Chapter 17: The Farm, At Last I See You Again

Fortunately, a response soon came from the other side. Gu Xu’s voice came through the communicator, calm and steady: “I promise not to pursue the matter or reveal your secret, but if you’re playing games with me…”

Bian Changxi silently let out a breath and smiled. “How would I dare?” she replied. “Captain Gu, there should be zombies not far from you, right? Can you describe what they look like?”

Gu Xu answered without hesitation, “Humanoid, with distinguishable pre-mortem gender. Their skin is bluish-white, muscles decayed, eyeballs protruding, fingernails sharp, and they reek of a strong stench of rot. They move slowly, have poor eyesight, but their hearing and sense of smell are extremely keen. Their bones are a ghastly white and incredibly hard—comparable to quenched high-carbon steel… Do you need a more detailed description?”

Quenched high-carbon steel? Bian Changxi raised her eyebrows—so by-the-book, as always. She walked to the window and looked outside. “No need, I’ve killed plenty of zombies myself. I can confirm that what you’re seeing now is the same type I’ve encountered before. But recently, someone discovered a new variant.”

“Oh?”

“Their muscles are also decayed, but to a lesser degree. Their skin and flesh have a strange bluish-black hue and look more taut. Their bones are black, as if poisoned. If the zombies we’ve seen so far have bones like quenched high-carbon steel—hard but brittle—then these new ones have bones like high-carbon steel that’s been tempered after quenching: much stronger and with some toughness. Also, they move faster, and most importantly—”

Bian Changxi spoke lightly as she gazed ahead, sensing the growing tension on the other end of the call. She knew Gu Xu was listening, fully focused.

“I was scratched by a zombie before, and I think you were too, Captain Gu. You should know that the blood from the wound is normal red. But wounds from these new zombies ooze bluish-black blood, with a rotten stench, and the edges keep festering and oozing pus.”

Somewhere in Jiangcheng, a man in a black tactical suit spun a throwing knife in his hand, slashing open a zombie’s throat. He exchanged a glance with his teammate, quickly retreated to the wall, and glanced at the bloodstained bandage on his sniper partner’s arm. The signal light on his earpiece glowed red. Looking at the fresh blood, he said coolly, “Is that so? Looks like things are getting bad.”

On the other end, the girl let out a soft laugh—barely noticeable, but he could sense her relief. “I don’t know if it’s bad or not. I just think this is something worth paying attention to. Captain Gu, that’s all I wanted to say. I’ll hang up now—”

“How did you know I was scratched by a zombie?” he suddenly changed his tone.

Bian Changxi froze for a moment before replying, “That fireball…”

“You can make those too?”

“No, not exactly.”

“I have a teammate who can raise earthen walls. It’s a strange but useful ability, and I wish everyone had it, but I have no idea how it works. I tried to find what I have in common with him, and thanks to your hint, I realized—we were both scratched by zombies.”

Bian Changxi stiffened, clutching her communicator tightly. She pressed her lips together and said in a low, hoarse voice, “It wasn’t a hint. I didn’t even know there was a connection…”

“Is that so.” He chuckled quietly and continued, “In novels, they call this a superpower, right? What kind do you have?”

Suddenly, Bian Changxi felt the dusk outside was so thick it couldn’t be dispersed. Everywhere she looked was dim and chaotic—a symbol of this once-prosperous city’s irreversible decline.

Since her rebirth, this was the first time she truly felt the suffocating, ever-present pressure.

The daylight reflected a pale, quiet glow on her face. She said softly, “I’ve said all I needed to say. Take care, Captain Gu. If fate allows, we’ll meet again.”

*Beep!* She cut off the call and exhaled slowly as she looked ahead. So, Gu Xu had never been easy to fool from the start. All it took was a tiny hint…

She frowned, replaying every word she’d said in her mind.

She was sure she hadn’t left any more clues. Her intention to help Gu Xu was genuine, but she had no intention of exposing herself or getting too involved with him. She knew that as long as he got a warning and a little buffer time, he could forge a different path. If she nagged or got anxious, it would only make her seem suspicious.

She glanced at the communicator in her hand, turned off the power, and did the same with the other one. She was about to throw them out the window, but after a moment’s thought, she tossed them both into her jade bracelet instead.

Seeing the bracelet, her mood suddenly lifted. She stroked it and thought, “I want to go in.” In a flash, she felt weightless, her legs giving way. When her senses returned, she found herself lying on a patch of grass, the fresh, earthy scent filling her nose.

Bian Changxi was overjoyed and quickly got up. Under her feet was a lawn, and not far ahead was a stretch of dark, fertile land, with a narrow stream cutting diagonally through the middle, clearly separating the two areas.

She knew well: the grassland was like a pasture, where she could raise animals—though she’d have to build the fences herself. The black soil was moist and rich, suitable for growing rice, wheat, fruits, vegetables, or even ornamental plants—anything would thrive here. There were no seasons in the farm; it was always a cloudy, breezy day, and you could plant anything at any time.

The knee-high stream had a self-purifying function. She could drink from it, bathe in it, or use it to raise aquatic plants and animals—though she’d have to introduce the seeds or fry herself.

The black soil and grassland formed a neat square, shrouded on all sides by a white mist. The stream’s source and end both disappeared into the fog.

At the edge of the black soil stood a small wooden hut, with the word “Storage” carved on the door. Bian Changxi hopped over the stream and opened the door. Sure enough, her motorcycle, hiking backpack, fire axe, and two communicator watches were all lying quietly inside. She knew that, despite the hut’s small appearance, its actual storage space was enormous—far beyond what the eye could see, though she had no idea how it worked. Plus, time was frozen inside: put a bowl of hot soup in, and it would still be steaming years later.

Bian Changxi couldn’t help but smile at all this. Though the farm in her jade bracelet was nothing compared to the scale it had reached before her death in her previous life—like a mouse compared to an elephant—it was already much better than when she first discovered it, when it was barren and not even a blade of grass grew.

Once the farm accumulated enough energy, it would upgrade: the mist would recede, the area would expand, a house would appear, and eventually the storage would move underground. In her previous life, thanks to her old classmate Qu Yi’s tireless research and massive investment, by the time she died, the farm was as big as two universities, and time inside passed ten times faster than outside. Crops grew quickly and yielded abundantly.

A third of the Yunhua base’s food came from her farm. If she hadn’t worried about arousing suspicion, she could have easily supplied all 300,000 people in the base.

Looking back now, Bian Changxi felt she’d been adorably naïve—not understanding the old saying, “an innocent man gets into trouble for his treasures.” If she’d kept the farm strictly to herself and never given Yunhua access, how would they have dared to harm her?

But then again, if she hadn’t offered up the farm, Qu Yi wouldn’t have invested so much in its research and development, and the farm wouldn’t have realized its full potential.

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