Chapter 357: The Knowledge-Loving Children of Taoyang
Xiao Wenyu chuckled and half-jokingly said:
“The air conditioning is up in the sky. You guys chat—I need to go back and check on my design drafts. Boss Su, I should have the final version ready by tomorrow afternoon. I’ll need your help to bring it to life.”
Su Tao waved her hand dismissively.
With innocent curiosity, Wen Man looked up, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t spot anything resembling an air conditioner.
Luo Yan, on the other hand, assumed that Taoyang must have a powerful water- or ice-element ability user. If an air conditioning system consumed that much power, even Changjing wouldn’t dare to use it so lavishly.
Yet, the deeper he went, the more he felt something was off.
He had assumed that only the entrance was intentionally cooled, but to his surprise, the temperature remained consistently pleasant throughout—just like being in an air-conditioned room. Even with the scorching sun overhead, the heat seemed unable to affect Taoyang’s climate.
What kind of ability user could provide such extensive cooling?
Their power must be extraordinary…
Meanwhile, Wen Man was completely captivated by Taoyang. The orderly buildings, the well-equipped public facilities, and the beautiful greenery—everything surpassed her impression of Changjing.
Changjing’s urban planning was disjointed: the affluent areas were filled with towering skyscrapers, while the poor areas were still stuck with mud houses and dirt roads.
Taoyang, however, was clean, organized, and uniform from beginning to end—just like the mid-to-high-end residential communities from before the apocalypse, as her father had described.
Not far away, Wen Man noticed a group of children under the shade of a tree, no older than ten, surrounding a young woman as they recited poetry.
When the young woman spotted Su Tao, she beamed and called out, “Boss Su, do you have guests? Kids, greet Boss Su and her friends!”
A chorus of clear, childish voices rang out, “Hello, Boss Su! Hello, big brother and sister!”
Su Tao smiled and nodded in response. “Hello, everyone. Teacher Sheng, what are you reading with the kids today?”
Although Taoyang didn’t have its own school yet, under Sheng Yulan’s guidance, every patch of green space had become an outdoor classroom for preschool-aged children. Any tenant with young children could send them to these informal lessons.
Every day, Aunt Qi made sure the lawns were spotless. The children could roll around freely without getting dirty, except for a bit of dust.
Nearby, there were small chairs and desks scattered around, and the kids’ backpacks lay haphazardly. Yet, no passing tenant ever took advantage; instead, they often picked up the stray items and placed them neatly to the side.
Sometimes, elderly residents would join in after their chess games, acting as history teachers and sharing stories from before the apocalypse.
Old Master Gu even treated the classes like his personal memoir sessions. By now, every child in Taoyang knew he was a big boss, addressing him as “President Gu” whenever they saw him—much to his delight.
Sheng Yulan shyly explained, “We’re learning Tang and Song dynasty poetry. Most of these kids will be attending Dongyang Primary School next year, so I’m giving them a head start. Oh, right—Boss Su, I have a small request…”
“Go ahead,” Su Tao said warmly.
She felt deeply grateful to Sheng Yulan—not only because she had been Fang Zhi’s first teacher, but also because after her work in Taoyang, she volunteered at Dongyang’s daycare and orphanage, teaching the children to read and write for free.
She was doing two jobs on a single salary—only someone with a genuine passion for education could manage that.
“Boss Su… I’d like to access books on early childhood education, mental health education, or hygiene education. But I don’t have a computer. Would it be possible for me to use one at Taoli Building for four hours a week?” she asked, a little embarrassed.
Computers were exorbitantly expensive in the post-apocalyptic world—far beyond her means.
While the communicator devices could connect to Dongyang’s local network, their resources were limited.
Word had it that Boss Su was generous. The Taoli Building had plenty of unused computers and unrestricted access to pre-apocalyptic materials and books.
She had been yearning for this opportunity for a long time…
Su Tao immediately agreed. “That’s a small matter. Just ask Zhuang Wan for access whenever you need it.”
As they chatted, the children had already swarmed around Wen Man and Luo Yan, their cheerful voices buzzing with curiosity.
They asked where they came from, if they were Boss Su’s good friends, and whether they liked Taoyang.
Taoyang’s children weren’t shy or timid because they knew that no bad people or zombies existed here—it was the safest place to be.
Their parents had taught them to be polite and welcoming to Taoyang’s guests, just like they were with Uncle Xu from Changjing. First impressions mattered.
Luo Yan stood there stiffly. He had never encountered so many bright, lively children.
Wen Man, however, squatted down to speak softly with the children, patiently answering their questions. She even complimented them—praising who was the tallest, the strongest, and who recited poetry the most clearly.
Her warmth and kindness quickly won the children over, leaving Luo Yan standing awkwardly to the side.
“…”
No one paid him any attention.
The children’s bright eyes sparkled as they gazed at Wen Man.
A bold little girl asked, “Sister, you’re so pretty! How long will you stay in Taoyang? Can we play with you after class tomorrow?”
Wen Man smiled and agreed.
It wasn’t until Sheng Yulan called out, “Back to class, you little monkeys!” that the children scattered, quickly settling onto their small stools, their eyes shining with the desire to learn.
Su Tao watched the scene with pride—it reminded her of a younger Lin Fangzhi, who had once been just as eager to learn.
Luo Yan fell into deep thought. He had visited the schools in Qian’an several times over the years, but the learning atmosphere there paled in comparison to Taoyang’s outdoor classes.
Most of the kids in Qian’an only cared about when the next zombie siege would happen, who had awakened special powers, or who had connections to influential figures.
Academic interest was nearly nonexistent.
As apathy grew among both students and teachers, the government eventually scrapped the traditional school system in favor of military academies. Academic subjects were reduced to basic literacy, while physical training became the focus.
The results were impressive—within a few years, the military’s ranks had swelled with fresh talent.
Most bases adopted a similar “strength over scholarship” approach.
In a world where survival was never guaranteed and hunger was constant, who had time for poetry?
But Taoyang was different.
Luo Yan began to sense that Taoyang had an extraordinary foundation—one strong enough to raise children who didn’t worry about food or safety and who simply wanted to learn.
This wasn’t just a lawn—it was a breeding ground for future knowledge and talent.
