Chapter 633: Better Send Him Away Soon

“Fucking hell, as soon as we settle down, he starts causing trouble—is his head full of cotton?”

Zhang Su was furious; in the apocalypse, men who couldn’t control their pants were the most useless.

Zhong Xiaoshan pursed her lips and said, “It’s normal for young boys to think about such things. Sigh, Wang Da was so hardworking and alone—how could his son turn out like this? I just don’t get it.”

“What’s there to get? It’s because old Wang spoiled him rotten—raised him with bad habits! No way, this guy’s a menace—he must be sent away!”

Zhang Su rubbed his chin, his gaze darkening, growing cold.

“Sigh, the kid just can’t see the situation. With his connection to Uncle Wang, if he just worked hard and avoided accidents, his future would be bright—but he… never mind, I won’t say more.”

Zhong Xiaoshan shook her head; there wasn’t a second person like him in the whole camp—whether it was Tan Hua’s daughter, Ding Yong’s nephew, let alone Pang Dakun—this kid was under eighteen and still more reliable than Wang Zhetao.

“Pfft, if it weren’t for old Wang and old Tan’s faces, I’d have tossed this guy into the village to haul manure long ago!”

Just thinking about it made Zhang Su furious.

“Fine… damn it!”

“Huh?”

Zhang Su suddenly cursed, making Zheng Xinyu and Zhong Xiaoshan both freeze.

“Bozi’s here!”

Zhang Su weakly pointed toward the kitchen, hoping no conflict would break out.

“Lanlan!”

Lu Yubo pulled open the kitchen door; steam rushed at him, but when he saw Pei Lan inside, he froze awkwardly.

“Little Lu, there are two Lanlans here now—tell me, who are you calling?”

Yi Xiaoling, clearly enjoying the drama, chuckled teasingly while working.

Pei Lan pretended to know nothing, keeping her head down and working.

“Oh no, why are you in the kitchen… ew! You’re filthy—come on, let’s get out!”

Mo Qianlan’s face flushed instantly; she rushed to Lu Yubo, saw how dirty he was, felt both anxious and strangely guilty, and kept shoving him toward the door.

Lu Yubo grinned and stepped out of the kitchen, pulling a box from his backpack: “Lanlan, I found something great on this trip—look what this is!”

“Huh? What is it?”

Mo Qianlan’s gaze landed on the brocade box, curious.

“Ta-da!”

Lu Yubo opened it with a mysterious grin: “It’s just like the cartoon doll hanging from your bag—pretty, right?”

Inside the box lay a two-fist-sized Nezha figurine, exquisitely crafted, vividly colored, lifelike.

“Wow!”

Mo Qianlan’s eyes lit up at the figurine of Nezha biting a green scroll; she beamed at Lu Yubo and opened her arms: “Hug!”

The young couple embraced happily.

In the apocalypse, figurines couldn’t be eaten or drunk, but once basic needs were met, they offered collectors deep emotional comfort.

“Did you find this on that train? Was today’s mission dangerous? You still had time to get me this—you’re amazing!”

After a brief embrace, Mo Qianlan wiped her hands on her apron—they still felt greasy—and couldn’t bring herself to clean them before touching the figurine.

“Hehe, nothing much, nothing much—not dangerous at all!”

Lu Yubo’s grin stretched ear to ear; he happily handed the box to Mo Qianlan: “I found a Demon Slayer-themed suitcase among a pile of luggage and pulled this out—but I didn’t take the suitcase itself; it was filthy.”

Filthy was an understatement—the suitcase had been dug from a pile of frozen, rotting filth, half of it ruined. “Hey, excuse me, make way, careful—it’s hot!”

The kitchen door opened; Wang Zhetao walked out carrying a large bucket—steaming rice inside.

Lu Yubo and Mo Qianlan quickly stepped aside.

Thud—he set the bucket down, paused, and smiled at them: “Bozi, is this… a gift for Little Lan?”

“Uh… yeah.”

Lu Yubo was grateful Wang Guangjun had spoken up for him to Zhang Su, so even though he found Wang Zhetao’s behavior annoying, he kept up polite appearances—usually chatting when they met—but hearing him call her “Little Lan” stung.

Wang Zhetao noticed Lu Yubo’s expression but pretended not to see it; his eyes fell on the figurine. “You actually found such a detailed figurine? Amazing, Bozi, you’re awesome! Uh, I’ll get back to work—you two… hehehe.”

As he spoke, Wang Zhetao gave a lewd grin any man would understand, then picked up the bucket and headed for the dining hall, whistling cheerfully.

Lu Yubo watched until Wang Zhetao disappeared into the dining hall, then muttered irritably: “Lanlan, why does he call you so familiarly…”

Mo Qianlan sighed, troubled: “I don’t like it either, but he says… if his dad and my mom got together, he’d be my brother, so he just calls me that. Don’t be upset.”

“This… fucking hell.”

Lu Yubo felt like he’d swallowed a fly. But Wang Zhetao’s logic was technically correct. He was about to ask more when he spotted Zhang Su and the other two descending the stairs—and Zheng Xinyu was limping.

“Boss Zhang, what happened to Sister Zheng?”

“She twisted her ankle. Duan Wu just came by to massage it—she’s better now.”

Zhang Su explained while giving Lu Yubo a meaningful glance, then pointed to the dining hall: “Lanlan, is lunch ready?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s just being served—go rest in the dining hall, it’ll be ready soon.”

Mo Qianlan closed the figurine box with a smile.

“Hey, lunch is ready!”

Zhang Su used his walkie-talkie to notify the Yama Corps to eat.

Lu Yubo stood baffled—Zheng Xinyu had been hopping around just on the way back. He didn’t understand Zhang Su’s glance, or why he’d mentioned Duan Wu treating her for a sprain…

But Lu Yubo had one good trait: he forgot things quickly.

Lunch was slightly more lavish than usual, letting the weary Yama Corps members feast—canned meat, vegetables, and plenty of rice, ensuring energy, flavor, and basic nutrition.

“Xinyu, go rest properly—don’t come watch the show this afternoon. Sleep it off. Xiaoshan, help her.”

After lunch, Zhang Su told Zhong Xiaoshan to escort Zheng Xinyu back to her room.

One reason was to let Fu Wei, sitting quietly in the corner, see it; another was to monitor Program One—though protected, leaving a zombie at home still felt risky. He himself needed to visit Cuileng Pavilion—Xie Yan had said he had something to report during lunch.

“She really twisted her ankle…”

Fu Wei watched Zhang Su’s group leave, murmuring to himself.

“You still don’t believe me? What else could’ve happened? Always suspicious!”

Duan Wu was naturally terrible at lying; his voice lacked conviction, and he buried his face in his rice to hide it…

Fu Wei’s eyes darted, then he said sincerely: “Brother Duan, I’ve got some good bruise medicine—I’ll bring it over to Sister Zheng later.”

“Cough—” Duan Wu nearly choked; he shot Fu Wei a glare. “You think you’re needed? What can’t Zhong the nurse get? Just eat! This food’s too bland—doesn’t go well with rice, right?”

With that, Duan Wu stood and headed for the serving area.

(End of Chapter)