The third step of the renovation plan quietly unfolded under the pretense of the boss's request. It was a calculated move to upgrade Zijin's living quarters and personal habits without anyone realizing there was an underlying motive.
If Zijin wanted to keep her long hair free from red nematodes during these relentless stormy days in a leaky house, she would have to be well prepared with the right gear. To make sure no red nematodes invaded the cleanliness of the villa, Jing Shu would put in a great deal of effort to organize this transition.
So Jing Shu carried a large, heavy bag of supplies and followed Zijin from the villa to her current residence. Truthfully, she was quite curious about where she lived; since in her previous life there were persistent rumors that the woman had raised red nematodes inside her own home.
"Here, this enclosed raincoat is also part of your employment benefits," Jing Shu said, handing over the thick plastic garment. "If one day you quit or the job ends, you will have to return all of this equipment. The raincoat must be soaked in a saltwater pool every day to keep it clean and sterile."
"Got it, boss," Zijin replied, her voice muffled as she took the item.
Wearing the waterproof hood and wrapping herself in the heavy, enclosed raincoat, Zijin found the combination was airtight enough that even her long hair was safe from the red nematodes carried by the horizontal rain of the storm. For a moment, Zijin felt like she had gone back to the days before the apocalypse, when a simple walk in the rain didn't mean a struggle for survival.
Walking in the gloomy, gray rain, Zijin felt cut off from the harshness of the storm as she listened to the raindrops patter harmlessly against her plastic gear. She actually found the rhythmic sound pleasant for the first time in months. The walk from the villa area in the Banana Community to the Second Division's family quarters took fifteen minutes; but it felt like only an instant had passed before they arrived.
The family quarters were situated inside a large shopping mall. On one end of the mall stood a sturdy four story building: the first floor served as a communal cafeteria, the second to fourth floors were occupied by the military personnel of the Second Division, and the basement is a warehouse; the same place where Jing Shu and Wu You'ai had been interrogated by the guards before.
The other end of the mall was connected to another large cafeteria. This was the first time Jing Shu had passed through this specific route. Along the passage were various shops with transparent glass doors that had once been full of mannequins.
Before the apocalypse, this area was meant to be a high end clothing street. The small shops were about 30 square meters, and the larger ones spanned more than 100 square meters. Now, these commercial spaces had been modified into cramped living spaces for families.
"Those with independent rooms and larger spaces usually hold higher military ranks," Zijin explained as she pointed toward the storefronts.
The mall's floor tiles were beautifully laid and surprisingly intact, and the shops had reinforced glass that offered a small sense of security. The environment is certainly better than the cold, damp underground parking garage. At least there's some modicum of privacy behind the glass. Still, it's hard to avoid the stuffiness of the air, the lingering foul odors, and the damp smell of mildew rising from the ground floor. A thick layer of condensation fogged the glass of every unit.
From the passage onward was the family quarters area. There's a heavy metal gate requiring official access cards, and if not for Zijin leading Jing Shu in, she likely wouldn't have been able to enter the secured zone.
Electric lights illuminated the long passage, and a dim light spilled out of the shops on either side. Jing Shu observed the conditions of the residents as they walked.
The better off families had potted garlic, chives, mushrooms, and other small vegetables tucked inside their units. After three long months of trial and error with the soil, those with the means would spend 2 virtual coins to buy seeds from the distributors. Using makeshift soil and gravel filters, they could grow garlic sprouts and the like in the windows. Of course, the risk of residual insect eggs was always a concern in those small pots.
Garlic sprouts had become a rare luxury for those living in the mall.
Some households had used salvaged wooden planks to divide their small space into living rooms, bedrooms, and other functional areas; with old sofas, beds, and mismatched tables completing a basic home. Clothes were hung on ropes stretched by the door, still damp from the humidity. Before the apocalypse, this might have been the standard of migrant workers; but now, those who could live in single rooms had some degree of influence in the family quarters.
The worse off residents lived in bare, hollow rooms with only a single bed, a table, and piles of scavenged odds and ends. Nowadays, anything people found in the streets was dragged home; since no one knew when a bit of wire or a plastic bottle might come in handy. True scavenging is now the daily norm for everyone.
Modern appliances were nearly nonexistent in these rooms. The family quarters had no regular electricity for the units, but there's a large shared television in the common area. At exactly seven o'clock every evening, it broadcast the national news, and everyone crowded around the screen to watch.
There's also a boiler room in the mall. At night it provided heated floors through the pipes so it wasn't unbearably cold for the sleepers. Each household is allotted one kettle of hot water daily. This is considered a significant welfare benefit. After all, in the Banana Community people drank raw, unfiltered water most of the time; aside from some thin soup with meals, which led to much higher rates of illness among the population.
At the far end of the mall stood an empty office tower that had undergone simple renovations. It had thirty one floors, each about 800 square meters (approximately 8,611 square feet). This is where the entire garrison's families lived. Roughly four thousand people were packed inside the vertical space, with about one hundred and thirty people per floor. Each person had only 6 square meters to call their own.
Jing Shu followed Zijin up the concrete stairwell. The building is relatively clean, with dozens of people hired to sweep the stairs and halls daily. Their pay is an extra meal of white rice for their labor. Compared to the rest of the Banana Community, the environment is far better.
"But now, housing space is distributed strictly according to military rank. I heard Captain Li has an entire floor to himself for his quarters," Zijin said as they climbed.
"Those who contribute more to the defense should be rewarded more," Jing Shu noted. "Before the apocalypse, people who sacrificed their lives for the country earned less in a year than celebrities made from selling a single photo overnight. It's only right this system changes."
Zijin's place is on the thirty first floor. The higher up you lived in this building, the lower your status would be in the family quarters. By the time Zijin reached her floor, she is gasping for breath from the exertion.
Jing Shu, on the other hand, only breathed lightly before recovering her composure. As she climbed, she noticed that some lower floors had been remodeled into proper office spaces with sturdy partitions and organized sections. Higher ranked families likely shared a floor with only two or three other households. In the apocalypse, whether one lived comfortably depended entirely on personal circumstances and standing.
It's either a hundred people crammed into one open floor, or a single person monopolizing the entire space.
When the door to the thirty first floor opened, it revealed a massive open dormitory; it's like a student hall with hundreds of beds lined up in rows.
Everywhere Jing Shu looked, there were people. Unlike the other floors she had seen, no partitions or office walls remained in this area. This floor must have been used as open storage before the change. Aside from the central support columns, the floor is barren and gray.
Fortunately, it wasn't as bad as the damp underground parking lot. Each person had a bunk bed: the lower half with a small desk, chair, and a bookshelf; the upper with a single bed. On the side stood a narrow wardrobe. A multifunctional bunk bed, at least, offered a tiny bit of personal space.
"There are two hundred bunks on this floor, so everyone gets one for themselves. Over there is the shared toilet, and that's where the television is located. Two months ago, they hauled these supplies from Wu City University and distributed these bunks to us. They are pretty handy for keeping our things organized," Zijin whispered as she guided Jing Shu to her specific spot.
Zijin lowered her voice even further as they passed other residents. "Most of the people here are families of those who died in service to the country. They promised to take us with them no matter how hard things get; but the conditions are rough for everyone. Families of those working inside the mall get double beds with a wooden plank for separation; so they still have some privacy."
Jing Shu nodded, observing the layout. The Chinese government never failed when it came to major survival decisions. She glanced around and saw many strange, suspicious looks directed their way. Several women were tending to crying children on their beds.
"Which group are you from? Don't tell me you have wandered into the hairy monster's territory by mistake. That area is crawling with red nematodes; it's terrifying to see," a voice called out.
The voice came from a woman sitting on the next bunk, nursing her one year old child while speaking boisterously to the room.
Zijin pulled back her enclosed raincoat and asked, "Auntie Zhang, are you calling me the hairy monster again?"