It was the twenty-first day since the end of the world began.
The atmosphere in the canteen was split, half ablaze with hope, half frozen in despair.
Those who had managed to contact their families wore bright, hopeful smiles. Those who hadn’t were shell-shocked and devastated, their eyes red-rimmed with grief.
For adults, emotional collapse is the crushing weight of knowing their loved ones might already be dead.
A whirlwind of every possible outcome—both hopeful and horrific—swirled through their minds, and the silence was broken only by occasional sobs.
Finally, Meng Zizhao pulled himself together. His voice rang out, trying to steady everyone. “Good news or bad, our first priority is to survive.”
Yan Fengji was never one for many words. Most people knew him as a man of few words who rarely smiled.
Yet, during these twenty-some days, he had spoken more than ever before, taking charge to organize the group’s food, housing, and daily routines.
After Meng Zizhao’s encouraging words, Yan Fengji flipped through the pages he had written the night before and addressed the group.
“I’ll share what I’ve learned so far.”
“The military and police in Jia City are currently focused on clearing paths with heavy weaponry,” Yan Fengji said, his voice low.
He relayed the information his brother, Yan Mingkai, had shared with him, speaking quickly and precisely to the group.
“As we’ve all seen, many of the roads on campus are already overgrown with plants and impassable.”
“Based on the city’s green space ratio, it’s likely the roads outside the campus are also blocked or overtaken by mutated plants.”
“The pet ownership rate in the city is as high as 23%, and the number of stray animals is immeasurable…”
Yan Fengji looked up at his companions, who were listening intently. “The military and police are killing up to a hundred mutated animals per person each day.”
A male student seemed to remember something and said, his voice tight with fear, “I remember during our freshman military training, the instructor mentioned that the military district has many excellent military dogs…”
“Yes,” Yan Fengji replied softly.
He flipped the page, sharing the last few key pieces of information. Then, he sighed wearily. “The government and military have allocated personnel to various departments. Some are on the front lines fighting mutated animals, some are in the rear rescuing survivors, and others are in technical roles maintaining national communication signals.”
“Outside manpower is stretched thin right now. We can’t just wait around for the government to rescue us,” Yan Fengji said.
“We need to do everything in our power to save ourselves.”
Fang Yangyang watched him quietly. Just as the plot of the apocalyptic novel had described, Yan Fengji had begun organizing all the survivors at Xichi University after receiving information from the outside world. He was doing everything he could to prepare them for an eventual rendezvous with the military’s emergency rescue teams.
Dou Qing glanced at her, noticing her clear, bright eyes fixed on Yan Fengji as he spoke from the center of the group.
He reached out and took her hand. Sensing his touch, she relaxed and leaned against him.
Yan Fengji continued to speak, but Dou Qing had already tuned him out.
“What can we even do?” a girl asked, her voice trembling as she wiped away tears with her hand. She had already confirmed that her parents and brother had died during the animal mutations. Though she had wept uncontrollably over her loss, she now spoke with a brave, steady resolve, eager to do whatever she could for the survivors.
“…”
Yan Fengji was about to map out their next move.
“Let’s rest for a day first,” Fang Yangyang said suddenly. Her voice was steady and soft, like a gentle spring breeze.
Yan Fengji turned to look at her.
Her face was dry, no tears in sight.
As many of the others watched her with wet eyes, she remained resolute yet gentle. “Let’s rest for a day,” she repeated. “We all need it.”
Someone sobbed loudly, their nose running, while others’ choked sobs lingered in the air.
Yan Fengji stared at her for a long moment before nodding hurriedly. “Alright. Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”
***
Day twenty-two of the apocalypse.
The mutated bird flocks on campus had been mostly wiped out by technological means. This allowed the survivors holed up in the dorms to finally open their windows and communicate with the outside world.
In a few of the upper-floor men’s dorms, gaunt, pale boys opened their windows and saw the horrific scene below. Their faces turned ashen, and they immediately rushed to the sinks to vomit.
Their roommates, after twenty days of starvation and darkness, had seen their skin fade from a healthy wheat-brown to a sickly, washed-out pallor.
With over a dozen packs of instant noodles still piled in the corner, the two boys exchanged a wry smile. Only when the hunger became unbearable did they finally break one pack in half, mixing it with water before eating.
They weren’t the worst off in the dorms. In fact, in some ways, they were even lucky.
There were students on campus who kept pets, a few but still a significant number. Some hid cats from the housing inspectors, keeping them in secret. Others kept smaller animals like dwarf hamsters, easily tucked into pockets whenever the housing department came around.
When the apocalypse struck, these creatures lost their minds. Their bodies swelled, and their biting and leaping abilities far surpassed what they had been before. They mauled their owners and roommates, who were completely caught off guard.
The unlucky ones suffered bites to major arteries and bled out in shock.
The two boys shared a double room. As gaming addicts who stayed up all night, they got along well. Their habit of stockpiling instant food and bottled water in their room was what had allowed them to survive this long.
In the room next door, they had heard a series of blood-curdling screams on the first day of the apocalypse.
The roommates next door had been keeping a half-grown cat.
They dared not open the window or the door. Instead, they clung to each other for comfort, staying painfully awake until a drone circled overhead, signaling a glimmer of hope.
To ensure the drones could fly without being brought down by mutated birds, the Jia City Government had deployed advanced bird-repellent technology. The measure had been devastatingly effective, killing many of the birds on campus.
Only after the danger from above had subsided did they find the courage to open the window and look outside.
The mottled concrete ground was smeared with blood trails where beasts had dragged human corpses. Shreds of brightly colored fabric lay scattered, stark markers of death. Mutated birds, the size of ping-pong balls, fell from the sky like spilled beans. Their bodies had been swallowed whole by other mutated animals, leaving only scattered feathers behind.
The sight was enough to make them nauseous.
“Does your phone still have a charge?” the tan-skinned boy asked.
“Fifteen percent.”
“… ”
A heavy silence fell between them.
The pale-skinned boy wiped his face with clear water, his voice dry. “It’s a good thing someone notified us about the signal. Otherwise, we definitely would have missed the registration window.”
Their phone batteries had been critically low for days. The dormitory’s wiring was faulty, rendering their chargers useless. They had powered off their phones more than ten days ago to conserve the last bits of energy.
“When do you think the next signal will come?”
“I don’t know,” the pale-skinned boy replied with a bitter smile. He opened the window again, cautiously peering down. “We’re still a long way from Jiangpu Canteen.”
They had never planned to leave the dorm. Like so many others, they had clung to the hope that the government would send professional rescue teams to save them.
But the official announcement from the Jia City Government had shattered that hope. It had taken them twenty days just to organize enough manpower to establish a communication network using drones.
This meant the government was struggling just as much as they were.
“Lao Hei,” the pale-skinned boy said, turning to the tan-skinned boy with newfound resolve. “If we don’t hear anything in the next two days, we’re going down.”
The tan-skinned boy glanced at the dozen or so packs of instant noodles they had been rationing in the corner of the room, then nodded slowly.
He forced a smile. “Well, if we stay here, we’ll either be eaten by those things or starve to death.”
“Better to take our chances.”
***
Day twenty-four of the apocalypse.
An hour ago, the Minglong Drone arrived for its second mission, circling the skies above Xichi University.
The survivors from Jiangpu Canteen had quickly assembled a team and rushed toward Yinyue Stage. But before they could reach it, the campus broadcast system crackled to life, relaying a message from another branch station.
“This is the campus branch broadcast station located next to the Liberal Arts Building.”
“I am Lin Shihe, a criminal law professor from the Law School,” the older teacher’s voice was hoarse but steady.
“The Minglong Drone arrived over our campus half an hour ago. Everyone who hears this announcement should register their information immediately to contact their families.”
Yan Fengji’s team halted mid-path, listening silently to the instructions from the other broadcast station.
Lin Shihe continued quickly, “As you all know, there is a parking lot below the Liberal Arts Building. Thanks to a suggestion from Fang Yangyang, I have found the keys to my electric car. Anyone who needs to charge their phones or other communication devices can come to the Liberal Arts Building to find me.”
The broadcast system echoed across the vast campus. After a soft cough, the professor’s voice returned, this time warm and reassuring, carrying a faint smile.
“The mutated animals within one hundred meters of the Liberal Arts Building have been killed by myself and a few of my students,” he announced.
“Since we don’t know if their carcasses carry viruses or bacteria, we’ve covered them with sand. Please watch your step if you’re passing by.”
“Take extra care on the roads leading to the Liberal Arts Building,” he continued. “There may still be a few mutated animals we missed… Please, stay safe out there.”
He rambled on, his gentle words like those of a kind elder, making the listeners’ eyes well with tears. Even the toughest men among them couldn’t help but discreetly wipe their faces as they paused.
Yan Fengji remained silent. After Lin Shihe finished speaking, he steadied his own emotions and nodded to his companions. “Let’s keep moving.”
Their original reason for heading to Yinyue Stage had already been addressed by the other broadcast station.
But Yan Fengji still had a message to relay to everyone.
The Minglong Drone would again circle the campus for three hours.
Upon reaching Yinyue Stage, Yan Fengji established a real-time link with Yan Mingkai and learned more about the situation outside. He then broadcasted the information to all the survivors on campus one by one.
“…We still cannot determine the total number of survivors outside,” Yan Fengji said, glancing at the data Yan Mingkai had sent. According to those figures, social deaths and missing persons had already reached forty percent of the original population.
This was still a conservative estimate.
He decided not to share such grim news with the survivors. Besides grief and panic, it would bring them no benefit. He had learned this lesson from Fang Yangyang.
When broadcasting public announcements, conveying too much sorrow could be a crushing blow to the survivors.
Yan Fengji pictured Fang Yangyang’s bright eyes and recalled the clarity and warmth of her voice on the radio, even when she couldn’t reach her parents.
He paused, then continued over the broadcast system. “The Jia City Government is currently short-staffed. We need to prepare to rendezvous with the military and police rescue teams as soon as possible to minimize delays. We are asking all survivors who have the strength to spare to explore the surrounding areas and eliminate any mutated animals, provided you can do so without compromising your own safety.”
“Since we have not yet determined if these mutated animals are infectious, please bury their bodies after killing them. Do not use fire. The campus vegetation is growing uncontrollably, and a fire could easily spread.”
“…”
“The road ahead is difficult,” he concluded, “but we can still hope for dawn.”
***
Back at the Jiangpu Canteen, Yan Fengji sank into a chair, exhausted. He ate his steaming bowl of porridge with uncharacteristic haste, his posture slumped as he listened to the low murmur of his companions’ conversations.
He had led the team to Yinyue Stage today. Meng Zizhao had stayed behind to help cook in the canteen. Dou Qing and several others with more powerful abilities had gone out, returning with a small stash of food after killing several mutated cats and dogs.
Fang Yangyang sat in the middle of the group, reading a thick book aloud in a soft, gentle voice.
Meng Zizhao emerged from the kitchen, flames dancing on his fingertips like serpents as they licked away the damp droplets of water.
He glanced at Fang Yangyang, then turned to Yan Fengji. “She’s getting along well with them.”
“Yeah.”
Yan Fengji noticed that most of the people in that group had tried to contact their families again today, only to be met with the same grim results: either continued silence or confirmation of death.
Meng Zizhao leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. A complex expression crossed his handsome face as he muttered, “If I went over there, I’d just be in the way.”
Yan Fengji raised an eyebrow, his attention fully fixed on Meng Zizhao for once.
Meng Zizhao shrugged, a helpless yet honest gesture. “My family is safe.”
Yan Fengji fell silent.
He watched Fang Yangyang for a long moment. Her soft, delicate fingertips traced the page before she turned it, then she began reading the next passage with a gentle smile.
The companions gathered around her, men and women alike, mostly had reddened eyes. They had been nudged and pushed into this corner by others.
They were like small animals licking each other’s wounds.
They were huddled around a bright, warm sun, drawing strength from its heat.