In Linghu Wetland Park, next to the abandoned sanatorium, stood wooden stakes of varying thickness and size.
"I heard that newly cut wood can crack and warp if it's not treated," said Old White, frowning as he leaned on his axe, looking at the logs piled up haphazardly against the wall.
Fang Chang asked,
"How is it usually treated?"
Old White said,
"Dry out the moisture from the wood by baking it or let it naturally air dry after painting both ends. You could also soak it in water, but that makes it harder to manage... I just hope it doesn't rain in the next few days."
Old White roughly estimated that, taking into account yesterday's labor, they would have more than enough to cut all these logs into 3 to 4-meter lengths, sharpen both ends, and stake them into the ground to repair the walls on the north and west sides of the sanatorium.
The problem was that these were untreated logs, whose durability was hard to ensure. A few rains might just rot them away.
So he discussed it with Fang Chang, and they decided to shift their approach and use cement as building material.
There was a substantial amount of concrete waste on the wasteland, and even the sanatorium had quite a bit.
Weathered by time, expansion and contraction from heat and cold, and worn by wind and rain, most of these concrete chunks, stripped from reinforcing bars, had already become rubble.
Relying on these materials to be reliable was wishful thinking.
But by mixing these materials with cement and securing them with some steel rods salvaged from the ruins, building a basic concrete structure was feasible.
It was a shoddy job, but it was still better than wood.
After all, they had no plans to build a skyscraper.
However, in order to use these concrete wastes, they first needed cement.
And to make cement, they needed enough coal and a furnace that could withstand temperatures up to 1450 degrees Celsius.
Just then, Wild Wind and Night Ten returned.
Fang Chang noticed that in the plastic bucket Wild Wind carried, there was a full bucket of even-textured mud.
"There's a river to the east of Rhombus Lake that isn't on the map; it must have formed sometime in the last two hundred years. We explored the entire east to south shoreline and marked the areas where the Variants are active and the suspected nests on the map."
As he spoke, Wild Wind had Night Ten take out the map, which had some marks drawn on it with charcoal.
With this map, fetching water from the lake would be much safer.
But Fang Chang's attention was on the bucket in his hand.
"What's in this bucket?"
"I found it by the river," Wild Wind put the bucket down and continued, "I suddenly thought we could use this stuff as a construction material, so I brought it back."
"This stuff can't be used as a building material; it'll wash away with water," said Old White, squatting down and picking up some mud to rub between his thumb and forefinger. An excited expression suddenly crossed his face, "However, this stuff is great. We've got something for our kiln."
"Kiln?" Night Ten was puzzled.
"I've discussed with Old White about making cement," said Fang Chang.
Wild Wind looked at him in surprise.
"Is that possible?"
"Why wouldn't it be? Isn't this a sandbox Game?" Old White stood up excitedly and said, "Just dump the mud here, and go fetch a few more buckets back. Fang Chang, help me collect some tree branches. Make it quick."
"Got it," Fang Chang went off with high spirits.
Wild Wind and Night Ten exchanged glances, then went off, still baffled.
...
The river wasn't deep, but there was plenty of silt beside it, and since it wasn't far from the sanatorium, they managed to bring back quite a bit without much effort.
Old White used the silt to form a circle and dug two holes beside it as air inlets. Then he placed the leftover charcoal and dry leaves from their previous cooking fire inside the mud circle and lit them with matches left by the Manager.
The fire rose quickly.
The surrounding mud was slowly drying out.
Old White used his hands to dig up fresh mud, and as he dried it, he started building it up on the walls of the furnace until it reached his thigh; only then did he begin to stuff in thumb-thick sticks.
"What are you doing?" Fang Chang asked curiously. Although he had played survival games before, he had never done such detailed work in a game.
"Making charcoal! Without coal, we have to use charcoal instead. To make cement, burning wood won't do—we need to start from the most basic."
"How do you even know this stuff?"
"Played with it back in my hometown when I was a kid."
"..."
Played with it, sure.
Who would play with this stuff for fun?
Standing up, Old White clapped his hands and began to seal the top of the furnace while the fire inside had not yet ignited the wood.
This step was crucial.
Before the wood caught fire, he needed to leave an opening at the top, then, once the temperature inside the furnace was high enough, cover all the openings with mud, allowing the wood inside to smolder for a day. By tomorrow, they would have a full furnace of charcoal.
"If you seal all the holes, won't the fire go out?"
"It won't go out immediately, and that's the effect we want."
Wiping his sweat, Old White patted Fang Chang's shoulder.
"Don't just stand there; let's build a few more kilns, and get the one for making cement tomorrow ready as well."
"Okay..."
It wasn't just Fang Chang who joined Old White's "construction crew." Even Wild Wind and Night Ten, after moving enough mud, were drafted into the effort.
The four players worked together and built four earthen kilns for charcoal burning, and then with the aluminosilicate clay dug from the river bank, they built a slightly larger one.
According to Old White, they could try making some cement tomorrow.
What he planned to make was wood ash cement.
This primitive method produced cement that was not very technologically advanced or reliable, but it was definitely stronger than wood.
Moreover, with wood ash cement, he could try to build a cement kiln that could withstand higher temperatures.
Old White had already made up his mind to look up information online after logging off.
"Damn it... now I understand why the Manager wanted us to figure out how to build a bathhouse." Night Ten, who was already somewhat germophobic, felt he was almost killed by the stench of sweat.
This game was just too damn hardcore.
"How about we take a bath by the lake before we log off?" Old White suggested.
"I agree... But speaking of which, where's the Manager? The log-off time is almost upon us, but he hasn't returned yet," Wild Wind asked.
"Maybe he's got something to do."
"How are we supposed to let him know about our afternoon's hard work?" Night Ten hastily asked.
Fang Chang glanced at the sanatorium behind them.
"Don't worry about that; I've already spoken to the robot named Xiao Qi. It said that it has recorded our achievements and will report the situation truthfully to the Manager."
Upon hearing this, Night Ten finally felt at ease.
...
Just as the players were logging off, taking off their helmets, getting up, and preparing to start a new day, Chu Guang, who was still on Bet Street, carefully removed the plastic bucket under the water purifier.
There was a public well in Bet Street, and each household had their own water collector, including Chu Guang's.
Apart from the "glowing rain" laden with radioactive dust, or when the clouds looked distinctly abnormal, the rainwater on the Wasteland was generally safe, even safer than in the pre-war era.
After all, it was two hundred years after the decline of civilization, and phenomena such as acid rain and smog, which were byproducts of industrial society, were hard to come by here.
Of course, even so, drinking rainwater directly was not a wise decision.
By cutting a plastic water bottle in half, Chu Guang placed a layer of dried pine needles and moss at the base of the bottleneck and then added crushed charcoal ash on top.
Thus, a makeshift water filter was completed.
Chu Guang didn't know whether graphite could absorb radiation or not, but in the distant suburbs far from nuclear craters, radiation was not the main threat to survival; diarrhea and dehydration were.
He still remembered that in the month he first settled here, he almost had to run to the toilet every other day. He didn't die at the hands of Variants but almost succumbed to his own gastrointestinal issues.
"Not even 10L... it's like trying to put out a blaze with a cup of water."
He sighed as he looked at the various bottles and jars in the room.
It took only a few days for the player to nearly use up the supplies he had saved up for many days.
He'd need to come up with some solutions.
At that moment, there was a knock at the door.
Chu Guang got up, pulled out the door bolt, and opened the door.
Standing at the doorway was Little Fish with her hands behind her back, her big, shiny eyes fixed on him without saying a word.
Just as Chu Guang was about to greet her, he suddenly remembered what the second son of the Yu Family had said to him about the marriage proposal, which made him feel awkward.
Even if he had to take ten thousand steps back.
Without Shelter No. 404, without the System, without players, and in his isolated and helpless state, he wouldn't be able to lower himself to that level!
She was too thin.
At the very least, she needed another couple of years.
"Is there something you need?" Chu Guang asked calmly.
Yu Xiaoyu stretched out her arm, which had been hidden behind her back.
Only then did Chu Guang notice that she was holding a small, dark piece of cake in her hand - it was probably made from boiled and kneaded green wheat paste.
"My second brother asked me to give this to you. He told me to say I made it for you." She spoke word for word.
The way she mixed up the pronouns made Chu Guang dizzy for a moment, and it took him a while to figure out that it was Yu Hu who wanted her to give him the cake.
"Thanks?"
"No need."
After stuffing the cake into Chu Guang's hand, Little Fish turned around and ran off, leaving him alone, disheveled in the wind.
...
Present day.
Jinling.
After removing his helmet, Yan Feng rubbed his nose bridge, fumbled on the bedside table, and put on his glasses.
He sat on the edge of the bed for a while before getting up to go to the bathroom. After washing up and putting on a coat, he went downstairs, straddled his bicycle, and leisurely made his way to the cafeteria.
The time was now 5:30 AM.
Apart from students studying for postgraduate entrance exams, few people would visit the cafeteria at this time. The hall was empty, with only a few counters by the door open for business.
The cafeteria lady, who was busy behind one of the counters, recognized this regular customer immediately and said with a smile.
"Professor Yan, you're up early today."
"Yeah, I went to bed pretty early yesterday... two buns, please."
"The buns have just been put in the steamer; you'll have to wait a bit."
"No rush."
Yan Feng took out his meal card and swiped it on the reader.
The steam rising from the steamer smelled fragrant.
Yan Feng really liked this scent; it made him feel comfortable. Unfortunately, it was not so friendly to him as a bespectacled man.
After removing his glasses to wipe away the fog on them, Yan Feng couldn't help thinking about his character in Wasteland OL.
His avatar in the virtual world, though initially slightly weaker in Strength, was much stronger than his real self.
And most importantly, the virtual self wasn't nearsighted.
At that moment, someone patted his shoulder.
Yan Feng put on his glasses and turned around to see Professor Wang Haiyang.
"Have class this morning?"
"No class. I just woke up because I couldn't sleep."
"I thought you physicists stayed up late."
"That's a misconception. I rarely bring Work home," Yan Feng pushed up his glasses and suddenly remembered something. Looking at the professor, he said, "By the way, there's something I want to consult with you about."
Professor Wang Haiyang raised his eyebrows.
"The topic from yesterday?"
Yan Feng nodded.
"Yeah."
"Hold on, let me ask you first, you're not talking about a novel you wrote, are you?" Professor Wang Haiyang said with a laugh, "Novels should be a bit fantastical, if they're too close to reality, they tend to be less enjoyable."
"Actually, it's not a novel, to be honest, it's... a game."
"A game?"
"Yeah," Yan Feng said as he took the bun from the cafeteria lady's hand, unwrapped the plastic bag, and took a bite, "a post-apocalyptic themed game."
Professor Wang Haiyang became interested and asked.
"Can you be more specific?"
"I'm not very clear about the details, as the game is in the closed testing phase, and I don't know much," Yan Feng paused for a moment before adding, "you mentioned how only an advanced society could have cars without any power source."
"No power source?" Professor Wang Haiyang was taken aback before laughing, "Are you talking about replacing a fixed power source with remote power supply technology?"
"Is that difficult?" asked Yan Feng.
"I'm not sure about the difficulty. From my field of expertise... wireless power supply technology isn't hard, the challenge lies in how we obtain clean and cheap energy that is affordable even if the energy loss reaches 90% or more."
At this point, Professor Wang Haiyang paused, then jokingly said.
"Apart from controlled nuclear fusion as depicted in science fiction novels, I can't think of a better solution.
Nuclear fusion?
Yan Feng looked thoughtful.
"I see..."
It seemed the background setting of Wasteland OL was even grander than he had imagined.
There must be much more worth digging into.
"When do you plan to publish your novel? Can I take a look?" Professor Wang Haiyang joked, "Maybe I can offer some advice."
Yan Feng glanced at him.
"I told you it's not a novel."
"Alright, alright, if you say it's not, then it's not," Professor Wang Haiyang said with a laugh, patting his colleague's shoulder as he took his breakfast from the cafeteria lady, "I have a class, so I'll head out first. Good luck to you!"