The third day of the apocalypse.
It was eight in the morning, but the sky outside remained dim. Trees had grown monstrously large, their canopies blotting out the light. Birds were hidden among the branches, and the blood-and-flesh scraps on the ground had long since been swept away by the wind or devoured by scavenging birds.
The cafeteria’s doors and windows were all shut tight, preventing mutant animals from slipping inside. To these starving creatures, the nearly one hundred people trapped within the cafeteria were a feast.
Animals that had once been harmless, even cute and cuddly, had suddenly mutated, evolving abilities they had never possessed before. It was as if a lion had escaped the zoo and wandered into a human settlement.
Everyone feared the beasts’ predatory instincts, terrified they would be the next victim.
Yan Fengji and his group had come from the lab building. Having pulled an all-nighter there, they had all brought their phone charging cables. When they left the lab, they also remembered to pack their personal belongings.
The canteen’s power was intermittent. Phone chargers plugged into the wall outlets might not even gain ten percent charge in an hour.
But some charge was better than none. Yan Fengji’s phone had gained eighteen percent in the two hours he’d plugged it in. Now at seventy percent, he unplugged the cable and offered the outlet to another student with the same phone model.
With no signal on campus, no one fought over the charging ports. They simply borrowed cables, charged their phones until they had enough power, and then stepped aside for the next person.
Yan Fengji scrolled through his phone, quietly browsing messages from the day before the apocalypse.
There were texts from his parents and brother sent before the signal died, along with pop-up news from various social media platforms—celebrity gossip, social issues, and more. At a glance, it felt as if he were still in the world before the end.
His senior sister approached from behind and asked abruptly, “What do we do next?”
Yan Fengji didn’t hesitate. He tapped his screen off and turned to her, noting her pale, exhausted face.
“We’ll see as we go,” he said calmly.
She managed a fleeting smile, her gaze drifting to Fang Yangyang a short distance away.
“That girl is really cute, isn’t she?” she remarked, a rare hint of cheer in her voice.
Yan Fengji silently followed her gaze. Fang Yangyang was talking to another girl. Her eyes were clear and strikingly beautiful, even in the dim indoor light.
“It was a good thing she said what she did yesterday,” his senior sister said, a hint of approval in her eyes.
“In a situation like this, calming everyone down is crucial.”
Of course, Fang Yangyang’s words had worked for other reasons too. Everyone here was a Xichi University student, part of the nation’s academic elite. Given enough time, they could recover from an emotional breakdown after a global catastrophe.
“Yeah,” Yan Fengji replied simply.
By the third day of the apocalypse, no new survivors had joined the seventy-nine people in the canteen.
That evening, after a hot, filling meal, someone suggested they all introduce themselves.
The idea was quickly approved. They began going around, from left to right.
Aside from the cafeteria worker, all seventy-nine people were students. This made sense, as this area was primarily undergraduate dorms. Even the professors who lived on campus didn’t stay in this section.
“I’m Dou Qing,” the young man beside him said, adjusting his glasses. “Third-year Bioinformatics.”
Beside him, Fang Yangyang propped her chin in her hand, her eyes bright and round. Her voice was melodious. “I’m Fang Yangyang. Second-year German major from the Foreign Languages Institute.”
Though they hadn’t mentioned being a couple during their introductions, everyone had known they were together for days.
Meng Zizhao leaned lazily against the wall, watching as the introductions reached Yan Fengji. Yan Fengji calmly stated his major and year.
In a way, Yan Fengji didn’t even need to introduce himself, Meng Zizhao thought idly. Everyone already knows who he is.
Lost in thought, he didn’t realize the room had gone quiet until he noticed everyone staring at him.
He grinned sheepishly, his smile bright and genuine. “I’m Meng Zizhao. Second-year pilot.”
“I wasn’t planning to go out for training that morning,” he said, shrugging.
When someone asked what kind of training he did, his canines showed as he smiled.
“Just spinning in a centrifuge. The kind of thing you have to train for if you want to fly.”
By the time he’d finished his “stand-up routine” and explained his major and year, the tension in the room had finally broken.
***
The introductions were over.
Yan Fengji had now recorded the name, age, and major of all seventy-nine people in the cafeteria.
Medical students, bioinformatics, German, aviation, long-distance and short-distance running… he had transcribed everyone’s information onto the paper.
Meng Zizhao strolled over, swinging the food inventory sheet he had just registered with the cafeteria aunt the day before. With a soft thwack, he pressed the paper down in front of Yan Fengji.
Yan Fengji looked up, his expression neutral, his gaze lingering on the page.
“The food will hold for a while,” Meng Zizhao said.
As Yan Fengji had been registering the survivors’ information, some had even stepped forward to correct the spelling of their names. Documenting the survivors’ data would be helpful for future inventories and settlements.
Meng Zizhao’s voice was just loud enough for those who wanted to hear it. Those who didn’t, who preferred to stay away from the “decision-making center,” simply curled up in the corners of the room, remaining silent.
Yan Fengji nodded. “I know.”
“Actually, there’s one more food reserve,” Meng Zizhao continued.
Their gazes fixed on the iron gate. The convenience store wasn’t open twenty-four hours a day; students who regularly ate at the Jiangpu Canteen knew the owner only arrived to open up at seven in the morning.
The gate was locked tight. Without professional tools to cut through the iron shutters, forcing it open by hand would be no easy feat.
They exchanged glances, none of them speaking.
Conserving their strength was the priority now. Unless they were truly desperate, breaking into the convenience store wasn’t an option they could consider yet.
As they talked, they listed the remaining food in the cafeteria and coordinated with the cafeteria staff on the next day’s rations.
It was only natural that Yan Fengji and Meng Zizhao had become the central figures among the nearly one hundred people.
First, Yan Fengji and his senior classmates were medical students, capable of saving lives in a crisis. No one was foolish enough to offend them. Since Yan Fengji had also emerged as the unspoken spokesperson for his group, everyone tacitly accepted him taking charge of the registration and record-keeping.
Second, Meng Zizhao’s group of seven were all students from the same college and major. Meng Zizhao himself was somewhat well-known on campus for his cheerful personality and wide social circle.
Most students were happy to befriend him. His approachable demeanor quickly won over many people.
Third, of the seventy-nine survivors, anyone not in these two core groups consisted of scattered strangers. They had no prior connections and, in just three days, could not have forged any deep emotional bonds. It was human nature to follow the crowd.
Seeing two prominent figures organizing, calculating, and making decisions through friendly consultation gave the others a sense of stability and security. Those willing to offer suggestions did so, while those who preferred not to intervene remained silent, and everyone naturally fell into place.
***
Evening had passed, and it was already eight o’clock.
Dou Qing’s phone still had over thirty percent battery. Earlier that morning, when there was still a faint light outside, he had gone to the glass wall to take photos of the visible mutated animals.
With no network, he couldn’t create a group chat. Instead, he sent the photos via Bluetooth to Yan Fengji’s senior fellow student, Yu Zhi, who would then forward them to Yan Fengji and the others.
The flickering incandescent lights of the restaurant were a bit glaring, but no one wanted to turn them off.
As night fell, the glass walls could block the mutated animals’ attacks, but they couldn’t completely silence the sounds from outside.
The sharp cries of birds, the rustling of leaves, the howls of cats, and the barks of dogs, all harsh and piercing. Amidst these sounds, Dou Qing zoomed in on a photo, his brow furrowing deeply as he spotted a crucial detail.
Fang Yangyang had been watching the photos with him.
Suddenly, she let out a small yawn. Dou Qing’s furrowed brow instantly smoothed. He edited the photo, marking the key area, and gestured to Yan Fengji’s senior fellow student nearby.
The senior fellow student, a doctoral candidate nearing thirty, walked a few steps toward him.
“Senior, could you please turn on your Bluetooth?” Dou Qing asked. “I need to send you this photo.”
Wen Qing nodded, her gaze drifting to Fang Yangyang, who was leaning against Dou Qing. The girl’s relaxed, languid posture seemed to be contagious, and Wen Qing smiled.
“Yangyang, are you sleepy?”
“No, not sleepy,” Fang Yangyang said, shaking her head and rubbing her nose. She gave the senior a sweet smile. “I just yawned.”
Dou Qing sent the photo to Wen Qing, then lowered his voice to share his theory about the mutated animals. Wen Qing nodded in understanding, saved the image, and said they would discuss everything further tomorrow.
“Here,” Wen Qing announced, her head bowed as she forwarded the photo to the others who still had battery.
“Dou Qing found something. Turn on your Bluetooth if you can.”
Yu Zhi and Sun Ya received the file first. When it was Yan Fengji’s turn, Wen Qing noticed he seemed distracted.
“Fengji?”
“Yes, okay.”
Yan Fengji’s gaze slowly returned to the present, his thoughts still lingering on the image of Dou Qing and Fang Yangyang from a moment ago. With sluggish movements, he enabled his Bluetooth and received the photo.
A red circle highlighted a key detail on the image. Yan Fengji stared at his phone screen, unable to snap back to reality. A flicker of frustration crossed his handsome, cool features, and the soft murmur of Fang Yangyang’s voice as she spoke to Dou Qing seemed to echo in his ears.
“You holding me like this is much more comfortable,” she had said, her voice soft and sweet.
“I know,” the young man had replied, his tone indulgent. “Keep your coat wrapped tight so you don’t get cold.”
When Yan Fengji had looked up again, Fang Yangyang’s face was already hidden from view. He could only see Dou Qing’s back as he leaned against a chair, holding his beautiful, delicate girlfriend in his arms.
Inseparable and deeply entwined.
Yan Fengji let out a cold, mocking chuckle. He turned off his phone, leaned back in his seat, and closed his eyes in bitter frustration.