Li Jiangbing read the message, froze for only a second, then jumped to his feet.
The wealthy woman was startled.
Li Jiangbing abandoned the sales pitch entirely and told her directly: “Go home right now! The zombie virus is coming!”
He turned and bolted out of the meeting room.
“Everyone go home! The zombie virus is coming! Go home!” He shouted as he walked, his voice so loud it even drowned out the gym’s background music.
It was a weekday afternoon, so there weren’t many people around—just a handful of scattered customers, and even the staff outnumbered them.
The boss heard the commotion and came over: “What are you saying?”
“Have you lost your mind? What nonsense are you spouting?”
“I’m talking to you, Li Jiangbing!”
Li Jiangbing ignored him, just waved everyone away: “Go, all of you, go home! The zombie virus is coming!”
The boss was furious, yelling at him to stop acting crazy: “The zombies have all been killed. They’re all dead.”
The wealthy woman from the meeting room chased after him and called out: “Xiao Li!”
She fixed her eyes on him and asked, “Do you have some inside information?”
Thank God, someone who could actually listen. Li Jiangbing said, “Yes, someone I know notified me. They said the zombie virus is coming again and we need to find a place to hide and isolate immediately!”
The wealthy woman asked, “Is this person you know a child of a high-ranking official?”
Because Li Jiangbing was just a fitness trainer.
In her eyes, he wasn’t at the very bottom of society, but he was certainly at the grassroots level. He had no real connections himself. If he had inside information, it had to come from someone with real power and channels.
Even ordinary rich people wouldn’t have access to this kind of news—it would have to come from government channels. So it could only be some high-ranking official’s child he’d met through fitness.
Why “child”? Because they’d be young, they knew him, and they might want to throw him a lifeline.
Actual high-ranking officials were old foxes—they’d keep it to themselves and never let a word slip.
Li Jiangbing had always had sharp social survival instincts.
Even though he was a bit worked up right now, he realized that if he said the person who notified him was just an ordinary white-collar worker, everyone around him would probably burst out laughing immediately.
So Li Jiangbing stiffened his neck and admitted it: “Yeah, they’ve got connections in high places.”
“Trust me!” he said. “Everyone go back now. I’ve done all I can. I’m heading home!”
With that, he headed to the locker room to grab his things.
The boss was hopping mad: “Where do you think you’re going! Your shift isn’t over yet!”
The wealthy woman didn’t say another word—she turned and click-clacked away.
The few people working out exchanged glances. One moved, then the others followed, all heading to the locker room.
The remaining trainers and the boss stood there staring at each other.
Someone said, “Boss, maybe…”
The boss was speechless: “You believe him?”
Li Jiangbing had worked there for almost two years. Didn’t the boss know what kind of person he was? How could he possibly have inside information?
“What if?” someone said. “What if what Jiangbing said is true?”
The boss sneered: “There’s no ‘what if.’ If he really had connections like that, he wouldn’t still be working here.”
Someone who could predict a zombie virus outbreak—could that be an ordinary person? Not even an ordinary child of a high-ranking official—that would have to be the child of a very, very high-ranking official.
What would someone like that be doing in a gym of this caliber?
Li Jiangbing felt he’d done his duty. He’d warned everyone.
If they didn’t believe him, there was nothing he could do. He had to save his own skin first.
He slung his bag over his shoulder and strode out, dialing Jiang Cheng as he went.
Yes, Li Jiangbing also considered himself exempt from the “don’t call back” rule.
That’s just how confident he was!
The first call was busy.
He didn’t know Song Jingshuo was occupying the line.
He unlocked his mountain bike’s chain lock, swung a leg over, balanced on one foot, and dialed again.
Jiang Cheng picked up instantly.
Li Jiangbing: “Is it true?”
Jiang Cheng: “Yes. Are you on your way back?”
Li Jiangbing: “Already out!”
Jiang Cheng: “Good. Bye.”
No wasted words.
Li Jiangbing stepped on the pedals and sped off.
The gym wasn’t far from Youth Apartments—he could bike there in fifteen minutes.
The temporary committee members had all received the message.
Among them, only Zhao Yi and Gao Yuxuan were startled for a moment, then paused to think, before pushing their chairs back and standing up.
Zhao Yi asked his supervisor for leave.
Supervisor: “What’s going on?”
Zhao Yi: “The zombie virus is coming again today. I need to go home and take shelter.”
Supervisor: “???”
Zhao Yi: “You should go home and take shelter too. And remember—it’s best if each family member stays in a separate room.”
Supervisor: “???”
Zhao Yi turned around and hesitated, because he didn’t really like being the center of attention.
Fortunately, the zombie crisis period had given him some practice—he’d been a temporary public figure in the neighborhood for a while.
He cleared his throat and said in a not-too-loud voice: “I’ve received word that the zombie virus is coming again today. Everyone, go home and take cover.”
With that, he lowered his head, slung his computer bag over his shoulder, and walked out quickly.
The entire office was left staring at each other.
As soon as Zhao Yi got out of the elevator, his phone rang. It was Gao Yuxuan.
“Did you get the text?”
“I got it. I’ve already left the office.”
“I’m out too.”
“Good. Head home!”
“Take a cab! A cab is faster!”
“Got it!”
What drove these homebodies to believe and act without hesitation?
It was a sense of fate.
Zhao Yi was faintly excited.
After getting out of the taxi, he kindly told the driver: “The zombie virus is coming. Go home quickly.”
Whether the driver believed him or not was his own fate—Zhao Yi had done his part.
Su Yu was stunned when she saw the message.
She wanted to call Jiang Cheng, but hesitated when she saw the “don’t call back” line.
If it was a mass text, surely a lot of people would be calling her, and her phone would be blown up.
So she didn’t call. Instead, she opened the messaging app.
The app the neighborhood residents used for communication was mostly for leisure and entertainment—not usually for work matters.
She opened it, and as soon as she logged on, she saw several group chat icons flashing.
[Did anyone else get a text from Jiang Cheng?]
[I got it. You got one too?]
[What text?]
[What are you guys talking about?]
Someone copied and pasted Jiang Cheng’s message into the group chat.
The group instantly exploded.
[Is it real or not?]
[How does Jiang Cheng even know?]
[Does she have some inside information? Didn’t she talk to the mayor on the phone before?]
[That was the emergency command center hotline. Not a personal connection.]
[If the mayor had inside info like this, he wouldn’t tell Jiang Cheng—or at least not just her.]
[I called Jiang Cheng. She didn’t answer—just hung up immediately.]
[She said not to call back.]
[What if it’s a prank?]
[Do you think Jiang Cheng is the type to pull pranks?]
The group chat suddenly went silent.
Because Jiang Cheng… was too reliable.
Jiang Cheng was definitely not the kind of person to joke or pull a prank about something like this.
But everyone still felt it was absurd. They all knew Jiang Cheng worked at an exhibition company. Some of them even worked at companies that had collaborated with her firm on roadshows.
It was just an ordinary private company.
Jiang Cheng was, in reality, just an ordinary working-class person.
There was basically no chance of anyone with great wealth, power, or high-ranking official family background living in Youth Apartments.
Song Jingshuo was considered pretty elite, but even he had started with a small apartment his parents bought him, and only later bought his big flat after earning his own money.
People in Youth Apartments might have different education levels and incomes, but when it came to social class, there was no fundamental difference.
They were all ordinary folks.
Absurd. Utterly absurd.
How could an ordinary person predict something as big as a zombie virus?
Even the government couldn’t. If the government could, the zombie crisis wouldn’t have dragged on for over a month.
So many people had died.
Su Yu also thought it was absurd.
Jiang Cheng was just like the rest of them—an ordinary person. If even the government hadn’t dared to announce the virus was coming, how could she?
But Su Yu, while working, kept glancing at her phone, over and over.
It was absurd. But it was Jiang Cheng.
Su Yu’s hand stopped on the mouse.
After a few seconds, she abruptly stood up and trotted over to her supervisor, telling everyone as she ran: “The zombie virus is coming!”
At the same time, Secretary Sun, now promoted to Deputy Mayor, also saw the text.
He was stunned.
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