There's a well-known psychological principle called Murphy's Law: the more you hope something will not happen, the more likely it is to occur.
No sooner had Jing Shu thought, Please let no one come to cause trouble today, than several unfamiliar figures showed up at the villa's outer fence. Flashlights and black umbrellas in hand, they circled the property, peering through the gaps in the reinforced fence. One of them even tried the latch on the coal shed door, pushing it open a crack to peek inside.
They muttered quietly among themselves, their voices carrying in the damp air:
"Director Zhang, this place is really something. According to the files, the household head works at the Livestock Breeding Center and his wife is in the Planting Industry R&D Management Department. Doesn't look like anyone with high-level government connections."
"Exactly. And look at all those little outbuildings around here. We will make them tear those down later, total illegal construction. Who knows what they have got stored in there? Could be hoarded grain, right?"
"You fool, if they had grain, they would keep it inside the main villa, not out here in a shed. Still, that tall, huge building over there really looks like a warehouse. I would say this household is a fat sheep, stuffed with goods."
Director Zhang, the balding middle-aged man, waved them closer and whispered a few more instructions, his eyes gleaming behind his glasses.
Jing An, who was outside near the drainage pipes cleaning away clumps of red nematodes, heard the murmuring voices. He dropped his scraper and rushed over, his voice booming in the quiet, rainy afternoon, "Hey! What are you all sneaking around here for?"
In the dim, grey light, the three men swung their flashlights toward him, startled. They hadn't expected anyone to be outside working in this weather.
"Oh, hello comrade, are you the owner of this villa?" the leader asked, recovering his composure.
"I am. And you are?" Jing An replied, his tone guarded.
The leader, the middle-aged man with thick glasses, stepped forward. His bald head had only two scraggly tufts of hair left above his ears, plastered down with some kind of grease so shiny it seemed even red nematodes would slide right off. He pushed up his glasses and said with practiced authority,
"I am the residential allocation director for this district. Last name Zhang."
"Oh, Director Zhang, nice to meet you." Jing An forced himself to be polite, wiping his muddy hands on his pants. These days, no one could afford to openly offend anyone wearing the slightest veneer of government authority.
Jing Shu had already seen them on the villa's perimeter surveillance camera feed and hurried out, pulling on a jacket. She stood beside her father, her expression neutral but her eyes sharp, frowning slightly as she assessed the three men.
Director Zhang straightened the few greasy strands of hair on his head and put on a stern, official face.
"Comrade, do you realize you have built illegal structures? Wu City is underwater, millions of citizens are homeless, and you think you can just put up private buildings on communal land? Do you know how many people this land could house? Dozens, at least!" He gestured broadly at the shed and the large garage.
One of the younger men, eager to please, added, "Not just illegal construction. Look at those four giant water storage tanks, hogging up space. And that extra security fence around the villa perimeter, also taking up land. All of it has to be torn down or confiscated for public use."
Jing An felt the weight of their words, a familiar anxiety rising. Before the floods, no one wanted houses or land way out here in this district. But now that the city center was submerged, so many people had literally nowhere to go. They couldn't live in damp, disease-ridden caves forever.
With the constant, unrelenting downpours, the floodwaters weren't going to recede anytime soon. Even major government offices had been forced to relocate to higher ground. This was clearly the second, more permanent wave of resettlement, and wherever people were settled now, they would likely be stuck for the long haul. That made their previously remote community suddenly red-hot real estate and highly valuable.
"Director Zhang, look," Jing An began, using the reasoning Jing Shu had coached him on, "this large garage structure isn't actually in the community's designated public space. Strictly speaking, it's outside the original surveyed boundary, built on the slope of the back hill. Sure, it's big, but that hillside is barren rock, nobody is going to build a residence there. As for that coal shed, yes, it does take up about four square meters of what was technically shared greenbelt. You tell me what should be done.
As for the water tanks and the extra fence, they are right in front of my private home, within my deeded plot. If it's communal space directly serving my property, then I'm entitled to reasonable use of it too. Under the old property laws, as long as I don't disturb my neighbors, it's fine."
Half a year of dealing with bureaucrats and tough characters at the Livestock Breeding Center had given Jing An practice in this kind of defensive negotiation. Jing Shu, standing slightly behind him, was quietly impressed; he had grown a lot. Of course, much of his legalistic rhetoric came from the lessons she drilled into him daily, preparing for exactly this scenario.
The other young man, the more aggressive one, jabbed a finger toward the towering garage. "Land is scarce now. Doesn't matter if it's four square meters or four hundred, it's all potential housing space. People can live in it if we convert it. You have got two choices: either donate these buildings so we can assign displaced families to live here, or tear them down completely and free up the land."
Jing An's frown deepened, holding back his anger. This was outright extortion.
Director Zhang quickly pushed the young man's hand down, playing the good cop. "Hey, young people shouldn't be so hot-headed. We will all be neighbors soon. As community leaders, we should show some compassion and kindness. No need to be so harsh." He smoothed back his greasy hair and chuckled, a false, oily sound. "Your water tanks can stay. That little shed you built, fine, we will let it slide. The fence? It was for landscaping and security anyway, no use for housing, so you can keep it. Let us compromise. There is a new provisional policy: privately built structures on any land now require a monthly land-use rental fee. One virtual coin per square meter each month. Whether the structure is in the community proper or on the back hill, same rule.
But," he leaned in conspiratorially, "since the policy isn't fully formalized or published yet, let us keep it simple between us. You just pay, let us say 100 virtual coins per month, total, for all your outbuildings. You don't talk, I don't talk, nobody else needs to know. It's a fair fee for the 'administrative oversight.'"
"Director, if the higher-ups find out, you could be severely punished for this under-the-table deal," the first young man said, feigning concern.
"This is way too cheap for them, isn't it? That garage alone is over two hundred square meters!" the aggressive one added, playing his part.
The good-cop-bad-cop act was so rehearsed and convincing that even the wary Jing An almost felt that Director Zhang was, in fact, cutting him a break against his more zealous subordinates.
Jing Shu had warned him just yesterday about the looming "illegal building" issue, saying money would likely be the lever used to pry it open. And sure enough, the trouble had arrived right on schedule.
"Are you really with the district housing office?" Jing An still had some doubt, his eyes narrowing. "Can I see your official authorization?"
"What do you mean? You questioning our credentials?" the aggressive young man blustered. "Open your eyes and look closely. Here is my official title and department in the government big data system." He pulled out his phone, swiped through a few screens, and thrust it toward Jing An. The screen showed a basic government directory entry with a name and title.
"See? This is our director, Zhang. And here," he switched to another app, "is the official QR code for collecting provisional land-use fees. Scan it. See? It's a government payment portal. Right now, only government-designated collection points, like some supermarkets, can process virtual coin transfers. Individuals can't send coins directly to each other yet. This proves it's official."
Jing An, skeptical, took out his own phone and scanned the QR code with his virtual coin wallet app. A payment request screen popped up, identical in format to those used at the supply supermarkets. On-screen, his current balance was displayed: 960 virtual coins.
Ever since his marriage decades ago, Jing An had never personally held such a fortune in liquid assets. If the peer-to-peer transfer function of the virtual coin system were active, he probably wouldn't have been able to save this much; the family would have spent it on necessary luxuries or barter.
The eyes of Director Zhang and his three companions lit up instantly, their greed poorly concealed. This man was indeed a fat sheep, and a seemingly naive one.
They couldn't figure out how a mere worker at the Livestock Breeding Center had managed to save so much. Did his family never spend a coin? Even in their positions, which came with some perks, they still had large extended families to support. Daily expenses for even basic rice, the occasional vegetable, not to mention household supplies like soap or paper, all cost virtual coins. Saving nearly a thousand coins was remarkable.
Their guess about limited spending avenues was right, though. Jing Shu's family, with their stockpiles, had few reasons to spend their virtual coins at the official outlets. The coins primarily bought rationed food and very basic necessities, which they already had in abundance.
Utilities like electricity were strictly rationed, only available for a few hours starting at 7 p.m. Natural gas, fuel oil, and coal were declared strategic resources, no longer available for civilian purchase.
So, until the virtual coin system opened up for true personal transfers and a private market emerged, those coins, while a numeric measure of contribution, didn't translate into significant immediate purchasing power for her family.