Three hours was neither particularly long nor short.
Through their tears, the survivors used this window of opportunity to register their information on the emergency rescue portal temporarily set up by the Jia City Government, whether they had managed to get in touch with their families or had confirmed they were lost.
Listening to the mix of weeping and joyful cries around them, Fang Yangyang touched Dou Qing’s arm. Once he looked over, she said, “We need to make a trip to Yinyue Stage.”
“Yinyue Stage?” Dou Qing echoed.
Looking into her damp eyes, he caught an unreadable emotion.
“There must still be people who don’t know about the drones,” she said. Her demeanor was far calmer than that of the emotional companions around them.
She had even considered details no one else had the time or presence of mind to think about right now.
When crisis struck, people were mostly selfish, quick to weigh the pros and cons. Time was extraordinarily precious to them at this moment, and no one would voluntarily offer to go inform other survivors who might still be unaware.
Twenty days had passed since the apocalypse began. Some people might have dead phones and no lightning-type ability user around to help. Without a campus-wide broadcast, they could easily miss this rare chance.
Dou Qing quickly understood her point.
“All right, I understand,” he said, nodding.
He walked over to the young man who had finished charging everyone’s phones. After a brief, quiet conversation, the youth nodded in comprehension.
Everyone was desperate to reach their loved ones. Even if the calls failed to connect and messages went unanswered, they still used these brief three hours to try relentlessly.
Fang Yangyang looked across the room at Yan Fengji and the others, who were busy trying to contact their families.
Yan Fengji glanced up, catching her eye and offering an instinctive smile, his eyes rimmed with red.
She looked away, not wanting to intrude on his call home.
Half an hour later, Meng Zizhao looked around the cafeteria and realized with a start that several people were missing.
He counted heads and asked those nearby what happened. Wen Qing, blowing her nose into a tissue, answered, “Fang Yangyang and Dou Qing went outside with a few others.”
“Went outside?” Meng Zizhao looked baffled. “What for?”
“To the Yinyue Stage,” Wen Qing said, pursing her lips as she nodded apologetically. “I didn’t ask for details. I was too busy trying to reach my family to pay attention to anything else.”
It was only human nature, and entirely understandable. Just moments ago, Yan Fengji, Meng Zizhao, and the others had been doing the exact same thing.
Meng Zizhao’s brow furrowed. Doing another quick head count, he realized that in addition to Fang Yangyang and Dou Qing, they were also missing the lightning-type user, an electrical engineering student, and several companions with particularly potent abilities.
Across the room, Yan Fengji was still on the phone with his older brother. A look in his direction revealed a calm, focused expression, suggesting their conversation was serious.
Taking the most efficient walking route, it would take forty-five minutes to get from Jiangpu Canteen to the Yinyue Stage.
Time ticked away. By the time they reached the stage, only an hour remained until the Minglong drones were scheduled to circle the campus.
The broadcast equipment powered on, sending a series of electronic beeps echoing across the grounds.
Still on the line with his brother, Yan Mingkai, Yan Fengji listened to a concise summary of the situation outside. At the sound of the static and beeps, he instinctively turned his gaze toward the speakers.
A familiar, pleasant voice rang across the entire campus.
“This is the Yinyue Stage near Jiangpu Canteen. I’m Fang Yangyang, and the time is now 2:53 in the afternoon.”
“Two hours ago, Minglong drones entered the airspace above our campus. The Jia City Government advises all survivors to log on to the Jia City emergency rescue website and register their information.”
Many people had praised her voice before. It was sweet and gentle, carrying an unforgettable clarity amplified over the speakers. Yan Fengji listened in a daze, forgetting for a moment that he was still on the phone with his brother.
“If your phone has run out of battery, please don’t panic,” she continued. “Students without battery power can head to the campus parking lot in groups and use electric car batteries to recharge.”
“If your phone is charged and you meet someone who hasn’t registered yet, please help each other out.”
“Anyone close to the Yinyue Stage is welcome to come charge your devices here. We currently have a lightning-type ability user with us.”
Having finished her announcement, Fang Yangyang handed over the microphone.
The young lightning-type user took it and spoke in a brisk tone. “I’ll be waiting right here for everyone until the drones head back.”
“There’s still an hour left. If you need to charge your phone, hurry over.”
Yan Mingkai had also heard the campus broadcast.
“Is that a girl from your school?” he asked.
Snapping out of his thoughts, Yan Fengji replied, “Yes.”
“She’s a good kid, remembering to notify the entire school,” Yan Mingkai said with admiration. “Can you get in touch with her? If so, let her know that after the drones return today, they will circle over the campus again in the future.”
“Do you know when the next time will be?”
Yan Mingkai let out a raspy laugh. “Power is scarce right now. Once the drones return, it will take at least three days to recharge them before they can be used again. Luckily, a few technicians in the military have awakened lightning abilities and can help.”
A rare trace of exhaustion crept into his brother’s strained voice. “We’re desperately short on hands, and several leaders are gone. The road ahead is tough.”
In the background, Yan Fengji could hear intermittent gunfire and the heavy thuds of mutated animals being brought down.
“I can’t give you a definitive time for the next wave of drones,” Yan Mingkai said. “Everyone is doing everything they can to save lives.”
On the twentieth day of the apocalypse, the broadcast from the Yinyue Stage ran for over an hour.
Wen Qing listened as familiar voices—Fang Yangyang, Dou Qing, and the lightning-type young man—repeatedly advised the surviving teachers and students across campus on what to do next.
“The drones have begun their return flight,” Fang Yangyang’s voice sounded warm and bright. “Those who couldn’t reach their families and friends, please don’t lose hope. We just received word from Yan Fengji. He wanted everyone to know that the drones will fly over the Xichi University campus again soon.”
“We can’t confirm the exact time, but they will definitely return.”
“When that happens, we’ll come back to the Yinyue Stage to let you know.”
A young man’s low murmur came through the audio equipment. “Drink some water and take a rest.”
Someone else took over the microphone, though no one spoke right away. The only sounds from the booth were rustling footsteps and the scraping of chairs.
Sitting in her chair, Fang Yangyang slowly sipped her water. Her gaze drifted toward the horizon outside the broadcasting room. A sliver of bright light hid behind the thick cloud cover, tinting the gray haze like a dab of vibrant watercolor.
A melancholic look settled over her face. The lightning-type youth stole a glance at her, feeling a pang of sorrow at the dimness in her eyes.
Dou Qing crouched beside her, speaking in a gentle voice with a smile on his face. Looking up at the beautiful girl, it seemed as though she was the only bright star in his eyes.
After broadcasting the final announcement, they shut down the equipment, and the campus sank back into silence.
By the time the group returned to Jiangpu Canteen, dusk had already fallen, and the hazy dark of night was settling in. An ability user holding a flame aloft led the way, looking from afar like a beacon guiding them home. Along the way, they had even scavenged food from automated convenience lockers in the academic buildings.
Weariness showed on the faces of everyone returning to the cafeteria.
Earlier that day, the cafeteria aunt had managed to get in touch with her daughter. Overwhelmed with joy and relief, she had spent a long time wiping away tears, repeatedly whispering her gratitude to the country. Come evening, she and a few students prepared dinner, waiting for the team to return before serving the meal.
After finishing a conversation with his senior, Wen Qing, Yan Fengji turned to see Fang Yangyang holding a small bowl, quietly sipping her congee.
The items scavenged from the convenience lockers included vacuum-packed marinated eggs and preserved eggs, which were handed out one per person. Those who had gone to the Yinyue Stage received two.
After a moment of thought, Yan Fengji walked over to her. Dou Qing immediately eyed him with vigilance.
“Did you manage to reach your parents?” Yan Fengji asked.
Fang Yangyang tilted her face up, her eyelashes fluttering gently.
“No,” she said. “They’re both abroad. I don’t even know if they have a signal over there.”
Huaguo’s disaster relief mobilization was remarkably swift, with soldiers throwing themselves wholeheartedly into rescue efforts on the roads. That was the speed of Huaguo, but no one knew how efficient foreign operations were in comparison.
Dou Qing watched her intently. Fang Yangyang’s moist eyes brimmed with anxiety, yet when she noticed his concerned gaze, she managed a faint smile. It looked like an attempt to comfort herself, tinged with weary helplessness.
Yan Fengji was at a loss for words, looking at her in silence. After a long pause, he finally said, “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Fang Yangyang replied, lowering her head as she slowly stirred her porridge with a spoon.
Pretending nothing was wrong, she added, “Since I can’t reach my parents anyway, I might as well head to Yinyue Stage to notify the others.”
An awkward tension settled over them. At a moment like this, Yan Fengji truly had no idea what to say. He had successfully contacted his family, but she had not. Anything he said risked sounding insensitive.
In the end, he could only give her a deep, lingering look. He lifted a hand, tentatively wanting to comfort her, but drew back under Dou Qing’s frosty gaze.
***
Late that night, Yan Fengji was still awake.
Leaning against the wall with his phone flashlight on, he jotted down notes about the information he had gathered from his conversation with his brother, Yan Mingkai.
The military district kept military dogs, all of which had mutated without exception, causing casualties among the troops.
According to past pet ownership surveys in urban populations, the household pet ownership rate had reached twenty-three percent. Beyond mammals like cats and dogs, which made up the vast majority, there were also reptiles, birds, fish, and insects.
From what Yan Mingkai had told him, mutated insects posed far less of a threat to humans than bloodthirsty mammals.
Yan Fengji marked the threat level for “mutated insects” as low.
His phone battery was down to fifty percent.
After jotting down the last few words, he put away the pen and paper and switched off the flashlight.
In the dim cafeteria hall, some people tossed and turned, unable to sleep, while others were sound asleep, snoring heavily.
He swiped his phone screen and opened a chat box.
At 3:20 this afternoon, while the drone base station above the campus was still operational, he had sent a message to Fang Yangyang:
[Drones will return over the campus in the near future.]
Fang Yangyang had replied quickly with a simple [Okay.]
After that, they had heard her on the broadcast telling everyone not to panic, even if they could not contact their families on their phones right now.
Her voice was always sweet, brimming with hope and a gentle warmth that set listeners at ease.
Yan Fengji looked calmly at the chat window. Just above their recent exchange sat a message he had sent her twenty days ago:
[I’m at the milk tea shop in Chengyi Square. Is there anything you’d like to drink?]
She had never answered.
Soon after, she got together with Dou Qing.