Chapter 45

The atmosphere in the Youth Apartment was oppressive too.

During the day, people had been relaxing with sodas and chatting, and the zombie remains in the courtyard had been cleaned up, giving things a fresh start.

But as soon as the evening news broadcast came on—after a whole day of rescue efforts, only a tiny patch on the map of S City had been lit up.

Reality set in right away.

Most people didn't have maps on hand. Many found themselves standing in front of the TV, tracing their fingers over the map to estimate their progress.

Once they finished their estimates, they all fell silent.

Just then, the speakers in the hallway crackled to life: [Testing, testing, testing? Can everyone hear me?]

There was also the sound of walkie-talkie chatter: [Can you guys hear this over there? Oh, you all can? Great.]

Then: [Alright.]

After that, the microphone clearly changed hands, and Jiang Cheng's voice came through: [Good evening, everyone.]

The speakers were in the corridors, and lots of people had their doors open, leaning against the doorframes or crouching in the hallways to listen more clearly.

Jiang Cheng's voice rang out across all six buildings in the complex: [You've all seen the news. It's not looking good.]

[It's even worse than I expected.]

[Given the current situation, our chances of going out as a group are pretty slim. With the government already launching rescue operations, staying put and waiting is the safer option.]

[After this broadcast, I want everyone to take stock of your supplies, especially food. The buy-more store has been completely cleaned out by both of our complexes. They basically have nothing edible left over there.]

[This means our original plan for food rationing may have been too optimistic. And now, whatever you have on hand needs to last until rescue arrives.]

[First, take a count. Then plan your daily consumption. I'd suggest setting up a reasonable diet schedule.]

[Based on feedback from Zhao Yi, we're still finding a lot of kitchen waste in the trash collected the past two days. I strongly urge everyone to stop doing that.]

[The situation has changed. I recommend changing your old eating habits and treasuring the food we have.]

[Keep in mind—many of our neighbors are going hungry.]

[Jixiang Jiayuan has already had a violent incident. In extreme situations, once something like that starts, it can spread as supplies run out.]

[Apart from eliminating food waste, the interim committee will also hold a meeting tomorrow to discuss security issues in the complex.]

[Until national rescue and supplies arrive,]

[I hope everyone can take care of themselves.]

[The interim committee will also do its best to maintain order.]

[Good night.]

The broadcast went silent.

In the corridors, people looked at each other. No one was in a cheerful mood—brows were furrowed.

Several sighs rang out at once.

One by one, everyone returned to their rooms to recount their remaining food, calculate exactly how much they needed per day, and figure out how many days their stockpiles would last.

At the property management center, Gao Yuxuan was a bit nervous. He asked Jiang Cheng, "Are we going to have a famine?"

"We shouldn't. Our food supply is still relatively plentiful. We should be able to make it safely until the rescue troops arrive," Jiang Cheng replied. "But it's better to keep some pressure on everyone. Zhao Yi said that this morning, they found a failed baked cake in the trash."

The cake hadn't risen—it had collapsed, so it was thrown away.

That's probably how things used to be.

But this isn't how things used to be.

Hearing that, Gao Yuxuan relaxed.

Jiang Cheng patted the microphone. "This thing is really useful."

In the current situation, having a broadcast system that can reach every household in the complex was far better than making phone calls or sending out group notifications.

Jiang Cheng complimented without reservation: "You and Zhao Yi and the rest of you—you've been a huge help."

When she praised someone, her dark, bright eyes looked straight at them, carrying full appreciation and genuine sincerity.

Gao Yuxuan happily rubbed the back of his neck and said, "It's just what we're trained for—nothing special."

Jiang Cheng gave a small smile.

If Song Jingshuo, the finance guy, was the face of the elite type, then Zhao Yi and Gao Yuxuan were the classic hands-on tech nerds.

Li Jiangbing, the personal trainer, was your obvious social networker.

And then there was someone like Su Yu—a girl a bit kind, a bit brave.

Jiang Cheng found that she really enjoyed observing these people. Even the cleaning lady with the surname Liu, whom she had expelled from the complex.

Interesting. Every single person was interesting. And putting them all together and watching them interact was even more interesting.

Just as Jiang Cheng had said, the residents of the Youth Apartment didn't actually face an immediate food shortage, at least not yet.

Jiang Cheng had already inventoried her own stash. The most important thing was rice—the staple food.

She originally had one and a half bags at home, each 5 kg.

On the first trip to the buy-more store on Sunday, she had a backpack and a rolling cart. Her carrying capacity was very limited, so she only brought back three bags of rice.

But on the second trip on Monday, she grabbed a shopping cart, and her carrying capacity doubled. She snagged five bags of rice.

Now she had a bit more than nine bags of rice in total.

She didn't have a big appetite. With side dishes, she consumed only about 300-350 grams per day. In theory, one bag of rice would last her half a month.

But now with fewer side dishes—no fresh vegetables at all, just canned goods, jerky, salted eggs, meat sauce, and pickles—her rice consumption had gone up slightly.

Even so, she could still last at least three months.

But not everyone was like her.

Despite her repeated emphasis on prioritizing staples and canned goods when raiding the supermarket, and despite the limited carrying capacity, there were still people whose carts contained snacks like chips and preserved plums.

Also, men eat more than women. Jiang Cheng couldn't estimate how long each person's hoard would last—they'd have to do the math themselves.

But because there had been two opportunities to stock up, the Youth Apartment as a whole shouldn't face a food crisis before rescue arrived.

Even Mo Li wasn't short on food.

On both shopping trips, Jiang Cheng had gritted her teeth and sacrificed some carrying capacity to bring back cat food for Mo Li.

Now, Mo Li's body had mysteriously evolved to the point where, during the day, just basking in the sun meant she didn't need to eat.

Mo Li only ate one meal before bed at night, and not much at that—like the small appetite of a tiny ordinary kitten. With two bags of cat food plus the supply already at home, at this rate, Mo Li could easily last several months.

With food in hand, the heart doesn't panic.

Jiang Cheng posted in the group: [Let's meet up tomorrow for a meeting. Where's there a closed-off space in the complex we can use?]

The earlier meeting in the plaza had been crowded with residents watching and listening, even butting in.

Some topics shouldn't be directly deliberated by the residents. They should first reach a consensus within the interim committee, then announce the decision publicly. So Jiang Cheng wanted an enclosed space.

In the end, Song Jingshuo said: [Come to my place. My unit is a bit bigger.]

He gave his building and unit number.

Turned out he lived in the duplex unit of Building 4.

Most of the Youth Apartment comprised small single-person units, ranging from about 30 to 50 square meters, with 30 and 40 square meters being the most common.

Jiang Cheng's place was a 40-square-meter studio.

From the perspective of the house, it was small.

But for a single person living alone, it had a living room, a kitchen, a bathroom, and a bedroom—every function covered, more than enough.

The only unit with a bit more space was in Building 4, the one Song Jingshuo had bought. It was 60 square meters, spread over two floors.

[Okay.] Jiang Cheng arranged it. [10 a.m. tomorrow.]

She could wake up early, of course, and so could Song Jingshuo. But others might not. There was no need to drag people out of bed at the crack of dawn and make their lives miserable—it wasn't a workday.

Keeping order and maintaining everyone's mental state over the coming days was exactly what Jiang Cheng planned to discuss with the neighborhood committee tomorrow.

Finding a closed space to meet was about coordinating with the committee before facing the residents.

So, waiting at the clubhouse gym on Thursday morning was about coordinating with Song Jingshuo before facing the committee.

Song Jingshuo was excellent at communication and organization—a highly charismatic figure.

If it weren't for Jiang Cheng, an outsider who had transmigrated here, he would have been the soul of the Youth Apartment neighborhood committee.

But now, even he agreed that the soul of that committee was Jiang Cheng.

Jiang Cheng had guessed that a disciplined person like Song Jingshuo would definitely hit the gym in the morning. There was nowhere else to go, nothing else to do.

Someone like him wouldn't let himself sink into listlessness. The more he saw others' dark circles from staying up late and waking late, the more disciplined he became.

Sure enough, Song Jingshuo appeared in the gym, draped in the morning light.

"Jingshuo," Jiang Cheng called out.

It wasn't the first time she'd called him by just his given name. Whenever she did, it meant she needed something from him.

Song Jingshuo paused, then let out a sigh.

Jiang Cheng: "..."

Song Jingshuo draped the towel around his neck and walked over to her: "Didn't you say that communicating with me doesn't require any tricks?"

Jiang Cheng smiled, her eyes curving into crescents.

Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling glass, falling on her shoulders. Her hair was dark and glossy.

Song Jingshuo had no fight left in him: "Go ahead. Just say it straight."

"Rescue won't arrive for half a month," Jiang Cheng said. "Several thousand people are going to be locked inside this compound for half a month."

Song Jingshuo's expression turned grim.

He said, "I was thinking about this all night last night."

Anyone who had ever managed people understood: wherever there are people, there is trouble. Where public order is weak, crime breeds.

Several thousand able-bodied young people locked in one compound with nothing to do—mostly men, at that.

Most people wouldn't even think about this, but Song Jingshuo had stayed up until the early hours mulling it over.

Of course, that was also because he was a core member of the neighborhood committee. His responsibility demanded he think more deeply than others.

She started the thought, and Song Jingshuo immediately got it.

He said, "Don't worry. You and I—we'll stay in lockstep."

His tone was firm.

Seeing Jiang Cheng already waiting here in the morning to discuss this with him was beyond reassuring. In times like these, having a reliable partner was more comforting than anything else.

"You, me," he said. "And Jiangbing. The three of us have to stay on the same page."

Truly on the same wavelength—Jiang Cheng didn't even need to waste a single extra sentence.

This was exactly what she had wanted to hear from him.

"Jiangbing's no problem," she said. She raised her hand to her chest, thumb up, chin tilted. "Come on, let's hit the treadmill."

At 10 a.m., the neighborhood committee gathered at Song Jingshuo's place.

His home was indeed the largest unit in the Youth Apartment—60 square meters on a single floor. But the committee now had quite a few members, and the place was packed.

The sofa and coffee table were full, and since they were all young people, they weren't shy about it—some just sat right on the floor.

"The government's announcements never waste a word," Jiang Cheng said from her seat on the dining table, higher than everyone else. "'Survival order'—the moment I heard those two words, my heart skipped a beat."

"And before that, there's 'rebuilding.'"