Even though she had to share a bed with the director, this was the most comfortable sleep President Xu had gotten in a week.
She’d brushed her teeth, taken a shower, and changed into clean underwear.
She slept through the night without a single dream.
The next morning, middle school students went door to door, floor by floor, announcing: “Come downstairs to collect rice—one portion per household. Bring a bowl.”
Everyone stuck their heads out and greeted each other: “How did you sleep last night?”
Their dirty clothes were unwearable, so they all rummaged through the original owners’ wardrobes for something to put on. Not every household had clothes that fit, so everyone ended up looking quite peculiar.
They got dressed, grabbed their bowls, and headed downstairs.
Zhou Wang was presiding outside, while the elderly folks handled the distribution.
Zhou Wang picked up a megaphone: “Please cherish every single grain of rice. Today is a rest and recovery day for everyone—and it’s also the only day you’ll still be receiving rice.”
President Xu’s ears immediately perked up: “What about tomorrow?”
“Starting tomorrow, we’ll be providing potatoes,” Zhou Wang said. “You all need to understand something—this isn’t your own home. Your homes are full of zombies and you can’t go back. In the old days, this would be called fleeing from disaster. We’re all refugees now.”
“No one will go hungry—potatoes will be available to fill you up.”
“Don’t overthink it for now. Just collect today’s rice first. You’ve all been through a lot, so take today to rest. We’ll discuss the specifics tomorrow.”
Everyone lined up to collect their rice.
Jixiang Jiayuan wasn’t running a communal kitchen—every household had its own kitchen with stoves, cookware, and utensils. They were given rice and vegetables and told to cook for themselves.
Each apartment housed three to five people.
If you didn’t know how to cook, you could team up with neighbors—that sort of thing was up to them to figure out.
Zhou Wang wasn’t going to wipe their backsides and play nanny.
He’d look after the elderly and children as much as possible, but as for the adults—they’d all been through the wringer of society for long enough. If anyone was still naive or daydreaming, Zhou Wang would slap them awake.
“The people I’m about to name, come find me downstairs after you’ve eaten.” Zhou Wang raised the megaphone again and started calling out names.
The first person called was the horticulturist who had come with President Xu’s company.
After breakfast, Jiang Cheng went down to the underground garage with Song Jingshuo.
The space that had previously been used for storing supplies was back in use.
“Been waiting for you to come take a look,” Song Jingshuo said, hands in his pockets.
That space was packed full. And it wasn’t the only one—several blast doors had been activated, sectioning off multiple areas to serve as warehouses.
In fact, ever since they’d started dividing up responsibilities and Song Jingshuo had stepped away from the combat team to handle logistics, he’d already begun assigning people to shuttle supplies over from Duoduoduo like ants moving house.
“Before, we were only considering the people we already had,” Song Jingshuo said, looking around and surveying his work. “Now suddenly there are so many more people. And there will be even more in the future. We need all kinds of things.”
Tall, handsome, cool, and brimming with attitude.
Jiang Cheng gave him a thumbs up: “Jingshuo, absolutely amazing. You’re the coolest guy in the whole neighborhood.”
Nothing about looks, physique, or prospects made her happier than seeing real work get done—worthy of her praise.
Song Jingshuo had long seen through her. He tossed his head to the side with a “Tsk.”
Yang Xinyan felt absolutely awful.
She and two other residents were manning the three hotline phones. From last night until now, the text messages had practically exploded.
Countless distress signals were pouring in.
[We’re at Huasheng Tower. There are 82 of us. We’ve taken control of the 17th, 18th, and 19th floors. SOS!]
[I’m at Tianlong Center. I’m alone! I’ve been hiding everywhere. Help me! Zombies everywhere! Please come save me!]
[I’m a teacher at Haifan Elementary School. There are 7 adults and over 60 children here—all elementary school students. Please save the children!]
Every single one felt like a desperate cry at the top of their lungs.
Some people called directly. Per Jiang Cheng’s instructions, all calls from mobile numbers were to be hung up immediately. Calls from landlines were to be answered, inquired into, and logged.
That was even harder to bear than reading texts.
The voices on the phone were often hoarse, and all that frantic anxiety came through clearly.
But the message Yang Xinyan found most distressing wasn’t even a distress call—
[This is my dad’s phone number. He works at the municipal government. Is he still alive?]
Yang Xinyan’s fingers stiffened slightly as she typed her reply: [I’m sorry. No one from the municipal government survived. We recovered the phones to use as contact tools. I’m sorry.]
Soon, the reply came back: [Okay. It’s fine.]
“Xiao Yang? Xiao Yang?”
A hand waved in front of her face, then finally landed on her shoulder.
Yang Xinyan looked up and saw Manager Wang.
Manager Wang was carrying a bucket. He was doing all sorts of odd jobs now—wherever he was needed, he went—but his main role was assisting Song Jingshuo.
“You okay?” Manager Wang asked with concern. “You look dazed. Didn’t sleep well last night?”
Yang Xinyan wiped her eyes: “Reading these messages is hard.”
Manager Wang leaned his big head over to take a look, sighed, and tried to comfort her: “You can’t dwell on that. You need to think about how good we’ve got it now.”
He fished a strawberry out of his pocket: “Here, have this. Xiao Song said tomorrow the strawberry field is getting plowed under, and after that, fruit will be rationed.”
These past couple of days, the strawberry field had been open for anyone to pick.
Yang Xinyan asked, “Why?”
“We need to grow proper food. Strawberries won’t fill you up,” Manager Wang said. “Don’t worry—they said they’re moving them to south-facing apartments to grow. We’ll still get to eat them, we just won’t be able to pick them anytime we want.”
He then asked about her work: “How are you holding up?”
Yang Xinyan had been working pretty hard the past few days. She wasn’t an owner—she was property management staff, so she had to handle all the grassroots property work.
There was no one left in property management now.
Sister Pan had left property management to join the combat team as a fighter and contribute labor to the community.
Now, property management was down to just Manager Wang, security guard Xiao Fang, and Yang Xinyan.
The owners also took on community duties, but they rotated—doing one thing today, something else tomorrow. The three of them, however, were permanent fixtures. Yang Xinyan had been assigned a lot of physical labor, and it was exhausting.
As soon as Jiang Cheng said she needed someone to specifically monitor the phone messages, Manager Wang seized the opportunity to push Yang Xinyan forward.
Yang Xinyan pointed at the computer and said, “Jiang Cheng told me to sort them by area and prioritize the ones with more people first.”
Manager Wang glanced at the screen, saw the endless list of entries, and quickly stepped back: “I’m not looking, I’m not looking.”
Whoever looked would feel awful.
No wonder the girl looked so dazed.
Only the tough ones—Jiang Cheng, Song Jingshuo, Li Jiangbing, Zhao Yi, and those like them—could handle it.
The youth apartments still operated with a cafeteria system.
The cafeteria was different from a communal potluck. The youth apartments’ cafeteria existed mainly because most residents were single and cooking individually was a waste of time, so they ate together.
There was almost no one in the youth apartments who wasn’t working. The combat team had substitutes too, and everyone took turns resting.
Everyone was gradually finding their own ecological niche.
The community was still spotlessly clean. When light bulbs burned out, someone replaced them. When pipes clogged, someone unclogged them.
Seeing the refugees—wrinkled clothes, foul breath, dazed eyes—made everyone understand even more how difficult this seemingly “normal” life really was.
After breakfast, everyone went about their own business.
Zhou Wang arrived with Aunt Lin and Aunt Qian—both wood-type superpower users—along with a middle-aged man: “This is Master Luo. Master Luo is also wood-type.”
The title “Master Luo” made the youth apartment residents who heard it pause for a moment.
Sister Pan was squatting nearby with her bowl of porridge, helping Song Jingshuo turn the soil as she ate. She turned her head to look for a moment, then looked away.
It felt like a long time had passed, but when she thought about it, it had only been seven or eight days.
People had already adapted and forgotten.
An agreement was quickly reached with Master Luo.
He could move into the youth apartments.
Since Zhou Wang and Jiang Cheng had already worked it out, the wood-type superpower users would collaborate, with all food cultivation for both communities centralized at the youth apartments.
Because of this decision, Xiao Dan had pulled Zhou Wang aside that morning for a private conversation.
Xiao Dan felt that there was no reason to hand everything over to the youth apartments—why not keep control in their own hands?
Zhou Wang sighed. “I’m exhausted. How about you take over managing everything here?”
Xiao Dan shut her mouth.
Because Xiao Dan had no superpowers. Under the current circumstances, a leader couldn’t be weak—weakness meant losing authority.
Her daughter, Wang Yunya, was a fire-type superpower user, but she was too young, and she spent all her time with the youth apartment crowd anyway.
In truth, Zhou Wang could understand Xiao Dan.
Once people get a taste of power, it’s really easy to become alienated.
In the last disaster, Xiao Dan had just been a core family member of Jixiang Jiayuan. This time, she had become a core leader herself.
She had a strong personality, and strong-willed people naturally have a greater desire for control than ordinary folks.
That desire for control, when big enough, is also called ambition—or the lust for power.
“This is your first time participating,” Zhou Wang said. “You haven’t yet experienced just how hard it is to manage this many people.”
“You think it’s not hard right now, but that’s only because the youth apartments are carrying so much of the load. We’re just riding along, so it feels easy.”
“If you actually broke away from the youth apartments, you’d immediately know how hard it really is.”
“Would you dare?”
Xiao Dan certainly didn’t dare.
But after Zhou Wang went to find Aunt Lin and Aunt Qian, Xiao Dan tested her daughter.
Wang Yunya rolled her eyes: “Of course we listen to the youth apartments. What else? Isn’t this all being organized by the youth apartments? Weren’t we rescued by them too?”
“Don’t bother making me breakfast anymore. I’ll eat over there. I think we’re heading into the city today.”
“From now on, don’t make me breakfast—I’ll eat there every time. Combat team members can eat in the cafeteria. Xu En and the others all come over to eat too.”
“I’m leaving~”
The fire-type girl strapped on her armor and dashed off.
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