Rice and flour didn’t need to be collected very frequently—one bag lasted for many days.
People mainly came to collect non-staple foods. These took up much more space than the staples, occupied far more loading capacity, and were consumed much faster.
The non-staples available were still mostly canned goods—clearly all from stockpiles.
The new additions were the two types of vegetables—potatoes and eggplants—which had also been prioritized for their long shelf life.
But what the news showed was green leafy vegetables. People hadn’t seen green vegetables in far too long.
It was said that in Jixiang Jiayuan, some elderly ladies and housewives had been growing vegetables on their balconies, and some were even selling them for money or trading them for other goods. The prices were nearly as high as gold. Yet people still bought them.
After all, even though they were expensive, it wasn’t like they ate them every day—they only bought a little when the craving became unbearable.
As soon as Mayor Zheng’s announcement about “recruiting a militia” came out, the entire Youth Apartments started buzzing with discussion.
It probably wasn’t just the Youth Apartments—the whole New Tech District, the whole city of S, was talking about it.
The priority allocation of fresh vegetables and meat to militia members was just a side benefit. The militia wasn’t the same as volunteers—they would be paid, with daily wages.
If they died, they would be counted as martyrs. Although they wouldn’t benefit from it themselves, their families and children would be taken care of in the future. Mayor Zheng promised that children of martyrs would have priority access to kindergarten, elementary school, and middle school enrollment.
They would also receive bonus points on the high school and college entrance exams.
For children of non-S-city residents, they could even obtain S-city household registration.
In reality, for ordinary people, that burning passion was hard to sustain for long.
In response to the nation’s call, ordinary civilians had walked out the door without hesitation, carrying kitchen knives and iron bars. They’d fought to carve out a living space for themselves—so they wouldn’t be stuck at home starving to death.
But once the living space was large enough, once the government’s supplies caught up, once even garbage trucks started appearing and hospitals began operating—once the basic systems for sustaining life were up and running again—that passion cooled back to normal temperature.
People wanted to retreat back into their homes again. They wanted stability, security, safety.
And the militia might need to go far away—maybe to the city center, or the other side of the city. Leaving their own living areas meant going to sacrifice for others. At that point, without tangible benefits, slogans and emotional appeals alone wouldn’t be enough.
You couldn’t hold ordinary people to the standards of saints.
You still had to offer benefits that would genuinely move people.
The militia’s daily wage—six days of it would equal S City’s average monthly salary.
And by “average salary,” that meant the number calculated by averaging both the lowest and highest earners together.
For many low-income earners, two days of daily wages would actually be more than they used to make in a whole month.
That wouldn’t appeal to high-income earners like Song Jingshuo at all, but someone like Master Luo was very tempted.
It was urgent—no time for deliberation. The announcement came out in the morning, and registration started in the afternoon.
The registration point was at the supply point. People could sign up directly with the person in charge there.
That afternoon, Jiang Cheng was watching from Buy Duo Duo as people trickled in to register. Li Feng and his men were swamped, so they grabbed Zhao Yi to help with the paperwork.
Jiang Cheng couldn’t sign up herself—because the eligibility was restricted by gender. It was explicitly stated: males only.
And no one objected to the gender restriction—not men, not women.
Jiang Cheng herself had no intention of signing up either.
In the New Tech District, she had to lead from the front because she needed victory, control, and leadership.
If she joined the militia and led from the front, that would just be leading from the front—she wouldn’t have control or leadership.
Fighting wasn’t a hobby, nor was it the goal.
Fighting was just a means, a process.
Zhou Wang also came by to take a look and told Jiang Cheng: “Quite a few people.”
Jiang Cheng had been observing for a while and told him: “Deqingli and our neighborhood have the most people.”
Zhou Wang was silent for a moment, then asked: “What’s going on with your neighborhood?”
He didn’t ask about Deqingli.
Because Deqingli residents generally had lower incomes—the militia’s compensation was highly attractive to them.
But many young people at the Youth Apartments had decent incomes—they were white-collar workers who sat in offices with air conditioning.
Jiang Cheng smiled: “Because they’re young.”
Young people’s passion lasted longer.
Young people were more inclined toward adventure.
Jixiang Jiayuan and Yujing Xiangyuan, on the other hand, had both elderly and young dependents at home. Now that they’d carved out a living space, they wouldn’t risk it again for short-term gains.
Of course, there were exceptions among them too.
Those who’d gotten addicted to killing.
Jiang Cheng had long noticed that some people had actually fallen into a kind of thrill—as if they were playing a real-life video game—and had become a little obsessed with it.
Jiang Cheng suddenly raised an eyebrow.
Zhou Wang followed her gaze: “Oh.”
A large, sturdy figure had pushed through to register with Li Feng—very conspicuous.
Li Feng was now very familiar with Li Jiangbing, and was delighted to see him sign up: “This is exactly the kind of person we need!”
Because the instructions from above weren’t just gender-restricted—they also restricted age and physical capability.
Master Luo had also come to sign up, but Li Feng turned him down because of his age and slightly hunched back.
They only wanted the strong and robust.
In combat, there was no room for dead weight. A weakling would not only put themselves in danger—they might drag down their comrades too.
Some of the able-bodied men from Deqingli had fierce, aggressive looks on their faces. Li Feng approved them on the spot.
He was picky about the Youth Apartments applicants—too skinny, too short, or wearing thick glasses got rejected.
Someone as strong and combat-experienced as Li Jiangbing was exactly what he wanted.
Li Jiangbing successfully registered and squeezed his way out, only to see Jiang Cheng and Zhou Wang both looking at him.
He paused, feeling a little guilty, and went over to say hello to Jiang Cheng.
Jiang Cheng’s first question was: “Do they have armor that fits you?”
The official notice said that armor and weapons would be uniformly provided. People were also allowed to bring their own weapons—since everyone had gotten used to their preferred tools over the past few days, and switching might feel awkward.
But the official armor was definitely better than anything they could cobble together themselves.
Li Jiangbing breathed a sigh of relief and told her: “I specifically asked before signing up. The militia’s armor is all newly rush-produced—they have extra-large sizes now. I can wear it.”
People like Li Jiangbing and Nie Kuizhang were formidable fighters, but the standard-sized armor hadn’t fit them. Li Jiangbing had been particularly resentful about that and had pestered Li Feng to pass the feedback up the chain.
Li Feng really did pass it up. His wasn’t the only unit experiencing this issue. Male physique generally correlated with strength—and thus with combat effectiveness.
The emergency command center was supposed to respond quickly to all situations, and they immediately relayed the feedback to the factories to make adjustments.
The new batch of armor now had larger sizes.
Jiang Cheng said: “That’s good. Make sure to stay safe—don’t charge too far ahead.”
She didn’t mind—only then did Li Jiangbing fully relax.
Because joining the militia meant leaving the Youth Apartments and the interim committee—leaving Jiang Cheng’s orbit.
Jiang Cheng’s gaze drifted past him, toward the people signing up, and she said: “Things will keep getting better. Once all the zombies are eliminated, everyone’s lives will return to normal. Then, looking back at this time—neighbors who didn’t even know each other came together to form an interim committee, led everyone through all kinds of problems, weathered the storm together. We’ll definitely look back on it fondly.”
Hearing her say that, Li Jiangbing was already feeling nostalgic on the spot.
Because it was visibly clear—humans had taken back their living space. Everything was returning to normal, and there was less and less for the interim committee to do each day.
A few more days, and once all the zombies were eliminated, the interim committee would disband.
Li Jiangbing, meanwhile, was leaving ahead of time.
He strolled back to the neighborhood with Jiang Cheng and said: “I just really want to get my hands on a set of that armor. You wait—I’m definitely going to get one.”
Jiang Cheng couldn’t help but laugh.
That evening, a bus came to gather the militia.
Li Jiangbing tucked his fire axe into the back of his waist and got on the bus with Li Feng.
Quite a few people from the Youth Apartments had signed up. Many familiar faces came out to see them off.
“Stay safe.”
“Good luck.”
Everyone watched them leave.
Li Jiangbing was gone for four days.
He came back on the fifth day, knocked on Jiang Cheng’s door, and handed her a plastic bag full of fresh vegetables and meat, telling her: “Get the meat in the fridge right away—it was hot on the way back, and I’m afraid it’ll spoil.”
He patted another bag in his hand: “I’ve got more here—I’m taking this to Jingshuo.”
Jiang Cheng said: “Hold on, I’ll come with you.”
She stuffed the food into the fridge and went out with Li Jiangbing.
Li Jiangbing asked: “Where’s your cat?”
“He’s out and about during the day—never home.”
On the way, she called Song Jingshuo.
When they got to Song Jingshuo’s place, he didn’t bother saying thank you. The three of them—Jiang Cheng, Song Jingshuo, and Li Jiangbing—had long since reached the point where thanks were unnecessary.
All he said was: “Good to have you back. I was afraid you wouldn’t come back.”
Li Jiangbing laughed and gave him a light punch.
Food wasn’t scarce anymore.
Song Jingshuo said: “Have you had lunch? Eat with me.”
This was Song Jingshuo’s apartment, and he was the one cooking. Jiang Cheng helped prep while Li Jiangbing, who couldn’t cook, waited to be fed.
Song Jingshuo’s place was the largest layout in the Youth Apartments—it had a proper kitchen with walls and a door.
Li Jiangbing pulled up a chair and sat backwards at the kitchen entrance, arms resting on the backrest, telling them about the militia.
Jiang Cheng had come along precisely to hear this.
“Mostly it was around the university town.”
“The first place was the University of Science and Technology—man, it was brutal. So many zombies, so many.”
“The troops led the way. They gave us armor. The main weapons were machetes and spiked clubs.”
“And remote-control cars. I don’t know who came up with that idea, but it was great.”
They strapped bombs to the remote-control cars, played music on them, and drove them squealing and blaring through the streets, with hordes of zombies chasing behind.
“The squad leader originally said to spiral in circles, gather the zombies into a cluster, then detonate. Sounded good to us too. But in practice, it didn’t work.”
“The zombies don’t follow you in circles—they just go in a straight line, straight toward the sound.”
“Anyway, we messed around for a while and slowly figured out how to do it right. Get the zombies clustered together, then blow them up. One blast takes out a whole bunch.”
“There was also this thing you shoulder—I thought it was called a rocket artillery, but it’s called a rocket launcher.”
“Whoosh—one shot, and another whole cluster goes down.”
“After the clustered ones were dealt with, the scattered ones started getting shot—Biu biu biu~”
He even made sound effects.
“But once we started shooting, oh man, they came straight for us.”
“When they charged over, that’s when we went in.”
“The soldiers joined in too, of course—they had to put their guns away first. They used blades just like us.”
“You know why? Because in a melee, you can’t use guns—too easy to hit your own people.”
Li Jiangbing recounted his experiences over the past few days with great animation, his face lit up.
Song Jingshuo’s cooking was surprisingly good. He was someone who demanded high quality in life—including his meals.
Of course, it might also have been because everyone hadn’t had a single stir-fried vegetable with meat in so long.
The moment Li Jiangbing took a bite, his eyes nearly watered: “Oh my god, this is what it feels like to be alive.”
Never dieting again!
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