“It’s like this,” An Yang began, speaking calmly. “You’ve all seen the latest news today. It’s not just the crops in the soil—any food exposed to the air is now rotting at an accelerated rate. The cafeteria’s stored vegetables and meats have all spoiled and are inedible. So, it’s not that we’re refusing to cook for you—there simply isn’t anything left to cook.”
A male student in the crowd shouted, “Then at least make sure we’re full! One bun isn’t enough!” His voice immediately drew agreement from many other boys.
At eighteen or nineteen, boys typically have the largest appetites, and one bun was definitely insufficient.
“Today you get two buns, but by tomorrow, no one will get even one. All food is strictly rationed. Do you think your request is reasonable, or is it a bit selfish?” An Yang fixed his gaze on the boy who had first spoken.
Tang Mo couldn’t help but admire him. Standing on a moral high ground, he made the boy who spoke out look unreasonable in front of everyone. Young boys couldn’t handle such scrutiny—the boy’s face flushed red, and he couldn’t say another word.
With the leader gone, the others fell silent and obediently lined up to take their allocated portions.
The buns were freshly made, and the pickles had been prepared earlier. Due to their nature, the pickles hadn’t spoiled immediately, though their taste had declined slightly. This was why the school hurried to distribute them—Tang Mo believed if the pickles were still sealed, the school wouldn’t have allowed such large portions per student.
Sitting at her desk, Tang Mo bit into the snowy-white bun as if savoring a gourmet delicacy. The water on her desk was from the water room, cooled from hot water.
Tang Mo knew the water would only be fully contaminated after three days. For now, it was still drinkable. Even though she had plenty of bottled water saved, she hesitated to use it.
“Mo Mo, I really wasn’t wrong about you—you’re a pig! You can even make a bun look delicious!” Li Lanlan exclaimed, utterly impressed.
Originally, she had intended to pair her sausage with the bun from her small stash. Seeing Tang Mo and Song Qing enjoying their buns, she gave up the idea and resigned herself to the buns, fighting for them as if her life depended on it.
“Cherish it. Someday, there may not even be buns left,” Tang Mo said calmly.
“Ah… no way!” Li Lanlan wailed, clutching her bun tightly.
At night, Tang Mo continued her routine training. Day after day for an entire week, she practiced mental power during the day and physical training at night. Horse stance, running—nothing was skipped. She also practiced with her knife. Even just the simplest movements, when consistently practiced, brought immense benefits.
Although she couldn’t yet feel improvements in strength or vitality, her skill with the knife steadily improved. Initially, the knife would slip from her grip after a few swings, but soon it stayed firmly in her hands. While not yet agile, she believed consistent practice would make her proficient soon.
However, nightly training revealed a problem. The school provided meals at 10 a.m. and 4 p.m. For students lounging in bed all day, that was sufficient, but for Tang Mo, who exercised heavily at night, it wasn’t enough.
As nights grew longer, she adjusted her schedule so she could return to the dorm by around 10 p.m., quickly closing the door to eat a bowl of instant noodles.
This extra meal caused trouble for her roommates, who had to endure hunger and watch Tang Mo eat.
To solve this, Tang Mo began eating her extra meal in the small hidden area behind the warehouse, ensuring she was full before returning to sleep.
Tang Mo felt guilty about this, but seeing her physical endurance improve daily brought her joy. She could only accept that her increased physical ability came from being well-fed.
Her nightly absences were explained as video calls with her mother, who worried about her. To avoid disturbing her roommates, she went out to video call. Li Lanlan and Song Qing were aware of her family situation but never pried, so her story went unquestioned.
Life passed quietly. Though trapped at school, students had classmates, teachers, and the internet to connect with family, so it wasn’t truly lonely. The food was lacking but enough to survive, and people adapted surprisingly quickly.
On the 32nd day of the Great Famine, the government officially released the ID Watch, powered by 5D virtual technology. The watch recorded each person’s physical condition and vital signs, aiding national population management and information dissemination.
In the future, people could receive all major news directly on their ID Watch. They could also create contact books, make real-time 3D video calls with family and friends—far more convenient than phones.
Of course, these were just the basic functions. Later, the Alliance would add real-time strength rankings, allowing strong individuals to become heroes and role models.
Tang Mo, however, valued two functions most:
Currently, Tang Mo could only see the icons for these functions—they weren’t yet active. During her previous life, official information on treasures only came two months into the apocalypse.
Once bound, the ID Watch locked to the wrist. Only a government agency with specialized tools could remove it. It was waterproof, shockproof, and damage-resistant. Tang Mo had grown accustomed to the watch, feeling uneasy without it.
The government ensured everyone received one, requiring ID authentication to claim relief food. For those trapped in the mist, helicopters dropped large quantities of watches. Though risky due to the mist, the sturdy watches could withstand the fall.
“Why throw watches but not food?” Li Lanlan complained, picking one up.
“Maybe they’ll drop food in a few days,” Tang Mo replied, adjusting her watch. She wasn’t joking—once desperation set in, someone at the school would act. T University had many people with influence, and global famine meant outside authorities couldn’t intervene. Yet power always found its exceptions.
Shortly after the watches were distributed, the school’s food reserves faced a crisis. Even with careful rationing, the month’s supply was dwindling. The administration, worried, held several meetings with An Yang and other leaders, ultimately reducing meals from two per day to one.
The school didn’t explain much and caused little stir among students. Most were already mentally prepared: food isn’t infinite. Sooner or later, supplies would run out—it was only a matter of time.
Fortunately, bad news didn’t follow immediately. Students noticed their previously blank “personal physical condition” sections on the watch were now displaying data.