Apocalypse Chapter 72: Little Stars and the Radio Station

Chapter 72: Little Stars and the Radio Station

Translated by Addis of Exiled Rebels Scanlations

Editor: Karai

Jiang Rong’s team moved fast. The day after they returned to the Spark Base with the oil, four fully loaded trucks carrying fresh vegetables rumbled out of the base, headed straight for the Peace Base.

At the same time, the Spark Base’s external radio channel began broadcasting a thank-you letter during prime time. A young woman’s sweet voice rang out across the airwaves, and anyone who heard it was stunned: in this day and age, was there actually such a friendly base?

It wasn’t just other bases that were confused—even people in the Peace Base were doubtful. Was our base really that nice? Instead of spending their time and energy helping other bases, shouldn’t the leadership be focusing on fixing their own internal problems first?

But when the Peace Base residents saw the trucks arrive—drums beating, red ribbons tied in celebratory bows—they hesitated. What could a small base like the Spark Base possibly have to give? When the truck doors opened, their doubts vanished. Fresh, vibrant green vegetables, piled high, nearly blinded them.

The naysayers immediately fell silent. The Spark Base wasn’t just paying lip service with their gratitude—they had delivered it in the most tangible form possible. Vegetables! In this world, where eating a single bite of fresh greens was a luxury, this was practically a miracle.

The Spark Base only had a little over thirty thousand people. They must have pooled their entire base’s resources just to gather this shipment. What kind of base would do this? One that deserved help. One they had to help.

Just as Jiang Rong predicted, after receiving the shipment of vegetables, Meng Liang personally sent him a fax. He expressed his gratitude and—ever so politely—asked if the Spark Base needed any assistance. This first delivery wasn’t the time to make any big requests. Jiang Rong planned to hint at their needs next month, during the second shipment. 

In the meantime, Jiang Rong and his people made several more trips to the oilfield. By the time the second shipment of vegetables was ready to go, the oil they had brought back was enough to keep the Spark Base running for years.

***

Time passed quickly, and before they knew it, December had arrived. At the start of the month, temperatures were nearly twenty degrees, but within a few days, a wave of frigid air swept over the Spark Base. The temperature plunged, and the first snow of the winter began to fall.

By the time the snow came, the winter wheat in the fields was already green, and the rapeseed plants had grown over a foot tall. Only a few hardy vegetables remained standing in the fields. After the snow, the land was a patchwork of pale green and white.

Fortunately, the Spark Base residents were prepared. Before the snow arrived, they harvested everything they could. On the last sunny days before the cold set in, they stockpiled vegetables—some for drying, some for pickling, and some stored in warm places to be eaten fresh.

Thanks to that, the whole base was buzzing with energy, and by the time the snow fell, every household had enough vegetables to get through the winter. No one was happier about the snow than the children and the dogs. Jiang Hao and Jiang Xiaoheng had been playing outside with their little friends every day, running wild in the snow and waging endless snowball fights until they were soaked with sweat. The result? Frostbite on their hands and feet. And when the temperature rose, the frostbite itched and ached unbearably. 

Lately, Guan Shao has been extremely popular among the children. They loved pressing their small, frostbitten hands into his rough palms, rubbing against the thick calluses that soothed the itch. Jiang Rong, hearing that boiling eggplant roots could help frostbite, went out of his way to collect some. Early that morning, he brewed a big pot of eggplant root water and forced his two sons to soak their hands and feet in it.

The moment their frostbitten skin touched the hot water, they grimaced and squirmed. Jiang Rong couldn’t help but laugh. “So, do you still want to build snowmen next time it snows?”

Jiang Hao blinked up at him. “Snowmen are fun~”

Jiang Xiaoheng grinned, showing his little white teeth. “Snowball fights are fun too~”

Jiang Rong understood. They were already planning their next snow adventure. He fished their tiny hands out of the water and rubbed their swollen fingers gently. “Next time, you’re wearing gloves. Got it?”

“Okay~” Jiang Xiaoheng sang out, then added with a mischievous smile, “Daddy, my toes are itchy. Can you scratch them for me?”

Jiang Rong sighed but picked up his son’s foot. “No playing outside today. The snow’s already melting. After this, you’re going to Grandpa and Grandma’s. Finish your homework first—then you can play with your friends.”

The Spark Base had more than three thousand children. Before the Great Crisis, children were seen as the future, to be nurtured and protected. But afterward, countless children lost their parents, their shelter, and their chance at a proper education.

Even so, Jiang Rong had organized teachers and volunteers, founding a school system inside the base. He opened classes from kindergarten all the way through high school and recruited capable people to teach.

The conditions weren’t perfect—not even close. Kids didn’t just learn academics; they also learned practical survival skills. Even Jiang Xiaoheng, who was still in the beginner class, now had labor training and martial arts lessons.

When the weather turned cold in October, the Spark Base’s school officially opened. The classrooms were in a repurposed resort, and many of the college students who had once been sheltered there now worked as assistant teachers. Every morning, dozens of buses went out to pick up the children from each village, taking them to school and bringing them home again at the end of the day.

This decision won over the entire base. Parents were thrilled. Knowing their children could still learn gave them hope, and they worked even harder. And the children? They were happier than ever, finally able to study, play, and make new friends. Jiang Rong planned to build more schools in the future—once the base was strong enough.

When Jiang Xiaoheng heard he was being sent to his grandparents’ house, his little face fell. “Daddy… are you going to work again today?” He hadn’t been able to eat dinner with his father in days. It was the weekend. Why was Daddy still so busy?

Jiang Rong rubbed his son’s tiny foot with a gentle smile. “Not today. I’ll come pick you up for lunch. Think about what you want to eat, okay? Daddy will bring it home later.”

Jiang Xiaoheng’s eyes lit up. “Roast meat!”

“Roast meat!” Jiang Hao echoed, nodding eagerly.

“Alright,” Guan Shao said with a laugh, closing the book in his hand. “Roast meat it is.” He and Jiang Rong had just made some spicy pickled cabbage a few days ago—perfect for wrapping around hot, sizzling grilled meat.

After bundling the boys up and warning them not to scratch their frostbite, Jiang Rong watched as they scampered out the door.

“Junjun, Lele! We’re going to Grandpa and Grandma’s!” they shouted as they left.

Jiang Rong wasn’t worried. First, Junjun and Lele—their two animal companions—were with them. Lele was clever and quick, while Junjun was steady and strong. If anything happened, Junjun could carry both boys to safety.

Second, thanks to Pan Pan’s upgraded ability, the path between Fishery Village 3 and Jiang Rong’s house had been completely rebuilt into a wide, flat road. It was only about a kilometer long, lined with solar-powered lamps, so even at night it was safe to walk.

After the boys left, Guan Shao handed Jiang Rong a thermos in one hand and a few red dates in the other. “Come on. Let’s head out too.”

That morning, the second shipment of vegetables had already been sent to the Peace Base. Now that the roads were cleared, it only took about an hour to get there. Meng Liang would probably be sending a message any minute now.

Jiang Rong popped one of the dates into his mouth. They were from the jujube tree in his yard—sweet, plump, and once, in his previous life, the very thing that had helped keep him and his son alive. Now, he was determined to cultivate more of them and spread the trees throughout the base.

As soon as they stepped outside, a blast of icy air hit their faces. Jiang Rong exhaled, white breath curling in the cold. “It’s freezing.”

Guan Shao glanced at the thermometer. “Minus five degrees.”

“Not bad,” Jiang Rong said. It would only get colder in the weeks ahead. He turned toward the west wall of the courtyard, where Little Fairy the cactus was bundled in a quilted floral jacket. “Little Fairy, are you warm enough?”

The tropical cactus couldn’t handle freezing weather. Worried it might get frostbitten, Jiang Rong had custom-made a massive insulated cover for it. Inside was thick padding, and over it a layer of heavy plastic sheeting. He’d tested it himself—it was warm.

From beneath the insulated wrap came Little Fairy’s muffled voice. “Master Jiang~ All good~”

The plump cactus wiggled a little, but the quilt held tight, and it gave up after a moment. “Ahhh~”

Jiang Rong chuckled. “Good.”

Then he called, “Little Guaiguai, you warm?”

From the eaves of the house, a dark red vine uncurled and shaped itself into a heart. “Master Jiang~”

It was cozy and warm, wrapped up in the little quilt he’d made for it. Even its vines trailing outside had places to stay warm. It would survive the winter just fine.

Once he was sure his two little plants were safe, Jiang Rong and Guan Shao finally headed out.

Meng Liang’s radio call came in at ten o’clock sharp. The moment the line connected, his hearty laugh filled the room. “Director Jiang, you’ve really gone out of your way for us.”

Jiang Rong chuckled. “Oh, it’s nothing. Just a few things we had lying around. It’s perfect if they’re useful to you, President Meng. Oh, by the way—there’s a bundle of cherry radishes in there. I grew those myself.”

Meng Liang sounded surprised. “Grown by Director Jiang himself? Well, I’ll have to make sure I try them.”

They chatted for a few minutes, and then Jiang Rong suddenly let out a sneeze. Hearing him sniffle, Meng Liang asked in alarm, “Director Jiang, are you sick?”

Jiang Rong took the cup of hot water Guan Shao handed him and peeled a steaming roasted tangerine. He put on his best “mildly ill” voice. “Don’t mention it. With the snow these past few days, our solar power’s been stretched thin. No power for heating… caught a little chill, I guess. You take care of yourself too, President Meng.”

Meng Liang sympathized. “Heating is a problem. Why not just use natural gas for central heating?”

Jiang Rong laughed. “Ah, you’re joking, President Meng. We’re out in the countryside—having a simple wood stove is already a blessing. Who could dream of central heating?”

Meng Liang hesitated. “Didn’t you haul in a shipment of natural gas?”

Jiang Rong’s eyes lit up. Finally. “We did, but it’s all for the vehicles—saves us a lot of fuel that way. Even if we had enough gas, we don’t have the pipelines to make use of it…”

Meng Liang chuckled. “Pipelines? That’s easy. If you need it, I can send a team over to help you build the gas and heating systems. A few months, tops.”

Jiang Rong immediately feigned hesitation, perfectly playing his part. “Wouldn’t that be too much trouble for you?”

Meng Liang’s voice was firm and warm. “Not at all. Times are hard, Director Jiang. We should be helping each other build a better future.”

Jiang Rong smiled, gratitude in his voice. “Then I’ll thank you in advance, President Meng.”

When the call ended, everyone turned to Jiang Rong with their thumbs raised. Ruan Hanyu’s eyes sparkled. “Boss Jiang, you actually pulled it off! He’s really sending people to help us!”

Jiang Rong tossed a steaming tangerine into his mouth with a grin. “This is just the beginning. When it comes to construction, we can’t hold a candle to the Peace Base. Building houses and laying pipes is child’s play for them—they’re the ones who dug out an entire underground city.”

Chu Qiang snorted with laughter. “Xiao Jiang, that sneeze of yours was perfect. If I hadn’t seen it myself, I’d have thought you were actually sick.”

Jiang Rong chuckled. “It takes more than a little snow to get me sick.”

In truth, he’d been preparing for winter since summer. He’d ordered all the dead trees in the surrounding area chopped down and replaced with fresh saplings. Everyone saw the trucks hauling timber back and forth, but no one knew what it was for. Now they did.

All that wood had been distributed to every household in the Spark Base for their stoves. They were old-fashioned, a bit bulky, but toss in a few logs, and the entire house turned warm and cozy. Better yet, the stoves doubled as ovens. Right now, everyone was gathered around one, roasting sweet potatoes and tangerines. The room was warm enough that short sleeves were plenty. As Jiang Rong chewed his tangerine, he suddenly paused. “Hmm? Where’s the broadcast?”

Normally, at this hour, the base’s radio program would be running. Their sweet-voiced announcer would be reading out the Spark Base’s daily thank-you message to the Peace Base. But today? Silence. Maybe she was rewriting the script?

Meanwhile, in the medical room of the activity center, the beloved announcer, Miss Wan Xinran—whose voice had landed her the job—was curled up on a bed, face pale, clutching her stomach.

“Hold her steady!” Wang Chunlan barked at the staff who’d carried her in. “Don’t let her hurt herself!”

Wan Xinran groaned, tears in her eyes. “Sister Wang… it’s almost broadcast time… I have to…”

“You hush,” Wang Chunlan scolded gently. “Your appendix is about to rupture, and you’re still worrying about work? No way. Just rest. Missing one day won’t kill the program. Now lie still and let me treat you.”

Two little heads peeked through the window—Jiang Xiaoheng and Jiang Hao.

“Big brother,” Jiang Xiaoheng whispered urgently, “look, big sister Xinran’s crying. She looks so pitiful.”

Jiang Hao frowned. “If there’s no broadcast today… will she get in trouble?”

“I dunno…” Xiaoheng’s little brows furrowed. “If only we could help her.”

Then their eyes met—and lit up. They could help her! They’d watched big sister Xinran at work before. The radio booth wasn’t complicated. Just put on the headset, flip a switch, and start talking. Easy!

“I already memorized what Xinran-jiejie says every day,” Xiaoheng declared proudly. “Come on, big brother! We’ll do it for her!”

The radio station was in chaos. Xinran’s sudden illness had left them scrambling, and the backup announcer was stuck in a neighboring village delivering supplies. Broadcast time was slipping away, and everyone was panicking—

Then, a soft, milky voice crackled through the speakers:

“Big brother, is the switch on?”

“Yep!” Jiang Hao replied seriously. “We’re live!”

Xiaoheng took a deep breath. “Okay! Let’s help big sister Xinran! Ready… go!”

“…Xiaoheng,” Jiang Hao whispered, “I think you already started.”

“Ah—hi, everyone! I’m Jiang Xiaoheng from the Spark Base! I’m three years old, in Star School’s Sprout Class One! Big sister Xinran isn’t feeling well today, so me and my big brother are doing the broadcast instead!”

Across the base, people who’d left their radios running for background noise froze. Normally, this time slot was for the Spark Base’s routine thank-you message, accompanied by gentle music. But instead of the usual sweet female voice, what came through was a wobbly little milk voice. And hearts melted instantly. Even outside the Spark Base, people tuned in.

A child’s voice—soft, earnest, and just a little nervous—was irresistible. Workers dropped what they were doing. They crowded closer to the radios, grinning as they listened. Of course, Xiaoheng’s confidence didn’t last long. Halfway through the script, he forgot his lines. His little voice faltered, and he turned wide, teary eyes to Jiang Hao, who leaned over and whispered a few words to jog his memory. Unfortunately, Jiang Hao’s memory wasn’t much better. By the second half, they were both hopelessly lost.

“Uh-oh,” Xiaoheng squeaked into the mic. “I forgot. Big brother, do you remember?”

Jiang Hao scratched his head. “I think… we’re supposed to thank… a lot of people?”

“Oh! Right!” Xiaoheng brightened. “Okay! Thank you, Peace Base big brothers and big sisters, for sending us oil! Thank you, Peace Base uncles and aunties, for sending us vegetables! Thank you, Peace Base grandpas and grandmas, for sending us warmth!”

“Xiaoheng,” Jiang Hao whispered, “you got it backwards. We sent the vegetables. That’s called ‘reciprocating.’”

Xiaoheng froze. Oh no. How could he mess up something this important? Panicked, he went for the nuclear option.

“Uh—two bases, helping each other, one big family!”

Perfect. Nailed it. He couldn’t remember anything after that anyway.

“Um… Thank you, everybody, for everything! We wish you good health and… um… happy new year!”

He even threw in the red-envelope blessing. That had to cover it, right?

“Okay! Broadcast over! Bye-bye!”

They yanked off the headsets. Xiaoheng’s face crumpled. “Big brother, I forgot my lines! Wuwuwu, I failed big sister Xinran!”

Jiang Hao hugged him tight. “Don’t cry. I forgot too. It’s fine!”

Meanwhile, across the Spark Base—and even in the Peace Base—people were laughing so hard they nearly fell over. The Spark Base’s “little stars” had stolen the show.

Outside the radio room, Jiang Rong’s cheeks ached from grinning. “I think we just found a new program: Little Stars Radio. Let the kids host once in a while—give everyone something to smile about.”

In a world this bleak, laughter was the best gift they could give.

 

 

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