A night passed, and many people woke up late on Wednesday.
There was no work to go to, nothing else to do anyway, plus many had stayed up late surfing the internet the night before—so Wednesday started late for a lot of folks.
Jiang Cheng was among the early risers. She took Mo Li downstairs early in the morning.
Although the charred remains were still piled up in the central plaza, the neighborhood seemed noticeably cleaner today than yesterday.
Jiang Cheng pulled Mo Li out of her shoulder bag and lifted him up. Mo Li stepped lightly from her palm and leaped gracefully onto the beam of the pavilion, raising his neck as if savoring the morning light.
“Alright, you stay here and sunbathe,” she told him.
She wasn’t sure whether Mo Li could understand her when she spoke directly like this, but it didn’t matter. Mo Li was special like that—he clearly wouldn’t run off on his own. Almost everyone in the neighborhood knew this black cat belonged to her, and nobody would mistake him for a stray and take him in.
Besides, no one had the spare thought to adopt strays right now anyway.
“I’m going to work out. I’ll come back for you later.”
Jiang Cheng headed to the clubhouse.
She first checked the swimming pool. Zhao Yi had been busy all day yesterday—a layer of quicklime now covered the bottom of the pool. Yesterday, the property’s cleaning staff had started collecting garbage from around the complex and dumping it here.
The large quantities of cardboard boxes, paper, and plastic bottles collected yesterday were also neatly stacked in one of the clubhouse rooms.
That was why the neighborhood felt so refreshed today.
Through everyone’s efforts, the community was starting to function again.
Zhao Yi had called her last night to report on the progress. Today, Jiang Cheng took a look around and was satisfied.
She went to the gym and got on a treadmill.
She’d just started working up a sweat when Song Jingshuo showed up. He was an early riser too.
When Song Jingshuo woke up in the morning, he’d first turned on his computer and seen that in several group chats, people were still sending messages at three or four in the morning, having stayed up all night.
At night, there was almost nothing productive to be done. The interim committee had also asked residents to avoid going downstairs after dark as much as possible.
Even though the neighborhood had been cleared, no one could guarantee there wasn’t a zombie hiding somewhere, or that someone with an unnoticed bite wound hadn’t turned.
In short, nighttime was dangerous—stay downstairs as little as possible.
That meant daytime hours had to be used effectively, and staying up late wasn’t helpful or meaningful in any way.
Song Jingshuo saw that Jiang Cheng maintained good daily routines, and even seemed to share his instinct to come work out early in the morning. He wasn’t surprised, yet at the same time he was.
For people like them, the first essential quality was self-discipline.
Only those with a certain strength of will could achieve self-discipline; those with weaker willpower could only stand still and drift with the current.
“Morning,” he greeted her, stepping onto the treadmill next to hers.
Jiang Cheng replied, “Morning.”
And that was it.
Song Jingshuo’s fingertips hovered over the start button for a moment, then he withdrew his hand and rested it on the handlebar, watching Jiang Cheng run, sweating.
Out of the corner of her eye, Jiang Cheng noticed. She turned her head to look at him and pressed the stop button.
The belt slowed and gradually came to a halt.
Jiang Cheng asked, “Something on your mind?”
Her cheeks had flushed from the exercise—youthful skin tight and elastic. She really was a very pretty girl.
But her expression was indifferent, even a bit stern, without a trace of softness.
Song Jingshuo felt a little aggrieved: “Jiang Cheng, your attitude toward me is way too different from how you treat Zhao Yi.”
After all, they’d been working side by side under high pressure these past few days—they should have grown closer.
But Jiang Cheng kept a strictly business-like face with him, while she smiled and laughed with that engineer geek Zhao Yi. That was just too much.
Song Jingshuo was never one to take things lying down. Besides, he no longer felt competitive with Jiang Cheng—only appreciation. She was “one of his own” now.
He had to fight for his fair share.
Jiang Cheng narrowed her eyes at him.
Song Jingshuo was tall and lean, handsome, with a sharp look in shirts and an athletic vibe in workout gear. In the romance department, he was the kind who swept all before him.
He let her size him up, completely confident.
Jiang Cheng explained seriously: “The government rescue has arrived now. The situation hasn’t deteriorated to that extent.”
“…” Song Jingshuo asked, “To what extent?”
Jiang Cheng: “To the extent where you need sex to alleviate and soothe the mental stress brought on by the threat of death.”
Song Jingshuo: “…”
Song Jingshuo now shared the same sentiment as Li Jiangbing—
He’d misjudged her.
Song Jingshuo rubbed his temples, about to say something, when Jiang Cheng continued explaining: “Communication with you is very smooth—no auxiliary techniques needed; I can just speak directly. But with others, adopting communication methods tailored to each person’s personality traits to stimulate their initiative and efficient action—that’s what we should be doing right now.”
The two looked each other in the eye.
Song Jingshuo’s eyes lit up.
She said “we.”
“Once this is over and life returns to normal for everyone, let’s have a meal together,” he extended the invitation.
Jiang Cheng nodded: “Sure.”
She pressed the start button on the treadmill again: “But whether things can actually return to normal—let’s reassess after today.”
Song Jingshuo’s expression turned serious: “You don’t have confidence in the government rescue?”
“What’s lacking right now is key, effective information. We can only decide whether to have confidence after today is over,” Jiang Cheng said.
What was key, effective information? Naturally, the scale and speed of the rescue effort.
The government certainly had plenty of disaster relief experience—but that was experience with floods, experience with earthquakes. Zombies were unheard of; the government was facing this for the first time too.
They’d have to see how far the rescue troops advanced today before making an objective assessment and setting proper expectations.
“Before that, let’s just focus on staying fit. Even if things do actually return to normal in the future, it won’t hurt.”
She used “even if” and “actually.”
Was she really that pessimistic?
The morning sunlight was bright. The gym’s treadmills faced floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the neighborhood garden.
Bright sunlight streamed in as well.
Song Jingshuo’s rare relaxed mood from the past few days dissipated. In fact, he felt even heavier than before.
He also pressed the start button on his treadmill, and the belt began to slowly accelerate.
“Jiang Cheng, what industry are you in?”
“Events and exhibitions. You?”
“Finance.”
“Let’s stop talking.”
“Alright.”
The two ran in silence.
At the entrance, the security guards changed shifts.
The two guards who had worked the night shift headed back to their dorm, patting their shoulders and lower backs.
Back in the dorm, with no residents around, they finally dared to speak freely.
One guard said: “Once the military sorts this whole thing out, let’s sue that Jiang Cheng.”
“…Sue her for what?”
“She kicked Old Liu out like that—that’s basically murder! Let’s sue her and send her to jail!”
“Old Liu brought it on himself though.”
“Are you stupid? Whose side are you on—can you even tell? Old Liu and us—we’re the real deal. If it weren’t for that Jiang Cheng, maybe we’d already be sitting pretty thanks to Old Liu, not having to work anymore, and just lying around in the dorm all day like the residents.”
“But Miss Jiang said—”
“Pah!” The guard nearly spat in his colleague’s face. “Who the hell do they think they are? They’re all just people! So they’ve got some stinking money, big deal! So what if we’re not residents! Just because we’re not residents, we have to be their servants? You think working a night shift is fun? You don’t have back pain? Shoulder pain? You don’t wanna be lying in bed like them? Are you stupid or what?”
He was fuming.
He’d had it with these residents for a long time.
All of them strutting around in suits and ties and high heels, all high and mighty, not even bothering to look at them when they passed through the gate.
What was there to be so damn noble about?
Especially that Jiang Cheng—a woman, a mere girl. Back where he came from, women like her wouldn’t even be allowed at the dinner table. And yet she was ordering around a bunch of grown men—what a joke.
That kind of woman was clearly trouble. In his village, nobody would marry her.
She was pretty damn good-looking though—pah!
By ten o’clock, the sun was high, and residents gradually began coming downstairs to stroll around the neighborhood.
Many of them were the type who, in normal times, would hole up at home playing games after work—the kind who could go an entire weekend without stepping outside. But even they were now actively coming down to walk around, soak up the sun, and greet familiar neighbors.
Not wanting to go downstairs and not being able to go downstairs were two entirely different things.
Now, being able to freely go downstairs and safely stroll around was actually something that moved people and filled them with emotion.
Without experiencing the fear of not even daring to step outside the door, how could one truly appreciate this freedom they’d once taken for granted?
Some residents brought down pets that hadn’t been walked in days—mostly dogs.
Jiang Cheng came out of the gym, went home, and took a shower. From upstairs, she could see several people walking their dogs in the garden.
Mo Li was still basking on the pavilion beam. Jiang Cheng filled a small bowl with cat food and went downstairs to check on him.
“Come down and eat,” she called to Mo Li.
Mo Li looked at her.
Words alone wouldn’t work. Jiang Cheng stared into Mo Li’s eyes, focused her mind, and communicated through intent: [Eat.]
She simplified the meaning as much as possible—the simpler it was, the easier for Mo Li to understand.
But Mo Li refused: [Sunlight.]
Jiang Cheng: “Huh?”
Mo Li seemed afraid she hadn’t understood, so he emphasized again: [Sunlight.]
He raised his head toward the sky, the sunlight bathing his entire body. He’d only eaten cat food once after dark yesterday, to replenish energy for the night.
But now, he felt no hunger at all. The sunlight pierced through his fur, and energy radiated into his cells.
His body wasn’t just repairing itself—it was storing up.
Jiang Cheng watched Mo Li for a while.
Some things couldn’t form clear words; the transmission of intent was hazy, but she could vaguely understand.
It was hard to believe.
A little cat saying he didn’t need to eat—just sunbathe and he’d be fine.
But zombies were also hard to believe—how could a person turn into a monster?
A little black cat could turn into a great black panther.
And there was even telepathy.
And then there was her—a transmigrator.
So sun-powered energy didn’t sound all that ridiculous anymore.
In fact, if it were true, that would be fantastic. It meant an endless supply of energy with zero cost.
“Jiang Cheng—”
Someone called her from afar. Jiang Cheng turned and saw Su Yu walking over with another girl. They were holding a little dog on a leash.
They came over to greet Jiang Cheng.
They also spotted Mo Li on the pavilion beam: “Taking your cat out for some sun, huh?”
Pretty much everyone now recognized Jiang Cheng’s cat, the one she carried with her everywhere.
Never mind what was happening outside the neighborhood—whether many people were still without food supplies, worrying about going hungry or too afraid to step outside. At Youth Apartments, with the gate locked, everyone had food and drink at home, just waiting for the government rescue.
The mood was light. The girls chatted with Jiang Cheng, chattering away about their beautiful hopes that “this will all be over in a few days.”
Jiang Cheng didn’t pour cold water on anyone. Some words and concerns she’d only share with people like Song Jingshuo. Everything would have to wait until today’s updates came in.
She crouched down to look at the little dog: “So cute.”
The dog belonged to the other girl, who said: “His name is Fu Duoduo.”
Jiang Cheng cupped her hands around the little dog’s head: “Fu Duoduo, hello there.”
She gazed into the dog’s eyes.
After a moment, she let go.
“Cute,” she said with a smile.
Nothing happened.
Telepathy was limited to her and Mo Li.
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