"Alright. I'll tell him then."
After Zhu Zhengqi's father insisted on having lunch at noon, a demand that felt more like a summons than an invitation, Jing An took the family not to a restaurant but to the medical supply wholesale center first. They needed to pick up the remaining balance from the health insurance card.
Last month, in her earlier buying frenzy, Jing Shu had purchased a staggering amount of medicines. But the unexpected and prolonged visits from her elder uncle's family and her younger aunt's family had delayed any proper explanation. She had later offhandedly mentioned that the medicines were for their rural neighbors, calling it a charity gesture. At the time, she had claimed to be short on money and needed to withdraw from the health insurance card to cover it. Jing An, ever trusting, had promised to deliver the medicines to those supposed rural neighbors as soon as possible. But now, with all the delays, that story was growing thin, and Jing Shu certainly no longer lacked money.
"Anyway, you need to take those medicines to all your aunts as soon as possible," Jing An said, his tone carrying a mix of concern and mild exasperation. "You little prodigal, buying so much of everything. Just look at all the clothes you bought during Double Twelve. Do you plan to eat clothes when the time comes?"
Su Lanzhi had been quietly worried recently. Before, her daughter had been like a hopeless mess, directionless and careless. Now, her daughter clung to possessions and plans with a fierce, almost desperate intensity, and she still worried. It was a different kind of anxiety.
Jing Shu had developed some inexplicable, compulsive habit of buying entire rooms full of items, treating money as if it were nothing, as if it were about to lose all meaning. She never stopped until every last yuan in a given budget was spent.
They had thought the shopping craziness ended after Double Eleven, but then Double Twelve arrived. For a week, dozens of packages landed on their doorstep every single day. Jing Shu had bought all the family's underwear, outerwear, thermal layers, down jackets, and incredibly thick cotton pants and coats rated for bone chilling temperatures of minus 40 degrees Celsius. They were the kind of clothes meant for Arctic expeditions.
Su Lanzhi had pulled one of the massive coats from its packaging, holding it up with a baffled look. "Why in the world are you buying such thick clothes? Are you planning to take the entire family, young and old, sick and healthy, on a long term trip to Siberia or something?"
"Wasn't it buy one, get one free?" Jing Shu had replied with a shrug, her face the picture of innocent practicality. "A real rich second generation kid must have a walk in closet full of good clothes. That day online, someone even said our walk in closet looked empty. Clearly, they're a fake rich kid. We can't have that."
Su Lanzhi was speechless.
"My biological daughter, my biological daughter, my biological daughter!"
She had silently repeated the phrase three times in her head, a mantra to calm herself. Looking at her daughter's determined face again, she finally felt a wave of resigned acceptance, if not satisfaction.
At the wholesale center, Jing Shu happily emptied the remaining funds from the health insurance card. The transaction felt like she was making up for a deep seated regret from her previous life, a small act of financial defiance that soothed an old wound.
Seeing they had some time left before the dreaded lunch, the family made a detour to buy more simulated sunlight lamps. The store was crowded. Many people were buying them now. Tech channels on TV reported on these lamps daily, with experts earnestly encouraging citizens to grow vegetables with artificial lighting. The demand had caused prices to rise by a steep 30 percent.
On her phone, discreetly, Jing Shu secretly placed another order for 10 sets of UBC's advanced bacterial solar lights, which had also increased by 20 percent. The company had even released new models, small handheld versions and medium portable versions. She bought 20 sets in total, the bill coming to 250,000 yuan. She scheduled the delivery for tomorrow, when her mother would be back at work. Now, buying anything major had to be done without her mother's immediate knowledge. Explaining it later, during the apocalypse, would require weaving countless little lies, and that was a headache for future Jing Shu.
They passed the appliance section of a department store. The freezers and refrigerators were completely sold out, every last one. They had been cheap, had large capacity, and were widely seen as ideal for storing food during the Dark Days. Only the expensive, hulking commercial refrigerators were left, and even those were seeing a steady stream of buyers. Everyone, it seemed, wanted to stock up on fresh vegetables, fruits, and other perishable foods before the darkness fell. One home refrigerator was far from enough for the hoarding mentality that had taken hold.
"It had to be said," Jing Shu mused, "that at the very start of the apocalypse, everyone had prepared surprisingly well. The collective instinct was strong. Unfortunately, less than a month into the crisis, electricity usage began to be severely restricted. Six months later, the daily power supply was reduced to just two precious hours, a change that killed many from heatstroke alone. After a year, it was down to a mere, frantic half an hour."
Jing Shu sighed, a soft, inward sound of grim remembrance. Then she composed herself and left with her father for the banquet. Her mother drove the grandparents to another distribution point to collect their free vegetable seedlings, bean sprout seedlings, chive seedlings, crown daisy seedlings, lettuce seedlings, and spinach seedlings. All were varieties that could grow without much, or any, direct sunlight.
The government was now distributing them for free to encourage self sufficiency. People used facial recognition systems to pick up their daily allotment of seedlings to grow at home, reducing unnecessary expenses. Everyone knew that vegetables grown indoors with specialized lights would cost more, and prices would only skyrocket once the Dark Days truly began.
…
The private room in the restaurant was dimly lit and smelled strongly of stale alcohol and leftover grease. When Jing An led Jing Shu in, a large bellied, bald man, Lao Zhu, stood up quickly. An awkward, strained smile was plastered on his face. "Brother Jing! And Jing Shu is here too. Please, please, sit!"
Jing Shu's posture was relaxed, but her mind was taut. She had prepared a kitchen knife in her Cube Space, her fingers mentally brushing against its imagined handle. She was always ready.
Her eyes swept to the corner. A month ago, Zhu Zhengqi had been the picture of confident, handsome arrogance. Now he was emaciated, his clothes hanging loosely on his frame. He was huddled in a corner booth, nursing a bottle of beer while obsessively checking comments on his phone. The screen's glow bleached his face.
He would suddenly cry out, a low, pained sound, then shake his head in frantic denial. Scrolling through comment after vicious comment like a man possessed, he finally looked up as they entered. His eyes, hollow and ringed with dark circles, locked onto Jing Shu with pure, undiluted hatred. He shouted, his voice cracking, "Are you satisfied now? You're all satisfied? This is the result you wanted? Why didn't you say it sooner when you had the ability? Why did you let it go this far?"
Jing An instinctively stepped in front of Jing Shu, a protective barrier of paternal concern. "Lao Zhu, what on earth's going on here?"
"It's nothing, just children's matters, misunderstandings!" Lao Zhu waved his hands, his smile desperate. "Jing Shu, my Zhu Zhengqi is begging you. Please, spare him. Please, make whatever's happening to him in Hebei stop. He has depression, you see? And whenever he has a relapse, he takes stimulants. Taking too much can kill him. Jing Shu, save him! He really can't handle all this criticism! Every day someone calls him, texts him, leaves messages in all his social circles insulting him, exposing old things. He's nearly attempted suicide several times!"
Jing Shu snorted, a short, dismissive sound. "If he can't handle the consequences of his own actions, how am I supposed to help him handle it? Besides, can't he just hire hundreds of thousands of online trolls like he did before? Let him hire them to whitewash himself again. He's good at that."
Lao Zhu's face twitched. "Hiring trolls doesn't help anymore. It's too big now. Jing Shu, just tell us plainly, what does he need to do? How can he be forgiven?"
Jing Shu exhaled slowly through her nose. Her gaze was cool and appraising as it rested on the shrunken figure of Zhu Zhengqi. "First," she said, her voice clear and firm, "he must issue a detailed, public apology for all of his actions. He must apologize for defaming people, for hiring trolls to attack and harass others, for everything. No vague statements. Second, when asking for forgiveness, he must actually show some humility. Real humility, not this performative act."
Lao Zhu immediately turned and pulled his son up from the booth, his grip tight. He slapped Zhu Zhengqi's shoulder, then his arm. The strikes were sharp with paternal fury and shame. "You heard her! No problem, we agree! Hurry, beg Jing Shu to forgive you properly!"
"Dad!" Zhu Zhengqi protested, a last flicker of wounded pride.
"Hurry up!" Lao Zhu slapped him again, harder.
Zhu Zhengqi glared at Jing Shu. His eyes were bloodshot and swimming with a toxic mix of humiliation and rage. After a long, tense moment where his jaw worked soundlessly, he finally ground out the words, hoarse and low, "Jing Shu. Please forgive me."
"I can't hear you." Jing Shu pursed her lips slightly, eyeing him with a critical, almost bored detachment.
Sure enough, Zhu Zhengqi's eyes blazed with renewed fury. That hatred fixed on her like a laser. His father, seeing this, hit him once more. The sharp crack made Jing An flinch. "Louder! With feeling!"
Zhu Zhengqi shouted, the words ripped from him, "JING SHU, PLEASE FORGIVE ME!"
"Good." A small, serene smile touched Jing Shu's lips. "Your eyes right now are perfect, you know? I really like them. Remember this feeling well. Remember, don't impose on others what you don't want for yourself." She smiled a little wider then, and it was not a kind smile. She loved seeing her enemies powerless and frustrated, cornered by the very forces they had once wielded so carelessly.
For a fleeting moment, watching the raw misery on Zhu Zhengqi's face, Jing Shu wondered if she was becoming a villain herself. After all, she kept finding satisfaction in doing things that only villains in stories seemed to enjoy.
Lunch was, naturally, skipped. The atmosphere was too poisonous to swallow food. In the car afterwards, Jing An held his tongue for a long time. The silence was heavy. Only later, after they had separated from the Zhu family, did he ask quietly, "What really happened back then? And how exactly has Zhu Zhengqi been, bullied, into that state?"
"Bullied? He was clearly the one bullying me," Jing Shu said. She blinked up at her father with an expression of pure, guileless innocence.
"Judging by his miserable look today, it doesn't seem that way." Jing An shook his head slowly. His expression darkened with disillusionment. He stared out the car window at the passing city. "Forget it. I don't want any ties with my former colleagues anymore. That world, it's best to keep our distance."