Anyang’s plan was quickly finalized. Based on the area of land and the amount of food in Wen Qing’s space, the plan was extremely detailed.
By the third month of the famine era, the school had basically run out of food. The students were starving, with nothing left in their bellies.
To ease the situation, the plan changed the daily meal distribution from once a day to twice a day. Each person still received only one steamed bun per meal, but vegetables would now be supplied as well. Water remained limited to half a bottle per person. Since Wen Qing’s Pond in her space was only an estimate, they had to conserve it, just in case.
Because the current environment made food spoil quickly, it was decided to keep everything inside Wen Qing’s space and only take out what was needed each day.
“Wen Qing, does this plan look okay to you?”
The school leaders first reviewed the plan Anyang had prepared. Once they were satisfied, they showed it to Wen Qing.
“Do as you’ve plan, that’s fine. But I have one request.” Wen Qing looked at the plan and shook her head. The food in her space was renewable, so she didn’t care much.
“There are some people at school I don’t get along with. I don’t want them to eat my food. That’s okay, right?”
“No problem. It’s your food, so naturally, you have the right to decide,” Anyang replied.
He thought Wen Qing was just acting like a little girl, picking at a few people she didn’t like.
But unexpectedly, Wen Qing took out her phone, added Anyang as a friend, and sent him a list of more than 30 names.
Looking at the list, which included boys, girls, teachers, and students, Anyang was speechless—but he still agreed. All he could do was quietly find ways to supplement those on the list.
The meeting lasted five full hours. By nine o’clock that evening, the school officially posted an announcement in the group chat.
A few lines explained Wen Qing’s space, followed by the changes in food distribution.
Two meals a day? Half a bottle of water?
Seeing this, everyone was ecstatic. Some even had tears in their eyes. Could it be… they were really saved?
Anyang tagged Wen Qing in the group:
“From now on, all our resources come from Wen Qing. We are grateful for her selfless contribution, which allows everyone to survive.”
It must be said: Anyang had a precise understanding of human psychology. Once tangible benefits were in front of them, no one cared if Wen Qing might have a hidden agenda.
“Who would’ve thought Wen Qing could be so selfless?” Li Lanlan commented, her eyes wide as she joined the flurry of messages.
Song Qing and Tang Mo stayed silent. Sharing a lab with Wen Qing, Song Qing knew her true nature, and Tang Mo knew even more.
Selfless? Maybe. But perhaps not entirely noble. Wen Qing craved glory and the feeling of being adored—caring about everyone’s survival was probably secondary. Lanlan was overthinking it, but regardless, Tang Mo was grateful that the food was being shared. Not everyone would reveal their secret to earn a good reputation. Without Wen Qing, in Tang Mo’s previous life, many at the school wouldn’t have survived.
However, the next day, Tang Mo’s mood soured a little.
“Did you miscalculate? We’re missing a portion,” Song Qing, as dorm leader, noticed while checking the distributed food.
“That’s correct,” one of the student leaders handling the distribution checked the list.
Food was precious now; they wouldn’t make mistakes.
“You have a dormmate named Tang Mo, right? There’s no portion for her.”
“What? But our Tang Mo is from T University! Why are we treating her differently?” Li Lanlan exploded first.
“I don’t know. If there’s a problem, go ask Anyang yourself,” the boy replied, pointing toward the flag platform.
“Thanks, got it,” Tang Mo said, stopping Lanlan from rushing forward to argue.
“Forget it, Lanlan. It’s not worth it. If the food belongs to Wen Qing, it’s her decision,” Tang Mo said.
In her previous life, Tang Mo hadn’t known Wen Qing, so she had never missed out on food. This time, due to the butterfly effect, she met her early in the lab, and Wen Qing didn’t like her for some reason.
Tang Mo thought carefully. She didn’t have much interaction with Wen Qing. In her previous life, Wen Qing had excluded anyone who offended her from receiving food. Even telling Anyang wouldn’t help, since the food was technically Wen Qing’s personal contribution, not the schools.
Tang Mo couldn’t guess the real reason: she drew too much attention in the lab because of her looks, and the senior students were more attentive toward her.
“That’s too much. You didn’t even offend her. Could it be jealousy because you’re pretty?” Lanlan pouted, unknowingly hitting the truth.
“Eat mine. There’s plenty, and I’ll divide some for you in the dorm later,” Tang Mo said.
“I’ll share mine too. Lanlan and I will split it evenly—that’s three portions,” Song Qing added.
Tang Mo still had food and water, but now she had some fresh vegetables.
Vegetables? How long had it been since they’d eaten fresh vegetables? Their skin had dried to the extreme.
“Great! From now on, I’ll be eating yours. I’ll take care of you two,” Tang Mo laughed. Her relationship with her roommates had become mutually caring, and this was well within reason.
Regarding Wen Qing’s hostility, Tang Mo merely felt a small sense of helplessness but didn’t take it to heart. She was pragmatic: Wen Qing could give her things to whomever she wished. Besides, whether past or present, Tang Mo had been consuming her space’s resources. Although she disagreed with Wen Qing’s personality and behavior, she couldn’t speak badly of her. Not bad, just childish. This kind of character would be taught life lessons by the apocalypse.
Since Wen Qing’s space was made public, she never returned to the lab. She only walked around the playground twice a day during food distribution, always followed by two male students from the physical education department.
The two boys had been assigned by the school leadership. They were there to protect her because school order was chaotic. A moving granary like hers was too valuable to risk. “Protection” was really just another form of surveillance.
Wen Qing didn’t care. She strolled happily, asking people questions:
“Is the food good? Is the water okay? Are you happy now?”
The people she asked were left speechless. It felt like a government inspection, all flattering words on the surface while secretly cursing inside.
Everyone appreciated the food, but Wen Qing’s self-important, godlike attitude made it impossible for anyone to truly respect her. Yet all they could do was complain quietly—if she found out, she might add them to her blacklist. At this point, no one could afford to offend Wen Qing.