Jing Shu frowned at the screen, the light casting sharp lines on her face. "That's just your personal opinion. I really do need PVC plastic, otherwise why would I need to trade water for it?" She vaguely recalled that Nima Sang had liked Yao Zixin back then. Perhaps she was panicking now and thought Jing Shu was also interested in Yao Zixin, a ghost from high school haunting the apocalypse.
[Nima Sang]:"Maybe you're trading that free 300ml of water for some plastic just to catch the school hunk's attention. Oh, come on, stop pretending. I can see right through your little tricks. They're just a bit cheap, that's all."
Meanwhile, Yao Zixin, who had been silent, added Jing Shu, a new chat window popping up on her screen.
[Yao Zixin]:"Jing Shu, what kind of PVC plastic do you need? How much? And what water are you offering in exchange?"
Jing Shu watched as Nima Sang's words became more outrageous. She had originally wanted to save her some dignity, to let the past lie, but now she decided otherwise. If she was going to be petty, Jing Shu could play that game with future knowledge.
"@Nima Sang, you like Yao Zixin, right? Aren't you worried that Xie Zihao, the one who shared that couple's bath with you back in high school, might get jealous?" She typed the words deliberately, a calculated strike.
That piece of gossip had only come out much later, in whispered conversations years after graduation, but Jing Shu didn't mind revealing it early to make a splash. As someone reborn, her methods and her ammunition were far more sophisticated. She didn't even consider playing at the same level as people like Nima Sang.
[He Shouwu]:"Whoa, is that for real?"
[Nima Sang]:"That's bullshit!! You're just a cornered dog frantically trying to drag me down with baseless accusations!"
Jing Shu laughed softly, a sound without warmth. "You insisted on getting a private mixed-gender bath at the bathhouse back then. Xie Zihao paid 200 yuan to get you in. I happened to be in the single stall next door, and your moaning was especially loud. It was even secretly recorded by someone. Did you forget that?" The details were specific, damning.
Her words hit the group chat like a bomb, exploding with reactions, messages flooding in.
"This is explosive news. Xie Zihao is so ugly, with all those pimples, yet she was with him." One comment read.
"He may be ugly, but he is rich." Another followed, pragmatic.
"I never thought NiMa would be that kind of person."
"I want to see the video. High school sweetheart porn, anyone?" He Shouwu added, ever the provocateur.
[Nima Sang]:"Enough! I have nothing to do with that ugly bastard anymore. The apocalypse has already come. Let us focus on surviving. And Jing Shu, I advise you to be kind."
See? If you try to talk about feelings with someone like her, she will lecture you about ideals. Bring up ideals, and she will philosophize about life. She always twists it to make herself look right, the eternal victim.
At this point, Xie Zihao stepped in, his ID appearing in the stream: "A moonlit night at the Twenty-Four Bridges, where is the jade beauty who taught me to play the flute? Nima, those are your words. It hurts to think about it. You didn't dislike me when we were in that couple's bath, playing the flute." His poetic, bitter confirmation was the nail in the coffin.
If Jing Shu's words had been questionable before, the fact that one of the parties involved was now speaking out made it undeniable.
"666." Someone posted, the internet slang for admiration or shock.
"Respect. Completely shattered the image of pure Nima in my mind."
[Maria]:"What's the connection between flute playing and a couple's bath?"
The question was innocent, utterly missing the subtext.
Everyone: "..." A wave of silent ellipses filled the chat.
[He Shouwu]: "Come, let me explain the connection to you."
…
The chat, which had started out about trading goods, had now completely derailed into gossip about Nima Sang. People were chatting excitedly, a morbid distraction from the heat and death outside. Zhang Lingling also took the chance to recount the class members: 56 in total, but only a little over half were still active in WeChat or updating their steps. The rest were unaccounted for. Some of their WeChat moments were forever frozen on a certain day, a last photo of a meal, a sunset, a pet.
On her end, Jing Shu had successfully gotten in touch with Yao Zixin in their private chat. Fortunately, Yao Zixin's family's workshop was quite professional and could fulfill her request. She wanted an integrated PVC plastic ceiling, high in the middle and low at the sides, so rainwater could naturally flow down into collection channels.
To prevent red nematodes from clinging to the ceiling, she also asked for PVC wipers to be installed along the slopes. She would have Grandpa Jing set up a manual wiper system similar to pulling down roller blinds, so that any pests could be scraped away into the gutters.
Rainwater collection tanks were also necessary. She requested four large ones, one at each corner of the villa, plus one for the RV garage. Speaking of which, the garage had been built for so long already. Why had there been no word from Wang Dazhao and Yang Yang in the US? The thought was a nagging worry.
She had tried calling them several times, but all she got was "out of service." Now that roaming services were gone, international calls were out of the question. But surely they could find Wi-Fi and send a message to confirm they were safe, right? Jing Shu decided to wait another month. If there was still no news, she would go ask Minister Niu use what little influence she had.
As for the PVC ceiling color, Jing Shu wanted it in black, to better absorb heat and speed evaporation, and to be less conspicuous from a distance.
At first, Yao Zixin had wondered if Nima Sang was right and Jing Shu was showing interest in him. PVC was versatile, but nobody was asking for it these days. When Jing Shu laid out her detailed, technical request, he swallowed hard. This was a huge order, a real project.
"Ahem. Sure, I can do it. But how much water are you offering in exchange?" Yao Zixin worried she might try to shortchange him, to use the water as a lure.
"Do you want mineral water or regular water?" Jing Shu asked, defining the terms.
"Regular water. I can get more volume that way," Yao Zixin said after some thought, the pragmatism of thirst winning out.
"Fifty liters, then," Jing Shu said. That amount would keep his family supplied until October, a lifeline. By then, water scarcity should have eased somewhat. For her family, fifty liters was just about what a single cow drank daily. The gap between rich and poor was staggering, a chasm measured in milliliters.
"That's about 300 points worth of water credits. Deal." Yao Zixin calculated quickly, his mind working. His family had traded most of their supplies for food earlier and now barely had a few dozen points left. Even after collecting firewood day and night, he only earned about ten points' worth. This deal was worth a fortune. Though his family ran a factory, nobody could have predicted water would become so precious, more than any raw material.
"I'll give you ten liters as a deposit first. Is that fine?"
"Perfect. Thanks a lot. We'll get it done quickly." The relief was palpable, even through text.
After wrapping up negotiations, Jing Shu saw that Zhang Lingling had successfully, with some effort, brought the chat back on topic. They agreed to prepare tradable items and meet three days later at an abandoned shopping mall in the new city district, a neutral, empty ground.
[Zhang Lingling]:"That's settled then. Send me your needs and what you're offering. I will put everything in the group announcement so everyone can see clearly."
Jing Shu closed the group chat, the notifications finally silent. She had nothing else to request from them, and she wasn't planning to attend the class gathering. Dressing too neatly would make her a target, but downplaying her strength and health wasn't realistic either; her well-fed condition would be a beacon.
Every day, countless people teetered on the edge of life and death. Many died. Citizens were protesting loudly on official channels, demanding underground shelters like those in Africa, which were more than ten meters deep. The temperature would be lower underground, less water would be needed, and fewer people would die, the logic was sound.
However, Chinese experts predicted the extreme heat wouldn't last long. But the longer it continued, the higher sea levels would rise. When the floods came, they would be devastating, and underground shelters would become watery graves, tombs for the cautious.
African savannas would not flood, which was why they built shelters there, the geography a saving grace.
Under this cursed weather that kept people trapped at home, Jing Shu finished dinner, the meal a quiet affair. She got in her car, the interior already oven-hot, and drove off with several large buckets of water sloshing in the trunk, the weight making the suspension dip, to attend the dreaded class gathering she had just decided to skip. She swore silently she really didn't want to go.
She swore Su Mali was her nemesis, a person who brought complication. Otherwise, how could it be that the one person in that entire group who had what she suddenly realized she needed, a specific, rare item not yet mentioned, was Su Mali? The coincidence felt like fate's bad joke.
===
你妈 (Nǐ mā), which literally means "Your mother." However, "你妈" is often used in vulgar insults.
妮玛桑 (Nīmǎ Sāng),
妮玛 (Nīmǎ): The pun on "你妈" (your mother).
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"I never thought NiMa would be that kind of person."
In here the author use 你妈, not her name 妮玛