The school broadcast's reach was shrinking by the day. Obviously, zombies had smashed most of the speakers.

Students in the dorms had either made it to the cafeteria or died trying. Of course, some were still holed up in their rooms, too scared to step outside-those people probably had food stashed away.

Another group, like Zhao Kun's, had been forced to shelter elsewhere.

Still, a decent number had managed to reach the cafeteria.

The cafeteria doors were locked tight. Every glass window was papered over with newspaper-impossible to see anything inside from out.

Inside was a sea of bodies, chaotic as a wet market. Crying, shouting, arguments bleeding into each other without pause.

School administrators scrambled to maintain order, but students teetering on the edge of total breakdown weren't hearing a word of it.

Up on the elevated platform, the Principal stared at the compiled numbers, his expression grim.

Over thirty thousand faculty and students at this university. Fewer than two thousand had made it to the cafeteria.

How was he supposed to accept that?

"Are there still survivors who haven't arrived?" the Principal asked.

"Definitely," a department head sighed. "But the area outside the cafeteria is crawling with zombies now. Even if people are alive out there, they can't get in."

"Ah." The Principal exhaled long and heavy. "Forget it. Let's feed the students first. They must be starving."

"Understood."

Soon, trays of food appeared at the serving windows. The crying stopped the instant people saw the dishes. Then the crowd surged forward, everyone striving to be first, bodies crushing together.

"Students, don't push! Form a line-there's enough for everyone!" the Principal shouted through a megaphone.

But these students hadn't eaten in days. The sight of food obliterated all reason. Some tried to climb over the serving counters to grab plates directly.

Left with no choice, the Principal ordered the cafeteria aunties to carry the food back inside.

That finally snapped some sense into them. One by one, they shuffled into a line.

The aunties brought the food back out.

The first person in line held up his plate, eyes bright with anticipation as he scanned the dishes.

"This one... this one... and this-I want all of it. Extra rice too."

The cafeteria auntie ignored him completely. One scoop of rice. One scoop of potatoes. Next.

"What the hell? I've got money on my meal card-swipe the whole day's worth if you want."

"Seriously, who's supposed to survive on this little?"

The cafeteria erupted into noise again.

"Students, quiet! Quiet!" The Principal raised the megaphone once more.

"I know you're all hungry. But look around you. We are living through the darkest, most difficult moment in human history. Food is critically scarce.

We don't know when rescue will come. But we must believe-the country will not abandon us.

If we ration now, we last more days. More days means a better chance of seeing rescue arrive."

The crowd gradually fell silent. They understood the logic, even if their stomachs didn't.

One by one, students received their portions, sat down, and started wolfing down food like they'd never tasted anything so good. Maybe after years of complaining about campus meals, this was the first time any of them thought the food was genuinely delicious.

Many licked their plates clean when they finished. It wasn't nearly enough.

The Principal watched the students devouring their meager portions below, then turned to the cafeteria manager beside him. "At the current headcount, how long can our rice and vegetables hold out?"

The manager thought it over. "Rice, if we're careful-seven, maybe eight days. Vegetables are the problem. We usually buy fresh daily, just enough for that day. Even with fewer mouths to feed, most of what we have will spoil soon. Three or four days, tops."

The Principal's brow furrowed deeply. He had no idea when rescue would come. If the food ran out first... he didn't want to imagine what would happen.

"Cook less per meal from now on. Stretch it as long as possible."

"Alright."

The manager nodded, his own expression tight. Looked like it'd be watery porridge from here on out.

---

In the Library...

More than thirty people sat slumped on the floor, drained of energy.

They'd escaped the zombies, sure. But hunger didn't care about that. The Library had nothing to eat.

Zombies still roamed outside. No way out anytime soon. Regret gnawed at more than a few of them-if they'd known it would be like this, they should've just stayed in their dorms.

Then-a sharp ripping sound cut through the silence.

Every head turned.

Curly was holding a bag of instant noodles, freshly torn open, about to eat. He felt the shift in atmosphere before he saw it. Looked up, confused.

Dozens of burning eyes locked onto him.

"You... what?" Curly's voice came out small.

"Oh, you've got food? Share some, man."

"Yeah, we're all classmates here. We should help each other out."

They spoke casually, but their feet kept moving closer.

Curly shrank back. "I-I only have this one pack."

The words barely left his mouth before bodies lunged. The noodles were ripped from his hands. Someone tore through his backpack. Others patted down his pockets, his jacket, everywhere.

"What are you doing?! You can't-that's mine!" Curly shouted.

No one heard him. Or no one cared. The same people who'd condemned others for stealing from classmates online had now become hungry wolves themselves, picking Curly clean from head to toe.

The other three from Room 708 had been about to eat something too. Seeing what happened to Curly, they quickly hid their food.

But the movement caught eyes. Instantly, those who'd come up empty rushed toward them.

Seconds later, all three suffered the same fate-stripped of everything.

"Serves them right!" Old Hei and Skinny Monkey watched with vicious satisfaction.

"Didn't expect they still had food on them," Zhao Kun said with a short laugh.

His group hadn't joined the frenzy, but they hadn't helped either. Just watched.

"Human nature." Zhao Kun sighed, then casually pulled a piece of bread from his backpack and bit into it.

That drew immediate attention. The have-nots turned toward him, drifting closer.

Zhao Kun picked up his iron pipe-still smeared with drying blood-and fixed them with a cold stare.

"Take one more step. See what happens."

The crowd froze.

Their eyes dropped to the pipe. The rust-red stains on the metal killed whatever courage hunger had given them.

This guy would actually do it. They were sure of that.

Seeing them back off, Zhao Kun ate openly, unhurried, right in front of everyone.

Old Hei and Skinny Monkey pulled out food of their own. After fighting their way here, they were starving too.

The crowd stared at the food in their hands with naked greed. But not a single person stepped forward.

Curly and the Room 708 guys watched this scene, wanting to cry but finding no tears.

Bullying the weak and fearing the strong-plain as day.