Chapter 631: We Should Take the Initiative

“That… did Uncle Zhang really make you come help with farm work?”

Mo Qianlan couldn’t fathom the boy’s tactics at all—whether he was pursuing Yi Xiaoling, why had he started cozying up to her the moment Yi Xiaoling left? But if he were being overly forward, he was still entirely within reasonable bounds.

Maybe this guy was just naturally sociable?

“Of course!” Wang Zhetao replied with perfect ease, then chuckled softly.

“You saw how friendly I was with Sister Xiao Ling and thought I was chasing her, right? No, no, you’ve misunderstood. When asking someone for help, you should be polite and warm—I’m just like this, Little Lan. Is there anything you need me to help with?”

If he wasn’t chasing Yi Xiaoling, then he must be interested in me? Mo Qianlan didn’t want to be a delusional girl, nor did she want to keep nagging. She waved her hand. “Sister Xiao Ling already gave you plenty to do—just stick to pollinating the cucumbers; you’ll probably be busy until lunch.”

Wang Zhetao raised no objection. He returned to the cucumber vines and got to work, yet throughout his labor, he still chatted with Mo Qianlan intermittently—his tone natural, the atmosphere pleasant.

His rich campus life had given Wang Zhetao a vast reservoir of knowledge—not academic knowledge from books, but a superficial grasp of many different fields.

He started with anime, moved to Korean and Japanese idols, branched into Western pop culture, then smoothly shifted to fashion and styling, then naturally to cosmetics—Wang Zhetao even knew enough about makeup to discuss it in detail. After circling back, he returned to domestic singers.

“I like that group you just mentioned! There’s a song I remember goes: ‘I was a boy chasing the sun, daring to take responsibility, remembering how the world should look, I’m a rogue living openly, hurry up…’”

Whoosh.

Just as Wang Zhetao was showing off his singing voice, the vegetable greenhouse door was pulled open, and his song cut off abruptly.

“It’s so lively here—what are you two doing?”

Since the Yanluo Corps had deployed nearly everyone, the few left behind at camp had also gone to the village to help. Now, there were almost no one left who could cook. Zhong Xiaoshan had come specifically to call Mo Qianlan—and accidentally stumbled upon the greenhouse concert.

“Ah, no, nothing much, I—Sister Shan Shan, is there something?”

Mo Qianlan jumped up as if caught stealing, her fingers nervously twisting together.

Wang Zhetao, by contrast, was far more relaxed. He smiled. “Sister-in-law, Brother Wang sent me to help with farm work—I’m pollinating cucumbers. Got bored, so I sang a little.”

Zhong Xiaoshan glanced at the two of them with a shadowed look, tucked her hair behind her ear, and said, “Lan Lan, we’re short-handed today. Come help with cooking.”

“Ah… cook? Okay, okay.”

Mo Qianlan’s heart skipped. She took off her gloves, pulled out her phone, and saw it was already 11:30.

She hadn’t realized how fast the morning had passed. Chatting hadn’t slowed her work—her efficiency felt even higher than before. This experience left her feeling… surprisingly good.

“I can cook too. Let me help out, okay?”

Wang Zhetao remained just as enthusiastic. After a morning’s labor, his gloves were stained yellow from chemicals, and his clean face was smudged—but somehow, he looked more natural this way.

Zhong Xiaoshan had heard about Wang Zhetao from Zhang Su. This kind of proactive attitude matched the description perfectly. She smiled faintly. “Fine, come along. Today, Lan Lan’s mom, Old Zhao, and Master Jia are all away. The kitchen is short-staffed. Pick some vegetables and head to Xiao Xingyun Kitchen. I’ll go get Xiao Ling.”

With that, Zhong Xiaoshan turned and left the greenhouse—but her brow furrowed.

As a seasoned veteran, she had keenly sensed the odd tension between Wang Zhetao and Mo Qianlan.

Romantic feelings between a man and woman weren’t a problem—opposite genders working together could even make labor feel lighter. But things were never as simple as they looked.

Zhong Xiaoshan didn’t know what Lu Yubó was doing on his missions, but from Zhang Su’s attitude toward Lu Yubó, she could tell the young man was highly driven. Yet in matters of the heart, Lu Yubó was serious—and seriousness meant he’d take things seriously. Now, while Lu Yubó risked his life clearing zombies outside, his wife back at camp was laughing and chatting with another man. If he found out, there’d be no peace. “What a troublesome guy.”

Zhong Xiaoshan shook her head. Smoke rose over Tianma Yu. Inside Xiao Xingyun’s kitchen, several figures bustled about. Zhong Xiaoshan had originally had other duties—the supplies Liu Yao brought back hadn’t been stored yet—but for some special reason, she stayed behind to help.

What she was doing wasn’t really helping—she was mostly watching Wang Zhetao and Mo Qianlan.

The vegetables weren’t even cooked yet when the walkie-talkie crackled with the voice of the guard at Shanmen: “Yanluo Corps is back! Brother Su and the others are back!”

Everyone smiled knowingly. The Yanluo Corps was the foundation of Tianma Yu. Their safe return brought joy.

Soon after, the sound of car horns, tires screeching, and engines roaring came from outside the window.

“Hurry up with the cooking—I’m going outside to check!”

Zhong Xiaoshan took off her apron. Before she reached the Xiao Xingyun courtyard gate, a car screeched to a halt outside, startling her. Through the window, she saw Zhang Su and Zheng Xinyu—she exhaled in relief.

“Xiao Shan? What are you doing here? Come on, let’s open the gate!”

Zheng Xinyu leapt out of the car, spotted Zhong Xiaoshan, paused in surprise—she thought Zhong Xiaoshan should’ve been at the warehouse—but grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the stairs.

Zhang Su stepped out of the car, opened the back door, lifted someone out, and sprinted toward the second floor.

“Something’s wrong—someone’s injured!”

Inside the kitchen, Wang Zhetao craned his neck to look out—and saw Zhang Su carrying someone up the stairs…

“Better not meddle. Just focus on your own work.”

Pei Lan stirred the big pot with her ladle to prevent burning. Seeing Wang Zhetao’s curious expression, she scolded him sharply. Everyone present had loved ones in the Yanluo Corps, yet no one had rushed out to gawk.

Wang Zhetao turned back and saw that Mo Qianlan and Yi Xiaoling hadn’t left their posts—they were working with full concentration. He felt a pang of shame and slunk back to his place.

“Mr. Zhang just carried something into the courtyard—did you see what it was?”

On the mountain road outside the guesthouse, Fu Weijun, seated in his wheelchair, asked curiously behind him: Duan Wuhu.

Duan Wuhu shook his head, confused. “Looks like a person—vanished in a flash. Is he injured? I saw Sister Zhong there too, but the walkie-talkie didn’t mention anything.”

“If someone’s injured, that’s bad. Brother Duan, go ask if they need help—don’t wait for Brother Zhang to call out. We should take the initiative.”

Fu Weijun’s emotional intelligence suddenly skyrocketed.

“Alright!”

Duan Wuhu agreed readily—but as he let go of the wheelchair handles, he paused. He turned to Fu Weijun. “Wait a minute, Wei Jun—aren’t you trying to get rid of me to do something?”

He looked unflinchingly at the flaming zombie, noticing several Yanluo Corps members chatting nearby. He figured even if Fu Weijun went over, he’d have no chance to stir up trouble.

Fu Weijun smiled. “Brother Duan, where are you getting these ideas? I’ve spent the past few days stepping away from my research and thinking a lot. I realize I’ve been too careless in interpersonal relationships. Sometimes, you should be warmer, more proactive. Go on now.”

“I know you’re just trying to send me to spy. But I really should go check anyway. You take care of yourself.”

Duan Wuhu bluntly called him out, then laughed and headed toward Xiao Xingyun.

(End of Chapter)