063 The New Role of the Old Relic - Part 1

When Zhou Anwen, that rogue, left, his expression was cold and dark. He did not plead for mercy. Only the black dog barked furiously at his retreating figure. With Wang Chen’s consent, Ma Tian loosened Blackie’s collar and let him follow Zhou Anwen away. No one expected that within just an hour, Blackie would return to the substation, bearing several wounds on his shoulders—likely inflicted by branches or similar thorns. The dog could not express what ordeals it had endured during that hour, but its mood was evidently downcast for days, only gradually returning to normal thanks to the relentless teasing from mischievous children. Soon, Blackie resumed its role as a typical rural guard dog, watching over the substation.

As for Zhou Anwen, perhaps he survived in the end, or perhaps he fell victim to the zombies just an hour after leaving the substation. In any case, this half-grown boy, twisted by the loss of his family to illness, vanished like foam on the waves—never mentioned again.

The only tangible negative impact of the Zhou Anwen incident at the substation was a delay in the Zero Eight Squad’s mail delivery schedule. No one was eager to set out in armored vehicles risking their lives. After discussing with Wang Chen, Fang Qiang simply declared a day of rest for everyone. Those who wished to sleep could do so; those who could not were free to move about.

In fact, the incident even helped Wang Chen establish some measure of authority among the civilians. Though not overwhelming, nobody, not even the young man named Chen Chong from Unit 213, dared to act recklessly before Wang Chen. After all, Fang Qiang had only laid hands on the arrogant Chen Chong, while Wang Chen had used only his words, bluntly casting the impudent boy out of the substation to fend for himself—a cruelty far greater than a mere punch.

A harsh lesson to instill order, nothing more.

Following the small “surprise” Zhou Anwen caused, perhaps due to the accelerated progress in vaccine development or the renewed display of state power, a series of good tidings arrived. Of several groups originally slated for extraction by Wang Chen and his squad, two had already reported improvements: obstacles and burning barricades along their routes were decreasing, even disappearing, and they would approach the substation on their own. Another group reported that the mob imprisoning them had fled; they were gathering vehicles and hoped to arrive soon.

Clearly, as the zombies multiplied, the true threat disrupting society was not the mindless undead but lawless mobs who ruled by force. Once the government regained strength through vaccination, these mobs would pivot, becoming armed civilians defending their homes. However, if the zombie outbreak worsened and vaccine distribution lagged, chaos would deepen and become uncontrollable.

The third piece of good news was even more heartening: a young woman, once thought lost, had broken her fever and regained consciousness. Chen Chong’s punch from Fang Qiang was thus not in vain. The first two updates perhaps conserved the squad’s energy and resources, but this third lifted spirits—a life wrested from the jaws of death. It proved that clinging to the Zero Eight Squad’s protection greatly increased one’s chances of survival before widespread vaccination.

Buoyed by hope, the civilians busied themselves without orders—from gathering supplies to tidying rooms. Even lunch was prepared under the guidance of two women famed for their cooking skills. Fang Qiang did not lift a finger.

Shortly after noon, the Zero Eight Squad welcomed another group of nearly thirty refugees. Almost half were armed with various weapons, arriving by a coach and a minibus. Following the squad’s instructions, they stopped fifty meters outside the substation by a makeshift sign and entered on foot for inspection.

The group consisted mainly of middle-aged adults and a few children. Leading them was a stout woman clad in an old-style grass-green Liberation Army uniform. Her belt bore a Type 54 pistol, and a Little Red Book protruded from her chest pocket. Upon meeting Fang Qiang, she saluted sharply and quoted, “Chairman Mao taught us: No matter the wind or waves, we stride as if in a leisurely garden!”

Neither Wang Chen nor Fang Qiang, both born well after the Cultural Revolution, knew how to respond to such an eccentric greeting. Fortunately, a young man behind the woman broke the silence with a smile: “This is Director Hao from our neighborhood committee.”

“Director nothing,” the woman cut in briskly, “Call me Hao Chunlan or Aunt Hao. I know you young folks speak proper words, but I’m naturally friendly. First, settle in, gather everyone—Chairman Mao taught us to unite all who can be united!”

Observing Aunt Hao’s energetic manner as she directed the civilians through inspection and helped move supplies, Wang Chen and Fang Qiang were at a loss. Wang Chen, less sensitive to such peculiar personalities, used the radio to alert Ma Tian to tighten security. This was said openly in front of the young people, who took no offense. The young man introduced himself: “I’m Shu Chang; that’s my aunt. Don’t mind her antics. Honestly, after everything happened, it was her look that rallied many people to band together and survive.”

“Wang Chen, deputy squad leader of the Zero Eight Squad, and this is Fang Qiang, the squad leader,” Wang Chen introduced himself and Fang Qiang, then, unable to resist, asked: “Has she always been like this?”

The young man sighed: “You think she wasn’t shaken by the death of her husband and children?”

“…”

“My aunt is a pitiful soul. After the pandemic, her entire family perished—even her youngest grandchild. She survived alone. I was left with nothing but her. We even contemplated ending it all together with a gas canister. But she sat awake all night, then rummaged crazily through boxes, pulled out this old uniform, put it on, and became a different person. She grabbed me and went out to save people.”

Just like that?

Seeing Wang Chen’s puzzled expression, Shu Chang shook his head serenely: “It sounds simple, but doing it… well, I watched this old lady wield a shovel to fight zombies with such fervor it scared me. No way could I be less brave than an old woman. So I helped. A few neighbors hiding at home saw her and charged out too. That’s how we gathered, looking for a safe place. Later, through the satellite ground station of cable TV, we received your exact location, got a vehicle, and came here together.”

Listening to Shu Chang’s story, Wang Chen looked at the silver-haired lady in the green uniform, walking briskly, and nodded in respect, silently impressed.

Those civilians who had been gripped by fear, despair, and hopelessness found in Aunt Hao’s spirited, even somewhat wild, demeanor a vivid reminder of the days when resources were scarce but spirits were high and everyone shared the communal pot. Her nostalgic attire and mannerisms, harking back at least fifty years, unwittingly made her a trustworthy role model. No wonder she commanded such loyalty.

A spiritual icon indeed—one perfectly attuned to the emptiness in people’s hearts today.