It was right around the time everyone had finished the communal meal from the big pot, a thin gruel of maggots and meal, and, bundled in cotton coats against the evening chill, went outside to dig for maggots in the fading light.
In the past, the supermarket opened at 6 a.m. Recently, because everyone had been diligently collecting bugs to trade for work points, a healthy cycle had formed, a grim symbiosis. The supermarket added a second opening period after 6 p.m., perfectly avoiding the hours of extreme midday heat, the deadly zenith of the sun. Most people adjusted their routines accordingly and tried not to go out when the temperature spiked, hunkering in whatever shade they could find.
In other words, from one meal a day, life had become extravagantly two meals a day, a small, desperate luxury.
Besides that, since everyone had already traded in their quilts and clothing, the supermarket began accepting other daily use items for work points: beds, planks, wooden goods, and waste paper, stripping homes down to their bones.
The first batch of recycling, iron and steel, went toward the artificial sun project, a distant hope. The second batch, cloth and cotton and linen, became strategic reserves, bundled in warehouses. As for the third batch, wood, Jing Shu didn't know what they planned to do with it yet. Waste paper would be used to make paper, a precious commodity.
With many products out of production, consumables were dwindling. Forget toiletries. After meals, people used to wipe with napkins. Now they licked their plates clean, the ceramic scraped by tongues.
They had used paper in the toilet before. Now cloth had been reclaimed, paper was gone, water was gone, and there were no leaves or grass, the earth barren.
You could get away with not wiping once or twice after using the toilet, but after more times, things stuck together and that was no good, a chafing, miserable reality.
So everyone scraped with small wooden sticks, whittled smooth.
Jing Shu had a deep impression of this, which was why, after being reborn, she bought twenty years' worth of daily necessities and a mountain of toilet paper, the soft rolls a private treasure.
Since a round stick didn't scrape cleanly, they had to take a small knife that wouldn't be reclaimed and shave the stick flat. In her previous life, Jing Shu would shave while using the toilet. By the time she finished, the stick was ready, a multitasking of grim necessity.
If your technique was poor, it was easy to poke yourself. Dry stools were one thing. Eat too many maggots and diarrhea followed. Tsk. Better not go on. Too many tears. The memory was visceral, humiliating.
This time of day was the community's most active period. People were catching larvae, scouting for new supplies, and some, itching with greed after hearing Su Meimei's words, even suggested checking out the villa, the idea a whispered temptation.
But then grisly photos appeared in the group chat, followed by Jing Shu's imperious line. People immediately backed off. Hearts pounded, hair stood on end, and for a moment Jing Shu became a devil in their minds, a figure of fear.
[Shi Zi]:"Isn't that Zhou Pancheng? You, you actually killed people?"
[Xiao Shu]:"According to the latest regulations, anyone who comes armed to rob a home can be killed on the spot, then reported. Each robber is worth ten work points. If no one claims them, I will file the report."
The rest fell silent, not daring to say another word. They had seen the villa family's methods and hard edge today. If even armed men ended up dead, what chance did unarmed ones have? The calculation was simple, and fear won.
From that moment, the villa household officially entered the community's do not provoke list, a mental note stamped in every mind.
After wrapping up the matter, Jing Shu held a family meeting around the kitchen table.
Su Lanzhi finally grew cautious, her earlier anger cooling into worry. "Su Meimei took a loss. She won't give up easily. We have to be on guard."
Jing Shu said, "If I were Su Meimei, I would go to my biological father. A father's move would be to use connections. I heard he knows Niu Mou's boss." She laid out the likely chain of power.
The family turned anxious eyes toward Jing Shu. Jing An asked, "Then what do we do?" His hands were clenched on the table.
Jing Shu smiled coldly, a humorless twist of her lips. "They aren't the only ones with connections. Money makes the ghosts grind the mill. We can find connections too." But her eyes said she preferred a different path.
Still, Jing Shu didn't like playing by the rules. The system was a cage, and she had spent a lifetime learning how to bend its bars.
…
Her prediction was accurate. Beat the small, and the big ones came. The next day, under a bleached white sky, an oil burning Audi, a rarity now, pulled up at the villa's gate, its engine a low purr of privilege.
In these times, only those with real government power drove fuel cars, a moving statement of authority.
The man who got out was Su Meimei's cheap biological father, Su Guosheng, still dressed in that same Zhongshan suit, the fabric now slightly frayed. He got out alongside a paunchy, greasy middle aged man, whose face shone with sweat.
Half a year into the apocalypse, anyone this fat had mines at home, a literal well of resources.
The middle aged man took out his phone, panting from the short walk in the heat. "Hello, Niu Mou? Yes, I am right in front of your subordinate Su Lanzhi's villa gate. Right, okay, I will wait here." His voice was wheedling, familiar.
Hanging up, the middle aged man passed over a cigarette, a precious commodity. "Relax. My old classmate will settle this for you and let you walk away easy. About those resources…" He let the sentence hang.
Su Guosheng accepted the cigarette, holding it reverently. His dry fingers stroked it thoughtfully. He narrowed his eyes, a calculating gleam. "When we get back, I will secure the resources for you." The promise was air, a transaction of future favors.
So the old fox was leaving soon, cutting his losses and running.
Jing Shu opened the gate, the hinges groaning. A wave of heat hit, a solid wall of it. With a bang she set a wooden chair down on the dusty ground just outside the threshold, closed the door behind her, crossed one leg over the other, and stared at the pair. So, they wanted to play this game. Did they really think Jing Shu played by the rulebook? Her posture was a challenge.
"Look, the nux vomica I planted specially for you is ripe." Jing Shu's voice was conversational. She activated the Cube Space's second form in her mind and gently stroced the plants she had cultivated days ago while researching poison bees, their image clear in her mental workspace. Back then she had wondered whether soaking bee stingers in poison would work. Poison sources were scarce, so Jing Shu had done her own research, reading old texts on her phone.
She discovered that the medicinal plant nux vomica was counted among the twenty eight toxic medicinals, alongside heavy poisons like arsenic and mercury, a classic and potent neurotoxin.
Early birds got worms, but good timing beat an early start. The nux vomica was ready now. Jing Shu sat in the doorway, the chair creaking, and began compounding in her mind, envisioning the extraction, the concentration, a silent, invisible alchemy.
Su Guosheng was an old ginger indeed. He ignored Jing Shu entirely, treating her like a child throwing a tantrum. He and the greasy middle aged man got back into the car to wait in the air conditioning, the windows rolled up, sealing them in cool indifference.
Before long, Niu Mou drove up in a battered government jeep, with Su Lanzhi in tow, rushing all the way. Niu Mou climbed out drenched in sweat, his shirt sticking to his back, with Su Lanzhi right behind him, her face pale.
"Secretary Zhang," Niu Mou called warmly, but the warmth didn't reach his eyes.
The fat man addressed as Secretary Zhang gave a faint grunt, not bothering to get out. "Replace Director Su Lanzhi of the Development Zone Management Department." He pointed a thick finger at the villa. "Someone reported that she appropriated large amounts of vegetables for personal gain. The evidence is inside. According to the new rules, all of it must be turned in. In a while, Xiao Zhang will bring people to confirm it on the spot." The orders were delivered flatly, a death sentence for a career.
Su Guosheng stood by the car with a victorious smile, the cigarette now tucked behind his ear. First time, he had underestimated them. Second time, he had misjudged them. Third time, what tricks could they possibly have left? He felt the solid ground of his connections under his feet.
"Daughter, I have done all I can for you. The rest is up to you," Su Guosheng thought, already worrying about how to face the tigress at home when he returned, the domestic accounting more daunting than this.
The warmth on Niu Mou's face gradually faded, turning frosty, his jaw tightening. "Secretary Zhang, Director Su Lanzhi is my capable subordinate. She can't be replaced." The words were firm, a line drawn.
Secretary Zhang hadn't expected the usually deferential Niu Mou to push back. His face tightened, jowls quivering. "Niu Mou, as your superior, I have the authority to reassign a director, even a minister. Do you want to be replaced?" The threat was explicit, a test of wills.
"Secretary Zhang, don't forget whose man I am." Niu Mou's voice went cold, a low warning. He owed Su Lanzhi a huge favor and had to repay it. If it came down to a battle of connections, he would pay the price, but he would pay it.
"If I can't move you, can I still not move a director?" Secretary Zhang jabbed a trembling finger at Niu Mou, his face flushing red with anger. His eyes bulged with excitement, the veins in his neck standing out. Then, suddenly, foam frothed from his mouth, white bubbles spilling over his lips.