Jing Shu then sent out today's video of selling frogs through the group chat, the footage showing her hands deftly handling the amphibians against the backdrop of the villa's yard. In the video, her voice, slightly raspy from the dust, explained to everyone how to raise frogs, the slipknot leash, the daily misting of water, and how they hunted bugs, their sticky tongues flashing out. She also included a clear photo of the list of spare parts and model numbers for the BYD Song that her father, Jing An, had mentioned, the paper held up to the camera.
Now that car factories had stopped production months ago and 4S stores were boarded up, repairing and maintaining any vehicle during the apocalypse was truly difficult. Some necessary spare parts, belts, filters, specific sensors, had become very valuable, more so than the cars themselves.
In a few years, when these internal combustion cars truly turned into immobile scrap metal and even their cannibalized spare parts were useless, if an energy car broke down, Jing Shu would have nowhere to cry. It was better to stock up on spare parts and tires early, she reasoned, and have her father maintain the car meticulously every year so that they could still use it when the time came for migration. After five or six years of the apocalypse, cars that could still run, that hadn't been stripped or crushed, were practically nonexistent.
Jing Shu could have, in theory, just gone to a junkyard to dismantle car tires herself or picked the lock of a shuttered 4S store to steal some parts, but that was too troublesome, and she didn't know enough about automotive systems. Her father, who understood cars, was too principled to stoop to doing such things either. It was much easier and more efficient, she found, to sell something people desperately needed, the frogs, in exchange for everything she needed. It saved both effort and time, a clean transaction.
"I'll trade!" Young Master With a Kid No. 13 said, his message popping up quickly. "We drive a BYD too. I have all the parts you listed in the garage. Hold on, I'll take off the four tires and other parts for you." The eagerness was palpable.
After watching Jing Shu's video, many people in the chat sighed in amazement. Frogs, which used to be common, hopping in every ditch, had become a rare commodity, a memory of a greener world.
[Fat Girl No. 25]:"Raising frogs is really popular in the elite circles now, I hear, but they're too scarce. If you gift one to a doctor, you'll definitely get a hospital bed. My Mini Cooper has everything you need, I'll strip it down for you. The tires are almost new."
"I'll trade too!" Another message chimed.
"Count me in! I'll rip off anything that's usable. This broken car hasn't moved in months anyway, it's just scrap metal taking up space."
Carrion scavengers severely threatened people's remaining lives, their food stores, their peace. Compared to cars that hadn't had a drop of fuel for months, most people readily chose to strip parts off their silent vehicles to trade for living, bug eating frogs. With just a little daily water, a precious but manageable amount, frogs could keep their homes clear of the swarming carrion scavengers, and they wouldn't have to wake up to find another bag of grain seething with larvae. Everyone was eager, almost desperate, to make the exchange.
With Jing An overseeing things, checking the condition of the proffered parts under a work light, it didn't take long to gather all the traded spare parts and pile them up in a heap on the concrete in front of Building No. 25. A group of ragged, weary people stood under the wavering beams of their flashlights and phone lights, their shadows long and distorted, waiting quietly for Jing Shu to hand out the frogs from her stacked containers.
The family from Young Master With a Kid had brought the most parts, a full set of tires, shock absorbers, boxes of filters and gaskets, and traded for three frogs. Others got one each, clutching the simple glass jars. In total, fifteen frogs changed hands, exchanged for what amounted to several cars' worth of parts, tires still dusty from storage, and even some tool sets. This scale of trade was unimaginable before the apocalypse, where a frog was just a frog. Grandpa Jing, helping to load the parts into their trailer, muttered in disbelief, shaking his head, "Frogs... are worth this much now? More than a full tank of gas used to be?"
Zhang Bingbing, her hair unwashed and clothes stained, ignored her disheveled state and beamed a wide, grateful smile at her new frog in its jar. She then turned and casually asked, her voice carrying in the quiet night, "Jing Shu, are you guys not short on water? How are you raising so many frogs? They need water every day, don't they?"
As soon as she asked, the area fell into a deeper silence, broken only by the distant hum of a generator somewhere. Everyone, dressed in frayed, dirty clothes, turned their eyes from their new acquisitions to the girl who, aside from a slightly darkened complexion from deliberate smudging, didn't look very dirty or gaunt. Her family members moving around the trailer also looked well kept, their clothes intact, their movements energetic, not slowed by hunger.
"What's it to you if they're short on water or not?" the plump girl from No. 25 suddenly spoke up, her voice sharp. "If they didn't look out for us with this trade, could you even get these parts for anything? Quit asking stupid questions. Hurry home before these frogs overheat in your hands!" She then scurried back toward the entrance of Building No. 25 in her worn slippers, clutching her frog jar to her chest as if protecting a treasure.
Only then did the crowd begin to disperse, melting back into the dark doorways of the buildings, their flashlight beams bobbing away. Jing Shu let out a slow, quiet breath she hadn't realized she was holding, but her phone buzzed again in her pocket.
[Luxury Cars No. 5]:"@Xiaoshu from the Villa District, if you need car parts, come to me! Our dealership's storage warehouse still has everything. I'll trade with you."
Jing Shu remembered him well. He was the one who had blamed her in the chat months ago for not reminding everyone to stockpile. She never gave second chances to ingrates. Her thumbs moved swiftly. "Sorry, I'm done trading. Got what I needed."
[Luxury Cars No. 5]:"We still have plenty of synthetic motor oil and full sets of snow tires. Brand new. I can even take you to the warehouse to get as much as you want. Just bring me more frogs!"
"I don't steal," Jing Shu typed back, her expression flat, "and besides, I don't need them anymore."
[Luxury Cars No. 5]:"You're deliberately not trading with me? Holding a grudge?"
"Yes." Her reply was simple, brutal. "I'm not generous enough to trade with someone who insulted me and my family." Jing Shu rolled her eyes at the phone screen. She held grudges. She remembered clearly what had happened six months ago, the casual venom in his words.
Luxury Cars No. 5 was livid. Seeing others post grainy, triumphant pictures of their new frogs in the group chat enraged him further. His old habit, the unchecked temper of a privileged man, kicked in, and he furiously typed a stream of insults, his fingers jabbing at the screen:
"You selfish bitch! Think you're special because you have a few disgusting frogs? Last year I bought a Rolex on a whim, so what? I wish Brother Tao would come rob your pretentious villa again! Wang Xuemei's family's fate should be yours! None of you sanctimonious bitches should get anything good!"
Usually, after venting his anger like this into the void, he would have the presence of mind to delete his message before sending. But this time, he was too riled up, his vision blurring with rage, and he hit "send" without a second thought.
"Crap, crap, crap!" Luxury Cars No. 5 panicked, his blood running cold when he saw the message had been sent and was now visible in the public chat. He hurriedly selected and deleted it, his heart hammering against his ribs. Just as his heart was pounding in a wave of relief, thinking he'd dodged disaster, someone announced his doom.
[Wang Qiqi No. 13]:"@Everyone, I just screenshot @Luxury Cars No. 5's message with my single for 30 years hand speed. So it was him who organized or tipped off that robbery at Wang Xuemei's house! I always wondered how they knew exactly which homes were occupied and had supplies."
No one could match the screenshot reflexes of someone proudly single for 30 years. Jing Shu had barely registered the flash of the message before it was deleted, but Wang Qiqi had already captured and weaponized the evidence.
Things escalated with terrifying speed. The group chat exploded, a cascade of angry messages, especially when Wang Xuemei, who had just lost her husband and daughter, her voice raw from crying, sent a voice message asking, "Why? Why would you send people to rob us? What did we ever do to you? We barely knew you!" Her grief was a live wire in the digital space.
People started questioning him, condemning him, their own fear and guilt perhaps transforming into outrage directed at a convenient villain.
Jing Shu stayed silent, watching the chat scroll. Of the six people who had come to rob Wang Xuemei that day, if even half the able bodied neighbors had immediately come out wielding kitchen knives and pipes, no one might have died. Did they really have the full right to question anyone now? The thought was cold. Not that they were wrong to be angry, either. Without the hidden, unfair advantage of her Cube Space and enhanced strength, she knew she wouldn't have dared leave her own home that night either.
Seeing his secret exposed, his digital mask torn off, Luxury Cars No. 5 dropped the act entirely, a cornered animal lashing out.
"Why? Because bugs ate all my grain, my entire stockpile, and none of you selfish pricks were willing to sell me a single kilo of food! If each of you had given me just one kilo from your hoards, would I have needed to join that gang?
And Wang Xuemei, don't you pretend to be so noble! Charging me 300 worthless yuan for one lousy bowl of rice like you were doing me some great favor. You love playing the charity saint, huh? I wanted to see how you'd give charity when you have nothing left to eat but your own self righteousness!
And Brother Tao liking your daughter was your family's damn honor in these times! You should have accepted it, been grateful. You all deserved to die. The apocalypse is here, and the government's just bragging about their artificial sun to buy time. The truth is, they hid all the real grain reserves months ago, and you're all too stupid to see it!" He ranted gleefully, his messages coming fast, oblivious in his digital tantrum to the fact that Jing Shu and Jing An had already called Wang Qiqi privately for his unit number and address. Without another word in the chat, the three of them, Jing Shu, Jing An with his face set like stone, and a determined Wang Qiqi, set off across the dark compound.
Wang Qiqi was slightly confused, his steps hurried to keep up. "Shouldn't we... call the police to arrest him? What if they're too busy with the big riots to care about this?"
Jing Shu's expression was icy, her jaw tight, and she stayed silent, her focus on the path ahead. For people like this, who brought violence to their neighbors' doors, she preferred to deal with them directly, to look them in the eye. With a grim faced Jing An striding beside her and a stunned but following Wang Qiqi in tow, they marched straight to Building No. 5, up the dim stairwell to the sixth floor, stopping outside Room 602. The hallway smelled of mildew and stale air.
"Should we knock on the door first or... just pry it open?" Wang Qiqi asked weakly, her earlier bravado fading in the face of actual confrontation.
Jing Shu wordlessly pulled out a hooked iron wire from her waistband, a simple lockpick, and with her other hand, she reversed the broken iron rod and jabbed its splintered end into the door's peephole with a loud, decisive bang, shattering the tiny lens inward.
Wang Qiqi swallowed hard, his eyes wide as he watched, instinctively raising a hand to shield his lower half, suddenly feeling a distinct, sympathetic chill run down his spine.