Wang Fang's face went slack with shock. "People don't even have enough to eat now. How long are we supposed to wait? Who is going to buy your feed for poultry?"
The hardest days of the apocalypse were only just beginning. You had to turn up the heat on the frog at some point to keep it from jumping out of the pot. Jing Shu shook her head slowly. "Wait for my notice."
Su Yiyang snatched the phone from his wife's hand. "Jing Shu, we will sell when you say so. Don't mind your aunt. She doesn't get it. That's all, bye."
He hung up in a rush, the line clicking dead. She lifted a shoulder in a slight shrug. In this life, she had changed a lot of outcomes. In the past, he would never have dared make that call. Having real backing made all the difference in his confidence.
She didn't expect another call only a few days later. She thought her aunt-in-law would be pushing again about the Red Nematode Feed Processing Factory, but it was Su Yiyang's voice on the line. "Jing Shu, get your mom and come quick. Su Meimei tried to kill herself."
"Hm?"
On her end, she and Zijin were in the warm workshop shaping cocoons of silk floss. This was the final step for quilt cores. They were pressing them into different sizes for silk duvets and silk clothing, their fingers moving rhythmically through the soft fibers.
Honestly, she was shocked that in half a year she had raised so many silkworms and stockpiled enough silk for clothes and quilts. Even so, after she and Zijin sorted for more than half a month, it was only enough for ten quilts and one set of padded clothes per person. She wanted to raise more and hoard more. These were consumables. In the apocalypse, you could never have too many layers against the damp chill.
When they had heard Qiao Lan was due soon, Grandma Jing had been sewing diapers and baby clothes from homegrown cotton. But with the cold deepening and the countryside short on comforts, Jing Shu wanted to stitch little jackets and quilts padded with silk. They would be as good as blankets and clothes both.
So here they were, picking out the offcuts and stuffing them into tiny garments as quilt cores. It was perfect work for the afternoon.
And now Su Yiyang said Su Meimei had tried to kill herself. That troublesome woman. Ever since they had sent her father back to the old home last year, Jing Shu had paid her no mind. A blind woman whose body leaked pus from head to toe wasn't going to stir big waves. She certainly wasn't going to do so in this chaos.
"Is she dead?" Jing Shu asked flatly, her voice devoid of emotion. In her past life, that woman had killed her. You didn't just put hatred down because you said so. It was a lifetime's shadow that never quite vanished.
She heard aunt Wang Fang's voice rising in the background on the other end.
"She didn't die. But Su Meimei's husband Zhang Zhongyong called and told us to take her back. He said if she is going to die, she shouldn't die at his place because it's bad luck. Isn't that infuriating? She is not his real sister. Why should we take her? We cut ties already, so don't come to us. Let her die there. She is his wife. He can't just ignore her responsibility."
Su Yiyang grabbed the phone again. "Don't talk like that. If she is really on her last breath, we should at least see her once and claim the body. Jing Shu, ask your mom to go have a look."
Jing Shu tapped her knuckles together. She almost forgot. Who were the accomplices in her past life? Su Meimei, dragging along her husband Zhang Zhongyong and the homewrecker's family. None of them would get a pass in her accounting. As for the chief culprit Su Meimei: two short years into the apocalypse and she already couldn't take it? She ought to savor the days ahead. A devilish smile tugged at her lips.
"Alright, Uncle, I got it. Wait at Xishan and we will go together."
She told Zijin to keep working, then called her mother and explained the situation. Su Lanzhi was silent a long time before saying, "If she is really dead, we will see her off one last time."
The dead always outweighed the living. No matter the sins in life, they blurred after death, and people sighed instead. Which was why Su Meimei being alive was better for everyone involved. Most importantly, she could keep making Zhang Zhongyong miserable.
Her parents got off work early. She piloted the amphibious shark submarine to meet them, then swung by Xishan to pick up Uncle Su Yiyang's family. She headed for Zhang Zhongyong's new place after that. She knew the way perfectly well from her memories.
After Su Meimei's home was flooded, they had moved somewhere a bit better than Xishan but far worse than Banana Community.
The area had been nicknamed Venice Water City. Nearly half the buildings were underwater, their foundations rotting in the stagnant flood. People still lived in the remaining upper floors. At first, this place wasn't flooded, but ten months of daily rain did what it always did. Unlike Banana Community, the terrain couldn't drain the deluge. First the ground floor flooded, then the second, and now the fifth.
The city center's water hasn't receded. You still couldn't see the tallest buildings; they were mere stumps in the dark expanse. They said the water has risen higher in recent weeks.
They couldn't drive in. The local transport was planks skimming over the water's surface. After parking the submarine, she ferried people twice on a makeshift raft, then climbed through a fifth-story window to get inside.
Zhang Zhongyong's personal circumstances weren't bad, so he occupied an entire unit by himself. The door was wide open. Inside, the sound of crying was deafening. One listen and she knew it was Zhang Hanhang's voice.
They hurried in, their footsteps echoing on the bare floor.
It was a two-bedroom unit, but plenty of people were living there. Cramming in both families made it tighter, and the thick stench of unwashed bodies and rot turned the stomach.
"Well, finally. Come take her away. If you don't, I'm done," a woman said.
She stood with her hands on her hips, her orchid fingers cocked and a look of pure impatience on her face.
Wang Fang's shoulders bristled. "Who are you? Where is Zhang Zhongyong? Get him out here. She is his wife. Why should we take her?"
"Who am I? I'm Zhang Zhongyong's current wife. Who do you think?" The woman tossed her head and yanked the crying child on the floor by his arm. "Drag this money-losing thing out too. Useless at work and eats like a pig."
Zhang Hanhang howled louder, her chest heaving. Seeing Jing Shu's family didn't stir a flicker of recognition in her. A year ago the girl had a lively glow and a bit of chubby fat. Now she was skin and bone, her ribs clearly visible through her dirty shirt.
"Tch. A mistress dares to yap? Didn't Zhang Zhongyong say he would ship you out? How do you still have the face to stay here?" Wang Fang spat the words out.
"You—"
Su Yiyang stepped in between them. "Enough. Let's see Su Meimei first."
The woman kicked at the child's leg. "Lead them. Or are you waiting for your mom to die before you're happy?"
"Wuu wuu..." The girl cried as he led them toward the bathroom at the end of the hall. The reek of infection and waste came from there.
Jing Shu followed, her brow furrowed. She saw Su Meimei lying crammed in the small bathroom and could hardly believe it. How could someone change so fast? In just one year, she was unrecognizable.
She cleared her throat. Maybe the hatred wasn't as sharp as she had thought it would be, seeing her enemy reduced to this state.