"The government has issued a clear, public statement," the news anchor announced, her face serious on the television screen. "Any supermarket or business found inflating prices, any citizen caught hoarding goods on a large scale, or anyone spreading panic deliberately will have their political rights revoked immediately and all materials confiscated upon discovery or verified report.
Furthermore, the government will begin distributing daily relief supplies. From December 15 to December 31, all citizens with a clean criminal record can present their ID and pass a face recognition scan at designated community centers or major supermarkets to receive one pre packaged set of supplies per person, per day. Each set includes 2 jin, roughly 1 kilogram, of corn and another 2 jin, or 1 kilogram, of either rice or flour. Only the registered individual may collect their own set, proxy collection, fraud, or any violations will result in permanent disqualification from the program and an official record of the offense.
In a public-private partnership, Kang Shifu will also distribute free instant noodles for the duration of the Earth's Dark Days. From December 15 until the official end of the Dark Days, under the same conditions, each eligible person can receive one randomly flavored pack per day. Starting at 10,00 a.m. daily, 2 million free packs will be distributed at participating major supermarkets via the same face recognition system. During The Earth's Dark Days, the policy states each person may collect up to three packs total."
The day had finally come, just like in her previous life, though this time she couldn't mentally compare the looming news to a passing typhoon like Mangkhut. This was no temporary storm.
Back then, when the first announcements were made, everyone had thought it was a disaster on a similar scale to a super typhoon. They believed that after a difficult month or so, life would return to normal, school for students, work for adults. In her previous life, caught up in her own small dramas, Jing Shu hadn't even bothered to go collect the government relief supplies, a decision she regretted bitterly in the starving years that followed. If given a chance to do it over, she wouldn't miss a single opportunity.
At the supermarkets now, the daily lines consisted mostly of practical retired seniors or housewives with children in tow, collecting double rations for their households, along with some freelancers and unemployed individuals with flexible time.
For a single set of supplies worth just over ten yuan at market price, most working men were too lazy or proud to queue and simply bought a few bags of rice or flour to take home. But diligent, frugal women, the managers of household budgets, couldn't resist the pull of free, guaranteed food.
The government's calculation was smart, issuing four jin, about 2 kilograms, of grain per person each day for seventeen days. That was equivalent to about two months' worth of basic food for one person. This ensured everyone had a baseline of grain while strictly limiting the amount any single individual could purchase commercially.
Similar to the old rules for withdrawing cash at a bank, each person was now restricted to spending no more than 500 yuan per day on grains at supermarkets or dedicated food stores. The policy cleverly encouraged multiple small purchases, forbade hoarding or resale that could incite panic, and aimed above all to stabilize prices and prevent runs on supplies. It was worth noting that snacks and other items like meats weren't included in these purchase limits.
"Let's go collect some rice at the supermarket." Grandma Jing, ever practical, grabbed Grandpa Jing's arm. Jing Shu, along with her father Jing An, decided to go with them. Jing Shu felt a little thrill of excitement, a strange feeling. In this life, she would finally get the government rice, she would make up for the small, nagging regret of her previous life.
They drove about seven kilometers to the nearest large Aijia Supermarket. The scene outside was orderly but heavily monitored. Patrol cars were stationed at the entrance. Security personnel in reflective vests blocked the main doors, directing flow. Every person entering had to pass through a security check, then a face recognition terminal, and finally show their ID for verification. Knives, lighters, and other potentially dangerous items were politely but firmly held at the security gate until the person left.
Jing Shu gave a silent thumbs-up to the system. This left no room for troublemakers or opportunistic thieves.
Though there were many people, the process moved with surprising speed. On one side of the store, ten cashiers worked continuously on normal purchases. On the other side, near the loading docks, pallets of pre packed food filled the space, with staff using megaphones to announce the rules on a loop, no resale, no proxy collection, no fraud.
Five automated collection points operated like train ticket kiosks. After scanning an ID and performing a live face recognition match, the neatly packed bag of rice and corn would pop out of a slot. Staff in vests stood by to assist the elderly or confused. In under five minutes, it was Jing Shu's family's turn.
"It's getting more and more high tech," Grandpa Jing said curiously as he scanned his ID card. The machine whirred, and a moment later, the small bags of rice and corn emerged from the outlet, with the exact collection time recorded on the receipt.
At that moment, a sharp, repetitive beeping alarm sounded from a machine a few units over.
Two staff members rushed over to check a middle aged man's ID information on their tablet.
"Sorry, sorry, I took the wrong ID by mistake. This one is mine, see," the man stammered, flustered.
"You'll have to explain that to the police officers over there."
He was escorted away by a uniformed officer without further discussion. The previously noisy, bustling atmosphere in the collection area fell quiet for a beat. Whispers spread through the line. The staff member with the megaphone now added extra emphasis, "I repeat, any fraud, proxy collection, or attempted resale will result in permanent disqualification from all relief programs. Disabled or seriously ill individuals who can't come in person will be served by a dedicated government team. Don't test the system."
The minor incident passed quickly. Within five minutes, the supermarket returned to its usual controlled bustle. Most people buying their grain allowance also took the opportunity to stock a few other sale items. Perishables with short shelf lives weren't being hoarded. Instant noodles were popular but supplies seemed sufficient. Shelves remained mostly stocked, with store employees continuously wheeling out new stock from the back to replace high demand items.
The crowd was slightly larger than on a normal weekend, but it wasn't the desperate crush she remembered from later. Not like five or six months into the crisis, when people would queue from 5 a.m., bringing tents and sleeping bags, waiting for days with their own food and bedding right at the supermarket entrance.
Jing Shu would never forget that scene. Daytime temperatures by then exceeded 40°C, dropping to a few frigid degrees at night. She and her father had taken turns staying at the supermarket entrance in that endless, hopeless queue. Prices had already soared astronomically, and only meager, often spoiled, old stock was available inside.
Most prudent households had stored some grains early on, but after six months of the Earth's Dark Days, with all Kang Shifu and similar industrial food production long halted, no one ever complained about having too much grain. You could never have enough.
That first year's heat and drought had caused many, including her own mother Su Lanzhi, to suffer from severe heatstroke. Medicine and hospital beds by then were extremely hard to come by, a luxury for the connected.
Seeing the supermarket now too crowded for comfort and the wait for other items long, Jing Shu suggested they head home with just the relief grain. Unfortunately, they arrived back at the villa too late for the other giveaway, the free Kang Shifu instant noodles had been claimed nationwide in under thirty seconds that morning.
Social media had buzzed with alerts that morning, reminding people to prepare for the Earth's Dark Days and to "compete" for the free instant noodles. By the time Jing Shu had traveled so far with her grandparents and her father, completed the process, and returned, the digital allotment for their region was long gone.
Back at the villa, the family turned their focus to the day's main, unstreamed task, processing the sheep.
Southern style hotpot lamb slices and Northern style roasted lamb were both incredibly delicious. After the professional butchering, they stored most of the whole sheep carcasses in the large commercial freezers, ready for future sliced lamb hotpot or minced meat for buns. In the cold weather they knew was coming, they could also make hearty lamb and carrot soup.
Other offal, like the heart and liver, was cleaned thoroughly, cooked down into a rich broth, and frozen in portions. Jing Shu secretly kept some of the best, freshly cooked portions in her Cube Space for private late night snacks. Her metabolism was fierce now, she ate four full meals a day just to feel satiated.
She prepared the lamb trotters specifically as spicy braised lamb trotters, kept the intestines cleaned for future rice sausages or noodle toppings. Two prime lamb legs were marinated in a special blend and then roasted slowly in the heated kang stove, turning into beautiful racks of lamb, golden and juicy on the outside, tender and pink inside. She finished them by sprinkling roasted chili powder and cumin over the sizzling meat, and served them with flatbreads sprinkled with sesame seeds arranged around the platter. In Wu City, this dish was specifically called nang keng meat.
The remaining meat was cut into strips and hung to air dry in the well ventilated storage room. Sales of these products were moderate, though many of her livestream fans had expressed a strong preference for the roasted nang keng meat over the simpler dried varieties.
The Earth's Dark Days were approaching rapidly. Jing Shu planned to stop livestreaming very soon. Before the true apocalypse began, she already had more than enough food stored, and the livestream had mainly served its purpose, to justify the massive preparation of semi finished or fully cooked foods that would be far easier to consume during the chaotic disaster.
She had now stored what felt like a mountain of cooked food and had also earned a considerable amount of genuine money from the livestreams in the past weeks. She intended to use this cash for one final, comprehensive spree of essential goods purchases, things she might have overlooked.
As for the money borrowed from her relatives, Jing Shu wouldn't repay it yet, not in cash. Paper money would lose virtually all value in a few months, and repaying it before the apocalypse was pointless. After the disaster settled, she could use the cash, if it still had any fleeting use, to buy rare materials or favors. For now, she considered the borrowed money a strategic advance, a way to pre stock supplies for her own family's survival.
These debts, she vowed, would be repaid in kind with food or vital supplies during the apocalypse to those who had helped. Relatives who had been willing to lend money before the disaster wouldn't be left disappointed or wanting afterward. It's her form of brutal reciprocity.
The next morning, as part of the final streaming days, Grandpa Jing proudly led the massive, muscular beef cow outside into the yard, asking the livestream audience with a chuckle if they had ever seen a cow with such defined muscles. He patted the animal's thick, powerful legs and said with great satisfaction, "This shank meat will be exceptionally delicious."
At that time, in this fleeting period of normalcy, cows weren't particularly valuable for show. Some people online flaunted hundreds or even thousands of pigs on farms, or showed off warehouses stuffed with food and supplies. Before the apocalypse, this was just quirky, conspicuous consumption. No one watching truly believed the end of the world was just days away.
Jing Shu shook her head at the innocence of it all and mentally prepared to make her quiet exit, to disappear from the public eye after finishing these last tasks.
Her dairy cow, the source of fresh milk, would remain at the villa. It had recently given birth to one male and one female calf, both of which she had quietly moved into her Cube Space for future breeding. The remaining bull calf, however, was destined for slaughter. It would provide a large quantity of beef, another crucial protein source for the long, lean years ahead.