Chapter 224: "Jing Shu, Please Think of a Solution"

Through her observations inside the spatial storage, Jing Shu discovered that leeches had an insatiable appetite for larvae, devouring them in large quantities. After the apocalypse, while some species went extinct, others—often insignificant before—evolved and thrived, with invasive species rising as well. Earth itself was deteriorating, and who knew when it might meet its end?

And what was the most abundant thing this year? Redworms—enough to feed China’s billions, which explained why the leeches were growing so fat.

Jing Shu suddenly remembered that there were four large water collection tanks outside her villa, used to gather both redworms and rainwater. Now, every day, her father had to clean the drains, check the filters, and sell the filtered redworms in batches to the cafeteria.

With the rain continuing for nearly a month, the value of redworms had plummeted from 1 virtual coin for 10 kilograms to 1 virtual coin for 200 kilograms. If a family of three collected redworms for a day, they could exchange them for 1 virtual coin—enough to buy something else to eat, preventing starvation.

Jing Shu’s father could earn around 3 virtual coins daily, which kept him busy and happy. Since he had turned in all his virtual coins to the authorities, these daily earnings were his only source of "pocket money," something every man dreamed of saving.

However, Jing Shu was about to shatter her father’s hopes.

She had decided to raise leeches. While normal leeches wouldn’t consume large amounts, with the addition of spiritual spring water and large-scale cultivation, the situation could be different. Anything nurtured with spiritual spring water—whether human or animal—turned into a voracious eater.

Even the two snakes in her space had developed enormous appetites. She wondered when they would reproduce—she needed to make medicinal wine from them quickly. With the rain pouring non-stop for a month, the villa was becoming damp, and Jing Shu was starting to worry about her parents’ health.

Li Yuetian had already asked her several times when the medicinal wine would be ready, as his chronic leg pain was acting up again. Jing Shu was even considering whether to treat the snakes a little better.

Speaking of the government’s endless collection of redworms, Jing Shu couldn’t help but admire them. In the second year of the apocalypse, after a month of continuous rain, the failure of crops to reproduce due to insect eggs had left many people thinking that even if they couldn’t grow food, they could at least survive on redworms. Yet, the government still bought redworms at a low price.

First, this gave ordinary people something to do, motivating them to work. The government never handed out free food for long to avoid fostering laziness.

Second, it was a precautionary measure. Just like the corpse worms and maggots last year—there were so many that everyone thought they’d have enough to last several lifetimes. But after just a few days of rain, the world was overrun by redworms. The government was worried the next wave of insects might not be as palatable as redworms. In hindsight, they should have made more dried five-grain insects—they would have tasted better than redworms.

Third, the government was stockpiling emergency food. With no one knowing how long the darkness would last, increasing food reserves was crucial. As a result, local governments were ordered to start processing redworms into something called "compressed redworm cakes."

Every day, tons of redworms were sent to factories, where they were ground up, cooked, and pressed into cakes. These cakes were issued by the government whenever people were evacuated because they were convenient, cost-effective, and, over the past year, the government had stockpiled a lot of them.

To be honest, though, Jing Shu found the cakes revolting. In times of extreme hunger, even excrement might taste better. The smell of the cakes was so pungent that it made Jing Shu nauseous. Uncut, they were swallowed whole, excrement and all; once cut, the intestines ruptured, releasing even more foulness. Jing Shu thought they might as well be called "compressed excrement cakes."

Still, these worm cakes helped the people of China survive for a long time.

Jing Shu planned to raise leeches for just one year—after that, there wouldn’t be the conditions to do so. She’d raise as many as she could, and later she could trade the leeches for labor or even use them for salted meat... ahem.

But what Jing Shu was most interested in was the blood mushrooms. She transplanted the last two blood mushrooms she had into the midst of the other dozen or so she had in her space, then added a drop of spiritual spring water.

She also separated 3,000 leeches from the total 10,000 and put them into the collection tanks in the courtyard. This way, they wouldn’t need to be fed, and it was convenient. All she had to do was check on the leeches’ health and clean out the waste periodically.

The Banana District had become overcrowded, and Jing Shu’s grandfather had built the fence even higher around the villa, essentially enclosing it in another layer. Now, no one could even see what was going on inside, so there was no fear of anyone stealing the leeches from the water tanks.

“What? You’re raising a batch of leeches you found in the water? Those things are terrifying—several people in the district have been drained of blood by them.”

“The president wants to raise them too? And they’re considered medicine?”

During dinner, Jing Shu revealed her plan to raise leeches. Initially, her mother opposed the idea, saying it was too dangerous. But after some persuasion, she reluctantly agreed, though she warned Jing Shu to be very careful.

“Do whatever you like, as long as you protect yourself,” Jing Shu’s father said seriously. “Since you’re putting them in the collection tanks, I’ll check them daily. I don’t want them escaping and hurting the family.”

Jing Shu nodded vigorously. “We can just cover them with a mesh screen.”

With that, Jing Shu successfully launched her leech and blood mushroom farming plan, which was now running smoothly.

Meanwhile, Wang Qiqi’s election was reaching its final stage. Thanks to his meteoric rise after a single battle, he had become the frontrunner and was a true dark horse in the competition.

Just as the election was about to end, Zhao Shupi played his trump card: anyone who voted for him could enter a lottery with a 100% chance of winning between 0.3 and 3,000 virtual coins.

And it was hosted on a platform!

This meant that anyone in the Banana District could vote. Zhao Shupi’s tactic was brilliant—it targeted the middle-class people who had previously scoffed at cafeteria food, enticing them with the lottery.

Everyone had to check their phones daily for news, auctions, and various updates. Many people, seeing the voting option, casually voted, then entered the lottery. Even if they didn’t know who Zhao Shupi was, it didn’t stop them from trying their luck. Whether it was 0.3, 0.5, or 1 virtual coin, it didn’t matter—just like grabbing a red envelope, even millionaires or common folk would click to test their luck.

In just two days, Zhao Shupi’s votes were on the verge of surpassing Wang Qiqi’s. With only one day left, Wang Qiqi had tried everything, even going door-to-door delivering pan-fried mushroom egg cakes, but it wasn’t enough. The market was saturated—everyone who could vote had already voted.

Desperate, Wang Qiqi turned to Jing Shu, pleading, “Jing Shu, please think of a solution. Otherwise, all our efforts will have been in vain.”