Zhang Yi looked Uncle You in the eye. "You don't need anything fancy. Tomorrow's negotiation will be on our turf. Representatives from all twenty-nine buildings might come. I need someone to keep order. I want you to lead the team."
Uncle You nodded. "Easy. We frisk them and take their weapons."
"Exactly," Zhang Yi said. "I'll handle our neighbors."
"Good. It's settled," Uncle You replied.
After confirming the plan, Zhang Yi opened the owners' group. The messages poured in—begging, pleading for food and for him not to abandon them. Without missing a beat, Zhang Yi typed:
"Tomorrow people from the other 29 buildings will come to pressure me. If they force me to give up supplies, I'll have to leave. You know I can survive on my own. Or you can follow my orders and stand guard tomorrow. Maybe then we all survive. I'll also fight for more supplies for you."
Panic tightened the thread; no one dared refuse. One by one they agreed to follow orders. Without Zhang Yi's protection, they knew they'd be sitting ducks for the gangs.
With the troops rallied, Zhang Yi squeezed Zhou Ke'er's hand. "Rest early. Tomorrow's important."
She bit her lip. "Then… let me help you relax tonight?"
Zhang Yi smiled, gentle but practical. "I need to save my strength. Keep it simple."
At seven the next morning he was up and methodical. He checked his kit like a man preparing for war:
Defense: bulletproof vest, modified armored pants, police helmet.
Melee: crowbar, machete, two military daggers.
Firearms: two loaded pistols with six spare magazines, two assault rifles, his sniper rifle—and dozens of grenades.
He planned to draw the leaders to the thirteenth floor, a large open space with no vulnerable approaches from below. If they all showed, a single well-placed grenade would end the meeting.
At noon he called the residents to the seventh floor and tossed down two bags of food. "Here's today's rations. Share them."
The starving crowd lunged, tearing at the food with animal intensity. Zhang Yi watched, impassive. He wasn't feeding them out of charity—he was giving them the strength to stand and fight.
When their faces calmed and the food was gone, he addressed them: "Today is a negotiation. It should be peaceful. Stand guard and keep order. If we succeed, we won't have to fight anymore."
Tears and desperate hope mixed in the room. One man asked, voice thin, "Can we really go back to normal?"
Zhang Yi's nod was firm. "Yes. No more bloodshed once we solve the food problem. For our future—fight with me today."