A project first requires a feasibility study and demonstration before it can be officially initiated.
You can’t just jump into it on a whim.
Song Jingshuo had already picked out a patch of lawn in the courtyard. He’d also asked Sister Pan to assess and evaluate the soil fertility.
She said it was good.
Since Sister Pan and Zhao Yi had both taken part in the rescue efforts that afternoon, Song Jingshuo grabbed an earth-type who had been on standby in the neighborhood that day to turn over the soil for him.
The earth churned, pushing the grass up to the surface.
Manager Wang was quite diligent—he showed up carrying the property management’s big rake and raked all the grass away, leaving only the soil.
Song Jingshuo transplanted his hydroponically grown seedlings over. While the sun hadn’t yet set and there was still light, he planted a small vegetable patch.
“Small” is relative—it was actually quite large. To cover all the seedlings with his ability in one go, Song Jingshuo had to stand in the center of the plot and spread his arms slightly.
Like a god bestowing blessings.
Gao Yuxuan: “God of Agriculture.”
Li Jiangbing noticed that Song Jingshuo’s jaw was clenched so tight his cheeks had deformed, and whispered, “Shut up, or he’ll take off his shoe and throw it at you.”
Gao Yuxuan knew Song Jingshuo would never do something so undignified, so he remained unrepentant.
Li Jiangbing: “He’s serving the people, at least. Give it a rest.”
Alright, Gao Yuxuan smiled and toned it down a little.
Song Jingshuo couldn’t be bothered with these guys. He focused, calming his mind.
It was wonderful—he could feel the life force of the plants. The sensation of personally urging them to grow was equally marvelous.
Song Jingshuo didn’t know what using superpowers felt like for others, but he rather enjoyed the feeling of using his own.
It felt like escaping the city and returning to nature.
This was a feeling he used to only get by taking annual leave, driving his big off-roader out to the mountains, grasslands, and forests.
Li Jiangbing and Gao Yuxuan crouched by the vegetable patch, watching with their own eyes as the hydroponic seedlings took root and grew—like time-lapse photography in a documentary.
In less than ten minutes, the small patch was lush and green.
Gao Yuxuan was shocked: “This big?”
Song Jingshuo gave him a faint glance: “With so many people to feed, you either increase the number of plants or increase the yield per plant.”
Increasing the number meant expanding the planting area. If it exceeded his ability’s range, he’d have to do it in sections and batches.
But in reality, while accelerating the plants’ growth, he could sense their upper limit. On their own, they might struggle to break through that limit.
But he tried using his ability to push them further, and sure enough, they broke past that ceiling.
Many people came over to watch, letting out “wow” sounds of admiration at the massive greens.
The cafeteria aunties arrived pulling the property management’s flatbed carts: “Time to harvest, time to harvest!”
Everyone pitched in, and soon the entire patch was picked clean.
This time, Song Jingshuo had planted three different types of vegetables—which meant three dishes for dinner.
From now on, the cafeteria uncle would set a weekly menu, Song Jingshuo would grow the vegetables according to it each day, and everyone could enjoy the freshest produce daily.
This outbreak of the zombie virus had left far fewer survivors in the neighborhood than last time, and the government had yet to send any word.
Yet the sense of security among everyone was stronger than before.
Because this time, they didn’t have to wait anxiously for state-supplied relief and worry it might not reach them.
This time, they could find their own food and drink.
So what was there to be afraid of?
The scene felt like an old-fashioned farm from decades ago—bustling with activity.
Everyone transported the vegetables to the clubhouse.
The neighborhood officially began registering those who wanted to sign up for the communal meals.
This basically solved one of everyone’s biggest problems. Many people lined up to register.
For now, no one needed to contribute grain. The grain being used was brought over by Mai Duoduo on a forklift.
Jiang Cheng also opened the basement’s blast-proof door and moved out all the supplies they’d previously received from the state.
If grain is stored too long, it becomes aged grain, so it was better to take it out and consume it sooner.
Jiang Cheng had always been the leader in the neighborhood, so everyone naturally assumed it was perfectly normal for her to handle this.
Only Song Jingshuo, meticulous as ever, asked her when no one was around: “When did you get the key?”
Jiang Cheng smiled faintly: “The first day.”
Song Jingshuo knew it.
This girl was always one step ahead. On the very first day, when everyone had just woken up and many hadn’t even awakened their superpowers yet, she was already thinking about getting the key to the basement’s blast-proof door—which effectively meant securing the grain stored down there.
Fair enough. Following a leader like this, at least he could take it easy.
The little ones had all taken baths.
The elderly ladies at Jixiang Jiayuan knew each other well. They went to the homes with children, rummaged around, and brought over a bunch of clothes.
The little ones were all changed into clean outfits.
They followed the young aunties to the clubhouse for dinner.
With all the kitchenware Jiang Cheng had brought back from Gaoxin Middle School’s cafeteria, the cook uncle and aunties were in their element.
The cafeteria aunties clearly had plenty of experience with portion control—only a tiny bit of dinner was left over, well within normal surplus.
There were now seven people in the cafeteria. The uncle was the head chef, while Auntie Ma and Auntie Jiang handled portion control, and the others assisted.
The two of them were also said to be particularly skilled at making flour-based foods.
That evening, after the chef uncle and the others had “clocked out” and returned to Jixiang Jiayuan, the two aunties who lived in the youth apartment started kneading dough.
“Fresh fried dough sticks for breakfast tomorrow,” they said.
They also made a request to the handsome guy who grew the vegetables: “If you can grow them, plant some beans. We can sprout them, and we can also make soy milk.”
Of course, Maiduoduo had beans in stock. But there was no need to go there—someone immediately contributed a whole bag of beans from their own home.
“I make soy milk every day. I’ve got plenty of bags at home.”
Song Jingshuo silently took them, went home, and soaked them in water first. Soaking them before accelerating their growth would save his superpower energy.
The mere mention of “fried dough sticks for tomorrow” had so many people in the youth apartment sleeping sweetly that night, dreaming of all sorts of good things.
On the morning of September 2nd, people woke up, rubbed their eyes, and remembered that there was still a zombie outbreak—things weren’t as rosy as in their dreams.
But… it wasn’t bad, right? They had reliable neighbors, and everyone was pitching in.
Not bad at all.
No one slept in that day. Early in the morning, a long line had already formed at the clubhouse for fried dough sticks.
Even the little ones were queuing up.
Someone at the front laughed and said, “They’re lining up too? Just let them go ahead.”
Su Yu waved her hand: “We have to teach them. Kids don’t just suddenly understand the rules on their own—they have to be taught.”
The best way to learn is to participate in the rules firsthand.
Zhou Wang came by with Little Huang to grab breakfast.
The two of them were powerful superpower users who had taken part in every group operation organized by the youth apartment and had contributed a great deal.
They had killed far more zombies than ordinary people.
So no one thought that just because they weren’t residents of the youth apartment, they shouldn’t be eating the free breakfast there.
Jiang Cheng even said, “You two should just officially join us from now on.”
“No need. We’ve already got our own meal partners,” Zhou Wang said. “We just came to grab a bite because there’s a meeting later.”
There was another general meeting at the youth apartment today.
Jiang Cheng had called Zhou Wang the night before to notify him.
Zhou Wang: “…”
It felt like a suzerain and vassal state dynamic.
So Zhou Wang had come over early in the morning with Little Huang.
Jiang Cheng asked about how the people at Jixiang Jiayuan were handling meals.
Zhou Wang: “No one’s short on food. Everyone made a trip to Maiduoduo.”
There were now eighty or ninety elderly people in Jixiang Jiayuan. Besides them, everyone else—about thirty people—were younger.
Among them, more than a dozen were middle school students, all rescued from Gaoxin Middle School the day before.
“They were all crying their eyes out,” Zhou Wang sighed. “So we held a meeting too and divided up the middle schoolers who’d lost their parents, pairing them with families.”
The residents of Jixiang Jiayuan formed pairings and partnerships.
The elderly were used to cooking every day and preferred to cook separately in their own homes.
Some of the older folks who were good cooks volunteered to pair up with younger people. The arrangement was that if any heavy physical work came up, the young ones would help out.
Everyone got what they needed.
The fried dough sticks were really good.
Really.
Hearing that Song Jingshuo was already preparing to grow beans, many people asked when they’d get to drink soy milk.
Song Jingshuo said, “Where’s the soy milk maker?”
He was indeed planning to grow beans, since they were rich in protein. He was already thinking ahead to using plant-based protein as a substitute if meat became scarce in the future.
He hadn’t been thinking about soy milk—making soy milk for that many people wasn’t something a small household machine could handle.
But just as he finished speaking, Auntie Ma said, “There is one! There is one! We found it yesterday!”
The clubhouse owner had never thrown away the equipment from his restaurant days—it was all stored in the back kitchen. There really was a professional commercial machine in the storage room.
Li Jiangbing hadn’t seen it when he did the initial clean-up of the back kitchen. But after the chef uncle and aunties took over, they’d found it.
That’s why the aunties had asked Song Jingshuo to grow beans.
Alright, Song Jingshuo agreed: “I’ll give it a try today.”
The general meeting was held in the morning.
As was the custom, everyone sat on the floor in clusters.
People from Jixiang Jiayuan trickled in one after another. Even residents from Yujing Xiangyuan showed up.
Gao Yuxuan arrived with an explosive mess of hair. His face was blackened, and his fingernails were black too.
He looked like he’d been struck by lightning.
Even Song Jingshuo was startled: “What happened?”
Gao Yuxuan was an electricity-type superpower user, after all.
Zhao Yi said, “You actually tried it?”
Gao Yuxuan: “Yep.”
Zhao Yi was furious: “You tried it without calling me? Without letting me observe?!”
Gao Yuxuan: “Yep.”
Zhao Yi got even angrier: “Speak human.”
Gao Yuxuan had no choice but to open his mouth: “I was afraid it’d be dangerous for you. I only called Brother Guo.”
In that one short sentence, crackling sparks of electricity popped from his mouth.
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