"Dad, you finally have some free time to rest. Don't rush to focus on finding a new job right away. Why not help me for a month at home instead? I really can't keep up with the orders and the packing. During this time, you can also think carefully about what you truly want to do in the future, right?"
Jing Shu decided her first priority was to stabilize her father. With the apocalypse less than a month away, anything he started now would be pointless, just for show. It was far better to wait until after the societal collapse had settled to try and secure a position within the new government system. Not only would that be a secure, protected position, but the internal perks and rations were better, and he would always get critical news a step ahead of the general public.
"All right. I'll help my daughter first. My daughter's business is actually taking off. How could I ignore it?" The daily income of over ten thousand yuan from the inexplicably popular pickle and egg sales thrilled Jing An. But what excited him most was the simple, proud fact that his daughter was proving herself more capable than he had ever imagined.
Thus, Jing An's new daily duties were established. They included driving Su Lanzhi to her government office thirty kilometers away in the new energy vehicle, acting as the after sales support for Jing Shu's livestream buyers, sending out parcels at the post office, and sometimes helping Grandpa Jing fix a loose board on the chicken coop or a leaky faucet, only to end up in a heated argument with the old man due to their fundamentally different worldviews on how the job should be done.
Time passed with an unsettling swiftness. By early December, Wu City had still not seen a single snowflake, with weather as unnervingly warm as a late spring day.
Global temperatures were quietly rising. Reports said they were expected to be nine degrees Celsius higher than the seasonal average. Guangdong and Fujian provinces hovered around 30℃, Hainan approached a sweltering 40℃, and northwest Wu City enjoyed a balmy 21℃.
CCTV's programming had taken on a distinct, urgent rhythm. The mornings were spent on reports cracking down on various celebrities and influencers, detailing the confiscation of their illicit assets. The afternoons featured feel good charity reports and corporate donation lists. The evenings reported on growing international unrest and wars while praising China's domestic stability and prosperity. They also heavily promoted new carbon reduction initiatives and encouraged less driving to curb global warming.
The agricultural channel reported daily on emergency ways to rescue confused crops, since some had mistakenly sprouted during the warm winter and wouldn't bear fruit in the coming spring or summer.
The science channel boasted daily about complex cosmic causes and effects, theories about stellar debris and atmospheric scattering, but Jing Shu, a graduate of a third tier arts college, didn't understand these complex astrophysical issues at all.
She did know the brutal, simple outcome, however. After the sun was blocked by dust from star collisions, the Earth wouldn't cool, it would heat up dramatically in the first year, and global ecosystems would collapse. The four seasons would vanish, replaced by cycles of extreme heat, flood, and then unending cold. Repeated disasters would claim countless lives. And with the sun gone, humanity would enter a true, grinding apocalypse. People on the street, when it finally happened, would simply call it the end times.
Cherish these last few normal days before the apocalypse arrives. The thought was a constant whisper in her mind.
After pickling vegetables that filled fifty large stoneware jars, vacuum packing hundreds of marinated chicken and quail eggs, and salting several crates of duck eggs, Jing Shu spent one full day organizing the slaughter of sixty rabbits from the Cube Space surplus, leaving only five breeding pairs within the space.
Jing An handled the actual slaughter, but the meticulous skinning work fell to Grandpa Jing and his skilled, steady hands. The rabbit skins were then stretched and hung on the third floor terrace to dry; they would have many uses later. Jing Shu diced the meat, and Grandma Jing took over, frying the rabbit cubes in large woks until they were golden and dry, the first step for preservation.
The bloodier, initial tasks of slaughter and skinning remained wisely out of the camera's sight.
Early that livestream morning, Grandpa Jing had proudly placed the live, fluffy rabbits in a pen in front of the camera to "educate" viewers on quality. His morning routine now firmly included showing off the day's main ingredient, in addition to his opera singing and sessions in the massage chair. Showing off clearly made him happy, it was just like elderly folks posting pictures of their achievements on social media.
The rabbits, having drunk diluted Spirit Spring water, had become exceptionally fat, plump, and ridiculously cute, with glossy fur.
Viewers were initially confused.
"Today, My Sister Jing isn't sending pickles to relatives. Are we giving out live rabbits instead?"
"These bunnies are so cute. How much for one?"
Immediately after these comments, Jing Shu changed the livestream title with cold efficiency.
For just 1,998 yuan, you'll be ecstatic beyond breath.
The adorable rabbits were then swiftly, efficiently diced into uniform cubes. The cubes were quickly deep fried until golden, then stir fried in another massive wok with dried red chilies, Sichuan peppers, ginger, and scallions. The bright red chilies paired with the golden brown rabbit cubes, the whole dish then drizzled with fragrant sesame oil and sprinkled with white sesame seeds, creating a mouthwatering, visually stunning plate of spicy rabbit.
One moment viewers were lamenting, "Bunnies are so cute, how can we eat them?" The next, they were shouting in the chat, "I'll take a portion. That looks incredible."
"My Sister Jing sources the freshest ingredients online, bar none. Look at that color."
The finished spicy rabbit cubes were packed into the now familiar two liter sealed glass containers, vacuum sealed, and marked for refrigeration, where they would last at least six months without losing flavor. For rabbit meat that had been enhanced by Spirit Spring, Jing Shu estimated they could easily last a year.
Sixty fat rabbits yielded enough meat to fill 125 sealed jars. Jing Shu sold twenty of them that same day.
The next morning, Grandpa Jing, reveling in his new role, presented fifty plump, waddling ducks to the camera, the birds quacking loudly. They soon met their fate and were processed into smoked, marinated ducks, first smoked over fruitwood, then braised in a spiced broth. When the skin turned a perfect, glossy golden brown and the meat was tender and fragrant, the flavorful ducks were ready.
On the third day, Grandpa Jing proudly showcased seventy plump chickens, which were later processed into various forms, dried, marinated, and vacuum packed braised chicken.
The fourth day saw over three hundred quails transformed through various methods into braised, fried, roasted, and air dried snacks.
On the fifth day, when Grandpa Jing led two massive, snorting black pigs into the yard for their "showcase," even the viewers were momentarily stunned. His vanity was thoroughly satisfied. They hired professional butchers for this larger task. Due to the pigs' sheer size, the full processing took two full days.
Off camera, dishes like stir fried kidneys, spicy blood tofu cubes, and pan fried pork belly with lettuce were cooked and eaten by the family immediately. After Jing Shu had secretly started giving the family the number 4 Spirit Spring dilution, one drop in 1,000 ml of water, everyone's appetite and digestion had improved dramatically. Her own continued use of the stronger number 3 dilution for body strengthening effects meant she was eating even more than the rest.
The big bones were boiled for rich stock, then cooled and frozen for future soups or to make meat jelly.
Enormous batches of braised pork ribs, braised pork heads, ears, tongues, hearts, stomachs, lungs, and intestines, along with marinated tails, trotters, and shanks, were vacuum packed and refrigerated. Eight of the best legs were specially smoked into traditional hams, ready to slice and enjoy anytime.
Oh, right. During this busy period, Sun Yinrui's court judgment finally came through.
His wife had tried to file for divorce before the judgment to claim all remaining assets, but the court, under the new national directives, rejected it as an attempt to shield property. All money and property in both Sun Yinrui and Yang Yunyun's names were confiscated by the state.
Although the new, government policies about familial liability had only recently been emphasized for public institutions, the court ruled they applied firmly to the misconduct of private company owners like Sun Yinrui as a warning to others. Even appealing to the Supreme Court, the lawyer said, would likely yield the same result.
Hadn't CCTV been broadcasting the crackdown on corrupt celebrities and tax evaders every single day? The message was unified.
Sun Yinrui was stripped of all political rights for life, officially recorded as a criminal, and sentenced to five months in prison. His wife Yang Yunyun and son Sun Zijian were also stripped of political rights, recorded, and sentenced to one month of mandatory "reform through labor." Even the girlfriend, Xiao Cao, was judged equally guilty for her role in the bribery scheme.
Under the harsh new national policy, one person's crime now directly affected the entire immediate family. The scariest part, Jing Shu knew, was having that official record. In the coming apocalypse, people with such records would be at the bottom of the ration lists. They would only receive the worst, most basic food from the government distribution, which was calculated to keep them barely alive, manageable, and able to provide forced labor. It was a form of social control through managed scarcity.