Because they were afraid there might still be explosions, no one dared stay upstairs. Everyone stayed on the ground floor.
Jiang Cheng went next door to take a look. Every building bore traces of fire. The exteriors were blackened, and a sense of ruin hit you in the face.
Wu Yan and Tao Xiaoxiao had been saved, but their souls hadn’t returned yet. Both were dazed and lost, trembling with fear at the slightest sound.
There were quite a few people like them.
All of them had endured being burned alive by fire for dozens of seconds—even minutes—while their minds were still conscious.
The pain had temporarily separated their souls from their bodies.
President Xu and the other men weren’t suited to help, so they were holding a pile of supplies their group had stockpiled and discussing with several older sisters and aunties from the community, asking them to help care for the two women.
Xiao Dan also came to help, eyes brimming with tears.
The superpower users who had been sent out gradually returned.
The pipeline network in the Tech District’s residential area had basically all been severed. The flames from the manholes on the street gradually diminished and finally went out.
But over on the district government side, across the river, the industrial zone’s massive fire could be seen blazing. Some factories had flammable materials stored outdoors, which had ignited the blaze.
There was far too much flammable material in the entire industrial zone. As darkness fell, the flames on the opposite bank lit up the sky.
After hearing the report, Jiang Cheng, in the midst of her hundred tasks, remembered that a couple still lived in the western part of the residential area—and the wife was pregnant.
Zhang Lesi had always said she’d studied the thick obstetrics textbooks, preparing to deliver this woman’s baby in the future.
She visited the pregnant woman once a week to make sure she and the fetus were well.
Jiang Cheng flipped through her contacts, found the young couple’s phone number, and called.
Phone was off.
A very bad premonition. She sent people to check. Sure enough, in the ghost-town-like western district, that one building was on fire—half the building already blazing with a roaring sound.
By now, firefighting had lost all meaning.
The people sent stood below, craning their necks, watching.
Watching the fire and thick smoke devour the building.
When they came back and reported to Jiang Cheng, she could feel the low morale radiating off them.
In truth, dozens had died. But none of those deaths hit as hard as the death of the pregnant woman and the unborn new life.
Everyone had truly been looking forward to that baby’s birth.
Jiang Cheng said: “Don’t tell Lesi yet.”
Everyone nodded silently.
There was no electricity, and no water came from the taps.
The whole issue of coagulant and disinfectant was moot now.
Water and power had simply been cut off entirely.
Making Jiang Cheng’s meeting with Engineer Yu seem like a joke.
Engineer Yu called: “It’s no use. We have to evacuate.”
The explosion hadn’t just destroyed much of the city’s underground water network—the water plant hadn’t survived the explosion either. More than half the factory buildings had burned down.
When Engineer Yu called Jiang Cheng, his face was lit orange-red by the blazing flames.
A technician was crying.
A month of holding on, surviving so many crises—and now everything had turned to ash.
How small and powerless humans were in the face of disaster.
Jiang Cheng instead comforted Engineer Yu: “It’s alright. We still have water-type superpower users. Don’t stay there—come over here. Do you have a vehicle? Can you make it today? Do you know the way?”
But Engineer Yu said: “Not today. We’ll find a safe place to hole up first. Tomorrow, send some people who can drive large vehicles to come pick up the water trucks. They should still be useful.”
Among all the bad news, this was the only positive—and it barely even counted as good news.
Only after confirming the residential area was safe did everyone gradually return upstairs.
Water, electricity, gas—all cut off.
Humanity groped forward in the darkness, stumbling.
While others went upstairs to rest, Li Jiangbing and Jiang Cheng couldn’t.
Metal-type superpower users had hastily made giant water storage barrels with faucets.
Late at night, with all the streetlights out, they drove to the district government side.
Li Jiangbing’s water-type superpower finally had its most useful moment.
The nearest natural water source to the Tech District was the Bailiang River, which separated the Tech District’s residential area from the industrial park, right next to the district government.
The firelight from the industrial zone on the opposite bank dyed the river red.
Jiang Cheng released the water storage containers. Li Jiangbing raised a hand, and the river water surged.
A water dragon rose into the air. Pure, drinkable water separated from the natural water and poured itself into the storage containers.
Everyone was worried about whether Jiang Cheng’s spatial storage could hold so many water tanks. The mass of a tank that size—wouldn’t it burst her storage space?
It turned out all the worrying was unnecessary.
Jiang Cheng simply walked over, and the water tanks disappeared one after another.
Such enormous water tanks.
Such enormous mass.
Jiang Cheng’s spatial storage capacity seemed bottomless.
The water tanks were delivered overnight to each residential compound for emergency use.
Only then could the few of them finally rest.
Jiang Cheng returned home. In the darkness, a youth jumped down from the bed and walked straight up to her, hugging her: “Jiang Cheng.”
“Hug” wasn’t quite accurate.
Moli didn’t actually have the concept of “hugging” Jiang Cheng—he was really just pressing himself onto Jiang Cheng’s shoulder, the way he did when he was still a small cat.
But he was now a tall young man, 1.86 meters tall.
Jiang Cheng couldn’t support his weight.
Jiang Cheng patted his upper back, signaling him to stand up straight, and asked: “Hungry? Do you want to eat something?”
All the cat food and cat litter at home had been prepared for nothing.
For months, Moli had basically never touched them. Now that he’d taken human form, Jiang Cheng didn’t know if he ate human food.
Moli said: “Not hungry. Just need to sunbathe.”
When Moli had first turned human today, his language had still been a bit jumbled.
Jiang Cheng and Song Jingshuo were both busy, so they’d handed him over to the chatterbox Gao Yuxuan.
Sure enough, you had to pick the right teacher. By the time Jiang Cheng finished her work and came back, Moli’s language use was basically fluent.
Jiang Cheng nodded, lit a candle, and gestured for Moli to sit on the sofa with her.
But the moment she sat down, Moli lifted his big foot and was about to put it on her lap, preparing to drape himself entirely across her legs, just like before.
Jiang Cheng: “…”
He had no awareness at all of how huge he was now.
Jiang Cheng pushed him away, patted the spot beside her, and gestured for him to sit next to her.
She also had to teach him to sit on his butt, rather than hugging his knees with both hands and feet planted on the sofa.
“Moli.” Jiang Cheng asked the question she most wanted to know: “Are you a transmigrator?”
Moli didn’t answer—he just looked at her quietly and honestly, his dark bright eyes blinking occasionally.
Jiang Cheng knew then that he hadn’t understood.
When a kitten didn’t understand something, he wouldn’t ask questions or counter-question. He would just look at the questioner quietly.
So even if Moli was also a transmigrator, he didn’t have human-equivalent intelligence, or his memories were suppressed, and he had no cognition of the concept at all.
Though she couldn’t confirm whether he was a transmigrator, Jiang Cheng did know Moli was one of a kind.
At least in S City, one of a kind.
“Then what are you now?” she continued. “Human? Cat?”
Moli said: “Human. Cat.”
He’d chosen both options.
Both human and cat.
Jiang Cheng thought for a moment and gave an order: “Try changing back into a cat.”
Song Jingshuo’s brand-name casual wear collapsed. The handsome, spirited youth shrank in an instant before Jiang Cheng into a cat.
As long as he could change back, Jiang Cheng breathed a sigh of relief.
Moli shook off the clothes pressing on him and lightly climbed onto Jiang Cheng’s lap, curling himself into a round ball, contentedly: “Meow~”
Moli realized that the small cat form was the most comfortable—he could lie on Jiang Cheng however he wanted and snuggle with her.
When he was in human form, she never let him.
Jiang Cheng also realized that Moli had actually always been able to freely control the size of his body.
Whenever he went out, he transformed into a panther—clearly that size was his optimal state for outdoor activity.
After all, when running, the difference between long legs and short legs was quite significant.
But when he was by her side, he always maintained the small black cat form—just so he could drape himself on her shoulder, burrow into her embrace, or curl up on her lap anytime, anywhere.
Kittens just loved to snuggle.
Loved snuggling with Jiang Cheng.
Jiang Cheng was also exhausted today.
The fact that the youth could still change back into a kitten was a comfort to her too.
That way, after washing up and going to bed, she could still hold the kitten in her arms.
A night of deep sleep.
…When she woke up in the morning, she found herself being held in the youth’s arms.
In Jiang Cheng’s memory, the last time she’d been held like this was when she was a child.
Oh—that was “Jiang Cheng’s” memory.
Jiang Cheng turned over to face Moli.
The kitten had long been awake, lying there with his eyes open, quietly watching her.
Knowing not to plant his enormous body on her chest was already huge progress.
The youth leaned close to Jiang Cheng’s face and sniffed, confirming she was alive, then happily touched his nose tip to hers.
This was the kitten’s procedure for waking up a human.
But now he was human too.
After Jiang Cheng got up, this naked, utterly shameless young male human tried again to press himself onto Jiang Cheng’s shoulder—and was mercilessly rejected.
Jiang Cheng pointed at the clothes on the sofa: “Put on clothes. No turning into a cat. Change back. Right—stay in this form. Put on clothes. They taught you how, right? Put it down—underwear first, then pants.”
The cat had observed human behavior for a long time—it wasn’t unfamiliar.
It was just that doing it himself for the first time was a bit awkward.
But human hands were so nimble—things like washing your face and brushing your teeth could be learned with a little practice.
Once cleaned up, Jiang Cheng brought Moli downstairs.
Downstairs, everyone was lining up to draw water from the giant storage tanks set up in the courtyard last night.
Too many people—the line moved too slowly. Cui Haiyang added more faucets to the tanks—thirty faucets all the way around. Thirty lines could draw water simultaneously, and efficiency shot up immediately.
The natural gas was gone, but the outdoor stoves in the youth apartments’ courtyard had always been in use—a seamless transition.
After a recent stretch of relatively easy days, everyone was busy again like before.
Fire-type superpower users joined the cafeteria team. Until other alternatives were found, this would probably become a fixed position.
Several aunties still hadn’t recovered from the shock. Other people who could cook stepped up under emergency orders to shoulder the heavy responsibility of the cafeteria.
Su Yu was among them.
The moment he saw Jiang Cheng come downstairs, Gao Yuxuan ran over and reported: “Lesi’s eyes are healed, but she still can’t see.”
Zhang Lesi’s eyeballs had completely healed—they looked dark and bright, as beautiful as before.
But she indeed couldn’t see. She was currently completely blind.
“Calm down, don’t panic.” Zhang Lesi herself was the doctor. “It should be a psychological issue.”
“I know my eyes are healed, but mentally I’m still stuck at the moment I went blind.”
“Don’t worry—it should recover after some time.”
She mocked herself calmly: “I’ve always studied how psychological factors affect human physiology. Only when it happened to me did I realize how thoroughly the conscious and subconscious mind can separate.”
No one knew how much pain she’d suffered in that moment, how deep the fear she’d experienced.
Zhang Lesi hadn’t expected that one day she’d be so frightened that she’d develop stress-induced psychogenic blindness. She said angrily: “I’m so weak.”
But no one else thought so.
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