It was now August 31st—only two and a half days had passed since the zombie virus outbreak on the afternoon of August 29th.
But so many things had already changed.
The second wave of the zombie virus had not only brought superpowers to everyone and given zombies intelligence, but it had also changed the little black cat, Moli.
His expressions had grown richer.
For example, what he used to convey to Jiang Cheng’s mind would translate as: [We, territory.]
Now he could clearly express: [This is our territory.]
Perhaps his brain capacity had increased, or maybe the telepathic transmission had become smoother.
Jiang Cheng didn’t dwell on it.
Because all the changes happening to Moli were for the better.
She also knew Moli couldn’t hide his remarkable nature forever. But during the first disaster, he had been too unique—if exposed, he might have been taken away for study by the government.
But now, everyone was unique. Some could summon fire and control water, others could strike lightning and raise winds.
This was perfect.
Jiang Cheng gently scratched the little cat’s furry head. “Time to find the right moment to show you off.”
Once Moli was out in the open, a lot of things would become easier.
Right, Moli?
The little cat pressed his head against Jiang Cheng’s palm. “Meow~”
When she woke up on September 1st, she saw a text message. It had come in after she’d gone to bed the night before, and another this morning—two more people had returned to the neighborhood.
Both had come back from the city center.
Neither had superpowers. They’d just been lucky enough that someone at their workplace had awakened abilities. They’d managed to escape the building and flee through the streets, dodging zombies.
They’d found a vehicle and made it back alive.
Their floor leaders had both texted Jiang Cheng to report: [Bodies checked.]
Around noon, Zhou Wang called Jiang Cheng. “I found a few people. Why don’t you come over and talk?”
Jiang Cheng agreed. “Sure. See you in a bit.”
She notified a few floor leaders, then headed downstairs.
She’d spent the night practicing her superpower in the apartment, trying to expand her storage space, so she’d gone to bed a bit late. No morning exercise today.
Now, heading downstairs, she found the grounds full of people working out.
Some were running, some doing push-ups.
A scene of bustling activity.
Jiang Cheng: “…”
Because people had been awakening superpowers sporadically over the past couple of days, no one knew when this window of opportunity would close.
The so-called superpower experts had confidently analyzed that a person’s physical condition was a prerequisite. So, everyone who hadn’t awakened yet had come out to exercise.
Never been this motivated before.
Those who already had superpowers found corners to train in as well. Some selflessly contributed to the neighborhood—at everyone’s request, Sister Pan and Cui Haiyang had made exercise equipment right there in the complex.
Pull-up bars, parallel bars, dumbbells, barbells, and so on.
Cui Haiyang handled the metal parts, while Sister Pan took care of the counterweights below. Together, they made everything solid and sturdy.
Song Jingshuo had taken the grow light Aunt Qian gave him back home yesterday, only to realize he didn’t have any flowerpots—and he couldn’t be bothered to go down and get soil.
So this morning, he simply brought his few seedlings downstairs, planted them directly into the green area, and gave them some water.
Then he began to accelerate their growth.
The seedlings grew just like in a time-lapse nature documentary—stretching taller, putting out leaves, leaves unfurling, blooming, flowers fading, bearing fruit, fruits ripening.
A crowd gathered around to watch the spectacle. “Wow~ Wow~”
Song Jingshuo ripened the fruits completely—bright red and vibrant. Each plant had over a dozen.
Once they were fully ripe, he saw the glint in everyone’s eyes. His mouth twitched. “Go ahead, eat them.”
They swarmed in and grabbed.
No dust, no pesticides—no need to wash, just pluck and eat.
“This is great! Now we don’t have to worry about running out of vegetables.”
“Last time, eating plain rice and canned food nearly killed me!”
“Same! Just hearing the word ‘canned’ makes me queasy.”
“Don’t remind me—ugh~”
Song Jingshuo took the chance to announce: “If anyone has seeds, vegetable or fruit seedlings, or fresh produce at home, bring some to me.”
“I’ve got seven types of vegetables in my fridge right now.” He listed them off. “No need to bring those—I’ve already started cultivating them. If you have anything I don’t, bring it over as soon as possible. Don’t wait until it’s completely dried out and dead—that’s useless. The fresher, the better.”
The fresher the plant, the easier it was for him to root.
At home, he’d start by putting them one by one in bowls of water to keep them fresh, then figure out bulk cultivation later.
Sister Pan came over, took a look at the seedlings he’d accelerated, and clicked her tongue in admiration. “Not bad!”
She crouched down, ran her hand through the soil, focused for a moment, and said, “This soil needs fertilizer.”
She drew a circle in the air with her hand. “All the nutrients in this patch are gone—sucked dry.”
Song Jingshuo crouched down for a closer look.
The patch was just lawn; the soil underneath showed no visible difference or change.
“You can’t tell by looking,” Sister Pan said, “but the moment I touch it, I can feel it.”
She tapped her head and explained, “One touch, and my brain just knows.”
Song Jingshuo nodded. “Got it.”
Just as the aunties had said—he was only accelerating growth, but plant growth required nutrients.
The world still had to obey the laws of conservation of mass and energy.
So for large-scale cultivation, they’d need a lot of land—and a lot of fertilizer.
The word “fertilizer” left Song Jingshuo feeling drained. He crouched by the lawn, his head practically drooping to the ground.
“What’s wrong?” Sister Pan asked.
Once she understood his predicament, Sister Pan burst out laughing.
Over by the fountain, Li Jiangbing was busy—several dog owners had lined up with their pets.
Dog owners all knew each other, and the dogs that had lost their owners now had new ones.
Li Jiangbing extracted pure water from the fountain—separating clean water from non-pure liquid was now easy for him.
The extracted water formed a ball that enveloped each dog, washing them in a cascade.
Some dogs resisted and tried to run. Li Jiangbing’s water ball chased them relentlessly.
After the owners lathered on the soap, another clean water ball came over, rinsed them off in a flash—easy peasy.
Then, after the dogs shook themselves dry and splattered water everywhere, Li Jiangbing extracted the moisture from their fur one more time. When the owners touched their pets, the dogs felt like they’d been through a dryer. “Wow—this is so convenient!”
Li Jiangbing genuinely felt that if this zombie outbreak could end like the last one, he could quit his gym job and open a pet bathing shop.
Extracting pure water from any liquid—or collecting water from solid surfaces—was a breeze.
Extracting water from other states, however, was the hard part. From air, for instance—it drained a huge amount of superpower. He’d practiced all night in his apartment yesterday, his eardrums aching until his eyeballs started to throb, and only then did he stop.
He’d tried extracting from living things before, at Jiang Cheng’s place—it was nearly impossible, something he could abandon outright.
Yesterday, at Yujing Xiangyuan, he’d tested both living and dead zombies separately.
Later, he told Jiang Cheng: “Both are tough. But there’s still a tiny difference.”
“Living zombies are about the same difficulty as that little bird—but different.”
The bird felt like it was protected by an invisible film—flesh, blood, skin, and bones all one integrated whole.
A living zombie felt like a dry bun that had sat out for days.
“A dead zombie is different again.”
A dead zombie was like shaking that dry bun and finding some filling inside.
But both were hard to sink your teeth into, either way.
Jiang Cheng thought: living beings—even dead ones—seemed to have some kind of security protocol protecting them.
When Zhou Wang brought his people to Youth Apartments, this was the scene that greeted them.
Vibrant life everywhere—young bodies full of energy.
This was why Song Jingshuo couldn’t understand how Jiang Cheng’s vague, almost intangible “compensation” could actually attract anyone from Jixiang Jiayuan.
Because Song Jingshuo was young, strong, full of energy, and fearless. Not to mention he had so many reliable partners and trustworthy comrades.
The elderly were different.
Their children were either trapped in the city or already confirmed dead.
Their bodies were frail, with no one to rely on in old age. That sense of panic and fear—how could a vigorous young man like Song Jingshuo truly empathize?
Jiang Cheng’s ethereal promise of “equal treatment as a Youth Apartments resident” was genuinely appealing to them.
Zhou Wang had brought a few people along, and some other elderly folks came just to watch the scene.
Youth Apartments’ courtyard was brimming with vitality—exactly what the elderly envied most.
The floor leaders gathered one by one, Sister Pan included, and they all sat together under the pavilion to talk.
Jiang Cheng laid out the idea of a communal kitchen to the floor leaders and received unanimous support.
Quite a few elderly people wanted to cook for Youth Apartments—including two full-time housewives.
“It’ll just be the two of us,” they said. “The others all went to the schools—none of them came back.”
“I don’t have kids,” one said. “And hers is in college—he was gone in the June outbreak.”
During the first zombie disaster, the neighborhood’s population had already plummeted, and few children remained.
When this new outbreak hit, the mothers who woke up and survived—thinking of their children at school—rushed out without a second thought.
Some died in the hallways, some downstairs, some on the road.
There were kindergartens, elementary schools, and middle schools. Currently, the tech district had no high schools—the nearest ones were inside the Fifth Ring Road.
Not every family could afford to send their kids to a key school downtown like Xiao Huang’s family. Most enrolled their children locally, from kindergarten through middle school.
In the end, no one knew how many had successfully reached their children’s schools—none of them came back.
Zhou Wang said, “One came back last night on our side, and two this morning.”
Jiang Cheng said, “Same here—two came back.”
Anyone who made it back was not only lucky but also strong.
Zhou Wang said, “Who knows how many people are still trapped in the city.”
It was September 1st—already the fourth day.
Words really do have power.
While Zhou Wang was bringing people over for Jiang Cheng to interview, his phone rang.
“Brother Zhou! Is that Brother Zhou?” A woman’s voice, a little hoarse, came through.
“I’m from Building 1. My husband’s surname is Wang—Wang Changhe, do you remember?”
“He was on the homeowners’ committee with you before. You killed zombies together.”
“Brother Zhou, my child and I are trapped at the school. Can you come rescue us?”
Speak of the devil—and he appears.
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