The crowd’s attention was drawn to Old Cao.
Those two scoundrels were directly responsible for a third of the shelter’s casualties and a substantial loss of supplies. While everyone was currently overwhelmed with the aftermath, leaving no room for a furious outburst, there was an unspoken agreement: given the slightest chance, they would apprehend those two and ensure they faced severe punishment.
Old Cao uttered four words: “Tianli Academy.”
“What kind of place is that?” Jing Lan inquired.
Keke answered, “I actually told you about it before. It’s a rehabilitation school for internet addiction. I just didn’t know its name was Tianli Academy at the time.”
Little Ye, somewhat surprised, asked, “Is that the school Lui Si stayed at?”
“No, she’s not from around here. She went to an internet addiction rehabilitation school near her hometown,” Keke replied, stifling a weary yawn. All she truly desired was to fall asleep immediately.
Yet, her expression abruptly shifted.
“Wait a minute, how do you know about her?”
“Lui Si also told me about her, right when we were fleeing for our lives,” Jing Lan interjected, only to immediately sense something amiss. “Hold on, Little Ye, why do *you* know Lui Si’s secret as well?”
“She shouldn’t have told anyone else…” Keke mused.
A chill ran down Little Ye’s spine; she had let it slip.
Having inadvertently revealed information she’d learned while living as a boy, Little Ye suddenly felt a desperate urge to simply throw caution to the wind and disclose her true identity.
However, when her mouth opened, what tumbled out was:
“She was feeling down once, had some drinks, and confided her secret to me…”
Little Ye was indeed aware of Lui Si’s past instances of heavy drinking when upset, a detail that lent credibility to her fabricated story.
Just as she hoped, the siblings did not pursue their suspicions. Keke continued to yawn, sighing, “I think she should be grateful for this disaster. Otherwise, she’d eventually expose herself. Someone like her, having killed a person, would at the very least be charged with excessive self-defense. Even if she only received a suspended sentence, her life in this country would be over.”
“Was the friend you mentioned also sent to an internet addiction rehabilitation school?” Old Cao interjected, steering the conversation back on track.
“Yes. And you, too, once sent your son to that… Tianli Academy, didn’t you?” Jing Lan said. He had long since noticed that Old Cao’s son, Cao Hongrui, possessed a somewhat… peculiar mental state—a kind of twisted tranquility, occasionally punctuated by unsettling flickers of instability that Jing Lan found rather frightening.
Old Cao’s face was etched with dejection. He gently raised a hand as if to shake his head, then let it fall.
“It’s something I deeply regret. Especially since… I consider myself an artist, yet I sent my son to a place like that. It feels like something only a hopelessly vulgar commoner would do.”
Cao Hongrui, standing nearby, maintained a constant, faint smile, showing no reaction whatsoever, as if the topic of discussion had nothing to do with him.
“Never mind that. Let me tell you why I think those two pieces of trash would go to Tianli Academy.”
After Old Cao had initially sent his son to Tianli Academy, he learned about the dark secrets of internet addiction rehabilitation schools from Bilibili videos. Enraged, he brought his child home, only to discover that his son had been transformed into a grotesquely obedient and sensible ‘good child.’
Old Cao subsequently investigated the conditions at Tianli Academy, hoping to expose the institution’s dark underbelly to the public.
However, all his efforts vanished without a trace. In truth, in a country so vast, countless individuals voice their grievances and demand justice daily, yet not everyone gets their moment on the stage.
Consequently, Old Cao became intimately familiar with the academy’s structure. In essence, it was a prison, equipped with numerous small solitary rooms designed to “educate” and “correct” internet-addicted teenagers. High walls encircling the school ensured no student could escape and reveal the academy’s unspeakable secrets.
It was akin to how Lui Si had once committed murder within such a school, and the incident was still successfully suppressed. He truly wondered about the identity of the person she had killed; perhaps they were a fugitive, and exposing the truth would have brought punishment upon the academy itself.
“That Teacher Chen, he was the one who recommended countless parents send their children to Tianli Academy!” Old Cao’s voice grew steadily sharper with anger as he spoke. “When I saw him arrive at the camp, I originally intended to confront him. I thought, ‘This is nothing compared to the zombie apocalypse,’ and decided to pretend I didn’t know him. Who would have thought he’d be so utterly despicable! He’s probably more than just a middleman recruiting students for the academy; he’s most likely an accomplice involved with the institution itself!”
“But based solely on that, we can’t confirm such a conjecture. After all, Tianli Academy must have had many students, right? Crowded places are incredibly dangerous. Even if Teacher Chen knew about such a place, he might not have gone there himself. Perhaps they went to another, safer shelter…”
Jing Lan paused mid-sentence, as if struck by a sudden realization.
“Everyone, have you considered something?”
“Stop being so cryptic,” Keke said, a hint of annoyance in her voice as she nudged her cousin with her elbow.
“Why did those two do what they did?”
“Why… of course, they wanted to…” Old Cao began, then trailed off.
“Ah, you’re right. You just said they might have gone to a safer shelter, but why wouldn’t *this* be a good shelter? What was wrong with them staying here? Why go to all the trouble to pull such a stunt?”
Little Ye conjectured, “Perhaps they wanted to monopolize that shelter, not wanting others to follow. And they might have also wanted to take more supplies, which is why they secretly took the provisions and then fled.”
Jing Lan replied, “That possibility certainly exists. But could a mere shred of selfishness truly drive them to commit such an egregious act?”
“You can’t use the mindset of good people to speculate about those who have already turned bad,” Little Ye sighed softly, lowering her gaze to her hands, still stained with blood. Having been strictly taught hygiene since childhood, the sight of her dirty hands made her anxious, and she dared not recall the process that had soiled them. “Or perhaps they were inherently bad people, merely restrained by social order. I refuse to believe that Teacher Chen was unaware of the nefarious dealings within that internet addiction rehabilitation school.”
Upon careful reflection, the problem might indeed be that simple.
Jing Lan had also heard his elders recount the state of public safety two or three decades prior. It was not, as some people fantasized, a time of pure-hearted individuals; rather, serial murders, robberies, and kidnappings were far more prevalent.
To put it plainly, the law merely represents a baseline. Among the law-abiding citizens living under its purview, there are inevitably some who are inherently rotten to the core. Given the slightest opportunity, their actions become utterly incomprehensible to decent people.
This question was temporarily set aside. Regardless of the true motives behind their betrayal, the damage was done. The immediate priority was to mend what was broken.
The first order of business was to quickly check on the wounded.
Keke was already beyond exhausted. Her body, weakened by prolonged confinement in the teaching building and malnutrition, hadn’t yet fully utilized the food she had eaten yesterday. A pervasive weariness and a slight, tingling numbness, bordering on cramps, enveloped her.
Yet, when Jing Lan reminded her of the gunshot victim upstairs, she gritted her teeth, blinked frantically to clear the ache from her eyes, and then jogged up the stairs.
“Sister Keke, do you really need to push yourself so hard?” Little Ye asked, following closely.
“You’re the one truly pushing yourself, sister,” Keke replied without turning her head. “If my brother and I can’t complete a task, we can just drive away. But what you’re doing has no escape, and you’re doing it so well. You’ve saved so many lives.”
Though Keke’s voice, like her cousin’s, carried a hint of languor, Little Ye still felt a blush of shyness at the praise.
Regardless, she still felt a slight unfamiliarity with this body, which, though petite, was far more agile and fierce.
Her performance in repelling the zombie horde earlier felt to her like a noob *Counter-Strike* player wildly spraying an AK47 and somehow landing consecutive headshots on the enemy.
Her teammates’ praise, paradoxically, filled her with unease.
Jing Lan also followed them upstairs. “If you’re really tired, I can help check on the wounded too.”
“Oh, please. A liberal arts major playing doctor? They’d kill the living and fail to revive the dead.”
“That’s so mean! You, a biology student, would probably treat people like frogs and kill them even faster!”
The siblings’ bickering, dulled by their shared exhaustion, didn’t elicit much laughter. However, Little Ye, trailing behind them, couldn’t help but let out a couple of soft chuckles.
The siblings noticed the white-haired girl’s laughter, paused for a moment, then exhaled slowly through their lips with a sense of release, a slightly bitter smile forming.
Jing Lan extended his fist, gesturing for Little Ye to bump it. “Another encouragement for you—well done!”
Keke immediately pulled Little Ye away. “Don’t fall for it! This secretly flirtatious guy just loves cute girls and wants to butter you up! Keep your distance from him in the future. Let’s focus on what’s important first.”
The girl he once liked now treated him like her best friend—it was a truly strange sensation.
Yet, Little Ye felt no great thrill in her heart. This was nothing like the romantic scenarios she had once envisioned.
Ultimately, she still wished to be with Keke as a boy.
****
“What? You gave him water?!”
Keke nearly exploded on the spot. Old Li, standing nearby, jumped in fright.
“You can’t give food or drink for this kind of wound; it could be fatal,” Little Ye stated, this being basic medical knowledge she possessed.
Old Li, however, seemed unaware. He owned a hardware store nearby, was healthy, and had no interest in health preservation or medicine. When Zhao Long briefly regained consciousness and cried out for water, Old Li, who was on duty in the hallway, gave him a mouthful to drink.
After drinking, Zhao Long fell unconscious again.
Upon hearing it might be fatal, Old Li was terrified, muttering that he had likely done more harm than good with his well-intentioned act.
“Don’t overthink it too much. In his condition, if he were immediately taken to a hospital, he’d have a ninety percent chance of survival, but now…” Keke trailed off, leaving the implication hanging.
“His intestines are protruding,” Jing Lan stated, adjusting the flashlight to its brightest setting to illuminate the gruesome diagnostic scene.
“He must be hemorrhaging severely in his abdominal cavity,” Keke murmured, then added, “His pulse…” She gently grasped Zhao Long’s wrist, taking his pulse with her index, middle, and ring fingers.
Subsequently, she shook her head subtly.
“Then he’s already a dead man,” Jing Lan declared.
“Dead people aren’t exactly a rarity anymore,” a survivor curled up in a corner for rest remarked. The others paid them no mind.
“As long as there’s still breath, he’s not dead,” Keke asserted, letting go of Zhao Long’s hand. “We’ll try our best to save him. Old Li, go find some more purified water.”
Old Li responded, rising to his feet, while Jing Lan also stood up.
“What then, after the wound is treated? We lack the conditions for further medical care, including surgery.”
Keke rose with him. “So, you believe he’s someone who can be abandoned?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Your previous question seemed to challenge the point of doing this.”
“That’s just your own imagination—”
“Both of you! Listen to me!” Little Ye exclaimed in a hushed, yet forceful, tone, halting the minor conflict ignited by the siblings’ slightly intertwined emotions. “You two are the core of this team right now. Don’t let emotions override your judgment. Sister Keke, you’re not quite yourself either. Has something upset you?”
Keke gritted her teeth, took two deep breaths, and finally felt her mind calm.
She found it somewhat odd that this Ye Xuening seemed to understand her so well.
While it wasn’t unusual for an ardent fan to understand a band member’s personality, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this white-haired girl spoke to her like an old acquaintance.
‘Yes, my emotions are certainly fluctuating right now. I feel an intense urge to save people, because—’
Suddenly, Xia Hua’s smiling face appeared before Keke’s eyes.
She painfully pinched her temples.