“Six groups came during the day, twenty-one people total. They saw the broadcast and came to join us,” Song Jingshuo briefed Jiang Cheng on what had happened while she was away. “They’ve been settled.”
“Two superpower users came over from Jixiang Jiayuan—one metal-type, one electric-type. The metal one is decent; the electric one is average.”
“But they’ve got good heads on their shoulders,” Song Jingshuo praised.
Finding their way over first thing in the morning showed they were quick thinkers.
“I haven’t done anything with them yet—let them stew,” he said. “We shouldn’t go to them. Let them come begging to us.”
Master Luo had been brought over early in the morning because wood-types were too scarce—too many people were waiting to be fed, and they couldn’t run Song Jingshuo into the ground. So they’d urgently recruited him.
For other superpower types, there was no particular shortage.
Jiang Cheng smiled.
She and Song Jingshuo were perfectly in sync.
Song Jingshuo handed Jiang Cheng a stack of printed papers.
Jiang Cheng flipped through them quickly and handed them back: “Looks good. I have no objections.”
A performance evaluation system that had taken Song Jingshuo a full day and night to design—approved by the two of them in an instant.
The second floor of the clubhouse had also been cleared out. The staff who’d stayed behind were helping move things in.
The combat team had brought back a lot of stuff—winter coats, blankets, piles of clothes, snacks, drinks, chocolate.
As they moved things, people couldn’t resist grabbing a piece of chocolate or popping open a drink.
Everyone understood that these were meant to be future perks and benefits. An organization couldn’t motivate people to work without decent incentives.
The youth apartment residents weren’t worried at all.
There were no idle people in the youth apartments—nearly everyone had something to do.
With so many people living together, there were endless trivial tasks. Everywhere needed people.
Cleaning, repairs, cafeteria help, crowd control, childcare, fertilizing the soil, harvesting crops.
Just the cafeteria alone now needed a lot of people.
And they were different from others—the identity of “youth apartment owner” had begun to carry a certain civil-service-like quality.
With so many outsiders being brought in, the entire youth apartments had become Jiang Cheng’s inner circle.
Jiang Cheng never let her own people suffer losses—everyone felt secure.
Song Jingshuo and Jiang Cheng went up to the second floor of the clubhouse together.
The metal-types had made a lot of shelving. The young people were organized and efficient—everything was sorted and stored neatly by category.
After everyone else had gone downstairs, Jiang Cheng began pulling things out of her spatial storage.
Song Jingshuo watched her.
She’d already pulled out a lot of frozen meat in the cafeteria earlier.
Now she was pulling out clothing, bedding, and daily consumables.
She pulled.
She pulled.
She kept pulling.
Until Song Jingshuo’s expression shifted from calm composure to visible surprise.
“Jiang Cheng,” he finally asked, “how big is your spatial storage now?”
Everyone knew that superpowers could improve with hard work and willingness to endure physical pain.
But in reality, quite a few people couldn’t handle the pain of pushing past their limits—it was just too agonizing. Some had tried until their eyes hurt so badly they felt like they were going blind.
If they didn’t stop, it felt like their eyeballs were being gouged out.
The most notable example was Li Jiangbing.
Li Jiangbing’s water-type superpower wasn’t like Zhou Wang’s, Guo Jun’s, or Sister Pan’s—strong right from the start. When he’d first awakened, his ability was very ordinary, just like everyone else’s.
But now he could manipulate water with incredible mastery.
A few days ago, his eyes had been bloodshot every morning when he appeared. Now all the medicine was with Zhang Lesi, and he’d gotten several boxes of eye drops from her. Song Jingshuo was well aware of all this.
It was just that water-type was a non-offensive superpower, so people had gotten used to it and didn’t pay much attention.
Unlike Guo Jun or Sister Pan, who drew gasps of “Wow!” every time they made a move.
“I don’t know,” Jiang Cheng said. “It’s not measurable.”
At first, Jiang Cheng had “seen” her storage space as being about the size of a restroom. But that was just a visual representation generated through a mental link.
She’d soon realized that the space couldn’t be measured by volume.
These past few days, the visual projection she saw hadn’t changed much. But her spatial ability had been improving steadily.
Moreover, Jiang Cheng had noticed something a little incredible.
Today, her spatial storage seemed to have broken through.
She wasn’t entirely sure.
Because the capacity of her spatial storage increased every day, and she hadn’t made a point of remembering how the current capacity felt over the past couple of days.
What she perceived through her mental link was closer to reality than what she “saw.”
By the time they came downstairs, the community’s core personnel had already gathered in the lobby.
Song Jingshuo explained the performance evaluation system he’d designed.
Someone listened with wide eyes: “It feels like I’m back at work!”
Everyone burst out laughing.
In essence, it was simple: there could be no “communal potluck.”
History had already proven what happened with a communal potluck system. So compensation had to be based on work done.
Of course, everyone’s basic survival needs would be guaranteed first: they’d be fed.
Song Jingshuo: “To the extent that conditions allow, we’ll try to ensure everyone’s meals are decent.”
And all youth apartment residents—and those treated as equivalent—would receive a fixed daily fruit benefit.
But all the snacks, drinks, clothing, and other supplies that had been collectively brought back would be strictly controlled starting tomorrow.
Every position would generate performance points—whether it was the combat team going out to rescue people or various labor and service tasks at home. Every role earned performance points.
Of course, the combat team earned the highest points. No one questioned this; everyone thought it was fair, given the danger they faced.
Performance points could be used like wages to “purchase” any controlled supplies.
Someone immediately said: “Isn’t this just the ‘work points’ system from the countryside a few decades ago?”
Song Jingshuo: “…”That’s way too rustic.”
Song Jingshuo had always maintained a stylish, cosmopolitan image, so it couldn’t be “work points.” It had to be “performance points.”
That sounded more sophisticated, modern, and high-class—more in line with his personal brand.
Everyone burst into laughter.
—
That night, after washing up and lying in bed, Jiang Cheng closed her eyes and focused, carefully sensing her spatial storage.
If she’d done this last night, she could have confirmed the anomaly she’d noticed this morning. But since she hadn’t paid much attention before, she couldn’t confirm it now.
She’d have to wait until tomorrow.
—
President Xu and Director Yu returned to their “home” in Jixiang Jiayuan.
As soon as they walked in, they found everyone gathered in the four-bedroom apartment. They crowded around: “You’re back, you’re back!”
“President Xu, Director Yu—you’ve worked hard!”
They were guided to the sofa and pressed down into their seats.
Someone brought tea, someone massaged their shoulders—everyone fussed over the two executives with great solicitude.
President Xu / Director Yu: “…”
“Alright, alright. Cut the act.” President Xu waved his hand and handed over the plastic bag he was carrying: “For you all.”
“Wow, strawberries.”
“More big strawberries! Let’s split them!”
“As expected of President Xu. Where’d you get these?”
There were eight strawberries in the bag.
These past couple of days, strawberries had been free for the taking, and some youth apartment residents had actually gotten sick of eating them. At dinner, when everyone was given one strawberry, some couldn’t even finish it.
Coincidentally, President Xu and Director Yu were the two newcomers.
President Xu had worked steadily, learned earnestly, and taken advice humbly.
Director Yu, a pudgy middle-aged man, had pushed himself hard to improve his fitness, running laps with the young people.
Everyone had a good impression of them. When they mentioned there were about twenty more people at “home”—all comrades who’d shared hardship and life-and-death situations—a few of the people who’d gotten to know them gave away their own strawberry portions.
Everyone sliced the strawberries up and shared them.
“Eat up,” Director Yu said. “Starting tomorrow, it’s going to get tough. Fruits won’t be coming to our side anymore—they’re going to be controlled.”
No one was surprised. They’d already heard that morning that future food provisions would be potatoes.
Fruits were high-end goods—of course they’d be managed strictly.
Everyone gathered in a circle around the sofa: “President Xu, what did you learn today? Tell us.”
President Xu and Director Yu sat up straight and turned serious: “Alright. Let’s fill you in.”
“The youth apartments are the core of this provisional government’s organizational structure. All command, personnel, and management authority is over there.”
“Old Yu and I successfully integrated today. Though we haven’t entered management yet, the path upward is clear, and the room for advancement is substantial.”
President Xu paused, took a sip of tea to moisten his throat with practiced composure.
Everyone applauded enthusiastically.
President Xu set down his teacup and continued: “The disparity in treatment between the two sides is very clear. Right now it looks like the organization is just starting up—a makeshift operation, and there may be a period where things aren’t very rigorous. But those young people over there—I can tell they’re sharp. They should get things adjusted and running smoothly pretty quickly.”
“Right now, we’re refugees—no, actually, you are refugees. From now on, you’ll only receive the minimum survival-level treatment. Food provisions will be potatoes.”
“But don’t worry. Given the current situation, we can’t just rely on a few hundred people next door. The core team is bound to expand. If you want better treatment, you have to seize the opportunity. As soon as they start recruiting, join immediately.”
“Seniority—remember, seniority is very important in any collective. The provisional government is going into the city every day now to bring people back, from what I can see. There will be more and more people. The earlier you join a collective, the more benefits you’ll enjoy.”
Everyone asked: “President Xu, why are we the only refugees? What about you two?”
Director Yu spread his hands: “We’ve already integrated.”
Everyone: “…”
“Oh, right,” President Xu added, “don’t cook for us anymore. We’re both signed up for three meals a day over there.”
—
Zhou Wang walked back from the youth apartments with Xiao Huang. Xiao Dan was waiting for him at the main gate.
Seeing them, Xiao Dan went up to meet them: “Why are you back so late? Our girl already went to bed.”
“We had a meeting,” Zhou Wang said.
Zhou Wang always had Xiao Huang with him. Though Xiao Huang was young, his superpower was too unique—completely different from kids like Wang Yunya. He was considered core personnel.
Xiao Dan briefed Zhou Wang on the day’s work: “Twenty-one new people arrived today—all settled.”
“…They made all kinds of demands. There’s no way we could meet them.”
“And there was a fight. I had to call people over from the youth apartments to get it under control.”
Zhou Wang was surprised: “How did a fight break out?”
Xiao Dan looked disgusted: “Don’t even mention it. They said they were colleagues—from the TV station. There was bad blood between them. And they just happened to be assigned to the same apartment. They went at it today. I’ve already moved them to different units.”
Once people saw that room swaps were possible, others who weren’t happy with their accommodations started asking for changes too.
“I turned them all down. Can’t open that door. They should be grateful to have a roof over their heads and food to eat. Do they think we’re a wishing well?”
Zhou Wang praised her: “You did well.”
Xiao Dan hadn’t worked in years. After her daughter got older, she’d run small businesses and even sold insurance. She hadn’t made a fortune, but she’d earned decent money—not worse than a regular job.
Overall, she was a capable person.
Zhou Wang handed her a few sheets of paper: “Take a look at this.”
Xiao Dan flipped through them quickly under the streetlight.
It was a complete system of regulations—quite thorough, covering all aspects. The calculation and distribution of performance points, the data balance—all looked reasonable.
Zhou Wang pointed out specifically: “You’re in a management role. Management is a fixed position—the treatment is pretty good.”
Xiao Dan admitted to herself that she couldn’t have produced such a detailed plan in such a short time. She didn’t actually have experience managing people—she just liked taking charge of things.
She was a high-energy person, but after just one day, she felt utterly exhausted.
Managing people was truly exhausting—no easier than fighting zombies.
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