Team Two, led by Meng Zizhao, made no rush to leave the Yinyue Stage.
After Fang Yangyang had broadcast a message to the entire school in her gentle, soothing voice, Dou Qing checked the time and suggested they take a break to eat. They had already gathered enough food from the Jiangpu Canteen convenience store before setting out.
The broadcasting room offered a few chairs and foam mats on the floor. The girls took the seats, while the men sat cross-legged on the mats. With the doors and windows shut and the hallway brightly lit, they had also blocked the door with heavy objects to prevent any mutated animals from getting in. Only then did they finally relax and start eating.
Fang Yangyang slowly tore open the plastic wrapper of her bread, the plain wheat variety she preferred. She sat in a chair, her slender ankle brushing against Dou Qing’s arm. Looking down with quiet focus, she took a bite of the bread and let out a contented sigh. “Delicious.”
In their current situation, food was a precious commodity, and they cherished every bite. Meng Zizhao finished his portion in a few mouthfuls. Leaning against the wall, he looked at the group. “When we go back to Jiangpu Canteen, I plan to stop by my dorm.”
Meng Zizhao had no intention of dragging the others to his dorm. This was a personal errand, and he didn’t want to burden them.
Fang Yangyang looked up at him as Dou Qing’s warm palm reached out to take the empty bread wrapper from her. She snapped back to attention, obediently placing the plastic in the young man’s broad hand.
Their return route took them past several of Xichi University’s famous landmarks and through a few scattered dormitory areas. Meng Zizhao’s dorm building happened to be right on their path.
One of the men spoke up bluntly, “Brother Meng, do you have any spare clothes in your room? If you do, can I have a set? I haven’t changed out of these clothes in days.”
“I’m requesting a set, too,” another added.
Several of the men with similar builds chimed in. As they spoke, they couldn’t help but lean down and sniff their own clothes.
Though it was only September and staying inside the canteen without any intense activity meant they barely sweat, today’s round-trip trek had been different. They had been on high alert the entire time, and the sweat had poured off them. The stench was far worse now.
Meng Zizhao replied cheerfully, “Of course. I have plenty of clothes in my room, most of them never even worn.”
Soon, the group finished their meal. They used the Yinyue Stage’s equipment to broadcast their next move:
“This is the Yinyue Stage near Jiangpu Canteen. We are preparing to leave and return to Jiangpu Canteen.”
“We look forward to seeing you all soon.”
***
As the final broadcast ended at the school hospital, the black loudspeaker fell silent. Yan Fengji’s team prepared to leave. They had secured all the available medicine and swept the staff lounge.
Inside a cabinet, Wen Qing found several clean women’s jackets, likely left behind by a female doctor as spares.
Unable to contact their owner, Wen Qing—a doctoral student living off-campus—stared at the clothes. Her own outfit hadn’t been changed in days, and the sight of the fresh jackets tempted her.
Noticing her hesitation, Yan Fengji said, “Take them. You can properly compensate the doctor later.”
He pulled out his phone and snapped a photo of the nameplate on the cabinet. “I’ve got a picture, so you can find this doctor later. Go ahead.”
His decisive tone and efficiency banished Wen Qing’s last doubts.
She was still wearing the lab coat from several days ago, now dusty and gray. She had a regular outfit on underneath, so she immediately swapped it for one of the new jackets.
As she was changing, Yu Zhi called out, “Fengji, catch!”
A lab coat from the school hospital was tossed into his arms.
“You’re tall,” Yu Zhi said. “This one should fit.” Yu Zhi and Sun Ya were barely over 170 centimeters, while Yan Fengji stood well over 185. The coat was too large for them to wear comfortably, but it would be perfect for Yan Fengji.
The handsome young man lowered his gaze and shook out the clean lab coat his senior had found in the staff lounge. He thanked them quietly and swapped his soiled coat for the fresh one.
The crisp, white fabric enhanced his striking features. He straightened his sleeves and collar, then shoved his hands into his pockets. After a final scan of the room to ensure no medicine or equipment had been left behind, he signaled to the group, hoisted his backpack, and prepared to head back.
***
At the Jiangpu Canteen, hours after the first and second teams had departed, the remaining survivors heard the familiar voices of their companions over the school’s broadcast system.
The voices of the girls from the Broadcasting Department, Meng Zizhao, and Fang Yangyang…
In the terrifying reality of the apocalypse, their voices breathed new life and hope into everyone who heard them.
“The Yinyue Stage is working,” someone remarked. “That means anyone who reaches the other campus broadcast stations can communicate with everyone through the school system.”
“Yeah, that’s exactly right.”
“If they could fix the broadcasting system with a lightning ability , then cell service must be back soon, right?” someone asked, their voice laced with hope.
“Maybe,” replied a man whose expertise was in communications. He smiled wryly but kept his tone gentle so as not to dampen the mood. “Restoring service nationwide will be a huge challenge. We’ll need technicians working around the clock to repair the infrastructure.”
Under the current circumstances, the Mutated Flora and Fauna had severely disrupted human travel and daily life.
After all, Fang Yangyang had described the obstacles they faced on their way to the Yinyue Stage: massive tree roots had swollen, claiming most of the concrete roads. Efficient transportation was a crucial pillar of communication.
“…”
The people in the Jiangpu Canteen waited through the morning and afternoon. By evening, they finally welcomed the first and second teams back.
The first team, sent to the school hospital, arrived first. They set down all the medications and equipment. Wen Qing took a thermometer and approached the student from the sports institute, signaling for him to hold it under his arm.
She recorded his temperature and condition, then lowered her voice to discuss his status with Yu Zhi and the others.
Finally, the student from the sports institute was given fever-reducing medication. The rest of the supplies were carefully stored away.
The second team returned an hour later than the first. By then, the evening sky had grown dark.
“Did the students who went to Yinyue Stage have a smooth trip?” one of the canteen aunts asked, her voice laced with worry.
“Why aren’t they back yet?”
It wasn’t just the cafeteria staff who were anxious. They had all been together for days, forming close bonds. The rice porridge was cooked, but no one even touched it, their gazes fixed on the view beyond the glass walls.
Yan Fengji furrowed his brows, his eyes following the crowd’s stare to the darkness outside.
He rubbed his fingertips. A vine slowly coiled around a nearby object, mirroring his restlessness. Wen Qing held her bowl, absently scooping a spoonful of porridge as she shifted in her seat. Her eyes were also fixed outside, but she glanced at Yan Fengji.
He’s clearly troubled, she thought, seeing his ability leak out.
The tip of the vine swayed, a subtle but telling reflection of his master’s complicated mood.
Wen Qing wondered what was wrong, but the thought vanished as quickly as it had come, eclipsed by her own growing anxiety.
The clock ticked by, the time dragging from five thirty to six thirty in the evening.
Finally, faint sounds drifted in from outside. At the head of the group, a young man approached the cafeteria, his figure clean and handsome in clothes different from the ones he had worn that morning.
It was Meng Zizhao.
The second team consisted of a dozen people, but Yan Fengji ignored the others. His gaze was fixed on Fang Yangyang in the center of the group.
She was holding Dou Qing’s hand, her cheeks flushed pink. She wore an oversized, masculine jacket.
Yan Fengji stared in disbelief. Meng Zizhao returned to the cafeteria, beaming as he pulled a bundle of spare clothes from his backpack—the one he had taken from the dormitory earlier.
Meng Zizhao hadn’t been carrying that bag when they left that morning; Yan Fengji was certain of it.
Meng Zizhao distributed the extra clothes to the men whose size and build were similar to his own. Because he and Yan Fengji were friends, he also offered him one. “Here, want it?”
Yan Fengji didn’t refuse the gesture. He took the garment, glancing at it briefly. It was an expensive sweatshirt, though such a price was normal for a wealthy scion like Meng Zizhao.
Meng Zizhao hummed a tune, sitting nearby and happily sipping the porridge a teammate had served him.
Fang Yangyang sat beside Dou Qing. The oversized men’s jacket she wore made her look like a pretty girl sporting the “boyfriend style” trend.
Dou Qing’s expression was subtle.
Without thinking, Yan Fengji and Dou Qing locked eyes. Dou Qing’s lips twitched into a joyless smile.
A girl next to Fang Yangyang asked curiously, “Yangyang, whose jacket is that?”
“Meng Zizhao’s,” she replied without looking up, focused on her food. “He has so many clothes in his dorm, so I just took one to wear as an outer layer.”
Meng Zizhao beamed.
The other girls from the second team had also taken several men’s jackets from Meng Zizhao’s closet. All of them still had their tags attached. It was inevitable; the wealthy scion lived in a single room and had bought so many clothes he’d never even worn most of them.
Almost everyone in the second team had taken spare clothes from Meng Zizhao’s wardrobe to change into. He had been exceptionally generous and sincere, readily giving the clothes away to everyone.
That evening, Dou Qing helped Fang Yangyang lay out a small blanket, patting it until it was soft and fluffy. He also heated a water bottle Meng Zizhao had lent her, using his fire superpower to warm the cold water before filling it.
Fang Yangyang set aside the jacket that now belonged to Meng Zizhao, ready to cozy up in the blanket.
Dou Qing offered to fold the jacket for her. She obediently nodded and let him.
As Fang Yangyang savored the soft warmth of the blanket, Dou Qing calmly turned over the collar of the men’s jacket.
There was no tag.
The jacket also smelled faintly of detergent, which was completely different from the new, tagged clothes the other girls from the second team had taken.
This was a jacket Meng Zizhao had actually worn.
Dou Qing folded the jacket with a cold, precise efficiency, then controlled his expression as he turned to ask her gently, “Yangyang, do you like the style of this jacket?”
Her cheeks were flushed pink as she sleepily rubbed her eyes, her voice sweet and laced with a hint of confusion. “What?”
“Hmm, it’s okay, I guess. Meng Zizhao gave it to me. He said it’s comfortable and thick, and that I can wear it when the weather gets colder later.” She looked at him, puzzled. “Is something wrong?”
Dou Qing narrowed his eyes without a trace of emotion. The smile remained on his face as he reached out and gently pinched her cheek. “It’s nothing. I was just asking.”
Fang Yangyang let out a small yawn and tugged at his hand, signaling for him to open his arms and let her lie down.
It was a natural gesture, a pose of complete ease and familiarity.
Dou Qing’s heart melted. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. He pulled the small blanket over them as they settled in to sleep, huddled together.
He decided he would find an opportunity the next day to ask for the jacket, at the very least swapping it for a brand-new, tagged one that Meng Zizhao hadn’t worn.
He woke the next morning with this plan in mind. But before he could act, he had to watch helplessly as Fang Yangyang, looking delighted, wore her “new jacket” and lined up for milk with the other girls she was familiar with.
Meng Zizhao, who was distributing the milk, glanced at Fang Yangyang and raised an eyebrow with a bright smile. “Here, Yangyang. Your milk.”
Then he added, “You look quite good in that jacket.”
Fang Yangyang accepted the milk carton, not quite understanding why he had made such a strange comment. Out of politeness, she finally managed a small, “Um, thanks?”
“You’re welcome.”
A radiant smile curved Meng Zizhao’s lips.