With food secured and water taken care of, the oppressive, lifeless atmosphere in the school eased considerably.
Tang Mo returned to her regular routine: on Mondays, she went down to the water to try her luck at fishing, secretly storing whatever she caught in her personal space; from Tuesday to Friday, she went to the laboratory.
During the day, she trained her mental strength while multitasking, and every evening and weekend, she worked on her physical fitness. Her handling of the knife had become smoother than before.
As Tang Mo constantly monitored her body’s various attributes, she finally noticed a pattern. According to her training method and intensity, on average, her health, strength, and other attribute points would each increase by one per week, while her mental strength could increase by three points.
Tang Mo was not greedy—this pace was fine. After all, most people didn’t even know that their attributes could improve. She had already taken the lead.
Although the attribute increases were small, each one was noticeable. Her body felt less fatigued, her running speed improved, and wielding her knife became easier. Every signal told her that she was growing stronger, giving Tang Mo a strong sense of security.
Another night, Tang Mo was drenched in a thin layer of sweat from her usual training. She put down her knife, sat on the ground, and began eating spicy hotpot skewers.
Boom… boom… boom…
The sound of helicopter rotors reached her. Tang Mo was very familiar with this sound—it had been the same the day the government issued ID watches to those trapped in the mist.
The helicopter had come again, though who it was delivering to so late at night was unclear. The Mist Zone was sealed off, but that didn’t mean supplies couldn’t be smuggled in. Whoever could manage this operation had serious backing.
Tang Mo had heard rumors before, but this was her first time witnessing it. She quickly packed her belongings and the half-eaten skewers, then stood up and scanned the area for anyone nearby.
In such an empty place at night, people would naturally avoid being seen. The person retrieving the items was probably nearby.
“Yeah, a little further east… yes, exactly there… throw it carefully this time. Last time I had to run 800 meters chasing it,” a voice said.
Tang Mo, whose vision and hearing had been enhanced, slowly approached the person on the phone.
When she saw the person’s back…
Tang Mo froze.
It was Qinling.
Her heart pounded wildly in her chest. She tried to calm herself, but her efforts were futile. Qinling had been the person she liked in her previous life.
They had met much later, during the fifth month trapped in the school. During a major crisis, they had been stuck together for a full week. She had no food at all, and Qinling had some, though not much. They managed to survive that week, and afterward, Qinling always gave her food during missions, regardless of whether she wanted it.
She never understood how Qinling had so much food—it certainly wasn’t from the school’s rations.
In the following two months, although it was never explicitly stated, they were essentially together. Qinling, usually playful and unserious, had been unusually earnest about one thing:
“Tang Mo, once we’re out, I’ll take care of you. I’ll take you home.”
When the mist cleared, they first returned to their respective homes, agreeing to meet the next day. But after Tang Mo returned home and learned that her mother had passed away and Uncle An had taken over, she discovered Qinling’s family background—exceptionally good, one of the three major powerhouses in the Alliance, even surpassing the Wens.
Qinling was so good—what was Tang Mo in comparison? She had lost her mother, her space, sold her rare treasures carelessly, and her attribute points were too ordinary to even protect herself. What right did she have to go home with Qinling?
Later, Tang Mo blocked Qinling’s communications, even as he desperately issued Alliance missions to find her. She lived like an ant, hiding in small teams that didn’t require registration.
As a once-coddled prodigy, she no longer had much pride, but she still had a bit of self-respect. Self-respect was useless in survival, but it was what she had to rely on to make it through her next life.
As a child watching TV dramas, Tang Mo never understood why terminally ill female protagonists would sneak away alone. She thought it was pretentious. But then she understood: in front of the ones you love, anyone would want to leave themselves a bit of dignity.
“Who are you?”
Qinling frowned upon seeing the girl standing behind him. What bad luck—he couldn’t move the supplies now. When had she gotten there? His mind raced.
The girl stood silently, and he couldn’t dwell too much; he bent down to find the packages. To avoid being seen, he could only have a helicopter drop them at night—making the search tedious.
“Do you want me to help? I have sharp eyes,” Tang Mo offered.
“What’s the condition?” Qinling raised an eyebrow. Since she had already seen him, there was no way around it.
“One meal. I’ll come to you when I have no other choice.”
“Deal.”
Tang Mo’s vision, enhanced by her mental strength, surpassed Qinling’s. Qinling, trained in martial arts, relied on strength and agility, not vision.
Before long, Tang Mo found four of the five packages; Qinling found the fifth. All accounted for.
Qinling didn’t expect the short-haired girl to help him so efficiently.
“You’ve got skills,” he said, taking a package from her.
“What’s that smell?” Passing by Tang Mo, Qinling sniffed carefully.
“Spicy hotpot?” His gaze lingered.
He leaned in closer…
Tang Mo let him look, not stepping back. He hadn’t paid attention earlier while searching. Now he realized the girl was genuinely pretty. Most importantly, her face was still rosy and glowing, not at all like someone who had been starving.
“Got something good, huh? How about we trade? I promise you won’t lose out.”
Qinling, though trapped in the school, was well-informed. Through his family’s network, he knew all about the outside world—space powers, rare treasures, nothing surprised him.
“You’ve got a dog’s nose?”
Tang Mo rolled her eyes. How could he still sniff it out after so long? She dug out the remaining half bowl of skewers from her space.
“I’ve eaten some. Want it?”
Her space ability would inevitably be exposed sooner or later. She had already prepared a story: before the famine, she discovered her space power and stored some food. In school, she couldn’t reveal it yet—everyone still had strong collective morals. Outside, no one would naturally share their food—who’d think that was normal?
Qinling’s mouth could be trusted. Though casual in speech, he was serious when it counted.