In the past, when Jing Shu suggested such harsh measures, no one in the family dared to voice full agreement out loud. After all, how could a young woman, their daughter and niece, come up with such vicious, premeditated methods? It felt alien, unsettling.
But after the tragic incident with Wang Xuemei yesterday, the horror of it seared into their minds, the entire family's stance shifted. The decision to fortify, to retaliate, to meet violence with overwhelming force, was now unanimously approved, a grim consensus born of necessity.
A once happy, ordinary family of three had lost two members overnight to brutal, senseless violence. Wang Xuemei not only had to face the cruel, empty life ahead but had also been assaulted by multiple men and humiliated further when the video was shared in a WeChat group for all to see. It was unimaginable how she could ever face the people in the community again, or look at herself in a mirror.
When Wang Qiqi and his small, brave group had finally arrived at Wang Xuemei's apartment, they found her still tied up on the bloodied sofa, tortured beyond recognition but clinging to a fragile thread of life. Later, after being cut loose, Wang Xuemei had expressed a desire to end it all, to simply stop breathing. For her, living in that broken state, with those memories, held no meaning anymore.
Jing Shu had later sent Wang Qiqi the video clip of Gou Yitian's death, the wet paper, the struggling, the final stillness, and told him to show it to Wang Xuemei. She didn't say anything else, offer any comfort or advice.
Whether Wang Xuemei chose to live on, fueled by that image of vengeance, or chose to die and escape the pain, was up to her own shattered will. If she couldn't get past the mental barrier, the deep violation, death might indeed be easier. After all, there would be more natural disasters and man-made calamities ahead in this crumbling world. She would encounter countless more desperate, cruel people, face various horrific deaths, and never know which one would come for her next.
"I think it's still dangerous if any survivors from other gangs break through our initial traps," Wu You'ai mused aloud, her analytical mind working. "Can we add another layer of barbed wire outside the trench? That way, if they get past the pits, they'll be tangled, and we can shoot arrows or bolts from the front more easily."
Jing Shu gave Wu You'ai a genuine thumbs up. "Good thinking, but barbed wire alone isn't enough. It'll slow them, but it won't kill anyone. Our real advantage is that we still have a stable power supply from the UBC and generator. Let's turn it into a proper electric fence. The height doesn't need to be great, maybe waist-high, but it has to be wide enough, with multiple strands, to block the entire courtyard approach. They'll have to cut it or bridge it to get through, and that'll buy us more reaction time, and give them a nasty shock."
The villa's defensive traps were to be upgraded first, immediately. Jing Shu would go out later to "find" the necessary materials, insulated wire, transformers, fence posts, in the abandoned industrial parks, while Jing An and Grandpa Jing prepared the groundwork with the tools and lumber they had on hand.
It took two full, exhausting days for the family to clean up the villa and its grounds. Water had to be conserved meticulously, so every drop used for washing away blood or scrubbing tiles was counted, reused for flushing or poured onto the compost. Third Aunt Jing Lai was a hands-on worker who barely spoke as she cleaned tirelessly, scrubbing until her knuckles were raw. No wonder she'd managed to stay on in a government department as their cook, holding onto that precious "official" position and its rations even in the apocalypse; her reliability was absolute.
After six months of living together in close quarters, Jing Shu had come to understand Third Aunt's personality clearly. She was a strong-willed, stubborn woman, fiercely efficient, a perfectionist Virgo through and through, and a clean freak who couldn't tolerate even a single strand of hair on the floor. She was the type to "do, not talk," her actions speaking volumes.
Wu You'ai, on the other hand, was a classic Libra in many ways. She embodied a certain intellectual laziness, preferring to lie down and think rather than stand and work, and her mind was a thousand times more active than her body, always theorizing, analyzing, planning.
The villa's once-neat vegetable patch was partially ruined, trampled and blood-soaked. Some of the produce was only fit for livestock feed now. The front door needed a new, heavier lock cylinder, but fortunately, there weren't many other material losses beyond that and some chipped tiles.
Upon tallying the community's casualties from the Bi Ri gang's raid, they discovered through the hushed, fearful group chat that three families in other buildings had been completely killed. Two other women had been raped, one of whom was Zhang Bingbing from Building No. 4, someone Jing Shu often saw chatting animatedly in the group about recipes and water rations.
Three days had passed since the incident, but the traumatized residents no longer dared step outside their apartments, not even to use the filthy public restroom downstairs. A palpable, silent fear had settled over the compound.
Meanwhile, as predicted, all remaining supermarkets in Wu City had officially shut down, halting all sales indefinitely. Families without any food reserves were now completely out of supplies, their desperation growing by the hour. Some people, driven by hunger, had even begun openly contemplating robbery in the local networks. In this new chaos, with no visible police presence on the streets, whoever had visible food stocks would inevitably become a target.
Those with limited supplies rationed their meals down to spoonfuls per day, but the panic grew like a weed as their stock visibly dwindled. Even within their own community, previously civil neighbors began to eye each other with suspicion, staring anxiously at their own last two bags of rice, unsure how much longer they could last before turning on each other.
The local internet forums were filled with a cacophony of complaints, rumors, and naked fear. The apocalypse theory was now fully accepted by everyone as the only explanation. Just as in Jing Shu's previous life, most people hid at home, curtains drawn, scrolling through Weibo or local apps, refreshing posts every few minutes: another community had been overrun, another had been taken over by a gang, water trucks had stopped delivering to certain neighborhoods. Yet the state-run news channel remained as steady and calm as ever, reporting only on national policy and "progress," a surreal contrast.
May 2, 2023: Major food manufacturers like Master Kong and Uni-President officially announced they were joining central government institutions as sub-departments. Plans began for mass production of dehydrated vegetable packets and nutrient bars to resume some form of centralized food distribution to the public.
May 3, 2023: In a stunning consolidation, Mobile, Unicom, and Telecom officially merged into a single, state-owned telecommunications company under central government acquisition, ushering in what was termed the "6G era." Data services became completely free, and the announcement stated that within a year, all call fees would be abolished, starting a fully connected network era for all citizens, a move clearly aimed at maintaining control of information flow.
May 4, 2023: Another major incident shook Wu City. The Zhetian Gang's brazen attempt to raid the police station in the new district to steal guns was exposed through official bulletins.
The gang had gathered over two hundred people, carrying two military-grade grenades from unknown, likely black-market sources. They used one to blow open the police station's reinforced entrance and threw another inside the lobby, killing or injuring over twenty officers on duty before storming in to execute their plan.
However, things didn't go as they expected. The two hundred-strong gang was completely stumped by the main weapon vault's advanced digital safe. The various power saws and sledgehammers they brought couldn't make a dent, and after entering the wrong password multiple times, the safe's system automatically locked down permanently.
They tried to carry the entire safe away, but it was a massive unit built directly into the station's foundation and wall. Moving it would mean tearing out half the building.
Frustrated, they found a secondary, smaller weapon vault. Having learned their lesson, they captured a wounded officer and demanded the password. But the system required three-party verification: leadership approval, a network confirmation signal that was down, and manual key access. With no choice, in a rage, they killed all the remaining officers and fled empty-handed, the mission a bloody failure.
No wonder, Jing Shu realized, she hadn't encountered many gun-wielding criminals in her past life. If police station arsenals were that easy to loot, the streets would have seen daily shootouts like in American disaster films. Now, with three handguns in her possession, all obtained through what could be considered legitimate channels of confiscation, Jing Shu felt a deeper, if grim, layer of security.
Su Lanzhi rested for a few days to recover her nerves, then insisted on going with Jing Shu and Jing An to bring gifts to Minister Niu Mou, to thank him for sending help. Going out now, even in daylight, required full armor, thick clothing, helmets, and carrying visible weapons.
Otherwise, they could be robbed and killed on the open road. Wu City was in utter chaos, with the price of iron security doors and window bars skyrocketing tenfold in barter markets. Every household that could was installing extra locks and steel reinforcements, but to determined, hungry robbers with tools, they were only a slight, temporary inconvenience.
The family had debated for a long time over what gift to bring. In these times, gift-giving had to be exceptionally thoughtful, something that genuinely touched the recipient's heart and addressed a real need. Giving something useless or trivial was like patting a horse on the leg instead of its flank, completely pointless and potentially annoying.
"We should try to match Minister Niu's personal tastes. What does he like? Does anyone know?" Jing An asked, scratching his head.
"In my opinion," Su Lanzhi said, practical as ever, "we should give him something he and his family really need right now. That's what you call a timely gift. The things he might 'like' are just luxuries in this environment, and might not leave a lasting impression."
"If you ask me," Jing Shu interjected, "instead of giving things directly to Minister Niu himself, why not give them to his wife and son? Secure the home front." She then recounted what had happened at the greenhouse with Niu Mou and the chubby, clever boy who had secured the frog.
Jing An's expression shifted to one of deep, male empathy, as if saying, "Ah, yes. We're all in the same boat when it comes to domestic peace."
"His wife likes strawberries, according to the kid," Su Lanzhi said, her eyes lighting up. "So let's give her strawberries. And not just a handful. We'll gift them as live plants, with the soil, so they can keep growing more at home. Minister Niu's family, with his position, definitely has no shortage of electricity to run a small grow light."
Jing Shu sighed, explaining the psychology of favors. "That's perfect! A sustainable gift. But…" she hesitated, "you're giving away a lot of goodwill all at once. How will they remember you later, after this one big gift? If you give them the means of production now, won't that set an impossibly high standard for all future gifts? If we just bring a basket of strawberries every time we visit from our own plants, won't that repeated, smaller gratitude actually multiply over time? A big gift once is a transaction. A small, thoughtful gift often, is a relationship."