On the third day of the summer harvest, Kyle Crane woke up briefly. Crane and Lin Feng never crossed paths during it, Abraham was the one who passed the news along.

Marcus ran a second examination. Crane's body was recovering fast, but Marcus quickly noticed something that didn't add up.

Standard protocol: administer antibiotics and antipyretics, and the fever from the infection should come down. Crane's temperature, though, burned like banked coals. It had dropped over time, yes, but barely. Still hovering in the danger zone.

After Marcus brought it to Lin Feng, Lin Feng told Marcus to keep quiet. Don't mention it outside.

Marcus didn't understand why. Lin Feng did.

That was the Harran Virus at work.

It was rewriting Crane's genetic code, pushing toward Volatile.

The only good news was that when The Tower broke out of Harran, they'd brought a stockpile of Antizin with them, along with Dr. Imran Zere's research materials and data. Enough to work with. Enough to buy time.

On the seventh day of the summer harvest, Lin Feng got word from Shane. Three dairy cows had been found on another farm, one bull, two cows.

Probably the long starvation, probably the walkers. Whatever the reason, all three were aggressive. The moment Shane, Lin Feng, or anyone else got close, the cattle tensed up and started looking for something to charge.

Lin Feng studied them. Coarse, filthy coats. Matted with dirt and clinging scraps of unidentifiable tissue. His first instinct was to put them down and cut his losses.

Maggie stopped him. Said there was a way to bring them back.

Lin Feng hesitated, took one look at the certainty in Maggie's eyes, and agreed.

One good meal versus eating well every day. He knew the difference. And killing two milk-producing cows would be a waste he'd regret.

Maggie sedated all three, washed them down thoroughly to strip away the scent markers, then reworked their living space. Brought over a load of forage from Hershel's farm. Fed them. Soothed them. Day after day, steadily and patiently, until the aggression bled out of them and they settled back into being livestock.

Lin Feng watched the whole process with fresh eyes. Sister-in-law had real skill.

Over at the threshing ground, Hershel looked up at the sun hanging high overhead, then down at the wheat spread across the ground, and broke into a wide grin.

In a world like this, the two things that brought the most peace of mind were weapons and food.

Hershel bent down, scooped up a handful of wheat, rubbed it between both palms, then cracked open a few of the grains and inspected them. Nodded, satisfied.

Zones One through Three had all been cut on the first day. Now the grain had finished drying, roughly twelve thousand pounds. Next step: screening out the weeds and shriveled grains, then into storage.

On the evening of day seven, after the last cut of the day, everyone returned to camp and began barreling the wheat that was ready to store. They didn't fill the drums to the brim. Left a pocket of air at the top, dropped in several pre-cut candles, lit them, then clamped the lids down and sealed them airtight.

Ten minutes, give or take. Long enough for the flames to burn through the oxygen inside.

Then came the transport: pulleys and levers, drum by drum onto the pickups, and finally into the warehouse.

First-day intake: forty-one drums. Approximately twelve thousand pounds.

Lin Feng stood outside the makeshift warehouse and started scratching his head.

Every usable steel drum they'd collected was now committed. After today's initial storage run, exactly six remained.

Which meant tomorrow's ten-thousand-plus pounds of dried wheat had nowhere to go.

Grain piling up with no way to store it, left to rot in the open, for someone with Chinese blood in their veins, that was practically a personal affront.

"What's he scratching his head for? Is he trying to claw his brain out through his skull?"

"A monkey... well, no—with that build it'd be more accurate to say ape. Same principle, though. No brain either way."

"Truly tragic."

"Shouldn't that be pathetic?"

Tolga and Fatin traded lines back and forth, expressions perfectly grave, tone almost sympathetic.

Lin Feng hadn't said a word yet when Andrew materialized quietly off to one side, face neutral, eyes trained on the backs of the two brothers' heads.

"So. Two great inventors. Any brilliant insights?"

"Brilliant insights? No, no—we simply noticed what any normal person would notice. For instance, food-grade IBC plastic totes."

"Plastic liner, sealed lid, high capacity. A thousand-liter tote holds roughly fifteen hundred pounds of wheat."

"Lighter than steel drums. Rust-resistant. All you have to do is haul them over, fill them with grain, and move them into this barn. Simple, yes?"

Fatin picked it up without missing a beat: "If your people are strong enough, horizontal metal storage tanks are another option. The modification work would be difficult for monkeys like yourselves—but for us, trivially easy."

Back and forth, the two of them managed to offend everyone in camp in one sweep. Even Jade's expression went dark.

Lin Feng turned and looked at them. Clicked his tongue once. Didn't say much.

"Shane, Daryl, each of you take two teams tomorrow, hit two different county seats, and see what you can turn up. Merle, take a team through the nearby towns. Same objective: grab everything you can find."

"Tomorrow's harvest is on me. Rick, you've got camp security."

Nods all around. The wheat on the threshing ground was gathered and covered, and everyone headed back to camp to start dinner.

Jade fell into step beside Lin Feng and said quietly, "I'm sorry. They don't mean it personally..."

"I know." Lin Feng didn't break stride. "They just look down equally on anyone who can't keep up with their thinking."

Jade went quiet.

Hard to argue with that. Because it was exactly right.

"It's fine. I can live with them." Lin Feng shrugged. "Geniuses have always been a little strange, that's just how it goes."

What he didn't say out loud: in his mental list, the R&D center had just jumped from somewhere near the back of Phase Three all the way to the top of Phase One.

No grand reason. He was just genuinely worried these two would get themselves beaten to death one day.

After dinner, Shane pulled Merle and Daryl aside to talk logistics while Rick sat nearby, adding thoughts and suggestions as they came up.

Lin Feng watched from a distance and felt something warm settle in his chest. The ice between those two was cracking. Things were drifting, slowly but surely, back toward what they used to be.

He left them to it.

Because someone was about to come collect a debt from him, and the amount wasn't small.

Several hundred million, give or take.

➤ Next: Summer Harvest Daily Life 2

Chapter 96 - Summer Harvest Daily Life 2

The next morning.

Lin Feng hauled a load of wheat back and had barely entered camp when spotted Nancy, Emma, and Amy working hard to scrub down a row of IBC plastic totes.

Nearby sat around a dozen more plastic containers of varying sizes, the largest rated at a thousand liters, the smallest still holding two hundred.

Lin Feng drove into the threshing ground, shoveled the wheat off the back until the bed was clear, then trotted over to the three of them.

Amy was filling one of the totes with water. Hearing Lin Feng approach, Amy looked up with a bright smile. "Lin? What are you doing over here?"

"Just came to have a look." Lin Feng patted the side of a plastic tank and nodded in satisfaction. "These things are solid."

Amy's face went a little pink, and in the distraction poured in too much water without noticing. By the time Amy caught the mistake, the tote was too heavy to move.

Lin Feng stepped in without a word, grabbed the container, rocked it back and forth a few times, then tipped it over. A rush of clear water spilled out, carrying a distinct artificial sweetness with it.

"Peach flavor?"

"Pfft — yeah." Amy laughed. "Shane and the others found a small beverage contract factory nearby. Most of the stock had already expired, but the tanks themselves are still good. Marcus said to disinfect everything thoroughly, just to be safe."

"Fair enough. Still, a contract beverage factory out here?" Lin Feng shook his head. "Weird place for one."

This was agricultural land, not an industrial zone.

"The rent is cheap, though," Amy said. "Even if it's a bit out of the way, a factory like that only needs to hit a minimum sales rate to keep costs manageable."

Lin Feng gave Amy a second look. Hadn't expected that from this girl.

Amy's ears went pink, then Amy smiled and looked away.

Lin Feng didn't think too hard about it. What Lin Feng did know was that if the wheat haul didn't continue, Hershel Greene — currently out in the blazing sun driving a roaring combine harvester, was going to have some words for him.

Right. His own father-in-law, braving the heat, running the harvester on his behalf.

Not much he could do about it. When manpower was short, you used whoever was available.

As far as being a heartless capitalist went...

Lin Feng said his goodbyes, turned on his heel, and drove out of camp.

Nancy watched Amy standing there, cheeks still flushed, and blinked. Put two and two together. Didn't say a word.

---

In the county town, Shane stood with a fire axe in hand, watching the traceurs work.

Armed with nothing but daggers and hunting knives, they moved through the buildings and narrow passages like water, up walls, across rooftops, flowing from one gap to the next while casually putting down walkers the whole time. Shane scratched at the short stubble on the back of the head with a free hand.

Clean. Efficient. Every one of them bold but measured, daring enough to draw a herd, redirect it, and thread through the middle like they were dancing.

The moment a gap opened, the blade went in, one strike, kill confirmed, and they were already moving to the next target.

Like assassins out of a legend.

Except for the one with the side-parted hair. That one was lagging behind. Not exactly green, more like Marcus on a bad day, the type who seemed completely at a loss in close quarters without a gun in hand.

That wouldn't do. It wasn't often you ran into someone from the same background, and even if the kid wasn't exactly Shane's favorite face in the crowd, embarrassing the whole system like this wasn't an option.

Shane glanced around and spotted the tactical hatchet Lin Feng had scavenged, smaller than a fire axe, lighter on the arms, better for the long haul. That would suit this one.

"Leon! Heads up!"

Leon had just sliced off a walker's hand with the hunting knife, punched the blade into the eye socket, gave it a slight twist, and pulled clean. About to move to the next one when Shane's shout cut through. Something came flying through the air.

Leon caught it on instinct. Looked down at it.

A tactical hatchet, sheath still on.

"Huh? Captain, what's this for?"

Shane's expression went flat. What's it for? What do you think it's for?

"Alright, got it." Leon turned the hatchet over in hand, gripped it a few different ways. The more Leon held it, the more it settled naturally, like it had always been there. Like it belonged.

A walker lurched in from the side. Leon drew the hatchet, swung a clean horizontal arc, blade bit into the skull halfway and stuck.

The walker kept pushing forward. Leon stepped back, planted a kick into its chest, yanked the hatchet free, and finished it.

Done. But it felt a lot messier than just using the knife.

Maybe the technique wasn't right.

Leon glanced over at Shane. Under the dark T-shirt, muscle definition was unmistakable, the kind of build you only get from years of deliberate work, veins faintly tracing the forearms.

Leon filed that away and kept moving, hatchet in hand, heading deeper into the hardware workshop to keep clearing.

That was why they were here, cutting machines, welding equipment, related materials. And a hardware processing factory was exactly the kind of place you'd find all three.

It didn't take long before Shane's group had the whole mid-sized facility cleared.

"Captain, inside's clean. We moving stuff out?"

Shane shouldered the fire axe and nodded. "Fast as you can. Doesn't matter what it is — if it could be useful, it goes in the vehicle. Keep your eyes open."

The words were barely out before Shane felt something oddly familiar about the moment. Like it had happened before.

Right. That was what Lin Feng always said before they loaded up after an operation.

Shane snorted. Like general, like soldier, apparently.

The others didn't notice. They just started hauling.

Shane watched the traceurs work and felt something close to a good mood, which didn't happen often. Stamina, speed, parkour, nerve, all of it above the bar. Combat skills were still behind, didn't quite match everything else they brought to the table. But that was fixable. Give it time and training.

Once they were back, Shane would bring it up with Lin Feng. Especially regarding a certain underperforming young man. Tsk. Ten days chopping trees with Merle first, build the baseline.

Nearby, Leon was helping carry a small cutting machine when a sudden sneeze hit out of nowhere, followed immediately by a creeping, sourceless sense of dread. Like something had just set its sights on Leon.

Leon turned around. Scanned the area carefully.

Nothing. Just that dark-faced captain staring from across the floor.

Could it be that the performance today had been bad enough that the boss was planning to make things unpleasant?

...Probably not.

➤ Next: Summer Harvest Routine 3