"Do you even know whether to cut across or layer by layer? Fat has seven layers. You've got to cut one by one. And there's also cosmetic suturing. Do you even know how to stitch properly?" Jing Shu scoffed, her gaze flicking down as if already mapping out imaginary incision lines, fingers unconsciously rubbing together like she was testing the feel of surgical thread.
"You'll always have to learn at some point. Who knows, maybe I'll become the midwife of this area in the future. If it doesn't come out smoothly, I'll just cut the belly open and pull the kid out. The thought of it is exciting. I really regret not majoring in medicine and keeping corpses in formalin for company. Instead, I studied useless agriculture, and now I'm stuck with a biology professor. Ah, it's all fate." Wu You'ai talked as she walked, hands waving animatedly, her steps light, as if this were a casual stroll rather than a discussion about live surgery.
"How about this, you handle the cutting, I'll handle the stitching. Look at this stitch method, when I pull at the end, you can't even see the thread. It's all hidden neatly under the skin." She demonstrated with her fingers, pinching and tugging at invisible flesh, clearly pleased with the technique.
Jing Shu's eyes lit up, bright and focused, the fatigue from the night momentarily forgotten. Next year and the year after, besides mangled corpses from earthquakes, there would also be plenty crushed under rubble. That would make her stitching skills invaluable, not a hobby but a survival tool. "Darling, I recommend using cosmetic sutures. Once it's stitched, there won't even be a scar." She nodded to herself, already convinced.
"Alright, let's do it that way."
The two walked along the corridor, their footsteps echoing faintly, happily discussing how to dissect and stitch, voices overlapping, excitement creeping into their words. They were itching to practice on Zhang Bingbing, ideas tumbling out one after another, completely unbothered by the subject matter. After all, Jing Shu had her Spirit Spring and anesthetics. No one would die.
"If she can't deliver smoothly, we'll just cut her open," Jing Shu said, the sentence tossed out lightly, almost casual.
Whether it was that one sentence hitting too hard, or Zhang Bingbing's deranged mind picking it up, or even the child inside sensing the malice dripping from Jing Shu and Wu You'ai, something happened.
By the time they arrived at Zhang Bingbing's place, the air thick with sweat and sharp breathing, they hadn't even asked about the situation, and Wu You'ai hadn't yet managed to say her guiding words, "Deep breath, in and out."
Instead, Jing Shu saw a tiny head emerging between Zhang Bingbing's spread legs, slick and unmistakable, as if declaring, "No need for you, I'll come out on my own!"
"Push, push!" Wu You'ai rushed forward to give last-minute guidance, nearly tripping as she squeezed in, just so she could claim she'd helped deliver the child.
Then came a plop, sudden and blunt. Zhang Bingbing's husband pulled the baby out by the head, body and all, hands clumsy but fast, fear and urgency mixing into something rough and effective.
"Waa, waa!" The baby cried loudly, the sound sharp and alive, filling the cramped room without anyone needing to slap his soles.
Jing Shu: "???"
Wu You'ai: "???"
"That's it? It's born? Just like that?" Jing Shu stared, scissors still untouched in her hand.
"Looks like it?" Wu You'ai blinked, clearly recalibrating.
"It's a boy!"
"I don't even know if he's mine or yours." The old man looked pensive, his brow furrowing as he stared at the wriggling infant. If the baby was his, then this was his son's younger brother. If it was his son's, then it was his grandson. The logic tangled in his head, refusing to sort itself out.
"Dad, let's just treat him as our son."
The twisted dialogue made Wu You'ai resolve to send the pair for labor reform once the baby turned a month old. With no child binding them, what excuse would they have then? The thought lodged firmly in her mind.
Jing Shu raised the scissors, metal glinting faintly. She hadn't come to deliver the baby, just to pass scissors and cut the umbilical cord, a simple task she could finally tick off.
No matter what, from now on she could proudly tell people, "I once delivered a baby and cut an umbilical cord."
By her count, it hadn't even taken twenty minutes from start to finish, from arrival to the final cry. It made her wonder if all those horror stories online about childbirth were just jokes exaggerated by stress and fear.
But then again, some women looked like they were dying giving birth, while others had kids on motorcycles, and still others popped them out into toilets. In the end, it was all luck, unpredictable and unfair.
"So ugly."
"All newborns are ugly."
"Fine."
As the first child born in Banana Community, naming was a serious matter, treated with an odd solemnity. Both of Zhang Bingbing's husbands acknowledged Wu You'ai's authority without argument. "You're the administrator of our community. You should name the baby."
Wu You'ai turned to Jing Shu, eyebrows lifting. "Why don't you name him? I'll enter it into the database." Her finger hovered, ready to type.
Jing Shu thought for a moment, eyes drifting to the baby, who had finally quieted down. "His surname should be Zhang. Let's call him Zhang Dada. I hope he can grow up safely in this apocalypse." The wish was simple, stripped of ornament.
"Zhang is good. Taking his mother's surname. Zhang Dada is easy to remember."
"Then Zhang Dada it is."
Wu You'ai rolled her eyes. She'd expected Jing Shu to come up with something meaningful, maybe layered with symbolism. "Fine, Zhang Dada it is." She entered it anyway.
Wu You'ai quickly gathered baby supplies from the group chat, fingers flying across the screen. "Young Madam, I Have a Baby" donated things her child no longer needed, bundles of practical items passing hands one after another, solving Zhang Bingbing's immediate trouble. By the time Jing Shu finished everything, washing her hands and putting the scissors away, it was already six in the morning, the sky just beginning to pale.
She wanted to catch up on sleep, her eyelids heavy, but found Zhou Bapi waiting in his Alpha at the door, engine humming softly, flashing his yellowed teeth in a grin. "Let's head out early. It's a long road."
Jing Shu's teeth clenched. Fine, then tonight she'd definitely sleep well, even if it meant collapsing the moment she got back.
She thought Zhou Bapi's "long road" was just polite talk, a vague warning. But no, it really was long.
The mountains around Wu City, once scenic backdrops, now formed a treacherous, waterlogged maze. The "road" was a barely-visible track of higher ground, snaking between newly-formed lakes and mudslides. The floodwaters, though receded from their peak, still lapped at the car's undercarriage, forcing them to crawl along in near-total darkness for over an hour. By Jing Shu's estimate, they'd covered a mere twenty kilometers by the time the first gray light of dawn revealed their destination.
The complex sprawled across a high valley, a strange mix of decay and preserved functionality. Zhou Bapi pointed out landmarks with a tour guide's pride tinged with melancholy.
"That whole southern slope used to be experimental plots for Saussurea involucrata—snow lotus. We had a batch two months before the cataclysm. Now…" He gestured at the drowned terraces. "Everything's forced into the greenhouses. The outside weather is a murderer."
He swung the car past a cluster of massive, blocky buildings. "Wu City's twenty-year-old pharmaceutical factory. Fully equipped. Over there's the refining section, and that long building is the traditional medicine processing plant. A city within a city."
A vast, windowless structure loomed next. "The main warehouse. In the old days, herbs from half the province passed through here. The government cleared it out secretly, months ago. Smart of them."
Finally, they entered what felt like a self-contained town: repaired buildings, tended paths, a few smokestacks emitting thin plumes. "Before the Shift, over ten thousand people worked here. When production halted, most left. After last year's drought… they scattered to the winds. Only a few of us stubborn old roots remain." He sighed, the sound heavy in the quiet car. "We can't grow much. But we have to grow something. You can substitute food. You can't substitute medicine. Without it, people just… stop."
Jing Shu nodded silently, gazing out at the fortress-like greenhouses. The truth was stark: the pitiful output of herbs here would only ever service a tiny, privileged few. In the apocalypse, medicine was power, and power was never distributed fairly.
Zhou Bapi parked before a surprisingly modern, three-story building. It wasn't wide, but it was tall, each floor boasting a ceiling over five meters high, giving it a stern, institutional authority.
"This," Zhou Bapi announced, puffing out his chest, "was the provincial Medicinal Herb Association's showpiece, finished just before the world went mad. State-of-the-art everything inside—climate simulators, spectral analyzers, hydroponic nutrient management systems. Energy hogs, every one. That's why each province only got one. Twenty-six in the whole country." He looked at her, expecting awe.
It was impressive. A bastion of forgotten science in a drowned world.
"Alright," he said, bustling to the reinforced entrance. "Place your hand here for entry."
A sleek fingerprint scanner glowed softly. Jing Shu pressed her thumb against it.
Beep beep.
"Identity data for Jing Shu… recording successful. Connecting to central big-data node… Please proceed with iris verification for employment contract finalization."
Jing Shu paused. Employment contract? She shot a sharp look at Zhou Bapi, who was studying a rust spot on the doorframe with sudden intensity.
Something was off. This felt less like a tour and more like an ambush.
But the system waited. With a mental shrug—she could always break things later if needed—she leaned forward and let the red laser scan her eye.
BEEP— A louder, definitive tone.
"Iris verification confirmed. Employment contract activated. Welcome, Junior Cultivation Specialist Jing Shu, to the Wu City Branch of the Chinese Medicinal Herb Association. Your credentials have been uploaded to the national network. Please proceed to the third floor for orientation and duty assignment."
The heavy door hissed and slid open, revealing a clean, brightly lit hallway that smelled of antiseptic and damp soil.
Zhou Bapi finally met her gaze, a triumphant, slightly sheepish grin spreading across his wrinkled face, all his teeth on display.
"Congratulations!" he chirped, his voice echoing in the sterile corridor. "From now on, you're officially a part of the Association! Benefits include monthly nutrient pellets, priority water rations, and, of course, all the wilted herbs you can diagnose!"
Jing Shu stared at him, then at the blinking console, then back at his grinning face.
Jing Shu: "???"
===
Zhang Dada (张大大), with Dada (大大) that literally means "big big."