Chapter 28

Jiang Cheng asked Song Jingshuo, "Do you have a car?"

Jiang Cheng didn't have a car—or rather, "Jiang Cheng" didn't. So in the cognition Jiang Cheng received from the original "Jiang Cheng," she wasn't familiar with underground parking garages at all. That's why Jiang Cheng overlooked the underground garage when making arrangements.

That should be it... probably.

Song Jingshuo answered as expected: "Yes."

So Song Jingshuo clearly hadn't forgotten the underground garage the way she had.

Jiang Cheng said, "I don't have a car, and yesterday I didn't think about the underground garage. Let's clean it up today."

"Also, if there's any information I've missed, please, if you think of it, don't hesitate to bring it up."

Song Jingshuo glanced at her.

Earlier, when Old Huang had suggested home isolation, Jiang Cheng had used her eyes to seek his opinion.

Jiang Cheng wasn't someone who made decisions arbitrarily. An outstanding person not only knows how to listen to advice and suggestions but also knows how to collaborate.

He was the same.

Song Jingshuo admitted openly that he had indeed thought of it: "I meant to bring it up today. I was too busy and didn't get the chance."

There wasn't much to fault there. Yesterday, Sunday, had been tense from morning to night—a whole day of sudden situations and too much to handle.

Whether someone had overlooked something or thought of it but didn't have time to say so, it was all understandable.

Jiang Cheng nodded. She took a couple of steps, then couldn't help saying, "None of the others brought it up either? Not a single person thought of it?"

She couldn't quite wrap her head around that. Whether Song Jingshuo had been intentional or not, he wasn't the only one on the provisional committee. Forget the committee—the whole estate had that many people. Was there really no one who thought the underground garage also needed cleaning?

Song Jingshuo's lips curved slightly—half mockery, half amusement.

Jiang Cheng raised an eyebrow.

Song Jingshuo explained, "Someone must have thought of it. They're just waiting for you to arrange it."

Jiang Cheng had a sudden realization.

In just one day and one night, the youth apartment had already become a collective.

Once everyone had integrated into the collective—especially when the management group or the leaders had shown reliable management and leadership—people naturally and comfortably started waiting to follow instructions.

They all felt that Jiang Cheng and the provisional committee must have arrangements in place. Things had to be done one at a time. Even though they hadn't mentioned cleaning the garage yet, maybe after they finished the current tasks, they'd bring it up next.

So, why should I be clever and offer suggestions? I'll just wait for orders and follow the arrangements.

Compliance. Conformity.

That definitely had pros and cons. But Jiang Cheng weighed it up—for now, the pros far outweighed the cons.

The compliance, unity, and tacit coordination of the youth apartment, when compared to Jixiang Jiayuan, were clearly visible as being incredibly useful—exactly what was needed at the moment.

So let it be.

The walkie-talkie at her waist crackled. It was the person guarding the meeting room: "There was a big commotion in the meeting room just now—sounded a bit scary. It's very quiet now. Not sure if inside... um..."

Jiang Cheng thought for a moment and said, "Make some noise. If it's still very quiet inside, then there's a living person."

If it were zombies—even though the second-generation zombies seemed considerably more agile than the original ones—they were still driven by some primal instinct craving flesh and blood. If they heard sounds or caught the scent of blood and flesh, they'd be unable to resist panting or letting out low growls.

If it was perfectly quiet, it could only be a living person.

The living didn’t want to make a sound.

The living shut inside, waiting to turn and die, didn’t want to answer the living outside.

The voice on the walkie-talkie went “Oh” and said, “Alright, we’ll try.”

But Jiang Cheng felt there was no point wasting manpower guarding the meeting room anymore.

“Master Luo, Master Luo,” she called.

Master Luo’s voice crackled back over the walkie-talkie: “Here, I’m here. Go ahead.”

“Does the property office have a welding torch?”

“Yes. What do you need welded?”

Jiang Cheng said, “Weld the meeting room door shut. Then block it up as well. Double insurance. Once that’s done, the interim committee members can pull out of the property office—no need to keep guarding the meeting room.”

Was that, in effect, pronouncing a death sentence on the people in there?

The interim committee members all paused mid-step, listening to her communicate with Master Luo.

A sigh from Master Luo came through the walkie-talkie, mixed with electrical static. But he didn’t object. He agreed: “Alright, we’ll get on it right away.”

Jiang Cheng instructed, “While welding, make sure people are on guard at the door—don’t let them rush out if they get the chance.”

She clicked off the walkie-talkie and lifted her eyelids. The people around her had stopped or slowed, waiting for her.

Jiang Cheng swept her gaze across them. Some met her eyes calmly; a few looked away.

But no one raised an objection.

That was good. The interim committee had been up for almost twenty-four hours now, and so far no one had openly opposed any of her decisions.

Even if some felt a weight on their conscience, they chose silence.

They also understood that certain decisions were for everyone’s good—as long as their own interests weren’t harmed, keeping quiet was the way to go.

Besides, most of them were single young people who hadn’t known each other before, just vaguely familiar strangers at best.

No families wailing, clinging, or throwing tantrums to block things, like in Jixiang Jiayuan.

Jiang Cheng skipped past the meeting room and jumped straight to the next topic: “There are two things now: one, we need to clear out the underground parking garage. But that’s not urgent, so we’ll set it aside for now.”

“The other, which I think is more pressing: I want to organize another supply run today.” Jiang Cheng checked the time—it was close to noon. “Let’s do it in the afternoon.”

“But we just did a supply run yesterday,” someone finally raised an objection. “Is it really necessary?”

Jiang Cheng knew someone would think that.

It was only too normal. That was how a lot of people were—as long as they could call the moment “safe,” that was safe enough.

They’d already snapped up enough food to last a week or two, so they figured that was enough, that was fine. Was it really necessary?

But Jiang Cheng couldn’t explain why she couldn’t bring herself to feel that kind of “safe.”

Ever since she woke up two nights ago and faced the first zombie of 0308—Little White’s Dad—she had entered a completely different state from before.

Or rather, she believed that this world had entered a completely different state.

This wasn’t like a flood, where the water would recede later.

It wasn’t like a typhoon, where the wind would stop eventually.

No. The world was simply different now. But it seemed not everyone could grasp that. They seemed to be waiting for the flood to recede, for the typhoon to stop.

Jiang Cheng stood on the residential street, and in that moment, it hit her like a bolt of clarity—the reason she had transmigrated here wasn’t to live out some dull nine-to-five ordinary day-to-day life.

【She had transmigrated precisely to meet a world like this!】

It had already been a week since that afternoon when Jiang Cheng realized she was a transmigrator.

But it wasn’t until this moment—bright sunlight at noon, surrounded and encircled by the crowd—that she fully shed the shell of “Jiang Cheng.”

She didn’t know who she was or what world she came from, but she understood her sole purpose now: to survive in this mutated world.

Song Jingshuo noticed for the first time that Jiang Cheng had paused for so long. She was usually quick to react.

He was about to smooth things over when he caught a faint flicker of expression on Jiang Cheng’s radiant face amid the dappled sunlight filtering through the trees.

Song Jingshuo was a master at reading people, but the change vanished in an instant—he didn’t have time to study it.

Looking again, she was still the same young, pretty, and composed girl, wearing a gentle smile as she patiently explained: “It’s not mandatory. Just a suggestion. The thing is, we need quite a lot of stuff, but we can only carry so much. Yesterday I filled both my handcart and my backpack, and I still couldn’t get everything.”

“Also, the municipal government has issued three official notices now. I think everyone can sense it—so far they still haven’t organized an effective response, which means the current situation might last longer than we initially expected.”

“I still think we should buy more supplies to feel more secure. Of course, no pressure—just a proposal.”

“I’m going to arrange another shopping run, mainly because there’s safety in numbers. Whoever wants to come, come along.”

The other person was convinced too: “Fair enough—I still have stuff I didn’t buy either.”

At the time, they had prioritized the most essential food items; the less important things were left behind, after all, a person only has two hands and one pair of shoulders.

Many people hadn’t managed to grab handcarts—they’d gone for supplies first, and by the time they checked on the carts, those were already snatched up. They had to lug everything home on their backs and in their arms.

The clever ones used suitcases, but back then, a lot of people hadn’t thought of that.

The members of the interim committee finalized the plan as they walked.

They posted the notice on the owners’ forum.

The property management had a megaphone, so they had someone carry it around to each building and shout the announcement.

Then each building was subdivided by floor; every building had several committee members, each responsible for a few floors, going up to those floors to spread the word.

No need to knock on every door—in a situation like this, yelling was the main method. Yell in the stairwell; stairwells carry sound well, and everyone could hear.

If someone was sleeping too deeply to hear, or missed the forum notice—well, tough luck for them.

The concrete execution plan was settled, and Jiang Cheng turned around to find Su Yu had been following her the whole time, trailing behind Li Jiangbing, sticking close to the committee members. Clearly, Su Yu had listened to the entire discussion.

“Ah, Su Yu,” Jiang Cheng greeted her. “This is Su Yu from Building 2. Su Yu, why don’t you join the committee too? There’s too much work and not enough hands.”

Su Yu had been sticking close precisely waiting for that invitation.

Yesterday afternoon, when the committee was first formed, she had hesitated and missed her chance to join. After Jiang Cheng woke her up to it last night, she regretted it. Today, she’d been looking for an opportunity to bring it up with Jiang Cheng.

She nodded immediately: “Okay.”

Jiang Cheng said, “You have a messaging app, right? Go back and join the group chat.”

“Oh, and add Master Luo as well. The property staff need to be part of the committee too.”

"We shouldn't call ourselves the interim owners' committee. We should call ourselves the interim emergency response committee."

No one objected.

In fact, even during all the chaos yesterday, people were still contacting the property management about burnt-out light bulbs, blown fuses, clogged toilets, and the like. Someone had to deal with these things.

The property management office currently had no leader, so they couldn't just leave things unattended.

Jiang Cheng immediately used the walkie-talkie to communicate with Master Luo.

Master Luo was getting on in years, and his understanding of how society worked was actually deeper than that of the younger folks. He had realized yesterday just how significant and influential the interim committee's existence would be. Although the property management staff who were still stuck in the residential complex all listened to him now, and Master Luo himself was the head of the engineering department, he was really just a man used to keeping his head down and doing his work. Being "head of the engineering department" merely meant assigning tasks like, "You go fix the electricity meter in Building 4, and you go unclog the toilet in Building 6."

Bringing the property management staff under the interim committee's umbrella actually suited Master Luo just fine.

In the face of a crisis that no one could handle alone, anyone with a clear head was afraid of being pushed to the sidelines.