Before Jing Shu reached the gate, she smelled a sharp, choking odor, a sulfuric sting that burned the back of her throat and brought water to her eyes. Thick smoke rolled in an instant, a heavy, roiling wall of gray that swallowed the already dim courtyard. Tables, chairs, and guests were lost in the haze as everything vanished in a gray blur.
It was a smoke grenade.
She ran while pulling a gas mask from her pocket and snapping it on, the rubber seal pressing firm against her skin as she adjusted the straps with practiced ease. For her own life, it was better to wear it whether the gas was toxic or not. The smoke quickly filled the yard and people began to scream, their cries muffled and panicked as they stumbled into one another.
Everyone knew something serious was happening, the festive wedding atmosphere shattered in a single heartbeat.
She pushed harder toward the gate. In crises like this she was calm, though her heart hammered against her ribs and adrenaline flooded through her system, sharpening her focus. Under the smoke she could see nothing but shifting shadows and had to move by memory, counting the steps toward the entrance where she had last seen her family. Her parents, Grandpa Jing, and several of Qiao Lian's brothers were here in the thick of the chaos. Jing An still had a gun, his fingers likely tight around the cold metal of the grip. With a few people on his side, she would not be afraid of a group of people committing a crime.
The problem was the smoke grenade. Her sight was nearly useless, reduced to a few inches of murky gray. She had no idea how many attackers had come or where exactly they stood.
A speaker blared through the haze, the sound distorted and harsh.
"People inside, listen up. We only want your food and supplies. Be sensible and stay where you are. Our men will take the stuff and leave. If not; heh, what are we, a group of desperate people, afraid of?
Don't move. Keep your seats and don't resist. Under this smoke we can see every move you make. If anyone so much as twitches, don't blame us for being ruthless. If you make any move, we'll kill."
The voice finished and panic rose like a tide of screams, a high-pitched cacophony of terror that echoed off the surrounding walls.
"Don't even think about calling the police," the speaker went on, the tone dripping with a cold, calculated arrogance. "Wu County cops will take at least ten minutes to get here. In ten minutes you will be dead and have no grave. If we catch anyone trying to phone; heh: no mercy. We have plenty of weapons."
No one expected that after half a year without law, in this fragile peace, in a world of big data and nowhere to hide, there would still be such brazen robbers operating in the open.
Wei Chang, as the host, immediately shouted, his voice cracking with the strain of trying to be heard over the din, "Take what you want! Just don't hurt anyone. We won't move. We won't resist."
His words put safety first and made everyone exhale in a collective breath of shaky relief. People were glad he kept his head, because in the confusion some might have shouted to rush the attackers. But with visibility near zero, what could they do?
Coincidentally, an old cop in the crowd was also shouting for calm while surreptitiously trying to send a plea for help to headquarters from his pocket.
Jing Shu frowned inside her mask. Visibility in that smoke was under a meter (roughly 3 feet). If the robbers actually had the vision they claimed, charging in would be foolish. She didn't know whether they carried guns. They already had smoke grenades; who would be surprised if they had rifles too?
She thought of thermal imaging. Those devices can see through smoke by converting heat into an image. You can't see fine details, but you get a workable view and the ability to spot motion in total darkness. People used them at airports and other security checkpoints. There was even a viral clip online once where thermal imaging captured someone passing gas at security and recorded the heat plume, making everyone learn one lesson: don't fart at checkpoints if you want to avoid global ridicule.
Quietly, Jing Shu clapped her hand to her side. She had almost forgotten about the bees inside the Cube Space. When she scavenged the mall earlier, she had found several pinhole cameras and infrared monitors in storage. She had put some around the community and some on the bees themselves.
She moved to a place shielded from the flickering light of the house, released the bees, and adjusted the pinhole cameras through her phone interface. She sent out scouting bees and freed the poison bees at the same time. If the other side really did have vision in the smoke, she couldn't rush in blindly. These small, buzzing things were her only option.
"Hopefully when the Rubik's Cube Space upgrades there will be a shared-vision feature," she murmured, her breath huffing against the mask's filter. She needed scouting vision more than anything right now.
The bees buzzed away, their tiny wings a blur of motion. In the confusion no one paid attention to the small insects, but shaky, unstable footage began to stream to Jing Shu's phone. Up close it was marginally useful, showing distorted heat signatures through the haze. Visibility was still poor, but she controlled six bees to fan out and provide separate views of the yard. She still had to find her parents and make sure they were safe.
She desperately wanted to know how her parents had fared after the gunshots and what the situation was now in their corner of the courtyard.
Then, without warning, ten or so burning bottles flew into the courtyard. Jing Shu barely had time to react as the glass containers arched through the air. The attackers had thrown them in from different arcs to maximize the spread.
A big courtyard offered no corner to hide, making everyone an easy target. From the gate a single strong throw sent a Molotov bottle deep inside, the glass shattering against the hard ground. The blast was devastating, a sudden roar of heat as the liquid ignited and splashed across the flagstones.
They had promised not to harm innocents, but the men outside had first offered soothing words and then hit them with a sudden, violent surprise, leaving the people inside helpless. If the victims resisted, the attackers had even more brutal ways to ensure compliance.
Screams filled the yard, sharper and more desperate than before. Many were hit by the splashing flames. Fires spread fast, catching on table linens and clothing.
The raiders then charged in, their silhouettes finally exposed to the infrared surveillance cameras.
"Brothers, charge! First grab food, then other stuff. A wedding like this must have stockpiles!" they shouted, their voices rough and hungry.
"Ho! Ho! Ho!" followed a chorus of yells as they rushed the perimeter.
These men sought to use the chaos to buy time for their theft. Humanity didn't exist for them anymore. Jing Shu saw plainly through the grainy feed that these were wanted survivors who had turned to banditry, their faces masks of cold greed.
She gave orders through her mind without hesitation. She sent the trained poison bees to sting, eight at a time, with one command: leave none standing, knock them out in seconds.
Chaos intensified. In the smoke's blind zone, the burned cried and scrambled for cover, their hands clawing at the air. The yard became a stampede as guests tripped over overturned tables. The oil fires were small but they spread with terrifying speed. Some people rushed for the gate only to collide with the raiders. Those madmen didn't hesitate; they swung clubs and knives, cutting down anyone in their path to clear the way.
The scene became a nightmare of flame, smoke, and steel. People screamed and fell, the red glow of the fires reflecting off the gray smoke. Jing Shu's scouting feed showed several attackers down after the bees struck, their bodies collapsing mid-stride, but more kept pouring in from the darkness outside. She realized their little counterattack only bought seconds.
She barked more orders, her voice firm despite the mask, trying to coordinate rescue and cover. Someone dragged a burning person toward the safety of the house. Grandma Jing shouted for water and blankets, her voice surprisingly strong. Wu You'ai and others moved to pull people away from the spreading flames. Jing Shu fought to keep the feeders of panic out of the way and to find exactly where her parents were in this hellscape.
The courtyard was now a battlefield, not a wedding. The invaders wanted supplies and they would take lives if necessary. Every second counted as the fire grew and the smoke thickened.