Jiang Cheng returned home. Almost the moment she stepped through the door, Mo Li slipped in through the window as well.
Although Jiang Cheng and Mo Li couldn’t communicate directly across a distance, they could sense each other’s presence. Now, Mo Li no longer needed to curl up in her crossbody bag to stay close.
When Jiang Cheng was in the courtyard, she could roughly sense his location through their connection.
For both Jiang Cheng and Mo Li, the second zombie virus outbreak was completely different from the first.
Neither human nor cat was the least bit tense.
New zombies had emerged in the complex—including third-generation ones with budding intelligence—yet Mo Li showed no signs of alarm or tension. This told Jiang Cheng that, to Mo Li now, the surrounding situation didn’t pose a threat.
She attributed this to the fact that there probably weren’t many zombies in the vicinity.
That’s just how the suburbs worked.
In the morning, a massive tide of people streamed into the city. In the evening, that same tide flowed back to the suburbs. Large populations shuttled back and forth between their residences and workplaces. During the day, the area was a ghost town.
The virus had struck before quitting time today, meaning the only reason anyone in this complex was around was because they’d heeded Jiang Cheng’s warning and rushed back in time.
But as far as the entire tech district went—at least the residential side of it—it was basically empty.
The neighboring complexes, Jixiang Jiayuan and Yujing Xiangyuan, probably only had some elderly residents and housewives.
The younger children had mostly died off in the first wave, and the older kids were still at school and hadn’t come home.
Now, compared to the familiar threat of zombies, Jiang Cheng was far more interested in the newly emerged superpowers.
With a simple gesture, two keys appeared in Jiang Cheng’s palm.
The storage space was incredibly convenient. Jiang Cheng had taken these two keys from the property management center without anyone noticing a thing.
Not a single person had caught her.
Too much had happened over the past two months.
Some things that had once been important eventually became unimportant and were forgotten.
Take the conference room, for example. Back then, when everyone had limited protective gear and weapons—and no experience at all—they’d treated the wounded like a grave threat and even welded the door shut.
But later on, with weapons and armor in hand and killing zombies until their hands went numb, no one cared about the conference room anymore.
At worst, there were just a few zombies inside.
By that point, a few zombies were no longer considered a threat.
The emergence of third-generation zombies had indeed been unexpected, but third-generation zombies were just slightly smarter than second-generation ones—they knew to head home when it rained. Their combat abilities hadn’t increased all that dramatically.
Fortunately, no harm had been done.
Another thing that had been forgotten was the stockpile of supplies locked behind the civil defense door in the underground garage—the goods they’d looted from the Fifth Ring Road.
She’d asked Xiao Fang about it and learned that everything was still there, completely untouched.
Those things that had once been essential for survival were now something no one could be bothered to look at.
After all, everyone had eaten so much of that stuff they were sick of it.
After the provisional committee naturally dissolved, both the conference room and the underground garage supplies had been handed over to the property management.
The zombies were for them to handle; the supplies were for them to manage.
The two keys Jiang Cheng had retrieved using her spatial ability were for the civil defense door to the underground garage, and for the chain lock someone had added to keep others out.
Jiang Cheng, on behalf of the provisional committee, reclaimed control over those supplies.
She tucked the keys back into her storage space.
The space was still too small for now, so the keys would have to wait.
Set aside for later.
Like everyone else, Jiang Cheng spent that night repeatedly practicing her ability. Before she’d even met up with Jiang Bing, she’d already tested the upper limit of her space. During practice, she pushed straight to that limit, then tried forcefully stuffing more things in.
For example, a roll of toilet paper.
A roll of toilet paper was, of course, very light. It went in successfully—the limit had been broken, just a tiny bit.
Then another roll.
Jiang Cheng wasn’t afraid of the stabbing pain in her brain.
There was something locked away in her mind—the memories of her previous life before she’d crossed over.
She even wondered: if she kept increasing the strain on her brain like this, would it shatter those chains?
Most people stopped when they started bleeding from the nose, or at most from the ears, once they recognized the danger.
But there were two maniacs here: Jiang Bing and Jiang Cheng.
Suddenly, Mo Li raised a paw and pressed it against her, then gestured with his claw toward her face. Jiang Cheng wiped her hand across her face and realized even her eyes were bleeding.
She went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror—she looked a bit eerie and sinister. If she went out at night to scare people, she wouldn’t be much less effective than a zombie.
Jiang Cheng suddenly paused.
She couldn’t help but wonder: what exactly was the connection between superpower awakening and zombification?
Both seemed to be changes at the genetic level, just heading in different directions.
From that perspective, could it be said that they were essentially the same thing at their core, rather than being different?
Jiang Cheng bent down to wash her face.
Mo Li stood guard on the sink counter.
For Mo Li now, the zombies in the complex didn’t make him tense at all—it was the human girl pushing past her superpower threshold that had the cat on edge.
Jiang Cheng dried her face with a towel. She looked up and caught sight of Mo Li, which sparked a new question—could her storage space hold living beings?
She reached out and placed her hand on Mo Li’s head.
Mo Li’s eyes rolled upward: “?”
Jiang Cheng rubbed the top of his head.
Of course, she couldn’t use Mo Li as a guinea pig—what if something went wrong?
That evening, Song Jingshuo called his parents.
He was very fortunate—neither of his parents had turned during either virus outbreak.
On his way home, he’d called them and told them not to go out and to quarantine themselves in separate rooms.
His parents were businesspeople—not enormously wealthy, but comfortably well-off.
They were now semi-retired, having bought a seaside villa to enjoy their golden years. Fortunately, they’d been at that villa during both outbreaks.
Since it was far from the city and shopping wasn’t very convenient, his mother had stockpiled a lot of food and supplies at home.
The villa complex had a very low population density, so there were very few zombies. During the first outbreak, the residents had banded together to clear the complex of zombies.
The community was originally a retirement village. After the first zombie disaster, many elderly residents had developed a new perspective on life and left to reunite with their surviving children.
The result was that the already low population density had become even lower.
During the outbreak, it was the ideal shelter environment.
Especially since, after the last disaster, Song’s mother had become even more convinced of the value of stockpiling and had bought even more supplies—she’d even purchased another freezer.
And after Song Jingshuo told his father about the massacre at Shanshui Yayuan, his father had rushed to install sturdy security bars and reinforced doors on their villa.
He’d also procured body armor, riot shields, and weapons.
Strictly speaking, riot shields and weapons were normally impossible for ordinary civilians to buy—they were controlled items.
But these weren’t normal times.
In the month following the first zombie wave, these items had flooded the market. They were supplies that had been distributed to civilians during the disaster and never collected afterward.
Song’s father didn’t even need to go into the city—he found them at the suburban markets.
Some of the armor still had unwashed stains on it.
The disaster had clearly passed. Even Song Jingshuo had thought at the time, “It’s over.”
But his parents wanted to buy them anyway, and they had the money. Song Jingshuo didn’t stop them.
Who would have thought the virus would strike a second time?
On the phone earlier, his father had kept asking: “Who is this friend of yours? How could she predict this? Someone with that kind of connections and background is no small matter—you stick close to her. That’s how you stay alive.”
What connections or background did Jiang Cheng have? None at all. She didn’t even have parents anymore—only a cat to pour her emotions into.
Song Jingshuo gave vague assurances.
But in his mind, he was thinking: how had Jiang Cheng predicted it in advance?
Everyone must have been wondering today, but they’d all held back from asking because there were more urgent matters at hand, and Jiang Cheng wasn’t going anywhere.
They’d ask tomorrow.
But Song Jingshuo was in a terrible mood.
Imagine your entire team suddenly gets promoted, and you’re the only one left at your original level—you’d feel pretty bad too.
Song Jingshuo had always believed that whether in intelligence, physique, or mental fortitude, he stood out among the crowd—he was a strong one. So how had everyone else evolved and left someone as exceptional as him behind?
Where had he fallen short?
His stomach growled—he was hungry.
Normally, he wouldn’t eat at this hour; it would interfere with his physique management.
But now with the zombies back, eating his fill was the top priority. He had to maintain his energy and stamina at all times.
Song Jingshuo opened the fridge and decided to cook himself some noodles.
Noodles, eggs—then he reached for some vegetables.
A small bunch of greens was tucked behind a head of cabbage. He reached out to move the cabbage aside.
His fingertip touched the cabbage.
…
Song Jingshuo held that position for a full half minute.
Because he simply couldn’t believe what he was sensing.
He couldn’t quite accept it.
Someone as comprehensively outstanding as him should naturally be part of the evolutionary wave—should naturally have superpowers.
He’d actually been thinking about it all evening.
He figured that even if he couldn’t get an obviously offensive ability like metal or fire, he should at least get something special like spatial or psychic powers. Failing that, he could grudgingly accept earth for its defensive properties.
At the very least, he could live with water, even if it didn’t seem very useful.
Because there was logic to it—water attracted wealth. People in finance believed in that kind of thing.
Song Jingshuo picked up the cabbage and stared at it.
But of all things, it couldn’t be wood.
Zhao Yi and Gao Yuxuan had been muttering all night: “Why isn’t there a wood type?” “Wood is the only one missing.”
In reality, Song Jingshuo thought the term “wood type” was just a convention from the five elements theory—a more intuitive and fitting name would actually be “plant type.”
Song Jingshuo focused his mind.
He stared unblinkingly at the cabbage in his hand as it began to change.
He felt absolutely terrible.
Because Song Jingshuo was the type of person who could do rapid mental calculations, analysis, and forecasting in an instant. He’d predicted the future applications of his newly awakened superpower in roughly one second.
After all, during the last zombie disaster, everyone had eaten so many canned goods they were practically eating dirt—all they wanted was a single bite of fresh vegetables.
This didn’t fit his vibe at all!
Song Jingshuo was so frustrated he pressed his forehead against the refrigerator door!
This superpower might as well not exist!
The next day was no longer overcast—autumn skies were clear and boundless, without a single cloud.
Everyone still alive at the youth apartment complex came downstairs to gather at the small plaza. This included Sister Pan, Manager Wang, Yang Xinyan, security guard Xiao Fang, and others.
Everyone still living in the complex.
When Jiang Cheng appeared, all eyes were on her.
They’d had to eliminate the zombies and secure living space yesterday, so everyone had held their questions all night, waiting for this moment.
Sure enough, someone in the crowd couldn’t hold back and shouted out: “Jiang Cheng—how did you know the zombie virus was going to break out again?”
The plaza fell silent instantly. Every pair of eyes was fixed on the young girl with the black cat perched on her shoulder.
Even Song Jingshuo, Jiang Bing, Zhao Yi—Jiang Cheng’s loyal supporters and trusted allies—remained silent. They also needed to know how she’d known.
This was a question Jiang Cheng had to answer.
Jiang Cheng said: “I didn’t know. I guessed.”
The crowd went quiet for a beat, then erupted into buzzing chatter. Of course no one believed that: “How could that be a guess!”
“Because yesterday’s situation was exactly the same as June 15th.” Jiang Cheng raised her hand and held up one finger. “First, the sky was purple. Second, I felt terrible in my head—like something was about to explode.”
She swept her gaze across everyone: “Didn’t any of you notice these two things?”
The crowd froze, exchanging bewildered looks.
“It was purple?”
“Yeah, it was purple—I saw it yesterday.”
“No, I mean on June 15th.”
“I don’t remember that.”
“Who remembers what the weather was like that day? All I remember are the zombies.”
“I remember a little—I brought an umbrella because I was worried it might rain. Yeah, I think so—the sky was purple on June 15th.”
When it came to that Saturday, June 15th, what people remembered more vividly was the sudden blackout and the terrifying shock upon waking up.
The weather that day was a blur in their memories.
The main reason was that no one had associated that day’s weather with the zombies at all. So even if they’d seen it on June 15th, their brains had filed it away as irrelevant information.
People couldn’t recall it—just like you couldn’t remember what you were doing on this exact day last year.
Memory was selective.
“No one remembers?” Jiang Cheng turned the tables and asked back. “On June 15th, I felt terrible in my head. Didn’t you? Didn’t everyone say yesterday that they felt the same?”
Zhao Yi and Gao Yuxuan glanced at each other. After a moment’s hesitation, Zhao Yi raised his hand: “Yesterday, we definitely had that feeling—like our heads were about to explode. But on June 15th, no.”
He asked: “Did you already have it on June 15th?”
The feeling of something about to explode in your head was awful.
But after it exploded, people gained superpowers.
Zhao Yi and Gao Yuxuan were especially interested in this, so they asked.
“Yes. I had it on June 15th too, and I specifically noticed how strange the sky’s color was that day. I heard someone say it looked like a thunderstorm was coming. Because of that, I went home early and didn’t stay out in the yard, so I survived—and that’s why I remember it so vividly.”
“Yesterday, I started feeling the same sensation in my head from the morning onward. But I didn’t realize it at first.”
“It wasn’t until I got off the plane and looked up at the sky that it suddenly hit me—the two things that had happened on June 15th were happening again at the same time.”
“Just like that?” someone asked. “What if it was just a coincidence?”
Jiang Cheng smiled.
“If it were just a coincidence…”
“Then it would have wasted everyone’s half-day of work and made you all come back for nothing.”
“Everyone would be angry—they’d curse me or mock me.”
‘This Jiang Cheng is crazy—does she want to be a leader that badly? She’s just grandstanding and spreading rumors.’
Jiang Cheng said: “The above—all those consequences—I can bear them.”
“But I am the kind of person,” she said calmly, just as she had every time she’d made decisions in front of the crowd during that month and a half, “who, even if there’s a high probability it’s just a coincidence—I will still send out that warning.”
“Because that’s who I am.”
“Otherwise, I wouldn’t be standing in front of all of you right now.”
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