it: “You’re not going to give me tetanus, are you?”
That plate had looked a bit rusty around the edges.
“High maintenance,” Cui Haiyang scoffed. Still chuckling, he held the knife and concentrated for a moment.
Zhao Yi thought his eyes might have flickered, but the blade didn’t seem to change.
He was puzzled: “What did you do?”
Cui Haiyang had definitely done something. Being fellow ability users at close range, Zhao Yi could vaguely sense it.
Cui Haiyang said smugly: “Smelted and purified it.”
Zhao Yi got it instantly: “Whoa?”
Cui Haiyang held up the blade: “Look, so clean. You can use it without worry—definitely no tetanus.”
Tetanus bacteria are anaerobic. Rusty surfaces are porous, creating a suitable environment for them, so wounds from rusty metal are prone to tetanus infection.
Cui Haiyang had smelted and purified it—now the blade was pure, clean iron.
Zhao Yi took the blade and slashed his own arm. The skin broke, and bright red blood welled up.
Gao Yuxuan said to Zhang Lesi: “Now!”
Zhang Lesi was both excited and nervous. As a medical student, she wasn’t nervous about wounds and bleeding—she was nervous because it was time to test her ability.
Even Zhou Wang and Jiang Cheng stopped to watch.
Zhang Lesi’s fingertip hovered near Zhao Yi’s wound, close enough to touch his fine hairs, and she began to channel her power.
Because the sunlight was so bright, you could barely see it without squinting—a faint white glow at her fingertip.
When she pulled her hand away from Zhao Yi’s arm, the wound had become a slightly lighter pink scar, as if it had healed perfectly, with no hyperplasia.
A chorus of “Whoa” and “Damn” rippled through the onlookers.
Zhao Yi looked at the fresh scar on his arm and pressed further: “So it heals wounds—but what about illnesses?”
Zhang Lesi put her hands on her hips: “How are we supposed to test that?”
Actually, they could. A few elderly folks from the Jixiang Jiayuan crowd eagerly stepped forward: “Miss, miss, I’m sick! I’m sick!”
And just like that, it turned into a free clinic.
Zhang Lesi examined them one by one.
One had high blood pressure.
One complained of leg discomfort—varicose veins.
One had back pain and suspected a disc issue, but it turned out to be a minor joint misalignment. That wasn’t even really a disease—just aging, the body degenerating.
Zhang Lesi could detect it all—she was practically a miracle diagnostician now.
But when she tried to treat them, she couldn’t.
The energy from her ability could only physically heal wounds.
“That makes sense,” Zhao Yi said, pushing up his glasses—his eyes had been bothering him all day for some reason.
He laid out his reasoning: “Though its origin is unknown, from a usage standpoint, all abilities are external interventions on the world and the human body. External wounds are also external forces acting on the body. So when an ability heals a wound, the two achieve a balancing offset.”
“But conditions like these—they’re part of the body’s natural change and aging. The inevitable path toward the end of life.”
“If everything could be cured by abilities, wouldn’t that mean people could live forever—never sick, never aging?”
“That would throw life out of balance.”
Those with higher education understood the concepts of balance and imbalance perfectly well.
But the atmosphere in the air was awkward.
Song Jingshuo had to turn his face away.
Zhao Yi: “…?”
The elderly folks rolled their eyes in annoyance.
Here was a decent-looking young man—how could he be so bad with words!
What was that about getting old and dying and the end of life—pfft, pfft, bad luck!
Zhao Yi: “!!!”
No, no, that’s not what I meant!
The person from Building 3 who’d run back for water returned.
They’d opened a bottle of mineral water, added sugar and salt to make sugar-salt water, and thoughtfully brought a pack of bread too.
Xiao Huang drank the sugar-salt water, then wolfed down the bread. Clearly, he’d been starving.
After eating and drinking, he rested a moment, and the color visibly returned to his face.
When asked, it turned out he hadn’t eaten anything since yesterday afternoon.
Everyone fired off questions about the city and the school. Hearing that so many kids had survived, that some had awakened abilities, and that they’d even retaken the campus without adult leadership—everyone was amazed.
Several elderly women were moved to tears: “If their parents knew, how heartbroken they’d be.”
But that was only if their parents were still alive.
“They said they were going to rescue the high school,” Xiao Huang said, his gaze dimming. “I had to come back to find my mom, so I didn’t go.”
Three of life’s greatest sorrows: losing a father in youth, losing a husband in middle age, losing a child in old age.
Everyone felt a pang of sympathy.
“My parents died in a car accident when I was in college,” Jiang Cheng said gently. “I thought the world was ending back then, like my whole life was over.”
“But it wasn’t like that. Look—I’m living a good life here.”
“The truth is, every one of us will eventually become someone without parents.”
“From here on, just live your own life well.”
“That’s what your parents would have wanted to see.”
Xiao Huang knew Jiang Cheng very well. Of course Jiang Cheng knew Xiao Huang too—but Xiao Huang’s familiarity with her was mostly one-sided.
Among the survivors, there were two people Xiao Huang particularly admired—one was Zhou Wang, the other was Jiang Cheng.
His mother had also really appreciated Jiang Cheng. She’d always encouraged Xiao Huang to become a young person like her.
“She looks like someone who can’t be knocked down,” his mother had said. “And not someone who gets pushed around either.”
“Look—the two people around her, one big and strong, one tall—but they both listen to her.”
“Someone who can hold sway will never be the one getting bullied.”
Xiao Huang asked: “What about Uncle Zhou?”
His mother said: “Old Zhou is good too. But he’s the same kind of person as me. People like us are adaptable, but we don’t have the guts to take the lead like your father did. Old Zhou was forced into it—he had no choice.”
“Jiang Cheng is better. She’s young and sharp—unlike us middle-aged folks who’ve lost our edges. So your mother hopes you’ll learn from her.”
Xiao Huang looked into Jiang Cheng’s eyes and nodded: “Mm.”
Zhou Wang also sighed: “That’s how it is. Everyone goes through it—just sooner or later. You’re still young. When you grow up, find a wife, have a kid—you’ll have your own family.”
This struck a chord with many.
Because many survivors at the Youth Apartments had already lost contact with their families since yesterday.
They’d just been through one zombie disaster, seen too much life and death—they wouldn’t easily show their grief anymore. Many also felt for Jiang Cheng, thinking her tough character must have been forged by life after losing her parents young.
Of course, no one knew Jiang Cheng was simply using “Jiang Cheng’s” life story to comfort Xiao Huang.
Jiang Cheng was more concerned about something else. She asked: “What’s your ability?”
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