September 1973. The tail end of summer, the beginning of autumn.
The journey from Jiangcheng had been a grueling odyssey. They had traveled by green-skinned train, steamboat, bus, and tractor, eventually resorting to scrambling up mountains on all fours.
After four days and three nights, their feet blistered, their palms raw and bruised, and their backs aching with every step, they finally arrived at the Xiufeng Mountain Farm, perched fifteen hundred meters above sea level.
Tao Nanfeng stood frozen before a row of thatched huts.
The settlement lay in a hollow, cradled by mountains on three sides. The huts were crude structures of mud and straw, their walls porous and their roofs thatched. There were no windows. The doors, cobbled together from mismatched planks of wood, creaked on their hinges in the mountain wind.
In the open space before the huts, a makeshift stove of haphazardly stacked bricks stood in place of the coal stoves they were used to. There was no electricity, no wiring—only a wilderness of overgrown weeds and desolate vistas.
There was no running water. Behind the huts, a mountain spring bubbled down into a large, moss-covered stone vat. When the vat overflowed, the water spilled down its sides, striking the ground with a steady, rhythmic drip, drip, drip.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” someone muttered. “This is our Zhiqing Settlement?”
“What kind of hellhole is this?”
“How are we supposed to live in a thatched hut? The conditions are atrocious!”
Clang!
A mesh bag slipped from someone’s hand, and a white enamel basin decorated with a red peony rolled across the dirt, its metallic clang jarring and harsh in the silence.
The jarring clang startled Tao Nanfeng from her stupor. She steadied her breathing, her gaze fixed on the thatched hut. A storm of dread surged within her.
She had seen this exact hut in her dreams the night before—every detail, every imperfection, was identical. But in her dream, the flimsy structure had collapsed during a violent storm.
She remembered the chaos: a beam crushing someone’s leg, a door plank striking another’s waist, the screams of the injured and the desperate cries for help as rain poured down on them all.
Suppressing her panic, Tao Nanfeng took a half-step back, clutching her rattan trunk and duffel bag.
A pair of soft, warm hands steadied her from behind. It was Xiao Aiyun, the girl who had sat beside her for the entire journey. A child of the Jiangcheng Towel Factory, Aiyun was delicate-featured with slender brows and a bright, lively spirit. When she smiled, two small canines peeked out, a charming trait that matched her cheerful, talkative nature.
Seeing Tao Nanfeng’s face drained of color, Aiyun spoke softly. “Don’t be scared, Nanfeng. We’ll just make do for one night, and tomorrow we’ll report the situation to the farm headquarters.”
Tao Nanfeng didn’t speak. She merely pressed her lips together and gave a slight, hesitant nod.
To the others, Tao Nanfeng was a vision of striking beauty. Her hair was tied into two braids with red silk ribbons, and her pale pink floral blouse was neat and pristine. Her eyes were large and luminous, framed by long, dense lashes that cast soft shadows against her cheeks like delicate fans. Her features were so exquisite they commanded attention, drawing every eye.
Beautiful things always bring a sense of joy. The educated youth, who had been complaining just moments before, found their anger and frustration gradually subsiding as they listened to Xiao Aiyun and watched Tao Nanfeng nod in agreement.
With the sky darkening, they had no choice but to rest. Everything else would have to wait until tomorrow.
Twenty of them had come in this group from Jiangcheng, all seventeen- or eighteen-year-old high school graduates. The thatched hut had three main rooms: one at the eastern end for the four girls, and the other two for the sixteen boys.
As twilight fell, the interior of the hut felt desolate. Wind whistled through the cracks in the walls, and the earthen floor still faintly smelled of damp soil.
There were no desks, no wardrobes—only a single, large communal platform bed that could hold eight people. It was a crudely made thing, cobbled together from a dozen mismatched wooden planks. A thin layer of dust coated the surface, clinging to their fingers as they touched it.
They filled their washbasins with icy spring water, tidying their belongings as best they could. They washed their bodies with the cold water and changed into clean clothes. By the time they were finally settled, darkness had completely swallowed the landscape.
Shhh… shhh…
The wind blew through the gaps in the walls, making the thatch rustle.
Wooo—
The mountain wind swept across the ridges and through the pine forests, producing a low, mournful howl that chilled them to the bone.
Croak… croak…
The frogs began their chorus, the sound swelling in volume until the entire mountainside seemed to vibrate with a high-pitched resonance that made their ears ache.
Roar—
A massive beast’s cry tore through the night, and the frogs fell instantly silent.
The darkness amplified their terror. The girls trembled in their beds, huddled under their quilts without daring to utter a sound.
Then, someone started—a soft, stifled sob from beneath the covers. “I want to go home.”
Home. Tao Nanfeng thought of her own.
She had lost her mother at seven. When she was ten, her father remarried, bringing in a stepmother and a daughter who was just two months older than Tao Nanfeng. The girl’s original name was Wang You, but she had voluntarily changed it to Tao You.
Her father was a professor at Jiangcheng University of Architecture, a man of aloof integrity. Her stepmother, a sewing machine factory worker, was diligent and virtuous, tending to the family’s every need with meticulous care.
Tao You had been the one to sign up for the countryside assignment. But before they were set to leave, she had fallen and broken her collarbone. Tao Nanfeng had been forced to take her place.
Exhausted, stranded in a harsh environment, and completely alone in an unfamiliar land, Tao Nanfeng felt as if she were drowning. Her chest tightened, making it impossible to breathe.
She reached out, clutching the jade buckle hanging around her neck, and whispered, “Mom…”
The jade buckle was a translucent, vivid green—the only keepsake her mother had left her.
Moonlight streamed through the cracks in the wall, pooling on the floor like water. As it touched the jade, the buckle seemed to pulse with a life of its own, casting a soft, shimmering glow that enveloped Tao Nanfeng.
Suddenly, she was pulled into a strange, unfamiliar dream.
This was not the world she knew. This was the apocalypse.
A zombie virus had ravaged humanity.
Eighty percent of the population had been infected, transforming into stiff-limbed monsters that bit anyone they saw. The remaining twenty percent had evolved into Ability Users, each gifted with unique, supernatural powers.
The monsters multiplied, and the survivors fled in a tide of panic and despair, their faces etched with the terror of the unknown.
Tao Nanfeng found herself swept up in the stampede. She looked around frantically, but no one noticed her.
“Run! The zombies are eating people!”
“Help me! I don’t want to become a monster!”
She tried to escape, but her legs felt heavy. The crowd surged ahead, leaving her behind as the horde of monsters closed in.
Her heart hammered against her ribs. Fear and desperation drove her to run, to push her body to its absolute limit.
The last of the air was squeezed from her lungs. Her throat burned as if on fire, and her legs felt like lead.
Tao Nanfeng couldn’t run anymore.
“Ah!”
A sharp, excruciating pain shot through her hand.
The dream shattered.
Tao Nanfeng’s eyes flew open, her skin slick with cold sweat. In the dream, a monster had bared its fangs and sunk them into her left hand. The pain—the feeling of flesh tearing and bone being punctured—had been agonizingly real.
The first light of dawn filtered into the thatched cottage, streaming through cracks in the walls and roof. The soft glow seemed to soothe her, gently easing the panic that gripped her.
It was just a dream, she told herself, just a dream.
Subconsciously, she lifted her left hand to examine it.
A black tooth mark stared back at her.
How was this possible? Tao Nanfeng rubbed her eyes, convinced she was seeing things, but when she looked again, the mark remained. It was in the exact same spot as in the dream. The skin around the bite was laced with a wispy black aura, and the slightest touch sent a searing, burning pain through her arm.
She bit her lip, frozen in shock for a long moment.
After a long while, her heartbeat finally slowed. She got off the bed, crossed the room, and opened a woven chest in the corner. From it, she withdrew a dark red silk scarf and wrapped it tightly around the back of her hand, completely concealing the mark.
A strange sense of power flowed through her body. She felt as if she were immersed in warm water—comforted, light, and weightless.
Something was awakening within her, and the world around her seemed to shift.
Birdsong echoed in the air, and a gentle breeze stirred. The sounds of the room—the steady breath of her roommates, the distant murmur of conversation outside, the rhythmic drip of a spring—all reached her ears with startling clarity.
Before she could process it all, Tao Nanfeng bent down to grab her basin and cup for her morning wash.
But as her fingers touched the basin, the enamel rim snapped.
She reached for the handle of the cup, and with the slightest pressure, it broke clean off.
Clang!
The basin and cup crashed to the floor, the noise echoing through the room.
Her roommates stirred, poking their heads out from under their blankets. Seeing only Tao Nanfeng by the fallen basin and cup, they shrugged it off as a clumsy accident and yawned themselves awake to start their own routines.
Tao Nanfeng stood frozen, staring at the broken shards of enamel and the severed handle clutched in her hand.
Where did this strength come from?
She carefully tested her grip, learning to control her power. After managing to wash up without further incident, she waited until the rest of the group was ready before heading toward the farm headquarters.
The night had passed, and the unsettling chorus of wild beasts and frogs that had kept them all on edge had completely vanished.
The air was sweet with the scent of grass and trees. In the distance, plumes of cooking smoke rose from peasant homes. On the hillsides, Moonlight Fields—terraced patches of land—were planted with corn and rice, their edges blooming with purple wild peas.
It was a picture-perfect pastoral scene.
The farm headquarters sat on a wide, flat clearing. A two-story brick-and-concrete building served as the main hub, with an external corridor. The ground floor housed the offices, while the second floor was residential. To the east stood a row of single-story cement buildings, which served as the warehouse and cafeteria.
As they entered the headquarters’ courtyard, they ran right into Office Director Luo Xuan, who was emerging from the eastern building with a loud, satisfied burp.
The group had been eating dry rations for days. The aroma of rice porridge and steamed buns wafting from the cafeteria made their mouths water. They looked at Director Luo with eager curiosity. “Is that the cafeteria? Can we eat there?”
Luo Xuan was a tall, thin man in a faded white undershirt and trousers patched with blue cloth at the knees, a picture of rustic frugality.
He glanced at them sideways, his expression arrogant. “This is the headquarters’ cafeteria. It’s not open to the public. Every Zhiqing Settlement has its own kitchen. Once you get your rice rations, you can start your own cooking group.”
His words acted like a spark, and the resentment they had suppressed all night erupted in a collective outburst.
“Kitchen? You mean those dirt stoves in the middle of the dirt lot by the thatched huts?” someone shouted. “They don’t even have a tarp to keep the rain off! What are we supposed to do when it pours?”
“And where is this rice you’re talking about?” another chimed in. “You know the saying—people are iron, rice is steel. I’ve eaten nothing but steamed buns for three days on the way here, and finally, we make it to the farm, only to be denied a single bowl of hot food!”
“Those thatched huts are drafty all over,” another added. “How can we live in them when it rains? They’re completely uninhabitable.”
“We’ve traveled thousands of miles to support the farm’s development,” a voice declared. “The least you can do is provide basic living conditions.”
Luo Xuan’s expression hardened. “What is all this noise?” he snapped. “These are the farm’s conditions. You’ll just have to toughen up and adapt. If you don’t like it, I can issue your repatriation notices right now! We’ve had five batches of educated youth sent here by the Revolutionary Committees and Sent-down Youth Offices, and none of them were as arrogant as you lot.”
Repatriation?
A chill went through the group. Being sent down to the countryside required layers of scrutiny and approval. To be repatriated early meant one had committed a grave political error, resulting in a permanent black mark on their permanent file.
And a black mark meant their futures were ruined.
The educated youth fell silent, none daring to speak.
Seeing he had successfully cowed them, Luo Xuan softened his tone. “You’re all new and don’t understand the situation yet,” he said. “Let’s get your registration sorted first. We can work on improving the conditions gradually.”
After his staff finished processing the registration for all the newcomers, Luo Xuan finally volunteered a few details. “You’ll receive a sixteen-yuan monthly subsidy, but you must earn ten work points per day. As for how those points are calculated… that’s up to each production team’s record-keeper.”
With that, he picked up a list of names from his desk and began issuing work assignments one by one.
The men were all assigned to Production Team No. 3. They were to start work at 8:00 AM, bring their own dry rations for lunch, and finish at 5:00 PM. Their current task was harvesting corn.
The four women, however, were given different assignments:
Tao Nanfeng and Xiao Aiyun were sent to the road construction team.
Li Huilan and Ye Qin were assigned to the pig farm.
The announcement sent a shockwave through the group.
“Why is the women’s work harder than the men’s?” someone exclaimed.
“They’re weaker and smaller—how can they build roads or raise pigs?” another cried out. “I’ll swap with them!”
“Yes, let us do it!”
Luo Xuan, feeling his authority as Office Director challenged, slammed his hand onto the desk.
“Enough with the complaining! There’s no such thing as high or low-status work. Women can hold up half the sky! The decision is final. Now get to work, or you won’t get any rations today.”
Wei Min rolled up his sleeves, about to speak again, but his companions held him back.
Xiao Aiyun, on the verge of tears, clung to Tao Nanfeng’s arm, her lips trembling. “Road construction? I don’t know anything about building roads!”