Chapter 17

Through the contact list posted on the owners' forum, the contacts from each building had exchanged personal information and contact details, and joined the group chat.

By the time they regrouped in the afternoon, everyone had already grown familiar with one another.

Jiang Cheng's getup was utterly ridiculous, but under the current circumstances, laughter was hardly appropriate—the pile of corpses in the square still hadn't been burned away, still billowing smoke and reeking.

No one actually laughed anyway. Song Jingshuo asked, speechless: "What is that?"

The backpack, the hand cart, and the fire axe at her waist were all understandable, but whatever was bulging inside her clothes was anyone's guess.

Jiang Cheng had to explain: "My cat got spooked and went into stress. I have to keep him with me, or he might get scared to death."

Cat owners knew full well how easily cats could suffer from stress. But Song Jingshuo gave Jiang Cheng a look.

Jiang Cheng: "What?"

Song Jingshuo shook his head and said, "That doesn't seem like your style."

Jiang Cheng tugged at the corner of her mouth: "We've known each other for less than six hours."

At that, everyone suddenly realized she was right. They had only known each other for a few hours. Fewer than half of them could remember each other's names.

Yet everyone could say Jiang Cheng's name, everyone knew she lived in Building 2, Unit 0306.

And when Song Jingshuo said "that doesn't seem like your style," everyone silently agreed. Because in their minds, Jiang Cheng was different from the other neighbors whose faces and personalities were still vague—her image was too clear.

The coldness of using a gentle voice to tell people to put down their weapons and go wait for death in the property management conference room, contrasted with her refusal to abandon a pet—the contrast was simply too stark.

Jiang Cheng patted Mo Li through her clothes, mixing truth with lies: "My parents passed away. He's my only family."

Everyone nodded in understanding, accepting the explanation.

But someone hesitated, then still asked Jiang Cheng: "Are you sure it's just stress? Couldn't he have been infected by the virus like the others?"

Jiang Cheng's heart tightened.

Bitten, transformed, enlarged—Jiang Cheng was already fairly certain Mo Li had been infected, but his mutation direction was different from humans.

After mutating, not only had his physiological parameters strengthened, but he also retained his sanity.

From last night until now, Jiang Cheng had never observed mutants attacking other mutants. This suggested that mutants recognized each other through some means—maybe scent, maybe something else—but Mo Li and Shen Wei did not recognize each other. They each refused to accept the other as their own kind.

Mo Li's mutation was an entirely different kind of mutation.

One could even call it evolution.

But under the current circumstances, with everyone on edge and seeing threats everywhere, speaking up wouldn't necessarily win trust. They might treat him like those people in the conference room.

For humans who still retained their sanity and hadn't started mutating, people could still allow them observation time.

But if the subject was a cat, there was no reason to grant such treatment. If Jiang Cheng herself were in that situation without knowing the full story, she would rather kill by mistake than let one get away.

"Of course not." Jiang Cheng looked the person straight in the eye. "Last night, an injured person I was helping mutated in my apartment. I fought her off, and it scared the cat."

From morning till now, everything she said hit the mark and carried conviction.

Everyone nodded, believing her.

The owners gathered one by one.

Master Luo also arrived, brows furrowed: "My wife said the cafeteria's food storage is only enough for the rest of us for one day. We were supposed to do a restock today, but all this delayed it."

Jiang Cheng said, "Then arrange a few people to go with us for supplies."

Sure enough, Master Luo looked troubled: "Well, we don't have money..."

Jiang Cheng had already anticipated this.

Master Luo said, "The manager can't be reached, and the accountant didn't come in today—she said she didn't dare go out."

Jiang Cheng said, "No problem. Tell everyone that I'll cover the cost of food and supplies for the property staff."

Master Luo was overjoyed: "Oh, really? How about that—how could we..."

Whoever's bowl you eat from, you listen to their words.

Jiang Cheng had her calculations.

But others understood that logic too, and had their own calculations.

Song Jingshuo cut in: "It's not appropriate for you to do it alone. How about this, Master Luo—tell everyone that the cost for the property supplies will be covered jointly by Song Jingshuo from Building 4 and Jiang Cheng from Building 2, each paying half."

Everything about Song Jingshuo screamed brand name, from his belt to his whole bearing—the epitome of a young elite, the kind who spoke in a way that made people feel at ease. He looked like someone with excellent education who had entered a major corporation at a young age as a promising talent.

After returning home today, he had reviewed what had happened and realized that anything Jiang Cheng could think of, he could think of too, and any decision Jiang Cheng could steel herself to make, he could make as well.

But he had been one step behind Jiang Cheng at every turn. Jiang Cheng was always the first to think of something and the first to make the right call without hesitation, and by noon, everything had revolved around Jiang Cheng as the core and leader.

Yet when the first wave came down from the buildings to bravely clear the garden, she hadn't even been there.

The pace had been set by her the entire time. It was only when he got home and reviewed things that Song Jingshuo felt the frustration.

Because he too was someone who liked to take the initiative, who didn't enjoy following someone else's lead.

Jiang Cheng glanced at Song Jingshuo, and their eyes met with mutual understanding. Similar people understand each other better.

Jiang Cheng gave a slight smile: "Fine, then the two of us will cover it together."

There was nothing to fight over at the moment. No actual interests were at stake yet—just the authority to coordinate and lead. No need to compete; cooperation was the priority.

Song Jingshuo nodded slightly. Cooperation first.

Master Luo happily went off, called two young security guards, dragged out the property management's flatbed cart—three people in total, including himself, enough.

By around 2 PM, the east gate was packed with a surging crowd of owners, easily over a thousand. Though some had questioned earlier, Jiang Cheng had hit the key point: many single young people had no habit of stocking up, and at home their food supplies truly couldn't last.

If they didn't seize this organized large-scale group trip to stock up now, they wouldn't dare go alone later.

So even those who were reluctant didn't dare not show up.

Naturally, some still hadn't come. The whole complex shouldn't have only this many people.

Master Luo handed Jiang Cheng a megaphone, and she stood on a high point and began to speak:

"Right now we don't know the situation on the streets. Everyone, stay close and keep pace with the group. Those of you with protective gear, try to stay on the outer perimeter and stay alert at all times."

"None of us knows how long this situation will last. Personally, I suggest not buying snacks or the like. Our carrying capacity is limited, so focus on survival supplies—rice, flour, oil, salt, sugar, toilet paper, and so on."

"If you don't have a hand cart, buy one first thing after entering the supermarket."

She only hit the key points without rambling. As she jumped down and steadied herself, Song Jingshuo reached out and took the megaphone: "Everyone, be considerate. Keep the female owners toward the middle."

Jiang Cheng glanced back at him.

Someone objected: "Why should we? My life matters too."

Song Jingshuo didn't argue with him either, only smiling with a hint of sarcasm: "You can walk in the middle, too."

A chorus of boos rose from the crowd.

Li Jiangbing jumped up and cursed: "Are you a real man? Look at you, all cowardly!"

The man muttered and shuffled two steps back, disappearing into the crowd.

At 2 o'clock sharp, the young residents of the apartment complex stood ready to go.

After a morning of fighting, many people had gained experience and made as much protection as they could.

Some used tape to bind magazines to their forearms as makeshift bracers, so that if a mutant charged and tried to bite, they could block it. Paper isn't so easy to bite through, after all.

Some wore motorcycle helmets to protect their necks and faces.

There were even a few in ice hockey gear, which seemed incredibly practical for the current situation — the kind of thing that made everyone envious. But those were rare cases; a city wouldn't have many people who played ice hockey.

The security guard opened the main gate and even cheered them on: "Go early, come back safe, stay alert!"

Regardless of whether they'd agreed with this plan before, when a large group of people gathered to do something together, it was impossible not to feel one's blood run hot.

Many people raised clubs, cleavers, and hammers, letting out wild whoops, full of morale as they set off.

Song Jingshuo called out: "Jiang Cheng, you should walk in the middle."

His voice was loud, and everyone knew Jiang Cheng anyway, so a lot of people looked over.

Jiang Cheng had Mo Li tucked in her arms, a backpack on her back, a hand cart trailing from her left hand, and with her right hand she reached behind her waist, pulled the fire axe from her belt, and swung it in an X-shaped arc through the air.

"I don't need it," she said.

The two swings she made whistled with force. The fire axe looked light in her hands.

What a strong girl, many people thought. No wonder she dared to be so brave.

Li Jiangbing pressed close to Jiang Cheng: "It's fine, I'm right here."

He'd also switched his weapon to a fire axe, and on his left arm he wore a small shield that looked like some kind of merchandise from a game or movie — unclear whether it would actually offer any real protection. But with an axe in one hand, a shield on the other, tall and muscular, his silhouette was genuinely intimidating.

Standing next to Jiang Cheng, he looked like her bodyguard.

Song Jingshuo couldn't figure out how Jiang Cheng had managed to win over such a big man. The protectiveness he showed toward her was unmistakable.

Wherever he appeared, he always stayed close to Jiang Cheng, standing right by her side. Jiang Cheng also casually called him by the last two characters of his name, and while the two didn't look like a couple, they were clearly closer than anyone else here.

Could he be trying to court Jiang Cheng?

Song Jingshuo thought contemptuously. Women always have that advantage.

Watching Song Jingshuo walk off with the others, Li Jiangbing leaned in close to Jiang Cheng and whispered sneakily: "Why does he always have such an attitude with you? Is he trying to chase you?"

But Jiang Cheng understood someone like Song Jingshuo more deeply than Li Jiangbing ever could. Because she was the same kind of person. Even though Song Jingshuo looked tall, handsome, and well-off, Jiang Cheng felt not the slightest tinge of attraction toward him. Her mind was entirely focused on grasping the situation at hand and securing her own safety.

She glanced sideways at Li Jiangbing: "I think he thinks you're trying to chase me."

That was a bit of a mouthful. Li Jiangbing took a second to process it, then exclaimed in shock: "I don't mean that at all."

Absolutely not.

He liked soft, cute girls. Before, when he'd run into Jiang Cheng in the hallway, he'd thought she looked sweet and pretty, which was why he'd wanted to strike up a conversation.

But now, what was burned into his mind was the image from last night in the hallway — Jiang Cheng shouting "Clear the way!" as she gripped her bat and charged forward, smashing the mutant to the ground with one hit.

That silhouette of hers left too deep an impression on him.

He absolutely had no intention of courting her. He just wanted to stick with her.