Starving and desperate, the residents began to fondly recall Zhang Yi's "kindness." Once one person spoke up, the rest followed quickly—hunger makes people sentimental, and the memory of Zhang Yi's food tasted better every time they thought about it.
"Didn't we ask too much of him?" someone admitted."He goes out alone in that blizzard to get food for dozens of us. It can't be easy.""True. He just came back empty today. We could have held out a little longer.""The ones he shot poked the bear—what did they expect?""Exactly. Who tries to grab someone else's snowmobile? They had it coming.""Hey, Luan Qiang used to walk his dog off-leash—it almost bit me. Good riddance!""You're right. He dragged us all down."
The tide of self-justification and fear rolled on. The only thing that mattered now was keeping Zhang Yi feeding them.
"We must convince Zhang Yi to keep getting food," someone said. "It's the only way we survive.""His alloy house is impenetrable. We can't take it. All we can do is beg for mercy."
As Zhang Yi predicted, the neighbors quickly forgot the insolence his generosity had bred. Treat them gently, and they grow arrogant; treat them like animals, and they crawl back, licking your boots. Humanity's old proverbs felt truer than ever.
Not long after Zhang Yi returned home, the Building 25 owners group pinged him with apologies.
"Zhang Yi, we were wrong today. We sincerely apologize.""We hope you'll overlook it—for being neighbors all these years.""It was that bastard Luan Qiang who stirred everything up! We didn't mean it!""We'll obey you from now on—please keep getting food for us."
Zhang Yi read the messages and smiled without replying. Let them stew in hunger and fear a little longer, he thought.
Maybe one last use out of them, he mused—send them out as a suicide squad. A few moldy loaves and they'd fight tooth and nail.
A flurry of notifications interrupted his plotting. Chen Lingyu, the leader of Building 9, had added him into a new group chat. Thirty people were in it: Li Jian from #18, Huang Tianfang from #26, Wang Qiang from #21, Zhang Yunian from #5—every current leader of the complex's thirty buildings.
They were laying their cards on the table.
Chen Lingyu announced: "I pulled Zhang Yi in. Let's discuss what we decided."
Zhang Yi stayed silent and watched.
Wang Qiang—the Mad Wolf Gang leader and Zhang Yi's enemy—spoke first, venom coating his words. "Zhang Yi, your Building 25 has been living well! You eat every day while the rest of us starve."
Zhang Yi snorted. He wasn't going to be baited into a group argument.
"If you brought me in just to spew nonsense, I'm leaving."
Huang Tianfang hurried to stop him. "Wait—don't go. We can't guarantee what happens if you do."
Zhang Yi laughed coldly. "Threaten me, Huang? I already killed many of your Tianhe Gang. How dare you—"
Huang Tianfang's confidence drained. He sent a voice message: "Stop threatening! The leaders of the other 29 buildings have agreed on a united front. If you attack one of us, you attack all of us. You can't fight us all."
So it was true—they'd formed a united front.
Li Jian, the conciliator, stepped in: "Calm down. We made this group to negotiate cooperation, not to fight."
Wang Qiang scoffed. "Fine—Li Jian, tell him what we agreed."
Li Jian explained their terms:
The thirty buildings present a united front to pressure Building 25. If Zhang Yi attacks any building, the others will come to its aid immediately.
Zhang Yi must supply them with provisions to guarantee their basic survival; in return they will not attack Building 25.
His snowmobile must be shared across the complex—not kept by him alone.
He must reveal the locations of all supply depots he knows. With the city buried in snow, those leads are priceless.
"And that's it," Li Jian finished. "Do you understand?"
A contemptuous half-smile tugged at Zhang Yi's mouth. They wanted his snowmobile, his food, and his intelligence—offering at most a promise not to attack. They asked much and gave nothing of value.
He didn't rage; he simply saw their logic. Negotiation often begins with an outrageous demand to leave room to concede. But their calculation was blind to a crucial fact: they'd gravely underestimated Building 25's combat power.
They assumed numbers could overwhelm him. They didn't know Zhang Yi sat on a vast arsenal and ammo stockpile now. In a fight, they weren't in the same league.
Numbers don't guarantee victory—history had proved that many times.