Chapter 78 – A New Farming Home
When Captain Guo finished giving out orders and everyone began studying the blueprints and starting work, Luo Xun quietly sidled up beside him.
“Days off?” Captain Guo was stunned for a moment, then thought about it. Well, it made sense. Working nonstop like this day after day—no one could handle that. Not just Luo Xun and Yan Fei, even the regular soldiers would burn out eventually. “How often do you think we should have a break?”
Seeing that the captain hadn’t rejected him outright, Luo Xun quickly said, “Once a month would be fine. Like before—if we could just rest for the last two days of each month, that would be enough. We understand how busy things are in the base, but if people never get any time off, they’ll eventually hit their limit.”
This was something he and Li Tie, Zhang Su, and the others had already discussed. If their own captain agreed, all the better.
Captain Guo thought for a moment, then nodded. “I’ll need to discuss it with a few people first, but it shouldn’t be a big problem. All right, go on and get back to work.”
Before, the workload had been too heavy, and everyone was rushing to finish building the walls, so there had been no such thing as a day off. But now that the work had settled into a routine and the urgency of the outer wall was gone, it wasn’t right to keep people constantly on edge without recovery time. If they kept this up too long, no one would last.
When it came to crafting metal parts, no one had more experience than Yan Fei. After all, shortly after the apocalypse began, he’d met Luo Xun—who took him in—and started helping him make crossbows, bolts, and other pieces that required following detailed designs. By now, he was an old hand at it and even gave pointers to the other four metal users.
With their prior experience working on the outer wall, those four had improved quickly. They still needed to pay more attention to precision, but since the base didn’t have strict quality standards for most of these items, getting the general shape right and ensuring usability was enough.
After half a day of work, everyone headed to the nearest cafeteria—Canteen No. 4—for lunch.
As they walked along the serving windows, Luo Xun lowered his voice and sighed to Yan Fei, “As expected—no meat left.”
Last month, before they’d gone outside the base for missions, they had complained about this with Li Tie and the others. Even in Canteen No. 3, meat was becoming scarce, and Canteens No. 4 and 5 had already stopped serving it altogether. Because they’d been working on the outer wall and getting meals delivered by logistics, it hadn’t felt too obvious back then. But now, their first meal back in the base showed them just how dire things had become.
Worse yet, meal portions were now strictly rationed. Before, cafeteria workers would heap food into your tray until it nearly overflowed. Now, every serving—rice and dishes alike—was measured precisely by ladle. After serving your food, they’d even add a spoonful of soup on top, and if you protested, you’d only get half a spoon more. They’d tell you, “That’s the new order from above—no one gets extra.”
To make it even more ridiculous, everyone’s ID tags had been replaced that morning. Now, each person had to scan their tag to get food, and once you scanned, you couldn’t go through the line again until the next meal period started.
Aside from the rice soup on the side, which could be refilled freely, everything else was strictly limited.
Carrying his tray back to the table where Captain Guo’s group was seated, Luo Xun sighed. “The cafeteria’s been restructured?”
Captain Guo looked equally annoyed. After a whole morning of hard physical labor, to be handed this for lunch—it was hard to stay cheerful. “Yeah. They started cutting portions two days ago, and today it’s officially enforced. They’re saying this new portion size is ‘enough to meet the daily caloric needs of an adult male,’ and that anyone who feels hungry is just getting a ‘false signal from the body,’ since ‘nutrient levels are sufficient.’ Those ##@?&&% so-called experts! What kind of nonsense theory is that? Don’t I know whether I’m full or not? What are we, birds they can feed by the handful?! Not everyone’s appetite is the same!”
Captain Guo had a large appetite, and he worked alongside his men every day, burning plenty of energy. Now being restricted in how much he could eat—and with nowhere to complain about it—was unbearable.
Luo Xun glanced at him sympathetically. He and Yan Fei were fine—they could bring food from home if needed, and their appetites were moderate. But he knew there were at least two real big eaters in the team, and if the camp kept this up for long, those guys were going to suffer.
“Base rations must be running low,” Yan Fei said calmly. It wasn’t hard to figure out—how many people were in the base now? Even if all the nearby grain storage depots were full before the apocalypse, it wouldn’t be enough to feed this many mouths for long.
And just last night, the radio had been urging survivors to start planting crops at home now that the weather was warming up.
Captain Guo’s expression stiffened slightly. He shook his head. “I don’t know the details, but I heard they already sent people to check all the nearby granaries.”
As for how much they found? Well, the state of today’s meals said enough. At first, people could accept a shortage of meat or vegetables—but now even the grains were being rationed. That spoke volumes.
Then one of the soldiers at the table suddenly lowered his voice. “I heard there’s been a serious problem with the fields.”
“Hm?” Everyone froze, eyes turning toward him.
The soldier rubbed his nose, giving an embarrassed grin. “One of my old comrades used to help his family farm, so he knows quite a bit about agriculture. A while ago, he got transferred to the crop cultivation team. I heard several people were injured there — those plants…” He looked around nervously to make sure no one else was listening, then lowered his voice and said, “Some of the plants came alive! Some even changed colors — the ones that survived are growing insanely fast… and they attack people!”
Mutated plants!
Luo Xun silently supplied the explanation in his mind and exchanged a glance with Yan Fei, who was also thinking of the strange, mutated plants they had already dealt with at home.
“How could something like that happen?!” Captain Guo and the others were visibly shocked. Plants coming alive—and attacking humans? That was beyond bizarre.
“It’s hard to imagine, but if that’s really happening, it explains why the higher-ups are rationing food,” someone reasoned. “If crops are mutating on a large scale and can’t be cultivated normally, then they’re relying entirely on existing stored grain. How long can that last? The research division must be scrambling to figure out which mutated plants are safe to grow, which are dangerous, and which ones might be poisonous if eaten. But that’ll take time. They’re still in the experimental phase, and it’ll take at least a year to establish any patterns. For this first year after the apocalypse, everyone will have to get by through trial and error.”
After hearing that, no one complained about the food anymore. They ate quietly, and after lunch, went back to the construction site near the wall to resume work.
This army project wasn’t just about building a new wall. From the blueprints Yan Fei had seen, the hints from the commanding officers, and the sheer scale of expansion beyond the old perimeter, he could tell this was a major undertaking.
The new walls were far thicker than the outer ones they’d seen before. And they weren’t just defensive barriers — it was obvious that they planned to construct living quarters, tunnels, arrow towers, bunker-style outposts, and even elevated bridges connecting the inner and outer walls. It was clear this place was meant to become the heart of a fortress—the strongest core of the entire base.
Truckloads of sand, gravel, and cement were hauled to the site. With the help of earth-ability users and concrete mixers, the pouring and layering went fast—astonishingly fast. Luo Xun and Yan Fei noticed that the earth-ability workers rotated between morning and afternoon shifts, just like the metal-ability workers, meaning there were plenty of them. Considering that many more were still working on the outer wall, it showed just how many earth-ability users the base had gathered.
By three in the afternoon, the metal-ability workers were finally dismissed.
As Luo Xun and Yan Fei left through the east gate to get their car, Luo Xun sighed, “I bet next time we go out, we won’t find a single free earth-ability user to hire. The army must’ve already recruited all of them to build these damn walls.”
While the military work wasn’t exactly lucrative, it was stable and safe. Earth-ability users weren’t combat types — they were mainly support, like water-ability users who handled defense and logistics. Without a trustworthy team, few of them would dare to leave the base.
Yan Fei could only give a helpless shrug; there wasn’t much to do about it. Judging from how Xu Mei and Song Lingling had acted after their last joint mission, he could roughly estimate how many energy crystals a typical team brought back. Their own team’s harvest rate was clearly much higher. But if they added new members they couldn’t trust, it would only add risk. Better to stay small and safe.
Putting an arm around Luo Xun’s shoulder, Yan Fei said reassuringly, “Forget it. If we can’t find anyone, I can still dig. Worst case, we dig a little each trip. Eventually, we’ll get it done.”
—If only asphalt weren’t such a pain to dig through!
That made Luo Xun’s eyes light up. “Wait — before the apocalypse, there were all those places where they kept digging up and repaving the roads for pipelines and stuff, right? Maybe we can find one of those sites and use it!”
Yan Fei’s expression brightened too. He remembered those areas often had big iron plates laid over them temporarily. “You’re right! That could work perfectly!”
When they got home, they unloaded more of the metal materials they’d collected from the car. Yan Fei had already fused the metal with their vehicles earlier, so only he could separate them again.
They carried the metal sheets up to the sixteenth floor. After a short rest, the two got back to work — reinforcing the remaining two bedrooms and strengthening the building’s structure. Soon, they were standing on smooth, gleaming metal floors.
“The greenhouse is just the first step,” Luo Xun said, surveying the room with satisfaction. “Next, we should gather more lighting equipment from the base — and some solar panels.”
Yan Fei nodded. “This room’s done. The rest we can take slow. Let’s start moving the racks over from next door.”
Before the renovation, Luo Xun had already built several sturdy racks. Now, they could finally move them all in.
When they opened the big black iron doors between the two rooms, the little dog came bounding in, excited to explore. Its paws clicked against the metal floor as it ran around — until it sprinted too fast, lost traction, and went sliding halfway across the room before smacking into the far wall.
Luo Xun and Yan Fei walked in carrying a large rack when a small “flying dog” came skidding straight toward them—crash!
“Good thing these racks weren’t glued together yet,” Luo Xun muttered as he got up, checking that nothing was damaged before turning to scold the pup.
The little thing, realizing it was in trouble, lowered its head and drooped its ears, sitting obediently before Luo Xun as he lectured it. Yan Fei had to stifle his laughter—it really looked like a wife scolding her mischievous son.
After that collision, the little dog became much calmer. It still explored the room, but didn’t run wildly anymore, just sniffing around curiously with its shiny black nose.
After placing all the rows of racks in position, the two of them returned to the nursery room in their own apartment. After circling around once, Luo Xun decided, “Let’s move all the mushroom logs over there.” He pointed toward the pile of mushroom logs stacked in the corner, looking a little reluctant to part with them.
Yan Fei nodded in agreement. He’d always thought it was risky to keep such easily mutating organisms in the same room as their other normal crops—especially since this room also housed their quails. If the birds got infected somehow, it would be disastrous. Better to move the mushrooms out early.
But before moving them, some preparation was needed—the greenhouse had to be modified. Mushrooms required not just warmth, but a very humid environment. The two chose the small bedroom next door and rigged up a simple humidifier, solving that problem quickly.
Then Yan Fei fashioned several metal racks to hold the mushroom logs.
“We should build more racks like this in the living room too,” Luo Xun said. “Pipes save space, sure, but crops grown that way don’t do as well as those grown flat in soil. The taste is definitely different.”
The only reason he had used multi-tier racks before was because—even though this apartment was much bigger than the one he’d lived in during his past life—it still wasn’t large enough for all the plants he wanted to grow. The racks were just a way to save space.
Now that he finally had such a big place to work with, he naturally wasn’t going to waste the opportunity.
After discussing the living room setup, Luo Xun gestured grandly toward the adjacent room. “This one—I’m going to turn entirely into a grain field!”
A small bedroom could hardly produce much rice or wheat, and even if it did, it would never yield enough to feed an adult man. But still—better than nothing, right? And who knew, maybe he could cultivate some high-quality seed stock from it!
Lately, the crops they’d been growing had behaved quite well—most hadn’t mutated. The few that had either matured too fast and tasted awful, or changed completely into other plant species. Yan Fei didn’t dare to try any of those strange plants, but Luo Xun recognized several of them—they were common post-apocalyptic species, edible though not very tasty.
When Yan Fei heard Luo Xun say he wanted to use the large bedroom for crops, his throat moved as if to speak—but he swallowed his words. Luo Xun had clearly forgotten that he’d once promised to leave one spare bedroom empty, just in case the landlord of unit 1604 ever came back to reclaim the place.
Because the lighting fixtures hadn’t arrived yet, there was no rush to make the planting racks. After moving the mushroom logs into the newly converted humidified greenhouse, they began sorting through the young seedlings in the nursery room, preparing to transplant them.
They categorized everything—hydroponic crops went into water tanks, soil-based ones into pots, boxes, or containers, depending on type.
The two worked nonstop until the sky had turned completely dark. At last, aching and sore, they straightened up and went to wash up before dinner.
Before leaving the nursery, they tossed some vegetables into the boxes where the mealworms and earthworms were kept.
Those two kinds of bugs were absolutely essential in their household. The mealworms weren’t just feed for the quails—if they were ever short on protein, they could even eat the worms themselves; they actually tasted pretty good. Plus, both kinds of insects helped consume old plant leaves and stems, converting them into rich compost.
It felt a bit extravagant to feed them vegetables for now, but once their crops matured, those bugs would be indispensable for processing the old leaves and stalks to speed up decomposition—things humans couldn’t eat anyway.
After finishing the floor reinforcement next door, the two had been buzzing with energy, busy for hours. By the time they remembered to wash up and eat, it was already 8 p.m.
They took quick “combat showers,” then Luo Xun pulled out some frozen tomatoes and stored noodles to make tomato noodle soup. The two sat at the table, too tired to even chat, silently devouring their meal.
As they were finishing, the others—Li Tie and his team—returned from their day’s work. Luo Xun gulped down the last mouthful of soup, set his bowl aside, and went to greet them.
“Brother Luo, Brother Yan!” He Qiankun greeted cheerfully, looking full of energy despite the long day.
“How was work today?” Luo Xun asked with a smile.
“I want to quit,” Zhang Su muttered sourly. “Patients aren’t zombies, but dealing with them is even more exhausting—so much talking, so many rules. And the worst part? Because I’m good at my job and, apparently, ‘presentable,’ the hospital keeps assigning me the VIPs—the ones you can’t offend. And I’m not allowed to make trouble!”
He’d always had a bad temper, and after the apocalypse it had only gotten worse. If those patients were so untouchable, why not send some brown-noser to handle them? It wasn’t like the hospital was short on those types.
Yan Fei’s reputation, meanwhile, had spread throughout the hospital and even reached the base leadership. Some curious idiots had insisted on meeting him just to “see for themselves,” and by the time his patience ran out, he’d blown up an office—forcing the hospital to promise never to assign him such “special contacts” again.
Everyone was long used to Zhang Su’s occasional rants about work, so no one pressed the topic further. Instead, Li Tie grinned and shared some good news first:
“The SIM cards are ready! The higher-ups approved production—they’ll start manufacturing overnight, and the first batch will go straight to the military!”
Han Li explained to Luo Xun and the others excitedly, “The new phone cards we’ve developed are super powerful! Not only can they be used inside the base, but if you go outside and happen to pass by a signal tower that still has power, you can use it there too! It can even receive satellite signals!!”
Of course, since power was out across the country, it was rare to find any tower still running—so that function was more of a nice idea than something useful. But the ability to connect via satellite outside the base—that was huge news!
He Qiankun, who handled the software development, proudly patted his belly and added, “I made an app for emergency rescue situations—it’s super fast to use! Just press the distress button, and before the phone loses power or gets damaged, it’ll automatically send out a distress signal every half hour via satellite to the base’s central system and to the nearest user’s phone. It’ll also upload your location! And if the user survives after sending the signal and finds a relatively safe place, they can report their status through the app. It’s really fast and easy to use!”
This was a massive breakthrough for the base. Reportedly, anyone who registered and linked their personal info with the military could get a free SIM card. Of course, you’d still have to find your own phone—but this was something that could literally save lives.
The next day, Luo Xun and Yan Fei confirmed what Li Tie and the others had said. They thought that being “outsiders,” getting their cards even a little earlier than ordinary residents would already be lucky. But surprisingly, they were among the very first to receive them—at nearly the same time as the developers themselves.
Naturally, they had their team captain to thank for that.
After hearing the news, he had immediately applied for cards for every member of the team under their squad’s name. When he handed the cards to Luo Xun and Yan Fei, he said, “I only filled in your names and places of origin—no ID numbers or personal details. You can go to the registration office later to complete the rest.”
“Place of origin?” Luo Xun and Yan Fei looked at him in surprise. How did he even know that?
“I remember you said you were from F City, right? So I just filled that in. If that’s wrong, you can fix it later.”
Captain Guo waved his hand carelessly, clearly not bothered.
The two men exchanged a look and nodded, pocketing their SIM cards. As for the additional info… they’d fill it in later. That part required giving a current address—something Yan Fei wasn’t eager to do. If he wrote it too precisely, his parents might actually track him down. Better to just leave it for now.
Following the same procedure as the day before, they spent half the day making the military-assigned tools before driving to the market. Since many residents had been relocated out of the inner base, quite a few once-busy streets now had fewer stalls. But some long-term vendors still stayed open—like the row along the main road they passed on their way home each day, not far from Luo Xun’s place.
With all the points they’d earned from work, plus a few remaining crystal nuclei and some instant noodles in their packs, the couple drove out to shop.
Their goal today: lighting fixtures for the growing room. Those would be crucial for their long-term plans, so they needed to stock up before replacements became hard to find.
As they wandered through the market, they soon found a group selling salvaged lamps and fixtures. Since there was no electricity anywhere, none of it could be tested, so Luo Xun and Yan Fei haggled the price down easily and got a big haul for just a few points—an absolute bargain.
After loading the lamps into their car, they were about to head home to work when Luo Xun noticed a crowd gathered at a street corner.
“I’ll go check it out,” he told Yan Fei, then slipped into the group.
In the apocalypse, wherever people gathered, it usually meant either something good—or something strange. It could even be a trap. But as long as he only took a look from a distance, there shouldn’t be a problem.
Thank you for reading 🙂 I hope you all liked my translations. If you enjoyed my work, please consider buying me a Ko-Fi 😉
