Jing Shu's eyebrow arched slightly as she listened to the rain drumming against the roof. Could things really be this coincidental? In her past life she had left the high school chat early and never kept in touch, so she had no idea what happened later, having been too consumed by the daily struggle for bread.
Could this be exactly what Su Mali mentioned last time at Xishan Base, when a few old classmates wanted them in on a money-making plan? Looking at the timing, red nematodes were crashing toward extinction right then. The dates lined up perfectly, falling into place like the tumblers of a lock.
"Right, what was the first thing you asked me?" she said into the phone, shifting the device to her left hand.
"Jing Shu, where are you?"
"At the Medicinal Herb Association. Why?"
Su Mali hesitated, the sound of her breath audible over the static of the line. "...My father got a batch of pigeon meat. Tomorrow I will treat you to roast squab and pigeon soup. How about it?"
Jing Shu's mouth watered as she listened, the mere thought of the rich meat making her stomach rumble. "Holy shit, what could she even say to that?" Ten years in the apocalypse had not broadened her culinary horizons enough.
After rebirth she had rushed to raise chickens, ducks, fish, everything she could think of, but there were still gaps in her collection. China had so many foods, and she had missed far too many during the lean years.
That was what pained her most, a sharp realization of lost opportunities. As the Rubik's Cube Space kept expanding, she had the capacity and time to raise more things, provided she could find the stock.
But by now, most species that were going to go extinct had already vanished into the shadows of the past. Even if she wanted breeding stock, she could not find it anywhere in the flooded markets.
Speaking of pigeon soup, she did the math in her head. She had not tasted it for at least thirteen years. Add gastrodia and goji berries, and you had a pot that nourished qi and lungs to perfection, the broth turning a clear, golden hue as the ingredients melded.
"I have gastrodia and goji on hand. We will throw them in and let the pot simmer," Jing Shu said, her voice steady despite her excitement.
"Absolutely perfect. And... about the old classmates?"
"I will go take a look. But let me be clear. I will only make sure no one gets killed by mistake. The rest is not my problem."
After another few meat-filled flatbreads, their crusts flaky and hot, even her favorite every-few-days crucian-carp soup could not compare to the pigeon soup in her head. She was already thinking: could she raise pigeons again?
Even if they could not be registered openly with the authorities, she could keep them in the space and secretly roast squab for herself, the skin crisping over a small flame. That would be heaven.
Night fell completely, the darkness pressing against the villa's reinforced windows. Rain lashed down in sheets, turning the world into a gray blur. Wrapped in a warm wool sweater and raincoat, she headed out into the night. The wool had been combed from their sheep by Zijin and Grandma Jing, then processed into clothing. It felt cozy and toasty against the damp chill.
She unhurriedly reached the Second Detachment's garrison, and at the bottom of the building she ran into Zhao Shupi lurking by the canteen, peering about with his head tucked low.
She knew him well. They had crossed paths in the shadows more than once. From paying a high price to buy the community's Distribution Director position, to later transferring to the Patriotic Canteen as a supervisor, everything screamed money and connections. They had clashed again when Zijin's hair was swarming with red nematodes, then for some reason the matter went quiet, buried under more pressing crises.
So late, with the canteen already closed and the lights dimmed, what was he doing here, sneaking around?
When he saw her, Zhao Shupi let out an awkward laugh and ducked into the Patriotic Canteen, his movements hurried and nervous.
"Up to no good for sure," she murmured, her eyebrow lifting once more. Then she headed upstairs to handle the errand Su Mali had given her, her boots clicking on the concrete stairs.
The Second Detachment offices were a roar of noise, a chaotic blend of shouting and heavy footsteps. She did not need to ask for directions. She followed the shouting to a cavernous warehouse at the end of the hall. This was not a formal garrison, so there were no cells or detention facilities, and no conditions to build them in the current state of the city.
After the apocalypse, there were only two kinds of offenders. One, executed on the spot. Two, sent to labor reform in groups of ten, shackled at the ankles, eating and sleeping together in the mud.
Now, with two to three hundred people rounded up suddenly, this former department store could not meet the need for housing.
"You cannot execute us!"
"We will expose you for slaughtering ordinary citizens!"
"That's right, we broke no law. Let us out!"
The clamor went on and on, voices rising in a desperate tide. At the warehouse doors, a line of personnel stood guard, their expressions grim. She spotted a familiar face, the young clerk Xiao Li, filing a report at the entrance, his pen moving fast across the paper.
Li Bailong was an old acquaintance too. He was Li Yuetian's nephew. They had known each other since the first year of the apocalypse. Whenever she sent things to him, she would add some black fungus for him as a token of goodwill.
"What brings you here?" Li Bailong's forehead smoothed as his frown eased into a smile. A god of wealth arriving was always good news in these hungry times.
"A friend asked me to take a look. What is the situation now? And here is a list. See where these people are and help me find them, will you? I will go in and ask a few questions." She handed over the list Su Mali had given her, the paper slightly damp from the air.
Li Bailong flashed big white teeth. "Alright, let me see. Zhang Lingling, Wang Chao, Shi Lei, Liang Xin, and Nima, right? I will have Xia Liu take you to them."
She nodded. He went on, his voice dropping an octave, "Wu City already has over ten thousand zombie-disease infections, all from those people selling stinking red-nematode patties. We bagged them all today, but the boss behind the scenes is still at large. We are waiting for the higher-ups to decide their fate.
As for these ones, who knows. Some leaders want unified execution and asset confiscation. Others say their intentions were good, they did stimulate the economy somewhat, and those who do not know should not be blamed.
So there is no settled process yet. But my uncle says they will not end well. They will not be held long anyway. There is no grain to spare. A decision will come fast. If you want to save anyone, it will be hard."
Jing Shu nodded, the weight of his words settling on her. "Got it. I will just take a look."
A young man named Xia Liu unlocked the warehouse door and swept a high-powered flashlight across the space, the beam cutting through the gloom. "They should be in Zone C."
A wave of stench rolled out, a thick mixture of human waste and sweat. Xia Liu covered his nose with the crook of his arm. "They were brought in a day ago. No facilities for relieve themselves, so everything is done on the spot."
She was very glad she had worn tall rain boots. Otherwise she might have stepped in something nasty on the filth-covered floor.
"Here we are. The numbers match the people you want." He threw the beam forward, the light hitting the far wall. "Hey, wake up. Someone is here to see you."
They were still arranged in groups of ten, each person shackled at ankles and wrists, bound within a marked section on the dusty floor.
"Who is it? Someone is here to save us? I told you that phone call would work." The beam hit Zhang Lingling's face. She was smeared with who-knew-what from head to toe, her face included, her eyes squinting against the glare.
"Is it Su Mali? Is it Su Mali?"
"She came to save us? I told you she is the most connected!"
Jing Shu curled her lip, her expression cold. "Su Mali isn't here. She asked me to check the situation."
"Who? Not Su Mali?"
"That voice... Jing Shu?" Nima's fear spiked, his body tensing under the chains.
Nima knew her voice well from their previous encounters.
"What, are you disappointed it's me?" Jing Shu's mouth quirked up in a sharp smile.
"No, no, of course not. Jing Shu, I didn't expect you. We are so glad you came," Wang Chao blurted, stepping forward to grab her hand, his shackles rattling with the movement.
She coughed lightly, pulling back, and someone burst into wailing, the sound echoing off the high ceiling. "We... we are being wronged so badly!"