Several people in President Xu’s company knew how to cook. Since they were all living on the same floor, they pooled their resources and cooked together.
The rice they’d been given was rationed per person for one day. They took a portion of it to make porridge. They rummaged through the refrigerators in the empty apartments they’d been assigned to and found all kinds of things—salted duck eggs, fermented bean curd, pickled vegetables, as well as meat, eggs, and vegetables. Though the vegetables had been in the fridge, they’d been there too long and were already wilted.
No one seemed to have mentioned the supplies in these apartments, so everyone tacitly assumed they now belonged to the new occupants.
While they were cooking porridge, President Xu and the director went downstairs for a stroll.
“We’ll be eating potatoes every day from now on,” President Xu said. “That won’t do.”
The director said, “That’s probably the baseline guarantee. But surely not everyone—I doubt the leadership eats the same way.”
President Xu: “The youth apartments are probably on a whole different level than this side.”
All the refugees had been herded over here to live, while not a single person from that side was left behind—they were all “their own people.”
The middle school students yearned to go there.
The elderly said the wood-type superpower users were all working over there growing vegetables.
These pieces of information were already very clear.
That morning when they turned on the TV, S City’s local station had been looping the speech by that girl named Jiang Cheng. She’d said “led by the youth apartments”—did you hear that? The youth apartments were taking the lead.
So President Xu and the director had come downstairs to stroll over and check things out.
In business, you had to fight for clients yourself. As refugees, you had to fight for treatment too. No one was going to have good things fall into their lap while sitting at home.
As they strolled, they spotted Xiao Dan in the neighborhood.
Xiao Dan was pretty busy. With several hundred people suddenly moving in, all sorts of issues had cropped up after just one night.
People wanted to switch rooms, some complained they felt unwell, others made all kinds of demands—things like that.
Xiao Dan had dealt with wave after wave of people. She’d just sent off a few who’d asked if they could get a car to go home, when two middle-aged men came over.
President Xu was exceptionally polite and Western in his manner: “Ma’am, we’d like to ask—what can superpower users do to help out here?”
Xiao Dan’s eyes lit up: “What are your superpowers?”
President Xu: “I’m metal-type, and he’s electric-type.”
Xiao Dan’s eyes brightened even more, and she said warmly: “Welcome, welcome—our community welcomes all superpower users to join!”
President Xu asked: “What do we need to do?”
Xiao Dan said: “There’s nothing to do for now. Rest up first. Which building and room are you staying in? Let me make a note.”
President Xu didn’t tell her. Instead, he said: “We already registered yesterday.”
Xiao Dan paused: “It’s fine, let me just record it again.”
President Xu smiled: “No need to go through the trouble. If anything comes up, you can find us through the registration.”
The director chimed in: “We’ll go rest now. We’re really not feeling well—we hid out in our company for seven days, and our whole bodies feel weak. Four of our colleagues turned into zombies—we’d worked with them for years and had to put them down. Sigh. You go ahead and handle your things. We’re just taking a walk. You’re busy, you’re busy.”
With the director saying that, Xiao Dan couldn’t insist. She could only nod: “Rest up for a couple of days. I’ll notify you when there’s an arrangement.”
President Xu: “Thank you for your hard work.”
The two men turned and strolled away slowly, unhurried—like they were out for a casual walk.
One metal-type and one electric-type—both strong offensive superpowers. Xiao Dan thought she’d talk to Zhou Wang later about keeping these superpower users close—then Jixiang Jiayuan would have an independent source of strength.
President Xu and the director walked shoulder to shoulder, slowly making their way toward Jixiang Jiayuan’s west gate.
“She doesn’t have operational control,” President Xu said.
When he’d asked her what arrangements there were, she’d just said to rest first and couldn’t say anything else. In reality, things weren’t up to her to arrange.
“She doesn’t have personnel authority either,” the director said.
The night before, during room assignments, they’d already registered superpowers—clearly there was unified coordination and management. And she’d still asked which building and floor they were on, trying to record it herself. That meant the registration records weren’t in her hands.
President Xu said: “She was enthusiastic enough.”
Her eyes had lit up when she heard they were metal-type and electric-type superpowers, and her attitude had warmed considerably.
That meant she needed them.
The director said: “Doesn’t matter. Let’s go take a look over there.”
No operational control, no personnel authority—chances were, she had no say in treatment either.
If they wanted better treatment, they needed to find the one who actually called the shots.
The two strolled out through Jixiang Jiayuan’s west gate, crossed Jixiang West Street, and there was the east gate of the youth apartments.
The gate was closed. A piece of paper was taped to the gatepost: [Strict Management. Register upon entry and exit. See security for assistance. →]
An arrow pointed toward the security booth.
The two exchanged a glance. See? This side already had management in place.
The gate was locked—which meant there were valuable things inside that needed to be kept separate from unrelated people.
The two of them peered through the gate and saw the security guard sitting in the booth with a stainless steel food bowl, eating big steamed buns.
The guard was around nineteen or twenty and could really put it away—the buns were piled high in his bowl.
President Xu / Director: “…”
Both of them couldn’t help but smack their lips.
It looked so fragrant.
That’s okay—they’d have plain porridge when they got back.
Mm. That was fine too.
From this side of the gate, looking in, all they could see was a straight path. The rest of the community was blocked by the buildings next to it.
The two looked around: “Over there—let’s go check over there.”
They walked south, past the building, and sure enough, through the gap between the buildings, they could see into the community.
But first, they spotted someone they knew in the greenery between the building and the outer fence.
“Master Luo! Master Luo——”
They grabbed the iron fence and pressed their faces against it, calling out.
They looked like prisoners in a jailhouse scene reuniting with a loved one.
Between the building and the outer fence was a green strip. Now, the original shrubs and flowers had been pulled up and piled to the side. The horticulturist who’d come to the tech district with President Xu’s group—now the new Master Luo—was squatting with another young man on the freshly turned soil, doing something.
Hearing the voices, Master Luo looked up. Seeing it was them, he stood up and came over: “It’s you two.”
President Xu asked: “Master Luo, what are you doing here?”
Master Luo: “We’re short on wood-types, so we all have to work—so many people are waiting to be fed. I’m in charge of planting peanuts now.”
Master Luo sighed: “Superpowers are so convenient—no need for hoes to turn the soil. Earth-type superpowers do the plowing for you. And that guy’s a college student too.”
The earth-type superpower user was a resident of the youth apartments, fairly young—in his twenties. He said with resignation: “Don’t even bring it up. I worked so hard to leave the countryside and live the life I wanted. And then I get an earth-type superpower.”
The heavens saw right through his origins.
The director was full of sympathy: “Master Luo, you’ve worked so hard.”
President Xu was equally concerned: “When you’re done with work, come back to eat. We’re making porridge at home, and there are salted duck eggs—we’ll save some for you. Ah~”
That “ah~” was especially heartfelt.
Master Luo wasn’t moved in the slightest.
He’d been doing plant maintenance for President Xu’s company for three years, and this was the first year he’d ever exchanged a word with him.
Before this, President Xu hadn’t even seen him.
Maybe he’d had an invisibility superpower back then—who knows.
Master Luo ruthlessly poured cold water on them: “I’ve already eaten here. I had buns. I’m not going back. They’ve assigned me a place here—I’m staying from today on.”
President Xu and the director’s hearts sank cold: “You’re not staying with us anymore?”
The grain source was gone.
Master Luo could see their disappointment. He didn’t have much emotional attachment to them—just the small bond forged through seven days of shared hardship.
For the sake of that small bond, he pointed them in the right direction: “Go to the security guard at the east gate and tell him you’re superpower users. Everyone with superpowers gets work here. And the food’s better here.”
The young earth-type guy behind him also came over: “You two are superpower users too? What superpowers?”
When he learned they were metal-type and electric-type, he asked: “How are you two feeling right now? If you haven’t recovered yet, rest first. But if you’re good to go, then get to work. There’s a ton to do. Whether it’s logistics or the combat team, everyone who works eats here.”
The director squeezed his face between two fence rails and asked: “Are there any buns left?”
President Xu stomped on his foot hard. So embarrassing!
The earth-type young man chuckled, pulled a walkie-talkie from his back waistband, and said: “I’ve got two superpower users here—one metal-type, one electric-type—who want to work and eat.”
The voice from the walkie-talkie said: “Send them to the east gate. I’ll have someone pick them up.”
The earth-type young man asked: “Are there any buns left? They haven’t eaten yet.”
“…” The walkie-talkie paused for a moment, then said, “Yes, still hot. Tell them to come in and eat.”
President Xu and the director jogged over to the east gate. The security guard had already opened the door, still holding half a bun in his mouth.
Up close, it smelled even more fragrant.
There had been too many people yesterday—they remembered the young security guard, but he didn’t remember them. Still chewing his bun, he mumbled: “Go in, there’s someone inside.”
The two went in, and Security Guard Xiao Fang closed the door behind them.
President Xu and the director walked in and were met by a young man and woman coming toward them. The woman was holding a folder, and the man was carrying an instrument—a small box in one hand and a pen-like device in the other, connected by wires.
“You two, right?” the woman asked. “Who’s the metal-type?”
President Xu stepped forward: “That’s me.”
The woman said: “Metal-types can choose to join the combat team or work in logistics. But combat team members often have to do logistics work too. Metal-types have it quite tough—those with more ability do more work.”
President Xu said: “We’re new here and not familiar with things yet. Let me start with logistics first.”
The woman said: “Alright.”
The man said to the director: “You’re electric-type, right? Electric-types have to join the combat team.”
Electric-types doing logistics work would basically be no different from ordinary people. Currently, there was no need for electric-type superpowers in logistics.
The director was hesitating when the man raised the electric pen in his hand: “Here, let’s test it. Give it everything you’ve got—don’t hold back.”
President Xu reminded him: “Go all out.”
Your treatment depended on it—don’t hold anything back.
So the director went all out—but his “all out” was still only so much.
The man looked at the instrument, a bit speechless: “Such a small current? Did you really go all out?”
The director truly had—but that was really all he had.
Seeing the young man’s slightly disdainful expression, worried he might not get to eat the buns, he quickly said: “Let me try again—one more time.”
This time, he strained with every ounce of strength he had. It was only slightly stronger than before.
The man frowned: “This won’t do. To play support, you need at least 50 milliamps sustained for 10 seconds or more. Anything less can’t even slow them down. To directly kill a zombie, you need at least 150 milliamps. This is like tickling them.”
50 milliamps of AC current was already enough to kill a living person. But zombies were tougher than living people—that intensity only achieved a control effect of slowing them down.
To directly destroy the brain with electrocution, you needed 150 milliamps.
These were all figures Gao Yuxuan had tested in real combat against zombies. And you also had to consider total energy capacity and endurance—which was why he’d said electric-types were more cost-effective as support controllers rather than direct attackers.
The man said: “Your endurance and total energy pool don’t look great either. At this level, you can’t join the combat team.”
The director was deeply disappointed: “So no buns for me?”
His obsession with the buns made the woman laugh out loud.
President Xu felt like his face was completely lost.
The man laughed too, then said: “You can’t join the combat team yet—you need training first. Anyway, let’s take you to eat breakfast first. After that, I’ll take you for training.”
The director was pleasantly surprised: “Huh?”
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