RHWHEG – Chapter 64 Lights-Out Mode

The weather at night had cooled considerably. Sitting on the roof of the auto repair shop and enjoying the cool breeze felt especially comfortable. By now, Yu Qunqing had completely finished decorating this one-star scenario. The building’s exterior adopted a colorful, cyberpunk style. Normally, the repair shop would light up its neon sign at night, but to avoid attracting phototactic disasters, Yu Qunqing had deliberately shut off the power to all the lights.

In the deep night, he couldn’t make out She Lulang’s expression—he only heard him walk over and sit down beside him. Yu Qunqing suddenly recalled how he’d once invited She Lulang to live at his place. Thinking back now, that decision felt a bit strange. Later on, he had earned so many building materials—why hadn’t he just bought a house and given it to She Lulang instead?

Yu Qunqing could only explain it as a habit formed in his previous life: they had spent every night together back then, so he was used to it. Besides, the deputy captain hadn’t objected anyway.

Just like tonight, sitting side by side…

Yu Qunqing wasn’t short on rations, but who wouldn’t like a hot dinner? As he unpacked the boxes, he deliberately asked, “You made this yourself?”

“I bought it myself,” She Lulang replied flatly. Neither of them was particularly skilled in cooking; a bit of teasing like this had already become a tacit understanding between them.

The hottest dinner item in the residential area today was the newly introduced grilled clam-pearl grass. After collective experimentation, the cooks had finally found the perfect heat. First, you plucked the clam-pearl grass from its shell, washed it clean in water, rubbed it lightly with salt substitute, let it dry, then skewered it, brushed it with fruit jam, and roasted it.

Prepared this way, the jam-coated exterior became sweet, fragrant, and crispy, while the inside had a texture similar to oysters—richly savory, far beyond expectations. Human ingenuity when it came to food truly knew no bounds.

“Ding-dong! Your stamina in Mediterranean Butler Love Match Server Two has fully recovered. Come play now!”

The system always had a knack for interrupting at the worst possible moments.

Yu Qunqing opened the game perfunctorily, with no intention of playing. He felt that spending time with the deputy captain was far more important. After a quick glance, he noticed that the game now allowed him to draw a second scenario. Drawing a scenario required 10 stamina—might as well use it to shut the system up. He didn’t mind She Lulang seeing any of this and tapped the button right in front of him.

“Starting scenario draw—”

“Please let it be a hospital,” Yu Qunqing said.

“Congratulations, player! New scenario unlocked—Food City. Difficulty: ★★★.”

“Food City? Sounds pretty good. I’ll save it for now and play tomorrow.” Yu Qunqing knew draws were all about luck, so he wasn’t discouraged. After some coaxing, he finally muted the system, leaving him and the deputy captain with a quiet night.

The night was cool as water. As Yu Qunqing enjoyed the food from the residential area, his gaze drifted to She Lulang’s wrist. Out of the blue, he asked, “Does it still hurt?”

She Lulang already had burn scars on his arm—left behind by an explosion before his rebirth. Yu Qunqing couldn’t help but recall the fire scene from his previous life, emotions surging inexplicably. If he alone had been injured, it wouldn’t have been like this—but dragging the deputy captain into it as well left him especially irritated whenever he thought about it.

She Lulang slowly shook his head. He didn’t care much about it, yet Yu Qunqing grasped his wrist.

“Many disasters are brought about by humanity itself,” Yu Qunqing said, unaware of how intimate his actions were as he gently rubbed the scar. In a low voice, he added, “Maybe I shouldn’t save humanity.” After a pause, he amended, “Except for you.”

She Lulang’s slit pupils contracted for a split second before returning to normal. He understood Yu Qunqing’s inner turmoil—how could the pain of being betrayed by humanity in a previous life simply vanish after starting over? Yu Qunqing had tried his best not to think about it, but whenever his hands were free, the interrogations of the past replayed again and again in his mind.

She Lulang, however, was firm in his heart. Under the cover of night, he fixed his gaze on Yu Qunqing, fully aware of what he had always been pursuing.

“The distinction between humans and natural disasters is defined by others,” he said. “I don’t care. I just want to do what makes me happy.”

Yu Qunqing squeezed She Lulang’s hand again, a faint smile rising to his lips. His fractured soul seemed to receive a small measure of comfort—but it still wasn’t enough. Nighttime truly invited melancholy, and Yu Qunqing sank into the depths of certain philosophical questions:

“I actually have no connection to human society…”

“Meow!” A cat’s cry abruptly cut off his thoughts. Two emerald-green points of light appeared on the rooftop floor.

The system’s blue screen floated out at just the right moment, switching to the game Traveling Meow Meow: “Klein Bottle has accumulated four cat-ear grasses—it’s time to start traveling. Wish it luck!”

“No need to think about me, meow,” Klein Bottle said, its tail swishing. “Cats are fated to part—sometimes just downstairs, sometimes far away at the edge of the sky.”

Yu Qunqing reiterated, “You’re not allowed to bring any weird friends back here.”

“Got it!”

Klein Bottle leapt into the air, eight legs bursting with powerful momentum. The black cat vanished into the night sky.

“Maybe we could travel someday too,” Yu Qunqing mused. “With our strength, we should be able to go pretty far. Anywhere you want to go?”

His worries didn’t lessen as he returned to the earlier topic:

“I actually have no connection to human society…”

“Ding-dong!” The system popped up again. “The Crocodile Administrator from Mediterranean Butler Love Match Server One is requesting a call!”

Yu Qunqing’s philosophical contemplation was interrupted for the second time by Y.U.X.I. He finally snapped:

“Who’s looking for me?”

…

Meanwhile, back to the current situation of the residential area.

During the day, the residents had endured a grueling battle, only to suddenly learn of grim news about the future. Under Crocodile Immortal’s guidance, they decided to explore outward. This should have been a moment for unity—but people quickly split into several factions.

Venturing outside was too dangerous. Who would take the vanguard? Who would handle logistics? What supplies should be brought, and how should they be distributed? These weren’t issues that could be settled by one person, one vote—people needed leadership. Thus, relationships among residents evolved once more. Based on closeness and interests, they quickly banded together, forming different factions and electing leaders they acknowledged. Where there were利益, there were unseen blades and shadows. Within just a few hours, the power structure of the residential area was rapidly reshaped.

One of these newly formed factions consisted of the Ecological Ethics Foundation members who had arrived early in the area. The once-miserable fishman had now become the acting station chief in everyone’s eyes.

At this moment, the fishman stood in a corner of the residential area, giving a speech to over a hundred people. Beside him stood a giant crocodile, drowsy and half-asleep.

“We’re very glad you chose ecological protection. Yes—ecological protection is the only way for us to survive the apocalypse. Our Crocodile Immortal here is the best proof!”

Applause erupted from the crowd, emotions running high. The Ecological Ethics Foundation controlled the residential area’s broadcast channel for disaster-related information and was also very tolerant toward non-human beings. As a result, it quickly expanded from the initial five members to over a hundred.

“Now we’re going to explore outside. Many of you may feel afraid or lost. But as long as we stand united, we will definitely overcome these difficulties.” The fishman presented a plan for collecting and distributing supplies, continuing the foundation’s original group-based cooperation model. The crowd was thoroughly convinced, feeling even more strongly that they had chosen the right side.

“We’re definitely going to become the number one faction in the residential area!” someone shouted passionately.

“That’s right!” The fishman felt deeply gratified. He turned to the crocodile and said with emotion, “But there’s something we have to tell you… Do you know why I’m only the acting station chief, and not the true chief of this residential substation?”

“Isn’t it modesty?” someone in the crowd asked, puzzled.

“The apocalypse doesn’t need modesty, and our future won’t involve bureaucratism,” the fishman said firmly. “Our true substation chief is actually doing something great. If I tell you his name, you’ll probably be shocked—because he’s the powerful figure you often talk about in the residential area: Yu. Qun. Qing!”

The crowd erupted in an uproar.

“When there were only ten residents in the area, he already agreed to serve as our foundation’s station chief, rescuing many of our companions at the subway station…” the fishman said nostalgically. “Although on the surface he doesn’t align himself with any external faction, every time he leads a team out, he goes farther than anyone else. Isn’t that to protect the residential area, while also giving others a chance to grow? He’s been silently protecting us all along. His true identity—(is that) the foundation’s leader!”

After a bit of recollection, everyone realized it was indeed true. Yu Qunqing’s team frequently went out on expeditions, eliminating disasters several times more than the others. Because of them, the community’s level of safety had increased dramatically. They had almost overlooked this point; now that the fishman pointed it out, a sense of gratitude rose in their hearts.

“There’s also a second secret,” the fishman said deliberately in a low voice. “From the very beginning, Yu Qunqing has been the crocodile’s guardian. He can communicate with the crocodile, and he strongly supports ecological protection. I’ve already spoken with him—there’s no need to lie to you. He’s one of us—” Turning to the gigantic crocodile beside him, he said, “Honored Station Master, please lead us to become the number one power in the community!”

Because the conversation mentioned Yu Qunqing, the crocodile was disturbed and couldn’t fall back asleep. It couldn’t understand what these people were saying, so it could only call Yu Qunqing through the game’s built-in channel. The crocodile impatiently flicked its tail, which the Foundation members instead took as a sign of the crocodile’s approval. Cheers immediately erupted. So that formidable Yu Qunqing was their Station Master!

Far away on the Fourth Ring Road, Yu Qunqing heard this utterly baffling conversation.

Who was the Station Master? What “number one power”? Was an internal conflict about to break out in the community?

Yu Qunqing’s mood turned subtle. Please don’t stick random titles on him!

He shut off the game screen, adjusted his emotions, and continued his gloomy conversation with his own vice-captain. “I don’t have any ties with human society… I mean, setting aside all these messy connections, I actually don’t have much to do with the people in the community.”

The night was deep, seemingly especially suited for pondering life’s three great philosophical questions. Yu Qunqing thought of that 55% human-rights threshold, and his mood sank further…

“Ding-dong!” The system struck twice. “There is in-game dialogue related to the player. Would you like to view it?”

Yu Qunqing’s half-formed melancholic monologue was interrupted once again.

He opened the in-game dialogue, and a huge block of chat windows popped up:

“Thank you for choosing Polar Bear Company! The apocalypse cannot exist without entertainment—without entertainment, that’s the real apocalypse! Ura—!”

Polar Bear had a notorious reputation outside the community, with the motto “Only elites can survive.” But the Polar Bear branch inside the community had completely reinvented itself, focusing on providing higher-level happiness—living in the apocalypse, not merely surviving. They controlled the community’s broadcast entertainment channel and were recently planning to rent another room in the community to host tabletop games. They had recruited slightly fewer newcomers than the Foundation, only around seventy people.

“Some of you may wonder why we’re called Polar Bear Company instead of Penguin Company. That’s because our first employee came from the original Polar Bear Company. On that day, he took part in the clash between the external Foundation and that shelter at the subway station, displaying godlike strength. We were utterly convinced, body and soul.

“That day, he mercifully hired us and let us enter a probation period. After the trial, he showed great kindness and let us become full members. Although he doesn’t manage us much now, it’s because he’s expanding his influence outside.

“By now, you all know who the true BOSS of our company is, right?

“That’s right! It’s Yu Qunqing!”

In the community, long-time residents always had more say, and most of those senior residents had witnessed Yu Qunqing’s strength. Even after a long time, they still felt lingering fear of that terrifying power. So praising Yu Qunqing cost them nothing at all. The newer residents were confused, but they also knew Yu Qunqing was someone very formidable. Now that such a powerful person was on their side, they naturally felt more at ease and began applauding enthusiastically.

“For our future, and to regain the BOSS’s favor, we must perform well in this upcoming expedition and strive to become the community’s number one power!”

“The number one power in the community!”

After reading through it all, Yu Qunqing closed the dialogue with a face full of confusion and began to think about exactly which step had gone wrong. How had he suddenly acquired two inexplicable positions?

He stood quietly in the night wind for a few seconds, uncertain whether tonight was really a good time for philosophical contemplation.

He tentatively spoke again:

“I don’t have much connection with human society…”

“Ding-dong!” As expected, the system interrupted the somber atmosphere. “There is in-game dialogue related to the player. Would you like to view it?”

She Luolang commented in an obscure tone, “You’re really quite memorable.”

Yu Qunqing looked puzzled. “Who else is looking for me?”

The game screen displayed a pixel-art laboratory scene. A pixel character inside spoke:

“Our student union controls a laboratory building in the community. By both reason and circumstance, we are the number one power in the community, and we must absolutely hold onto this position!”

The University Town United Student Union, totaling over a thousand people, was indeed the largest force in the community. But having the most people also meant being the hardest to manage. So they came up with a solution—bring in outside help!

“We’ve already invited Lin Luyi and Dong Changxin to join our student union as special consultants, and they’ve agreed,” the pixel character said. “They also said they’d help deliver the invitation to Mr. Yu and Mr. She. I really hope they’ll join our student union!”

A pixel character in a wheelchair said, “I think they will. They’re not only powerful, but also good people… I remember our escape from University Town. None of us had experience dealing with disasters, but luckily, the disasters we encountered were all low-level lone entities. Later, we went back along that route and found it was actually far more dangerous, so… in truth, they protected and trained us along the way.”

“But we must have the capital to make them agree,” another pixel character clenched a pixel fist. “So we absolutely must keep our position as the number one power!”

“The number one power in the community!”

In just one night, undercurrents surged through the community. The competition between factions officially began.

Only Yu Qunqing remained confused:

“Who exactly are they competing with for first place?”

Why is it him everywhere?

“Forget it.” Yu Qunqing finally gave up on philosophical pondering for the night. Maybe life sometimes requires ignoring these questions. He bought a leisurely soft chair and pulled She Luolang over to sit with him. The long night stretched on—surely the best activity was—

“Let’s play games together!”

She Luolang: Called it.

…

As dawn approached, a group of people quietly arrived at the checkpoint of the Jiangbei City Shelter.

“Stop!”

A floodlight shone on them, and a stern voice asked, “Do you have your transit passes?”

“I have a pass! I’m also a green-tag worker at the research center!” Han Shuzhu hurriedly shouted.

After leaving with the injured Yu Yanlan, he was fortunate enough to run into other teams returning to the shelter, and they traveled back together. They were lucky—having suffered only some non-penetrating injuries—and the group safely withdrew to the shelter.

Those who had lost their passes needed to undergo isolation and interrogation. Han Shuzhu, who still had his pass and green-tag credentials, quickly received the best treatment. Yu Yanlan, whom he had brought back with great difficulty, was also soon sent to the medical camp. After all, the protagonist couldn’t die.

After resting briefly at the research center, he was suddenly awakened and told something had happened on Yu Yanlan’s side.

“We detected different blood samples on him. Has he come into contact with anyone?” a staff member in protective gear asked sternly.

“His brother,” Han Shuzhu said. “I suspect they’re adopted—there’s no resemblance at all. What, was I right?”

“The blood samples show that this genetic profile has absolutely nothing in common with Yu Yanlan,” the staff member replied.

Han Shuzhu paused, then cautiously added, “His brother is that Yu Qunqing. They really have no blood relation? My god, that’s a huge scoop!”

“It’s not a matter of blood relation,” the staff member said, handing over a test report. “It’s a matter of reproductive isolation. He isn’t human. His cells are extremely active, and his radiation levels are very high. If our instruments aren’t malfunctioning, he may be the only observable humanoid disaster at present.”

Han Shuzhu flipped through the report and said coldly, “Not surprising. And then?”

“We’ve already rushed the report to Dr. Chen,” the other person said in a low voice. “Dr. Chen replied very quickly. He’ll be rushing here soon.”

Dr. Chen was the renowned figure who proposed disaster grading and the 55% human-rights line, and one of the core members who established the research center. He traveled between shelters in different cities for humanity’s survival. However, Jiangbei City Shelter was too close to the Class I disaster Eight-Legged Frostfall, so the research center had always opposed his coming. This time, he disregarded the danger to come—clearly, he attached great importance to Yu Qunqing.

Han Shuzhu began preparing work, only to be called away again for a meeting.

He was a clerical worker at the research center and had brainwashed many people using “textual intrusion,” including the person before him:

“Hello, Mr. Han Shuzhu—‘the aloof-as-the-moon, erudite, and knowledgeable one who plays a background onlooker eating melons in abusive novels while gaining many side-character benefits’—please go to the conference room.” The employee felt nothing was odd about such a long title. It was a persona Han Shuzhu had crafted for himself, and he was quite satisfied hearing it.

He had successfully infiltrated the research center’s upper levels. Most confidential materials were open to him, and today’s meeting was no exception.

He sat in a lower seat, listening as the person at the head spoke:

“The neighboring Weilu City Shelter has already been breached by disasters. They have around five thousand people and intend to seek refuge with us.”

“Five thousand?!” someone exclaimed in shock. “Our shelter is already overburdened—where would we fit five thousand more?”

“But the shelter’s auxiliary AI will absolutely accept them…” the head person pointed out.

The survival advantage of official shelters largely came from this auxiliary AI, temporarily developed by the Supreme Academy of Sciences. It could assess the local environment and calculate optimal survival plans. Its underlying logic was simple: accept and rescue all humans.

If a shelter’s administrators violated this principle, the AI would proactively shut down and disable the machines it controlled—generators, water purifiers, network hubs, greenhouses… The AI was humanity’s final gift from the Supreme Academy of Sciences before its demise.

Because of this, official shelters earned the trust of many survivors, since administrators ostensibly upheld the principle of “accepting and rescuing all humans.” Official shelters were arks in the dark night.

“Our shelter cannot take in five thousand people!” someone reiterated emotionally.

“I know, which is why we’ve decided to adopt Plan B instead.” The recorder waiting nearby distributed printed plans.

“Our shelter will enter ‘Lights-Out Mode’ under the pretext of conserving power. We’re deep in the mountains—without a signal, those five thousand won’t know where we are. They’ll rush blindly toward the city. As long as they don’t come to us on their own, we won’t be violating the highest directive. Do you all agree?”

There were thirty-one people in the conference room. They looked at one another, and before long, all agreed to the plan. One by one, they pressed their thumbprints onto the document. It was old-fashioned, but it carried a strong sense of ceremony.

When the plan reached Han Shuzhu, he naturally did not object. He pressed his thumb down firmly. Thirty-one thumbprints determined the fate of five thousand people.

“Shelter ‘Lights-Out Mode’—officially activated—”