December 12, the first year of the apocalypse.
The military base on the Qinghai-Tibet Plateau, China's highest command center.
The meeting in the satellite video conference room had just ended.
An elderly man with graying hair and a weathered face walked out. A medic tried to support him, but a scolding forced the medic to give up.
When he saw Hu Shou standing ramrod straight by the door, he smiled and beckoned.
"Little Hu, been waiting long? Come on, let's talk in my office. Cough, cough..."
Hu Shou hurried over respectfully and supported the elderly man. "Old Zhao, you need to take care of yourself."
"Cough, cough... It's nothing. Same old problems. This body will last as long as it lasts. What matters most now is making arrangements for our unfinished work while we still have time. I just spoke with the heads of the local governments."
As Hu Shou helped Old Zhao toward his office, he asked, "Oh? How are things looking? Have the local governments set up production lines for cold weapons as we requested? Have they brought back military crossbows and slingshots? Are many civilians enlisting?"
Old Zhao smiled. "Little Hu... I knew this would get you fired up. Heh, you've been like this since you were young. I remember your favorite saying... Every citizen bears responsibility for the nation's fate. Right?"
Hu Shou nodded.
"That's exactly why I negotiated with them and put my own position on the line to make you commander-in-chief of China's highest command center. I hope you'll always live by those words. Every citizen bears responsibility for China's fate, and you stand at their head. You must shoulder the greatest pressure and keep moving forward with conviction. Make every step count, plant your feet firmly, and forge a new path! Cough, cough..."