Culling mutated animals was something people who grew up in peacetime had never done, yet it had become an unavoidable necessity.
When Yan Mingkai spoke with Yan Fengji, he shared information about the mutated creatures with extreme caution.
“We still haven’t confirmed the true cause behind the animal mutations,” Yan Mingkai said solemnly over the line.
“We can’t rule out the possibility that they carry viruses current medicine can’t treat. You understand what that means. If a human gets infected, it won’t be an easy fix.”
Safe disposal required physical or chemical means to eliminate the hazards posed by the carcasses.
Before the apocalypse, various technical methods had handled diseased livestock. Incineration and burial were among the most common.
On campus, however, combustible vegetation grew everywhere, posing a severe fire hazard. Without a suitable site and specialized equipment, incineration was clearly the worst possible option.
The earth-type ability users went to work.
As their companions used various methods to kill the ferocious mutated animals, they shifted soil and gravel, burying the carcasses beneath thick mounds that rose high above the ground like miniature burial mounds.
From a distance, the scene looked absurd. A campus that should have been brimming with vibrant life was instead cloaked in heavy shadows and smeared with blood, its grounds dotted with dirt mounds offering a final, dignified burial for the creatures that had once shared the space.
Nearly a hundred people were sheltered in Jiangpu Canteen, but only a small team ventured out each day to hunt down the mutated animals. Participation was purely voluntary. Those with powerful abilities who were willing to commit their time and energy stepped forward eagerly, volunteering to join the hunts.
Others had much weaker manifestations of their abilities, barely able to sprout a tiny leaf in their palms or summon a handful of clear water. Incapable of doing much in combat, they stayed behind to manage logistics in the canteen, determined not to hold the hunting teams back.
Fang Yangyang was one of those who refused to be a burden.
She obediently stayed behind in the canteen, waiting for her boyfriend, Dou Qing, to return.
Over the past twenty-odd days, their companions in the canteen had rarely seen Fang Yangyang use her ice ability. Whenever someone brought it up while Dou Qing was around, he would make a discreet hand gesture and shoot the speaker a warning glance.
Once Fang Yangyang stepped away, Dou Qing would sincerely explain that her ability was weak compared to others.
“Using it wears her out easily,” he would say.
His explanation resonated with everyone whose abilities manifested weakly, as they experienced the exact same exhaustion after using their powers. Just as people were naturally born with varying physical strength and intelligence, awakened abilities had distinct tiers of potency.
“I try not to let her use it because I don’t want her to exhaust herself.”
It sounded perfectly reasonable.
Faced with Dou Qing’s earnest explanation, the curious party would blush and apologize for prying.
After that, anyone who happened to pass by Fang Yangyang might catch a glimpse of a tiny, fragile sphere of ice resting in her palm. Because it was so small, it would quickly melt into wet droplets across her skin. Whenever she noticed someone watching, she would self-consciously tuck her hand behind her back, hiding it from view.
Over time, people stopped asking why she never used her ability.
“Think about it. You’re surrounded by people scoring eighties and nineties, and your boyfriend is sitting right next to you with a near-perfect score,” someone reasoned, aptly explaining Fang Yangyang’s reluctance to show off what she could do.
“A score of ten or so just looks embarrassing.”
“Don’t rub salt in the wound. Fang Yangyang has her pride, too.”
Eventually, Fang Yangyang blended in with the group and got along well with everyone. Unconsciously, no one wanted to wipe the bright smile off her face.
Twenty-six days after the apocalypse began, the nearly one hundred survivors sheltered in Jiangpu Canteen welcomed two more students who had managed to travel together from the dormitories. Drawing from over twenty days of survival, the newcomers shared what they knew about the remaining survivors in the dorm buildings.
“There are mutated rats near the trash cans by the dorms,” a pale young man said. Seeing so many people around him, he grew misty-eyed with relief and wiped away his tears before recounting what he had witnessed on his journey from the boys’ dorm to Jiangpu Canteen. “They’ve already bred several litters of pups.”
It was a genuinely revolting topic, and as the boy spoke, he looked ready to throw up. “Even the rat pups that were born had mutated.”
Nearby listeners were already covering their mouths, choking down waves of nausea.
“Besides rats, did you see any other animals breeding that fast?”
The tan student chimed in, patting the pale boy on the back. He accepted a cup of hot water from someone nearby and handed it to his roommate, who had been by his side through the past twenty-odd days.
“No,” he said. “I think the spay and neuter drive our school did before actually helped.”
The animal science department in Xichi University’s College of Agriculture had once carried out a campus-wide sterilization campaign for stray cats and dogs.
The university’s official social media account had even published several articles about it back then, recounting how the animal science students, with the help of volunteers, used treats and canned food to lure the strays into cages before putting them on the operating table.
The project had lasted for several years.
Thanks to those large-scale spaying and neutering efforts, the stray animal population on campus had remained well under control. Since then, any unneutered strays wandering in from outside served as practice for each incoming class of animal science students.
“Not many new strays make it onto campus each year,” Dou Qing said. Having done a project report on the topic, he knew the numbers fairly well. After thinking for a moment, he added, “Last year, it was fewer than thirty cats and dogs combined.”
“Thank goodness for the College of Agriculture and the vet students.”
“Damn, that’s a relief. I feel a lot better hearing that.”
The tan boy chimed in, “When Lao Bai and I came down, we took the stairs from the eighth floor.”
He paused, struggling slightly to find the words. “There are twenty rooms per floor. From what I could hear, about half of them had noises inside, and the other half were dead quiet.”
“The vending machines at the bottom of every dorm building…”
Having drunk some hot water, the pale boy felt much better, though he still let out a tired sigh. “We checked as we passed by. Most were smashed open, probably cleared out by survivors.”
Meng Zizhao listened to the information the two students from the men’s dormitory provided.
“How many people do you think are still alive in one building?” he asked suddenly.
Both boys froze.
After a long pause, they let out a breath and answered one after another.
“Put it this way. Starvation is unlikely unless someone was locked in and couldn’t break out. As long as there were no fatal injuries, anyone could survive the first four days on tap water alone, even without food.”
The human body had enough fat reserves to supply energy for several days, so water made all the difference.
“By the fifth day, once everyone developed an ability, those who ran out of food would tentatively venture out to forage. They would either search for gathering points of survivors, or find supplies and head straight back to their rooms.”
“…”
The pale-faced boy glanced down through the glass wall at the blood-stained concrete below, where bits of mangled flesh were faintly visible. He jerked his gaze back as if burned.
“Mutated rats, though, are impossible to defend against. If you let your guard down for a second, if the doors and windows aren’t locked tight and blocked off, they get inside, and you’re as good as dead.”
“I’d estimate that maybe half the people in a single building are still alive.”
Silence fell over the cafeteria at the news from the dormitories.
The moment Dou Qing heard those words, he turned to Fang Yangyang. She had been listening intently. Keeping her emotions in check, she whispered to him, “You also have to count the ones who fell sick out of nowhere.”
Dou Qing understood her meaning at once. He gently took her cool, soft hand, giving it a reassuring pat. Fang Yangyang offered him a faint, pursed smile in return, a sight that made his heart melt.
The two newcomers who had fled the men’s dorms to reach Jiangpu Canteen had also brought a grim warning: rats, known for their rapid breeding, produced mutant offspring after mutating themselves.
Eradicating the mutated animals would be far more difficult than they had thought.
That night, Dou Qing found it unusually hard to fall asleep. Turning on his side, he watched Fang Yangyang nestled under the blanket, breathing softly, her cheeks flushed with sleep. He brushed the back of his hand against her cheek, prompting a slight, sleepy furrow of her brow.
Dou Qing moved carefully, rising from the mat with cautious, quiet steps. He had barely walked a few paces when Fang Yangyang murmured softly from beneath her blanket, “Where are you going?”
Still half-asleep, she blinked drowsily at him and started to sit up.
“Nowhere. Go back to sleep.”
Dou Qing rested a hand lightly on her shoulder, using barely any force, but she let herself flop back down onto the soft blanket with a soft thud. Her starry eyes fluttered half-open. “…Come back soon.”
He gave her a gentle nod of agreement.
He walked over to the canteen sink and splashed cold water over his face. Letting the cool droplets slip through his fingers, he leaned back against the wall, his gaze turning cold and distant as he stared out through the glass.
Danger lurked everywhere, pressing closer by the day.
Dou Qing tilted his head back, pinching the bridge of his nose as he let out a low, weary sigh.
Meng Zizhao’s voice suddenly drifted over, equally quiet. He had not been able to fall asleep at this hour either.
Earlier that afternoon, Meng Zizhao and his teammates had killed several mutated weasels that might have wandered in from the nearby back hills. By the time they returned, weasels had been officially added to the list of beasts they needed to hunt.
Come evening, seemingly untired, he eagerly headed to the back kitchen again to help the cafeteria staff prepare dinner.
“Not asleep yet?”
Dou Qing looked up with cold, distant eyes. Meng Zizhao rinsed his hands under running water, a faint, easy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
It was hardly a friendly opening, but with most people already asleep, his expression held no real provocation either.
Dou Qing merely nodded. “No.”
Meng Zizhao looked him over, his brows lifting slightly as if a thought had just crossed his mind. “You and Fang Yangyang haven’t even been together a month, have you?”
Dou Qing’s expression remained flat, though he put his guard up instantly. “And?”
“Nothing,” Meng Zizhao gave a bright laugh, nodding with polite courtesy. “Just curious.”
Before turning to leave, a faint smile still lingered on Meng Zizhao’s face, his eyes gleaming as he glanced toward the corner where Fang Yangyang and Dou Qing had settled.
“She seems to really like my cooking, by the way.”
“…”
By the time Dou Qing returned, half an hour had passed.
Curled beneath her blanket, Fang Yangyang stirred at the sound of his footsteps. Still half-asleep, she lifted the edge of the blanket and patted the empty space beside her. “Lie down.”
In the dim room, she could only make out the young man taking off his gold-rimmed glasses, a faint gleam catching the lenses and refracting a subtle, rainbow-like shimmer.
Without another word, he reached out and gently, loosely gathered her into his arms. “Is there anything you’d like to eat?” he asked softly.
“Huh?”
Wrapped in her blanket, Fang Yangyang blinked in confusion at the sudden question. Still, she mumbled, “I haven’t had fruit in so long.”
“All right.”
The next day, Dou Qing set out from the canteen with a team of companions. When they returned, they brought back a substantial haul of badly needed supplies.
Word had it they had deliberately walked several kilometers to a campus supermarket located in one of the academic buildings. Unlike the stores near the dormitories, which survivors had quickly picked clean, this one remained largely untouched.
Those who went out on supply runs were entitled to a larger share than those who stayed behind.
Yan Fengji was cataloging the day’s supplies with a few others. As he wrote, Dou Qing’s voice came from in front of him. “Put these down for me. I’ll take these two bags.”
Yan Fengji paused his pen and glanced at what Dou Qing had chosen: two bulging bags of freeze-dried fruit.
Dou Qing looked calm, offering a polite nod.
Yan Fengji agreed. As he crossed the items off the list, Dou Qing picked them up and walked straight toward Fang Yangyang.
He thrust the bags into her bewildered hands, looking rather sheepish. “There’s no fresh fruit right now, so you’ll have to make do with this for now.”
Fang Yangyang was speechless.
Tao Zhi could not help glancing at Dou Qing, then shifted her gaze to Fang Yangyang, who was utterly stunned.
Fang Yangyang’s eyes were large and bright, framed by long, dark lashes, holding an innocent charm. She looked blankly down at the freeze-dried fruit in her hands, then back up at him.
“Huh?”
Tao Zhi fought back a laugh, exchanging a knowing wink with the girl beside her.
Dou Qing crouched down, opening a bag for her with a warm smile. “Go ahead and eat. If you can’t finish it, share some with your friends.”