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The brief summer ended quietly, almost without notice. Deep underground, the volcanic frogs had bred successfully, their numbers swelling from just over a dozen to more than three hundred, clustering together like a blazing ball of fire. Even from such a distance, Ye Yin still felt as if the soles of her feet were burning—it was probably just her imagination.

Not only had their numbers increased, but the frogs’ strength had also grown; most had reached the second tier, with several dozen already at the third. Ye Yin selected the elite third-tier and peak second-tier frogs, sending them back underground to continue their cultivation. The ones too young or too old were also returned, the elders tasked with caring for the tiny newcomers. Of the roughly one hundred ordinary frogs left, she split them in two: half remained at the third base, while the other half was ordered to burrow their way back to the first base—a precautionary measure, just in case.

Thus, that autumn was rather unusual—warmer even than the recently passed "air-conditioned summer." After their initial surprise, everyone breathed a sigh of relief and busied themselves planting quick-growing crops, as well as hardy vegetables like cabbage and radishes, which could be stored or pickled. Everywhere, the air was filled with the joy of labor, and the worries of certain high-ranking base officials eased, if only a little.

During this great production drive, Ye Yin noticed something: outside the base's internal farms, there were quite a few people from the outer districts cultivating land beyond the walls, apparently enjoying quite low taxes.

“Those lands are risky; you never know when a horde of the dead will trample them,” Situ Fei said, drawing on her reliable father as a source. “Better to let those old troublemakers in the outer districts have something to do and collect a bit of tax, rather than have them idle and stirring up trouble. You have no idea how chaotic things are out there now—every day people are petitioning to join missions, saying if they die the base doesn't have to take responsibility. As if anyone planned to! The only reason they’re held back is because they’d drag everyone down. From what my dad hears, they’re even thinking about opening a mercenary office in the outer district by the year's end, so those people can put their energy to use.”

It seemed the Mercenary Alliance would soon take shape.

Ye Yin couldn't help but reflect on how plans never keep up with change. She had once intended to join the Alliance, only to stumble into becoming a military officer instead. It just went to show that fate outmaneuvers human calculations, and the mission schedule she’d so carefully mapped out before the apocalypse now seemed like nothing but wastepaper. Fortunately, things hadn’t turned out much worse than she’d imagined.

Following Qiao Xinran, three more sixth-tier espers had appeared in the base, and Ye Yin was able to catch up at last, becoming the fifth newly promoted sixth-tier esper of the third base in the early winter of that year.

The people of Spring Snow were naturally delighted, pooling together to throw her a celebration. The drinks were barely halfway finished when Zhiqiu returned.

He stood at the door, a dusting of snow still upon him, his amber eyes deep and somber, pale cheeks bearing faint scars.

Everyone rushed over, voices overlapping as they questioned him. Ye Yin, happy to see him, took his coat and scarf. “Why are you only just back? Where’s Uncle Ou and the others?”

Zhiqiu slowly shook his head.

An ominous feeling struck Ye Yin, and she asked tentatively, “You mean…”

“Uncle Ou and several other tenth-tier espers died in the operation to capture the demon. Supervisor He disappeared.” Zhiqiu’s voice was calm. “Although that person was recaptured and imprisoned, the cost for the Association was too great—nearly half the elite combatants are gone. The future looks bleak.”

With these words, an oppressive silence fell over the club. The cigarette Akashi had been holding slipped to the floor, scattering sparks.

Ye Yin dropped her gaze to her toes, her throat tight with unshed words.

Zhiqiu took a small box from his pocket and placed it in Ye Yin’s palm. “Uncle Ou gave me this before he died. He said, if anything happened to him, you should deliver this to the owner of the noodle shop in District C, no matter the outcome.”

Ye Yin gripped the small box and finally managed a muffled “Mm.”

As the new manager of Spring Snow, Zhiqiu moved from his apartment to a private suite inside Spring Snow, while Ye Yin took over his previous position and even inherited his tea room.

After wrapping up the handover, Ye Yin braved the snow to the noodle shop and ordered a bowl of vegetable noodles.

“Mr. Ou hasn’t been around lately—has he been busy with work?” The owner’s wife was as gentle and kind as ever, wiping broth from the rim of the porcelain bowl before setting it in front of Ye Yin.

Ye Yin took out the small box and handed it to her. “Uncle Ou asked me to give you this.”

The owner’s wife accepted the box with a puzzled look, opening it gently. The moment she saw the tiny diamond ring inside, her eyes lit up, and her cheeks flushed a vivid pink, as beautiful as blossoming apple flowers.

“He—he’s really playing such a joke at his age?” Flustered, she rubbed her apron with her hands. “I’m not young anymore, and I have a daughter. I’m not good enough for him, no, no…”

Ye Yin paused, steeling herself before saying, “It’s not a joke. This was his last wish.”

The owner’s wife was stunned.

“Uncle Ou died in the line of duty. He entrusted someone to give this to you. I think he wanted you and your daughter to do your best to survive, and maybe in the next life, he could give this to you himself.”

When Ye Yin left, the snow outside was heavy. The owner’s wife crouched behind the counter, sobbing silently, her shoulders shaking violently, like a butterfly in deep winter with snow-laden wings.

Most of the espers lost had families; bachelors like Uncle Ou were rare. Yet even for a bachelor, his death brought heartbreak and tears to those who remembered him—how much more anguish must those families be suffering now?

Belatedly, she thought of Zhiqiu, and, on impulse, dashed back to Spring Snow, dropping into a chair before the startled Zhiqiu, breathless.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m just so glad you’re still alive,” Ye Yin said. “I forgot to tell you that.”

Zhiqiu was silent for a moment before he smiled. “Thank you.”

When Zhuo Chenglan was investigating the source of the zombie riot in City B, he unfortunately encountered a terrifying seventh-tier zombie. Most of his soldiers died, and Zhuo Chenglan himself was gravely injured. If not for the protective talisman Ye Yin had given him at the critical moment, he might never have made it back alive.

Teacher Yue happened to be on leave at headquarters, and Ye Hua had just qualified as an intermediate healer, so the training center assigned Zhuo Chenglan to her. Ye Hua, determined to prove herself—and with the added pressure of knowing this was her sister’s friend—worked with all her might and ultimately healed Zhuo Chenglan almost perfectly. Her skill rivaled that of Teacher Yue, earning her widespread praise. Influential figures at the training center went out of their way to make friends, hoping for preferential treatment should they need healing in the future—Qiao Xinran included.

The first base sent a heartfelt congratulatory telegram and requested that the third base return their eldest son to ease his family’s worries. The third base, reluctant to let him go, insisted Zhuo Chenglan was an outstanding officer beloved by all, and that his subordinates couldn’t live without him—they were wailing and threatening all sorts of drastic measures.

The first base replied even more cheerfully: If his subordinates can’t bear to part with him, let them all come! It’s no trouble—we can afford it.

Commander Mu pondered over the telegram for hours before instructing Mu Yu to take over the recon work and sent another message to Commander Zhuo, vowing that Zhuo Chenglan would never again be put in harm’s way. “After all, I watched him grow up. Your son is like my own.”

Commander Zhuo fumed: “Nonsense! If my son is your son, then whose wife is my wife?”

In the end, with government mediation, the first and third military districts didn’t come to blows, but the feud was officially set, and tension ran high. Fortunately, the roads between bases were still under repair, so conflict was avoided, sparing many from needless disaster.

From then on, Zhuo Chenglan’s situation became awkward. Commander Mu, under the pretense of convalescence, actually placed him under house arrest in the most luxurious private sanatorium in District A. He and Feng Ying were trapped in that gilded cage, rarely allowed to step outside. All of Zhuo Chenglan’s former subordinates were dispersed to other units, and their new superiors forbade them from visiting their old commander. Only Lili, a peripheral acquaintance, was free to visit and always brought them plenty of treats and things to pass the time.

“Oh, I love this swing!” Lili said happily, tugging Feng Ying’s arm. “From now on, I’ll come swing here all the time—don’t be stingy!”

“Of course not,” Feng Ying replied generously. “It’s just a swing, after all.”

“Will you push me?” Lili asked, eyes full of hope.

“I’ll try,” Feng Ying considered seriously. “You’re not exactly petite, after all.”

“Hey!” Lili squealed, slapping Feng Ying playfully and knocking her to the ground. “How dare you hint that I need to lose weight!”

Sitting on his sick bed, Zhuo Chenglan watched Lili and Feng Ying roughhousing outside the window, lost in thought.

“Aren’t you going to visit Director Zhuo?” Ye Hua asked Ye Yin.

“No. It would only trouble him. I’ll let Lili bring him the things.” Ye Yin patted Ye Hua’s head. “You did great this time. If you want a reward, just say the word—I’ll make it happen.”

“You’re always at the barracks or at Spring Snow, and hardly ever at home for a meal,” Ye Hua said. “Tomorrow could you go a little later? I want to make breakfast and eat it with you.”

Ye Yin felt a twinge of guilt and agreed at once. “All right.”

The next morning, stretching as she came downstairs, Ye Yin found Ye Hua already busy in the kitchen. With practiced hands, she fried two ham-stuffed pancakes. The small pot of milk bubbled on the stove, and the table was set with fresh toast, various spreads, and fruit—a sumptuous spread.

Ye Yin sat down, and Ye Hua mischievously brought the skillet over, sliding the pancakes directly onto her plate. The hot, fragrant pancakes sizzled invitingly, and Ye Yin’s appetite surged—she finished them in a few quick bites.

“Every morning, you just grab something and run. That’s not healthy,” Ye Hua admonished. “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. You’re eating more and exercising more lately—you should eat better.”

“And you? Do you eat like this every day?”

“No,” Ye Hua admitted, a little embarrassed. “Today’s special…”

“Then don’t just lecture me.” Ye Yin grinned. “From now on, let’s have breakfast together and take turns cooking.”

“Really?”

Time with her sister grew shorter by the day. Thankfully, she was still alive—there was still time to face it.

Ye Hua cheered with delight.

After breakfast, Ye Yin hurried off to the barracks to check in. No sooner had she entered the office than Zou Yan, looking grim as she handed over a document, said, “You’d better read this yourself.”

Author’s note: I’ll try to get the second update out by midnight... another sleepless night, and the dark circles under my eyes are getting worse.