The squad went out to fight, while Song Jingshuo stayed home to farm.
Sister Pan had explained to him the different fertilizers needed for various vegetables. He had tried them all and gradually gained some experience.
In response to everyone’s strong calls for fruit, he started planting strawberries today.
He set aside a fixed plot of land for the strawberries, applied fertilizer, and began to accelerate their growth.
Following the principle of fewer plants but larger yields, Song Jingshuo grew the strawberries to the size of pears.
Let them have their fill.
Su Yu didn’t join the operation today either.
The squad was divided into groups. During external missions, some people had to stay in the neighborhood to ensure at least a few superpowered individuals remained on standby in case of emergencies.
Two fire-type superpowered individuals stayed behind as well. Everyone discussed practicing together.
Su Yu expanded her protective barrier in the small square, forming a large dome with a diameter of about twenty meters.
The little ones inside the barrier: “Wow~”
The fire-types launched fireballs at the barrier one after another.
Su Yu could feel the impact of the attacks on the barrier. But when her superpower was abundant and the barrier operated at full power, the impact was absorbed by the barrier itself, with no backlash against her.
The two fire-types practiced their aim using the barrier as a target, hitting wherever they pointed.
The fireballs scattered like fireworks upon impact with the barrier.
The little ones chased after the fireballs inside the barrier.
Manager Wang saw this, turned around, and somehow found two bamboo poles with strips of cloth tied to the ends, handing them to the kids: “Use these as targets.”
The little ones split into two groups, running around with the bamboo poles.
They randomly picked spots to poke the bamboo tips out of the barrier.
The fireballs came right over.
Everyone: “Wow~”
Now the fireballs were chasing the bamboo poles. Wherever the poles poked, the fireballs struck.
Pretty fun.
When they got tired, Song Jingshuo called them over: “Come eat some strawberries.”
Each person got one, eating until their mouths were stained with bright red juice. They all said: “We’ve never eaten strawberries this big.”
Not to mention the kids had never eaten them—neither had the adults!
The first batch was quickly picked clean by those staying behind.
Seeing this, Song Jingshuo realized there wasn’t nearly enough to go around and prepared to grow a second batch.
Zeng Qiang came over: “Try seeing if you can artificially accelerate the propagation of grapevine runners.”
He explained to Song Jingshuo what grapevine runners were.
This required controlling the plant so it wouldn’t flower or bear fruit, instead channeling all its growth energy into producing seedlings.
Song Jingshuo had never tried such targeted control before.
Under Zeng Qiang’s guidance, he began experimenting.
It was a success—the strawberries put out long runners with tiny seedlings growing on them.
Normally, the runner propagation method requires tools to secure the runners and involves a certain growth cycle. But things weren’t normal now.
Zeng Qiang pressed down with his hand directly: “Make that seedling root into the ground. Yes, like that. Good, that’s enough. Now break them off here, here, and here, so they become individual plants.”
No scissors were needed—Song Jingshuo simply willed it, and the runners automatically broke off at the designated nodes.
The rooted seedlings became separate, independent plants.
The strawberry field expanded several times over.
Zeng Qiang: “Done. Now accelerate their growth.”
Zeng Qiang crouched beside the strawberry field, watching Song Jingshuo accelerate the growth of a large patch of strawberries, each as big as a pear.
It was truly enviable.
Zeng Qiang ate another one in frustration, stuffing himself full.
In the evening, the squad returned.
The private school had far fewer students than the public one, and correspondingly fewer zombies. They brought back over thirty middle school students and two teachers.
Song Jingshuo went up to ask how it went.
Jiang Cheng said, “There’s a bit of a problem—none of them live in the Tech New District.”
This private school was a boarding school, and the kids’ families were scattered all over the city.
Song Jingshuo: “Do they need to stay in our neighborhood?”
Jiang Cheng: “No need. Old Zhou’s got them covered.”
Zhou Wang had taken in all thirty-plus middle school students and the two teachers, leading them over to Jixiang Jiayuan (Lucky Gardens).
The population at Jixiang Jiayuan was extremely skewed—the elderly made up the majority. Zhou Wang was bringing these young kids, who were stranded in the Tech New District, into his own neighborhood.
Though they were only half-grown, they were still labor power.
He made an agreement with the two teachers: Jixiang Jiayuan would provide them with food and shelter, and in return, they would join the community, follow Zhou Wang’s arrangements, and participate in community labor.
The little ones ran over and grabbed Li Jiangbing: “Uncle! Uncle! Come eat strawberries! They’re huge and so tasty!”
Li Jiangbing quickly said, “Don’t touch me, don’t touch me—I’m all dirty.”
The few girls who had returned from the battle hurried upstairs to shower and change clothes.
A lot of the guys, lazy as could be, directly called out to Li Jiangbing: “Jiangbing, Jiangbing, let’s take a shower.”
They pushed him over to the fountain pool.
The water in the fountain was actually reclaimed water—not drinkable and not suitable for skin contact either.
But the water Li Jiangbing extracted was pure, clean water.
A sphere of water turned into a spinning column, whirring as it rotated.
Li Jiangbing said, “It’s cold though—don’t blame me if you freeze.”
Since it was already evening, the building’s shadow blocked the sunlight, and the fountain water, which hadn’t been warmed by the sun, was a bit chilly.
Everyone said, “No problem.”
The first person charged in, standing in the middle of the water column as it spun around.
It looked like a washing machine stripped of all its hardware, leaving only the swirling current.
It actually worked—the grime stuck to their armor, clothes, and arms, along with the sweat, all got washed away.
As soon as the person jumped out, Li Jiangbing made a grabbing motion in the air and pulled out a water ball from his body.
His clothes were instantly bone-dry. Even his underwear was dry.
It was a little cold, though.
The guy shivered but yelled out, “That feels awesome!”
The whole group burst into laughter. These were all strapping young men with plenty of heat to spare, perfectly fine sleeping on cold brick beds. One by one, they jumped into the water column to wash up.
Wu Jiancheng watched several people “bathe” in a row. He walked over, stuck a finger in to test the temperature, then went and whispered something to Cui Haiyang.
Cui Haiyang nodded, took half a minute to fabricate a large iron barrel on the spot, knocked on it, and called out: “Jiangbing!”
Li Jiangbing: “…Huh?”
He redirected the purified water into the big iron barrel.
Wu Jiancheng immediately blasted a roaring fire underneath it.
Cui Haiyang: “Don’t make it scalding hot—just warm.”
Wu Jiancheng: “Got it.”
Wu Jiancheng could now control the temperature of his flames; the heat of a single fire could vary greatly.
Just heating it for a minute would do.
Wu Jiancheng: “Jiangbing!”
Li Jiangbing: “Coming, hang on—let me go first! Let me try it first.”
The warm water streamed out as a column. Li Jiangbing jumped in himself and immediately: “Holy shit, that’s so comfortable!”
What difference was there between this and soaking in a warm bath?
Everyone who tried it after him shouted in comfort, and some even took the chance to bend over and wash their hair.
Sister Pan: “Dry him off quickly! The wind is cool now—don’t let him get a chill in his head!”
Li Jiangbing laughed and called them cheaters, but with a grab from a distance, he pulled all the water clinging to that person’s body and hair right off. Completely dry all over.
The little kids were mesmerized, letting out endless “Wow~ wow~” sounds.
Only the few who had taken the cold-water bath earlier were left speechless.
Bastards!
Song Jingshuo asked: “What about those two kindergartens?”
Jiang Cheng shook his head.
There were still no survivors from the kindergartens.
There was no helping it. The kids in kindergarten were just too young.
The elementary school students had been pushed into their classrooms by their teachers to hide. They knew the danger outside, managed to endure hunger without going out, and understood not to make noise that would attract zombies.
Kindergarten kids just couldn’t do that.
After fighting all afternoon, they came back to hot food, and everyone even got a strawberry.
The strawberries were so big that one was enough to fill you up.
Everyone went to check out the strawberry field, marveling that they’d soon have unlimited strawberries.
Jiang Cheng had already listed the areas to clear next. Tomorrow would be another full day of battle.
Everyone went back to rest for the evening, while the kitchen crew started working overtime to make huajuan (savory twisted steamed buns) and baozi (stuffed steamed buns).
Plain mantou (steamed buns) had no flavor and needed to be eaten with side dishes. Huajuan were already seasoned and could be eaten on their own. They’d be packed as lunch for everyone tomorrow.
The cooks—uncles, aunties, and older sisters—who had come over from Jixiang Jiayuan weren’t getting paid at all.
But they worked happily and contentedly.
They told Auntie Jiang and Auntie Ma: “Ah, it’s fine as long as we have something to do. It’s better than facing an empty neighborhood.”
It gave them purpose.
They felt that even in their old age, they could still contribute to so many people—that they were still valuable.
On September 3rd, many people woke up with a feeling like they were going to work.
They washed up, went downstairs, greeted acquaintances, and headed to the cafeteria together.
“There’s soy milk today!”
Just the word “soy milk” brought a wave of happiness.
Speaking of which, Zeng Qiang had made a contribution.
Yesterday, after Song Jingshuo grew the soybeans, he handed them over to the cafeteria and washed his hands of it. He only handled the growing—cooking and preparation were all on the kitchen.
The kitchen staff figured using fresh beans to make soy milk was actually easier, since there was no need to soak them.
What they called “fresh soybeans” were actually edamame.
Edamame is simply soybeans harvested at seventy to eighty percent maturity, still in their pods.
Edamame is an everyday food—boiled edamame and peanuts with beer is a classic summer scene.
Edamame is edible, so of course soy milk made from fresh beans would be drinkable too—that was the kitchen staff’s perfectly reasonable assumption.
But since none of them had ever made soy milk with fresh beans before, it was pure guesswork.
Zeng Qiang had run to the cafeteria to confirm they were making soy milk and gave them a warning: “It’ll be toxic.”
Fresh soybeans contain trypsin inhibitors and plant hemagglutinins. If not boiled continuously for eight to ten minutes, they can cause food poisoning.
Fresh soybeans also have a lot of saponins, which foam up vigorously when heated, making it look like they’re boiling—very deceptive. That’s a “false boil.”
People unfamiliar with it would think it had been cooked long enough.
The older uncle cook was stubborn and refused to believe it, insisting on trying it himself.
He cooked a small batch and drank it. Zeng Qiang didn’t stop him, only said: “Don’t drink too much.”
It wouldn’t kill you—just cause nausea, vomiting, and diarrhea. The old man had a few bouts of diarrhea and was convinced.
He couldn’t even make it to the evening baozi-making session and had to head back early, clutching his stomach.
In the morning, when making the soy milk, the aunties were very careful, following Zeng Qiang’s instructions and boiling it thoroughly.
Zeng Qiang had specially gotten up early to supervise and guide them.
Later, as everyone got up and came to breakfast one after another, each person cradled a bowl of soy milk, sipping happily.
Zeng Qiang walked out of the clubhouse, hands clasped behind his back, looking up at the clear autumn sky and the pure white clouds.
He sighed to himself: Those who are truly skilled in battle have no glorious deeds to their name.
Such has always been the way of the farmer.
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