Jing Shu scooped another bite of rice into her mouth, chewing slowly to buy a moment, before returning to her crowded bedroom to fetch the printed contract. She handed it to Wang Fang, her mind already racing, thinking up plausible excuses in case her cover was blown by her lawyer aunt's sharp eyes.
Who would've thought that occupational habits applied so thoroughly to lawyers too?
Instead of first checking the flashy company name at the top, Wang Fang went straight for the fine print, her eyes scanning for and then fixating on the company's unified social credit code, which was like its legal ID number. She pulled out her phone and opened a government business registry app, typing the code in with practiced efficiency.
After a tense minute of scrolling, she looked up. "The company exists and is in good standing. The contract format is standard," she said, her tone neutral and professional.
"That's good, that's a relief," her father said, his shoulders slumping a little, and Jing Shu exhaled a quiet sigh of relief at the same time. But the moment after, the atmosphere in the room didn't lighten. Instead, it turned silent and even more awkward, the unspoken question of money hanging heavily in the air.
Su Yiyang, her uncle, glanced first at Zhang Zhongyong, who was silently sipping his wine, and then at Su Meimei, who was suddenly very busy picking through a plate of vegetables. He cleared his throat. "We, uh, we have some spare money set aside. Don't you worry about paying it back quickly, let us lend you 300,000 first to help out."
Wang Fang, sitting beside him, gave him a sharp, pointed look over the rim of her glasses. Startled, he corrected himself hastily, "I mean, 20,000 first. To help with the immediate need."
"Cough, cough." Wang Fang lightly coughed twice into her fist, a clear, deliberate sound.
His face flushed red with embarrassment. This time, he spoke quickly, as if ripping off a bandage. "100,000. We'll lend you 100,000 first. Don't you worry about paying it back right away, just wait until you're back on your feet in a few years." He nudged his wife's arm under the table. "Transfer the money to Lan Zhi through WeChat right now."
"Just send it directly to Jing Shu's account," her mother said, feeling a bit sour at the exchange, as if Wang Fang's hesitation meant she was treating them like people who might welch on a debt. "Elder brother, sister-in-law, once we turn the money around from the other sales, we'll repay you right away. This is just to cover a temporary gap."
From this moment, Wang Fang, despite her initial reluctance, was placed in Jing Shu's mental list of people worth pulling up from trouble later, if they ever fell. She had, in the end, agreed to help.
Her father, encouraged, turned his hopeful gaze toward Su Meimei and her husband.
At last, the main act Jing Shu had been waiting for was here. Her heart beat a little faster as she tucked away the notification for the transferred 100,000 yuan, her eyes fixed on her aunt who was now pretending to be deaf and blind to the conversation.
Whether a thorn of disillusionment could be firmly planted in her mother's heart tonight depended on this. She hoped Su Meimei wouldn't disappoint her.
"Younger sister, Zhong Yong," Su Yiyang tried to ease the palpable tension, addressing the couple. "Why don't you both say something? Can you help out your sister's family?"
Zhang Zhongyong paused mid-bite, his chopsticks holding a piece of fried fish aloft. He smiled a thin, noncommittal smile. "Mei Mei, your family matters are for you to decide. I'll follow your lead." Only then did he put the fish into his mouth, effectively washing his hands of the decision.
Su Meimei cursed him a hundred times inside for throwing her under the bus. Then she put down her chopsticks and began her well-rehearsed litany of woes: buying their current apartment had left them broke, her daughter's art school tuition was cripplingly expensive, life in the city was so costly, they were poor, poor, poor. In short, they had no money to spare right now, not a single spare yuan.
Jing Shu's mother, Su Lanzhi, listened, her expression hardening. She remembered how her younger sister had first come to Wu City years ago with no job and no marriage prospects, living in her home for four or five years, eating their food. Back then, not once did Su Meimei complain of being poor. Later, Su Lanzhi had even introduced her to a job at a friend's company, through which she met Zhang Zhongyong, who worked at a government office. Only after marriage did Su Meimei finally move out. The memory made the current refusal sting more.
"Peh."
Zhang Zhongyong abruptly spat the piece of fried fish back onto his plate. "This is too salty," he grumbled, though his mind seemed to wander elsewhere, to the young mistress who not only fried fish perfectly but who drained his wallet dry every time he saw her. His mouth went dry thinking of her. Then he remembered she had been hinting lately about liking that little blue BMW coupe.
"Elder sister," he suddenly interjected, cutting off his wife's complaints. "Since you're strapped for cash and need to sell assets anyway, how about selling us that little BMW? We're actually in the market for another car."
Su Meimei felt as if she had been figuratively slapped—on one cheek by her own refusal to lend money, and now on the other by her husband's sudden bid to buy the car. All her complaints about being poor were instantly made hollow. But then a greedy thought sparked. He already drove an Audi. Was this BMW meant for her, then? She had always envied Su Lanzhi for that sporty little BMW. Now, was it about to become hers? A thrill shot through her.
"That car... that car's not for sale for now," her father said reluctantly, his attachment clear. "Although it's three years old, it's only been driven a little over 8,000 kilometers. It's practically new. Besides, Lan Zhi's things always look brand new, no matter how long she uses them. She takes meticulous care of everything she owns."
"It'll have to be sold sooner or later to fund Jing Shu's project, won't it?" Su Meimei pressed, her earlier poverty forgotten. "Why not let family take advantage of it at a good price? Sister, sell it to us cheap. I've never owned a car in my life, you know that!" She was practically flying with joy at the prospect.
Jing Shu froze. She had expected her aunt not to lend money, but she had not expected them to be so shamelessly opportunistic, always trying to take advantage in a transaction. Most importantly, she didn't want any more financial ties with this family. Ties meant future obligations, and in the apocalypse, obligations could be deadly.
If they sold the car now and it was inevitably ruined or confiscated in the chaos of the apocalypse, Su Meimei would surely come crying about her loss, and wouldn't her soft-hearted mother be guilt-tripped into compensating them again, with precious food or supplies? No, selling to them was out of the question.
"My mother's car isn't for sale," Jing Shu said quickly, cutting into the conversation. "If our apartment gets sold and we have to move far away to the villa to film content, there won't even be taxis around that area. How would she get to work then? She still has her job." She appealed to practical necessity.
Even her mother began hesitating, looking back and forth, thinking maybe she should just sell it to her younger sister at a discount, to keep it in the family.
"My dear sister," Su Meimei said, her voice wheedling and excited, "the deposit's due tomorrow. Selling the car to us means you'll have cash in hand right away. Second-hand cars don't sell that quickly nowadays, you could be stuck waiting weeks."
"Aunt," Jing Shu added with a sharp, pointed jab, "if you can afford to buy a car right now, then why don't you just lend us the money directly? Wouldn't that be simpler?"
An awkward, flustered expression flickered across Su Meimei's face. "You little rascal, always joking," she said with a forced laugh. "The money we have is specifically set aside for a car. It's different. We can't just move it around."
Her mother's eyelids drooped, her gaze falling to her bowl. After so many years, this was her first time truly asking her younger sister for help, and this was the answer she got. The disappointment was a cold weight in her stomach.
"I'll... I'll give Lao Sun a call, see if he can return the money tomorrow," her father said, his voice heavy. He really didn't want to sell the BMW, a gift he'd worked so hard to give his wife. He stood and walked to the balcony to make the call. He came back a few minutes later, a trace of excitement in his voice. "Perfect, thank you so much! Lao Sun, that's settled then. Transfer it to me by noon tomorrow."
And so the immediate matter of the 800,000 yuan deposit was resolved, at least for the moment. Su Yiyang's family had transferred 100,000 on the spot. Su Meimei had not only failed to buy the car, but had also flatly refused to lend any money. This double blow to her mother's expectations was, from Jing Shu's perspective, unexpectedly a blessing in disguise.
Su Meimei was marching further and further down the road of self-destruction, burning her bridges with the very family who might've been her lifeline.
In her past life, her foolishly proud parents had never wanted to trouble others and had never asked for help. That's why, she reflected, one should never test human nature too often. Test it too many times, and even the closest bonds could shatter under the strain.
Tonight, her parents were destined to feel hurt by her aunt's selfishness. Tomorrow, when they confronted Uncle Sun about his debt, they would likely not only be hurt again but also begin to doubt their own judgment of people. The thought made Jing Shu's heart throb with a strange, uncomfortable excitement—ah, no, she corrected herself immediately, it's sadness. She was sad it had to be this way.
"Ah, growth always comes with a price," she thought to herself, retreating from the emotional scene in the living room. "Pain is what brings understanding."
She returned to her bedroom and shut the door. Seeking solace in action, she closed her eyes and entered the Cube Space to check on her food animals. The two black piglets had finished their feed and were curled up asleep in a corner. The young cow and sheep were resting peacefully together in their shared space, occasionally shifting positions with soft, contented sounds. The little rabbits were hopping around energetically, with plenty of space to play, leaving tiny droppings everywhere that she made a mental note to clean.
To her surprise, the quails had already laid two small, speckled eggs and were even brooding on them. The seller had mentioned that good, consistent lighting increased egg production. The Cube Space glowed with its own uniform, gentle light, so conditions were apparently excellent.
The 17 chickens, however, were a sorry sight. Chicken droppings were everywhere, and she saw with dismay that two eggs had already been laid, trampled, and partially eaten. She would have to build a proper nesting box system soon, or she'd lose most of the eggs.
Pushing the animal concerns aside for her experiment, she began her work. She had brought in a case of the bottled mineral water. She started labeling every bottle with a number, cutting neat strips from an old white shirt and using a permanent marker to write the numbers on them, tying them securely around each bottle's neck.
First, for the large mammals: she fed the female cow, the female sheep, and the female piglet 1 drop of Spirit Spring each, carefully diluted into 250 grams of mineral water. The male cow, male sheep, and male piglet received a more diluted mixture: 1 drop of Spirit Spring into a full 1 kilogram of mineral water each. She wanted to see if gender or dilution made a difference.
For the 15 hens, she started with a very mild dose: 1 drop of Spirit Spring diluted into 100 grams of water, planning to increase the concentration step by step over days. One rooster, labeled Rooster 1, was given a single drop of undiluted Spirit Spring right in its beak. Another rooster, labeled Rooster 0, received none at all, to act as a control to compare their differences in health, vigor, and potentially lifespan.
The ducks, rabbits, and quails were also carefully numbered, each given water according to their assigned labels and body size. She wanted to build a data set on how different body masses and natural lifespans reacted to proportionally diluted Spirit Spring.
Once every animal had a cloth number tag tied around its neck or leg, she stored the remaining labeled mineral water bottles in the feed section of the Cube Space. Then, using her absolute control, she delivered the water directly into each animal's stomach, bypassing the need to handle them or stress them with force-feeding.
From the cow's perspective, it must've felt strange: one moment it was chewing its cud, the next its mouth was gently forced open, and suddenly a lump of cool water slipped straight down into its stomach as if by magic. If it could speak, it might say, "You won't believe me, but that water walked into my belly on its own."
Her movements were skillful and efficient, born of a decade of handling scarce resources with care. Soon, every animal had been given its precise dose of diluted Spirit Spring. Poor Rooster number 0, who got nothing at all, just pecked at the ground, oblivious to the experiment it was part of.
Finally, she checked the six fields inside the Cube Space. They had already sprouted, a fuzz of green covering the dark soil, some seedlings already several centimeters tall. If she hadn't planted them herself and kept a mental map, she wouldn't even have been able to tell what was growing where. The life within her sanctuary was quietly, steadily beginning its cycles.