As for the royal jelly, such a precious, potent substance, it naturally became part of their morning ritual. Every day, Su Lanzhi would carefully dig out a small spoonful from the jar, mix it into a cup of warm water, and each family member would drink their share. It was good for beauty, nourished the lungs, and was packed with enzymes and nutrients. In a world without sunlight, where Vitamin D synthesis was impossible, it felt like a vital supplement, replenishing what the gloomy environment stole away.
The black pigs, sheep, and calves growing within the Cube Space had become noticeably larger and sturdier after being regularly fed diluted Spirit Spring. Compared to the standard month long accelerated growth cycle the space provided on its own, the Spirit Spring seemed to enhance vitality and health, saving a significant amount on grain feed and concentrated Spirit Spring doses. They still matured far faster than ordinary livestock though, and Jing Shu estimated they would reach full slaughter weight in just half a year.
Jing Shu had also quietly raised more quail in a separate partition, planning to roast them in bulk later, along with boiling their tiny speckled eggs, to store in the space as convenient, protein rich late night snacks. Her own appetite had grown even bigger recently, a side effect of her enhanced metabolism.
Outside the Cube Space, Jing Shu only kept a modest number of chickens, ducks, and rabbits in the reinforced coops, but even the diluted Spirit Spring in their water worked wonders. Aside from the more than 20 eggs laid daily by the prolific Number 1 (the battle chicken seemed to have hormonal super chicken qualities), Jing Shu could still collect over 20 more regular chicken eggs, 7 or 8 large duck eggs, and more than 100 tiny, delicate quail eggs. This level of production was far beyond anything free range poultry outside the villa could manage in these conditions.
The steady accumulation of eggs over these days allowed Jing Shu and Jing An to successfully make a large batch of preserved eggs, soaking them in the ash, lime, and salt mixture. It also gave Jing Shu a perfect, logical reason to buy a lot of lime and other alkaline materials in bulk, officially to "make more preserved eggs," but secretly to prepare for other survival uses like water purification and disinfection.
On January 18th, the community suddenly plunged into darkness. The power was out. The entire grid of Wu City had been running at a dangerous overload for over ten days straight. Not only did it have to provide electricity for household lighting and appliances during the perpetual twilight nights, but it also had to supply power for air conditioning, lights, and essential operations for companies and enterprises during the blistering daytime hours. At last, the aging infrastructure could no longer bear the load.
The main problem was the unprecedented, round the clock demand for air conditioning. According to news scrolls, the nationwide electricity consumption was five times higher than the seasonal average. Normally, people were reluctant to run their AC units constantly, especially since some areas charged tiered, double rates for usage exceeding strict household limits. But in the past half month, with indoor temperatures reaching lethal levels, no one held back. The result was a catastrophic total shortage of generating capacity.
Wu City was forced to adopt emergency measures, announcing the distribution of diesel fuel reserves so that critical communities and businesses could run generators themselves.
[Wang Qiqi No. 13]:"@everyone, our community management office hasn't secured a large generator yet. If you can't stand the heat, you can come down to the underground garage level B2 and sit in your cars with the air conditioning on while waiting for power to return. My SUV can still fit two more people if anyone needs a spot."
The temperature in Wu City was still as high as 49℃. About half of Jing Shu's community residents were office workers or small business owners who had already closed up shop and were staying home. After less than half an hour without electricity and active cooling, the sealed houses became like steamers, the heat radiating from the walls and glass.
"People at this time are so fragile," Jing Shu thought, not without a trace of cynical detachment. "They can't stand a little heat or drink a little muddy water, but later on, didn't they survive anyway? By drinking much worse." She dismissed the thought as uncharitable, but it lingered as she lounged in her own villa, kept at a constant, comfortable 26℃ by its independent solar system, eating a spoonful of precious Häagen Dazs ice cream from the freezer.
Some residents with means drove back to their parents' homes or relatives' places in other districts that still had power. Others, like those answering Wang Qiqi's call, sat in their idling cars in the underground garage, wasting precious fuel to run the AC while waiting for the grid to come back. During this crisis, Wang Qiqi, ever the community organizer, even pulled more than a dozen new members into the group chat. The sprawling community was built to house over ten thousand people, but at present, only a little more than a hundred actually lived there full time. No wonder restaurants and shops had never dared to open nearby, there was no customer base.
But Jing Shu knew that in less than a year, this very place would become one of the hottest, most crowded new districts of Wu City, drawing in countless refugees and homeless people. Every basement, every storage room, and every corner of the underground parking would be divided into a makeshift living space for a family.
In Jing Shu's previous life, her own family had been part of that desperate migration. They had exchanged their prime, well stocked villa during the chaotic fifth year for a pitiful amount of grain and ended up living in those very basements and "cage houses" themselves. Later, they were forced to migrate multiple times due to various escalating disasters. That entire period was a layered nightmare Jing Shu never wanted to recall again.
That same day, taking advantage of the relative calm before the storm, Jing An loaded up the car. He brought three packs of fresh oyster mushrooms from their indoor cultivation, two trays of vibrant garlic sprouts, a dozen eggs, a firm head of cabbage, and a container of Spirit Spring diluted turtle jelly to Grandma Jing and Grandpa Jing's city apartment.
It was said that buying any fresh vegetables in the city had become extremely difficult. Even a wilted, outer leaf cabbage now cost 50 yuan. Other leafy greens and out of season vegetables were simply unavailable. Only mushrooms, chives, and bean sprouts, crops that could be grown indoors without sunlight, were still for sale, and at astronomical prices.
Prices at the dried goods and seafood markets had multiplied too. But since items like dried shrimp and seaweed were even more expensive than the scarce vegetables, few people bought them, everyone instead clinging to the desperate hope that Earth's Dark Days would end soon and prices would normalize.
Grandma Jing still had to stay in the city a few more days to line up for her chronic medication, but she and Grandpa Jing were in good spirits, fortified by the regular deliveries of good food and clean water from Jing Shu's family.
To avoid hoarding and riots, purchase limits were imposed everywhere now. And medicines, especially chronic disease medications, had a six month backlog according to grim rumors. So every day, Grandma Jing, with her stubborn energy, went with Third Aunt Jing Lai to different pharmacies, buying whatever small amounts she could.
Cooling pills, vitamins, Huoxiang Zhengqi water, all had been sold out for weeks. Even though Jing Shu reassured her repeatedly that she had stocked plenty of all those things in the villa, Grandma Jing insisted on buying more with her own savings before she could rest easy. It was her way of maintaining control.
Grandma Jing fundamentally lacked a sense of security. Having lived through the great famine of her youth, she hoarded everything instinctively. Though she had held traditional views, favoring boys over girls in the past, and was famously stingy about food and clothing, always bargaining fiercely when buying vegetables, she had truly, deeply treated Jing Shu well.
Since childhood, she had always saved the best bits of meat, the sweetest fruit, for Jing Shu. In her previous life, Jing Shu had been too consumed by her own struggle to survive and had not had the chance to fulfill her filial duty. In this life, she was determined to make it up. Whatever Grandma Jing wanted to do, however seemingly irrational, Jing Shu would support her.
At 7 p.m., with their own power steady, the family sat in the cool living room in front of the television, eating a dinner that would seem like a fantasy to their neighbors, three steamed sea bass fillets with ginger and scallions, a smooth bowl of steamed egg custard topped with salty caviar, a big pot of rich curry potato beef stew served over fluffy white rice, and a light tomato egg soup.
No matter how much food they made, Jing Shu always finished every last scrap, wiping her plate clean with a piece of steamed bread, leaving no trace of oil or sauce. After ten years in the depths of the apocalypse, where a single grain of rice was priceless, she had learned to eat with a ruthless efficiency that bordered on compulsion.
"You only learned this bad habit of cleaning your plate from your father," Su Lanzhi said, tapping Jing Shu's hand lightly with her chopsticks. "A young lady eating like that, with such an appetite and table manners, who would dare to marry you in the future?"
Jing An, sprawled on the couch digesting, wore an innocent look. "Yes, yes, all the bad habits she learned from me. All the good ones, like her cleverness and foresight, she clearly inherited from you."
"Of course," Su Lanzhi said, a note of pride breaking through her mock scolding. "Just look at my daughter's preparations. Solar power, water filtration. Look outside. Others have no power and are eating cold instant noodles for dinner. We're sitting here with air conditioning and a lavish feast."
"You were the one who used to call her a prodigal for spending all that money, though," Jing An muttered under his breath, just loud enough to hear.
The rest of Wu City remained mostly without stable grid power, relying either on overloaded backup lines or the sputtering roar of private generators. In the more densely populated south of the city, with its higher demand and insufficient electricity supply, diesel generators were already running day and night, their exhaust adding to the hazy air.
Jing Shu knew this was unsustainable. Soon, they would all face the awkward, critical situation of having cars but no fuel to run them. Gasoline was becoming a vital strategic resource with more important uses for agriculture, emergency services, and government operations, so supplies to private citizens would be halted entirely.
The same would be true for natural gas and other grid dependent energy. Once this initial period of frantic adaptation passed, Jing Shu planned to start cooking and preserving vast quantities of food in advance, using their stored coal and propane, to save fuel later.
When night fell completely, the temperature in Wu City plummeted to a damp 4℃. Shivering residents returned from their cars or relatives' homes, only to find a new horror waiting, even the muddy, sandy tap water had stopped flowing. The pumps had failed without power.
[Zhang Bingbing No. 4]:"@everyone, I don't have a drop of water left in my taps. Can someone spare a couple bottles of mineral water? I have a child. Thank you so much."
The message hung in the chat. No one replied.
After a painfully long while, Zhang Bingbing messaged again, her digital voice pleading, "I'll pay a high price! Just two bottles of mineral water! Name your price!"
Still, the chat remained silent. In the darkness of their own homes, people were guarding their own shrinking supplies.
Finally, Zhang Bingbing's fear and isolation exploded into text, "WHAT KIND OF NEIGHBORS ARE YOU ALL? JUST LETTING PEOPLE DIE WITHOUT LIFTING A FINGER? This afternoon, a few aunties even carpooled with me and said if I had any difficulties to just call in the group! I burned through all my fuel running the car AC for them! Now I'm out of gas, stuck at home with no water, and no one's willing to help even if I pay extra for two lousy bottles? IS THIS WHAT WE'VE COME TO?"