Eighty-nine

The Third Base, long ranked first in overall strength, had now become the target of everyone’s ire. Yet Ye Yu did not care in the slightest. Her conduct grew ever more flamboyant and arrogant, as though she had no objection to offending every power in existence.

Today’s routine weekly meeting was far more oppressive than usual. Many of the senior officers inside the base were secretly breaking into a cold sweat, fearing that Commander Ye might issue some other astonishing order.

“What are you all shrinking back for?” Ye Yu lounged in a soft chair, one leg crossed over the other, cigarette smoke curling through the room between her fingers. “If they’ve got the guts, let them send troops to fight us. I’d welcome it. We’d save who knows how much road-clearing expense. The only methods the capital base has for threatening other bases are those special supplies, or luring a horde of corpses to shift the disaster elsewhere. None of that works on us. The other bases are lucky if they can even take care of themselves, so what’s the point of swallowing our anger?”

“The government and the other bases are indeed not the problem, but the Association…” Liao Hongya paused. “If they want revenge, it’s not impossible.”

“The Association will clash with humanity sooner or later,” Ye Yu said with a cold laugh. “So we might as well strike first and cut off their arms. Not to mention, how many of our military’s combat personnel are awakened ones? The main fighting force was ordered back, and even I’m on the list. Can’t you see how vile this provocation is? Aside from showing them we mean business, every other approach only feeds their arrogance.”

Everyone nodded as they listened, though one phrase still felt awkward to their ears. The head of the Tenth Department said quietly, “Well… no matter how powerful awakened ones are, they’re still human.”

“That may not be so,” Ye Yu said. “Awakened ones are, in essence, much like those priests and mystics. Many of them have long since decided they’re no longer human.”

The crowd thought of the Association’s latest move and could only let out a deep sigh.

“If there’s nothing else, then let’s adjourn,” Ye Yu said with a smile. “If anything happens, I’ll bear it. You only need to obey orders.”

That sentence somehow possessed a strangely reassuring power; everyone’s faces softened into a dazed, intoxicated look, and they hurriedly nodded.

Ye Yin posted an anonymous bounty on the black market at an exorbitant price, seeking six-tier and higher elemental cores of metal, wood, water, and earth, as well as any information related to such cores. These kinds of cores were the most likely to be offered in bounties, since they could be used to forge certain Taoist magical artifacts and the like. Thus, her move attracted little special attention; everyone assumed the person behind the bounty was merely a rich and extravagant Taoist.

“You’re… sure about this price?” Good heavens, it was a full half again higher than similar bounties.

“Of course I am. The deposit’s already been paid—think I’d go back on it?” Ye Yin said.

The clerk at the registry hurriedly said, “No, no, of course not. I swear, once the goods arrive, they’ll be delivered to you first, absolutely first. I wish you success in forging a treasure as soon as possible!”

The gray-faced man that Ye Yin had transformed into gave a cold snort. “That’s best.”

As she emerged from the black market, several shifty-eyed people began tailing her in a sneaky manner. It was customary for those entering and leaving the black market to have some fat on them, and there was always profit to be made. Ye Yin smiled and turned into a dead-end alley. The few exchanged looks, happily reached for their weapons, and rushed in together—only to find that the person was gone.

When she returned home, Ye Hua and Pi Pi were both out. Only the two little puppets came forward warmly to greet her. They must have gone shopping for New Year’s goods, perhaps? Come to think of it, she ought to pay a visit to the farm. Yes—and bring back something tasty while she was at it.

With the New Year approaching, the farm had begun to brim with holiday cheer, livelier and more animated than usual. Ye Yin sat in Jiang Wen’s office, watching the children playing and fooling around on the large drying ground outside. Some were from employees who had been there from the start, whom she knew; others were from later arrivals, whom she did not. There were also a few tiny children born on the farm after the apocalypse, too small to walk properly, noses running, crying in the arms of adults while bundled in thick diapers.

“You’ve got white hair,” Ye Yin said to Jiang Wen as if she had discovered something astonishing.

“It’s been there for ages. Pull it out for me,” Jiang Wen said, not lifting her head as she continued tapping furiously on the calculator.

Ye Yin carefully pulled out the strand of white hair and held it in her palm, looking at it. “Is life on the farm very hard?”

“It’s all right. I just haven’t kept up my nutrition,” Jiang Wen said. “It’s not like I’ve gone hungry, but whatever goes into my stomach just doesn’t turn into flesh. Feels like I ate in vain.”

“It’s probably because the pressure’s too much,” Ye Yin said. “There are plenty of people watching the farm, both openly and in secret. I know that.”

“Those aren’t things you need to worry about,” Jiang Wen said, shaking her head. “How are things on your end?”

“Pretty good. Don’t worry.”

“How come you have time to come by lately?”

“The commander approved my resignation. There aren’t any tasks left for me during this last stretch anyway.”

Jiang Wen looked up in surprise. “Why resign? Did they push you out?”

“No, I asked for it myself.” Ye Yin stuffed a chip into her mouth. “I’ve got other things to do for the time being.”

“I know you’ve always had a clear head.” Jiang Wen lowered her head again and continued calculating. “Do your best.”

“You too.”

Seeing that Jiang Wen had too much on her plate, Ye Yin finished her chips, left the office, and wandered around the farm.

The harsh environment had taught people the importance of unity. The people here had already formed a stable group, with their own rules and atmosphere, a little exclusionary by nature. As everyone knew, the stable and comfortable life on this farm was incomparable to life outside; many people sharpened their minds and elbows just to squeeze in, and there were also those who had been thrown out for repeatedly violating the farm’s rules. No one could count how many disputes and conflicts had arisen because of this, and each time Jiang Wen had resolved them almost perfectly. Occasionally, if an armed dispute broke out, the moment An An made an appearance, it was basically settled.

An An, being a little living immortal, naturally had to preserve her lofty mystique; ordinary people were not permitted to discuss her lightly. By contrast, the deeds of Ye Yin, who was not present on the farm, were widely sung there, most of them spread by Old Guo. On many idle evenings, the newcomers loved gathering around him, listening as he sprayed spittle and recounted how Ye Yin used wit and courage to defeat enemies of every sort, protect the farm, plan with foresight, and lead the people of the farm toward happiness and well-being, bazhahei.

And so, wherever Ye Yin went now, she automatically attracted a circle of onlookers who trailed her at a respectful distance. No one came too close; they pretended to be casually busy nearby, splitting firewood or scraping plaster from walls and the like, and whenever Ye Yin moved on, they would shift places and continue their work.

At first Ye Yin paid no mind, but later, when she noticed a matron had followed her through five different spots while weaving a basket, she realized something was off.

“Hey, madam,” Ye Yin said warmly as she walked over. “Do the stone stools on the farm feel uncomfortable to sit on? I’ll have someone replace them with new ones.”

“No, no, you’re busy…” The woman stammered a few words, then fled in a flash. Seeing this, the others gradually dispersed as well.

Ye Yin toured the whole farm, roughly calculated the costs of relocation in her mind, and then greeted everyone before heading back to Changqing Street. The next day, Ye Yu sent someone to call Ye Yin to the command headquarters to discuss her final mission before stepping down.

“I knew you wouldn’t let me off,” Ye Yin said with a very troubled expression. “Speak. What’s the mission?”

“Don’t look so gloomy. It’s a piece of cake for you,” Ye Yu said with a smile, placing a folder in front of Ye Yin. “Take a few brothers with you and wipe out the nest. I’ve already arranged the men. Honestly, it makes me feel like I’m using a butcher’s cleaver to kill a chicken.”

“Let’s get one thing straight: this really is, truly, the very last mission,” Ye Yin said as she tucked away the folder. “The moment I’m done, I’m retiring. If you try to stop me after that, say no more—we’re done on the spot.”

Ye Yu snorted with laughter. “Relax. I don’t want to offend a terrifying woman like you.”

“Good that you know I’m terrifying.” Ye Yin picked up her teacup and asked casually, “I heard the alliance leader took several thousand people to the Fifth Base. Will that affect us?”

“If you’re that concerned about the base, then don’t resign.”

“All right, fine. Good intentions are never rewarded. Pretend I didn’t ask.”

“Half of them died on the way there. After they arrived, they fought the former commander’s loyalists and lost half again. There are probably fewer than a thousand left now,” Ye Yu said. “Though Old Mule may be stupid, he’s still a bit smarter than Old Dog Song. The two of them will tear each other apart sooner or later, and the Fifth Base will fall into their hands.”

“What a pity.”

“What’s there to pity?”

“The Fifth Base is a fine position. Such high ground, easy to defend and hard to attack, with inexhaustible oil deposits besides,” Ye Yin said. “I once heard someone say that if you mounted a high-trajectory cannon launcher in the center of the Fifth Base, it would be a perfect weapon for mowing down corpse hordes. Even if several million came at you, you wouldn’t have to fear them.”

Ye Yu was just about to laugh at Ye Yin’s naivete when her expression suddenly shifted. She swallowed the words that had risen to her lips and said instead, “That’s true enough.”

“You’re busy. I’ll head back and look over the files.”

“Mm. Read them quickly. We move tonight.”

“Got it.”

After Ye Yin left, Ye Yu took a regional map from the drawer and studied it for a while. Suddenly her hand tightened slightly on the map, nearly creasing it.

She pressed a hidden intercom button in the room. “Everyone come to my office.”

On the way back, Ye Yin flipped through the documents in her hands and could not help but smile with satisfaction. As expected, the information had been gathered even more thoroughly than she had.

The show was about to begin.

Late at night, District D.

A girl wearing cheap lipstick hurried along the street with her head lowered. For some reason, she kept feeling as though someone were following her. She deliberately walked into a long street with no turns and nowhere to hide, and after turning back repeatedly and finding nothing behind her, she finally let out a slight breath of relief, mocking herself inwardly for being too jumpy. Her pace also slowed.

Her clothing was rather unusual. Over her body she wore a shabby, threadbare padded coat, but at the neck there showed a garment trimmed with delicate lace. She carried a strong scent of cosmetics and a faint smell of alcohol.

Like many families in District D, theirs officially lived in the inner district, but in truth they were terribly poor, worse off than many people in the outer district. She came from a single-parent family. Before the apocalypse, her mother had been a university lecturer, a very stern and well-bred woman who, no matter what, refused to let her daughter take work that would have fed the family. Her words rang hard and clear: “The harder the times, the more precious virtue becomes.”

But when her youngest brother starved to death alive, her mother changed. She fell silent for a long while, then began hinting to her daughter that surviving mattered more than anything, that virtue was worthless when the stones were flying, and so on.

At first she pretended not to understand, until her mother made her surviving older brother cry and say to her, “Sister, I’m so hungry.”

“My daughter, we… really have no choice.”

Sister. Daughter. She was not a sister, nor a daughter—only a piece of meat, meat that could be fed to her brother and mother. Their family had nothing of value left, except her youth and her still-pretty face.

She clutched the leftover soup and food in the pocket of her overcoat and burst into tears. She had secretly brought these out of Fish-and-Cloud Delight by every means she could manage. Though they were leftovers the guests did not want, they were her mother’s and eldest brother’s hope for the day, the most delicious mouthful they would get.

As she saw home drawing near, she wiped away her tears, put on a smile, and walked happily toward the house…