From Gaoxin Middle School to the residential area, they didn’t need to backtrack—just keep going forward and make a turn.
But as they moved forward and turned, someone called out, “Jiang Cheng!”
There were more people on the return trip. Jiang Cheng wasn’t sitting—she was standing at the front of the bus, looking at everyone inside. When she heard her name, she turned and followed the direction the person was pointing—and paused.
“A kindergarten,” everyone murmured.
Yes, there were several private kindergartens in the tech district, but only one public one: Gaoxin Kindergarten—clustered in this same area along with Gaoxin Elementary School, Gaoxin Middle School, and Gaoxin Central Sports Stadium.
Since they were already here…
The convoy stopped at the kindergarten entrance. First, they killed the zombies at the gate, then prepared to get off and enter.
Everyone stood up. But Su Yu suddenly said, “I… I…”
Everyone turned to look at her.
A look of hesitation flickered across Su Yu’s face.
Everyone knew Su Yu was by no means a coward, nor lazy or selfish—someone who only wanted to take without giving.
From the very first day of the outbreak, she’d joined every action. Even before she had armor, she’d bravely fought zombies with a frying pan. She was a reliable comrade.
But now, she wanted to hold back.
Su Yu said, “Can I not go…”
“It’s fine, it’s fine.” Li Jiangbing waved his hand broadly. “You stay on the bus and watch the kids.”
They needed someone to stay on the bus anyway. And this bus was full of little ones.
Su Yu nodded.
Everyone filed off. Moli transformed into a leopard and darted into the kindergarten.
No one thought less of Su Yu for not going.
Over time, as people got to know each other, their true natures surfaced.
Song Jingshuo—the refined, jade-like social elite—was actually sharp-tongued.
Li Jiangbing looked like he belonged in a gang, intimidating as hell, but everyone now knew he was actually easygoing. When he strolled around the neighborhood, dogs would flock to him and wag their tails.
Everyone had thought Su Yu was a girl like Jiang Cheng—brave, calm, strong.
Now they knew: Su Yu could be brave, calm, and strong—but she was fundamentally different from Jiang Cheng.
Jiang Cheng’s heart was hard—harder than anyone could fathom.
Su Yu was the opposite. The more you got to know her, the more you realized—as long as she stayed within the bounds of principle—her heart was genuinely soft.
Someone had once asked Su Yu if she was religious.
She said no.
Why tie inner softness to religion and romanticize it?
It was just innate. Some people are born that way.
Li Jiangbing sighed as he got off the bus.
He knew Su Yu had reached her limit for today.
She’d already faced the little beans at the elementary school.
She couldn’t handle whatever might be inside the kindergarten.
Zhao Yi had said that the nature of a superpower was influenced by many factors—one of which was a person’s inner desires.
Dong Ge and Xiao Huang were classic examples. Though they hadn’t been named publicly, Zhao Yi and the others had privately discussed them with Li Jiangbing.
Li Jiangbing still couldn’t understand why he was a water-type, but he could clearly understand why Su Yu had a protective shield.
Some people wanted to run.
Some people were sleepless with fear.
Some people wished they could protect others.
Su Yu stayed on the bus with the little ones.
A little girl asked, “Auntie, will the little kids in the kindergarten turn into zombies?”
Su Yu said, “I don’t know.”
The little girl—so tiny—sighed like an adult and said, “I hope not.”
Su Yu pulled the girl onto her lap and held her.
But a little boy shouted, “Zombie!”
Su Yu looked outside.
In the distance, a few zombies were approaching.
There had been many zombies on Xueqian Street and at the kindergarten entrance, slowly spreading out over the past few days.
They’d just cleared the ones on the street in bulk, but the ones that had drifted farther away now heard the noise and started heading back.
“It’s okay. We’re safe inside the bus,” Su Yu said softly, patting the little girl in her arms.
Just as she finished, a zombie face appeared at the window, gripping the iron grille and climbing up. The children screamed in fear.
It was clearly a third-generation zombie.
Third-gens didn’t charge blindly like second-gens, banging their heads against the glass. Look—this one was gripping the grille and climbing, its pitch-black eyes fixed on Su Yu and the little girl like they were delicious meat.
The girl was terrified, trembling in Su Yu’s arms.
“Don’t be scared. Don’t be scared,” Su Yu whispered.
The children saw a white glow emanate from Su Yu’s body. Her protective shield expanded, pushing the zombie off the bus.
Get lost.
Stay away from the kids.
Su Yu held the little girl tight, staring at the zombies outside the window.
Get lost.
The child in her arms was so small—barely bigger than a kitten or a puppy.
GET LOST!
Deep down, Su Yu felt she was too weak.
She truly wished she had stronger powers—to protect more people, especially the children.
She leaned down and kissed the little girl’s hair.
Greasy and smelly—it didn’t matter. When they got back, Auntie would wash you clean and make you smell nice.
Don’t be afraid. Auntie’s here.
A white light radiated from Su Yu’s body again.
People on the bus behind had just gotten off to deal with the zombie climbing the front bus when they saw the protective shield enveloping it suddenly glow white—and expand in an instant!
The third-gen zombie that had just been thrown off had barely gotten up when it was flung away again.
This time, the expanded shield pinned it against the kindergarten’s outer fence—trapped.
The zombie struggled and snarled.
The people behind were dumbfounded. “What the hell?”
“Is that Su Yu?”
That white shield—it had to be Su Yu.
The kindergarten was cleared very quickly.
When Jiang Cheng and the others came out, they were also stunned to see the white shield covering the big bus.
The ones who’d stayed behind had gotten off and killed the few scattered zombies that wandered over, then stood around smoking and chatting.
Zhao Yi and Gao Yuxuan went over and asked, “How long has Su Yu’s shield been up?”
“It started right after you went in.”
“Has it been this big the whole time?”
“At first it just covered the bus, then suddenly it burst outward like an explosion.”
“Holy shit—a burst breakthrough?”
The shield retracted—clearly Su Yu had seen them.
Zhao Yi and Gao Yuxuan were about to rush over to interview her, but Li Jiangbing grabbed them both by the collars. “Can you two read the room? Read her mood.”
They’d been excited for a moment—now coming back to their senses, they looked sheepish. “Sorry, sorry.”
The driver opened the doors, and everyone got back on.
Su Yu looked at Li Jiangbing.
He averted his gaze and just said to the driver, “Let’s go, let’s go—starving.”
Good thing they hadn’t made Su Yu go in.
Moli also returned, shrinking back to cat size and curling up on a child’s lap. The child was thrilled and carefully stroked him.
If Zhou Wang were to search a building, even with his speed, he might miss survivors in hiding.
But Moli wouldn’t—he could sense both the living and the undead.
Su Yu glanced once more at the kindergarten through the window and understood from Li Jiangbing’s change of subject.
Not a single survivor.
Li Jiangbing stole a peek at Su Yu.
He knew she was hurting.
That’s just who she was.
The way Su Yu held that little girl gave Li Jiangbing an indescribable feeling.
He wanted to look longer—but didn’t dare.
The various residential compounds in the development zone weren’t far apart.
The public elementary and middle schools operated on a proximity enrollment principle anyway.
The convoy dropped the middle schoolers off at their own neighborhoods. The teens, gleaming in their new armor and clutching fresh weapons, said goodbye to their rescuers: “Goodbye!”
Xiao Huang watched them.
They were his peers.
He understood—even if home was empty now, even if Mom and Dad were gone, you still had to go back and see for yourself.
He understood that better than anyone.
Over thirty middle schoolers returned with the convoy—all from Jixiang Jiayuan and Yujing Xiangyuan.
At their stops, they reunited with grandparents—tearful embraces, some crying their hearts out.
Some found no family at all.
Not every mother who rushed out had been as quick and lucky as Xiao Dan.
Several had gone and never come back.
Besides the middle schoolers who went home, they also brought back over a dozen little kids and two cafeteria aunties.
One of the aunties was surnamed Ma, the other Jiang.
They had nowhere else to go, so Jiang Cheng brought them back with everyone.
Before setting out, everyone had grabbed a bite to tide them over, planning to eat properly once they returned.
On the way back, Jiang Cheng called ahead to the neighborhood to report the number of extra people.
By the time they got back, the newly hired kitchen staff had already made the first meal.
Jiang Cheng brought out the cafeteria trays and chopsticks. Everyone was starving. There weren’t enough chairs in the café, so people squatted on the floor with their metal trays.
They gave the chairs to the little ones.
Auntie Ma and Auntie Jiang went into the kitchen for a look, then came out to find Jiang Cheng. “We can do this work too.”
They’d both worked in the middle school cafeteria—more professional.
Jiang Cheng agreed. “We’ll find you a room.”
The first communal meal was a success. Everyone gave positive feedback.
It seemed like something that could be scaled up. The largest demographic in the neighborhood was single young people who didn’t like cooking. People like Su Yu and Song Jingshuo—who genuinely enjoyed it—were the minority.
Most didn’t want to spend an hour cooking, five minutes eating, and another half hour washing dishes.
Not worth it.
Among the little ones, there were seven girls and five boys, ranging from six to eight years old.
Every child could recite their parents’ phone numbers.
But none of the numbers connected.
The only father they could reach said, “I probably won’t make it back alive. Please take care of them.”
He asked to speak with his daughter.
No one knew what he said to her—they only heard the little girl saying “Mhm,” “Okay,” “Alright.”
Very obedient.
After hanging up, the girl said, “Daddy said to be good.”
The little girl wasn’t afraid anymore.
This neighborhood felt safe. People were living like before—like there were no zombies.
And there were so many adults.
Children instinctively trusted the adults who’d saved them, like baby birds.
But for the people at Youth Apartments, a dozen kids suddenly dropped in their laps.
Li Jiangbing scratched his head. “What a mess. Ah…”
What could they do? They had to keep them.
After some discussion, they picked three units on Su Yu’s floor, next to hers.
One of them had already been occupied by a girl, who moved to another unit.
Sister Pan knocked through the walls between the three units, leaving only the entrance door of the middle one and sealing the other two.
Jiang Cheng’s storage space came in handy. The middle unit had its bed and other furniture moved out and replaced with two sofas—a common activity space.
The two side units were filled with beds, lined up side by side—girls in one, boys in the other.
Caring for the little ones was handed over to the women, not the men.
This wasn’t a stereotype about what men and women should do—it was Su Yu’s suggestion.
She said, “The kids are too young. They can’t tell right from wrong and can’t defend themselves. Leaving them with men isn’t safe.”
The other girls agreed, and so did Jiang Cheng.
Today’s additions to Youth Apartments: fourteen people.
Two cafeteria aunties.
Twelve little ones.
Subtractions: eight people.
Cao Jiacai—dead.
Three security guards and two cleaners—fired and gone.
Wang Haotian and his accomplice—left on their own, no one stopped them.
Current total: 417 people.
Among them, 26 superpower users.
This was September 1st—the fourth day since the second zombie virus outbreak.
Still no word from the government on TV.
Only scattered information online.
The problem Youth Apartments now faced: not enough vegetables.
The greens they’d brought back from Duoduo had been eaten for three days—not much left, and not fresh anymore.
With the communal kitchen starting up, everyone reported the issue.
Jiang Cheng found the neighborhood’s only wood-type user.
“Put everything else aside for now.”
“Focus on growing vegetables.”
“We’re all counting on you.”
Li Jiangbing ran off laughing, afraid he’d get hit if he laughed in front of them.
A crowd gathered around Moli as he sunbathed.
A little kid asked, “Can we pet him?”
Another kid said, “Yeah, he slept on my lap on the bus. He lets you pet him—doesn’t bite.”
“Right—we’re not zombies.”
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