“What if we sort the garbage?” Jiang Cheng asked. “Only store the non-combustible materials here, and burn the rest. Would that buy us more time?”
The engineering guy didn’t answer immediately. He paused, then hesitated: “…Will it really last that long?”
“How would I know?” Jiang Cheng said. “I’m just asking.”
Over the past two days, Jiang Cheng had spoken and acted with such authority that everyone took her words seriously.
Hearing her say that, the engineering guy finally relaxed.
But he said, “If we burn it directly without any filtration or treatment, it will release a large amount of toxic substances.”
Jiang Cheng thought for a moment, then asked, “Which is more toxic—burning garbage or burning corpses?”
The engineering guy was stunned for a second, then said, “Well… cremation is… more severe.”
He explained: “Burning corpses can be considered an ‘enhanced version’ of garbage incineration. It produces most of the same toxins as burning regular waste, but the human body naturally contains chlorine. When combined with incomplete combustion of fats and proteins, it creates an ideal breeding ground for dioxins. There are also more complex toxic heavy metals.”
“Most importantly, there’s the risk of pathogen aerosols,” he said. “That’s a unique risk associated with cremation.”
“Take the zombie virus, for example—we know nothing about it right now. It could attach itself to smoke particles and spread through the air, causing a secondary plague.”
This was something Jiang Cheng hadn’t known.
She thought for a moment, then asked, “But we’ve been burning bodies for two days now. So far, all the new mutations within the community have been caused by exposure through external wounds. If the zombie virus could spread the way you described, there should have been cases of people without wounds becoming infected and mutating. But that hasn’t happened yet. Can we rule out that possibility?”
The engineering guy considered it, then nodded: “Personally, I think we can.”
Everyone breathed a sigh of relief.
Song Jingshuo suggested: “We should separate paper products and plastics and stockpile them for now—no need to burn them yet. The clubhouse is big enough to hold quite a bit. Only store non-combustibles in the pool. We can figure the rest out later.”
Jiang Cheng could sense that Song Jingshuo’s attitude had shifted.
This plan sounded simple enough, but in reality, mobilizing a community of thousands would inevitably bring endless complications and uncooperative behavior.
Yet Song Jingshuo was willing to take the more difficult path, supporting the idea of extending the pool’s capacity as much as possible.
He no longer clung to the hope that the government would come to save them tomorrow.
Jiang Cheng’s observation was spot on.
Ever since Monday, when Jiang Cheng had led everyone to smash through Mai Duoduo’s glass doors and raid the supermarket, Song Jingshuo had spent an entire night thinking at home. He’d finally come to terms with the fact that “things were different now.”
He’d begun to agree with Jiang Cheng’s view that this situation could last for a long time.
Jiang Cheng adopted Song Jingshuo’s suggestion: “I think that works. Let’s get the word out as soon as possible.”
After two consecutive days of supermarket runs, everyone must have had loads of packaging to unwrap—which meant plenty of cardboard boxes taking up space.
Since the apartments were small, people would definitely toss them out as trash.
Jiang Cheng immediately pulled out her phone and called Su Yu, explaining the matter: “…Tell everyone not to mix cardboard boxes, packaging, and plastic bottles with other trash. Have them toss them all together in the small plaza downstairs for centralized collection.”
A one-time concentrated effort would be far more efficient than dealing with a trickle every day.
She also discussed with Master Luo, arranging for the cleaning staff to collect these items from the plaza.
Paper products needed to be bundled to save storage space. Jiang Cheng had “Jiang Cheng’s” memories—she’d seen the cleaning workers neatly stacking cardboard, preparing to sell them as scrap for extra cash.
She said, “Once this is all over, these can all go to the workers to sell as scrap.”
Jiang Cheng was young, but she understood people well—Song Jingshuo glanced at her, thinking to himself.
But most women like that he knew were the strong, commanding type. Jiang Cheng, when she let her presence out, had a certain sharpness. But if none of this had happened—no zombies, no chaos—and you ran into her in the community, she’d come across as a completely mild-mannered young woman.
Was this what they called “times make the person”?
Under extraordinary circumstances, some people who seemed ordinary in everyday life would rise to the occasion.
If these special circumstances hadn’t occurred, they might have remained ordinary their whole lives.
Master Luo used his walkie-talkie to assign tasks to the cleaning staff. When they heard that they’d get to keep the materials once everything was over, the cleaners were indeed very happy.
Jiang Cheng said to Yang Xinyan, “Xinyan, go keep an eye on things and tell them to transport everything this way.”
Yang Xinyan acknowledged and walked off with a light step.
Everyone had already grown accustomed to taking directions from Jiang Cheng.
Su Yu worked fast—once she’d written the post, she immediately published it on the forum and contacted others.
The interim committee members then went floor by floor, shouting notices: “Check the forum! Check the post about garbage disposal!”
Su Yu called Jiang Cheng to report that the work was complete.
She’d fully slipped into work mode, like in a company setting.
After finishing the call, Jiang Cheng remarked, “The only trouble is communication.”
If they only used the property’s loudspeakers to announce things under each building, the people on the garden side might not hear.
But relying entirely on shouting for all announcements was too primitive.
She said, “It would be so much easier if there were a way to notify everyone all at once.”
The engineering guy went “Huh?” and said, “Actually…”
Jiang Cheng lifted her eyelids and looked at him.
He pushed up his glasses: “Actually, there are speakers in the hallways. I think we can use those.”
“Eh?” Jiang Cheng was surprised. “There are?”
“Is that the fire alarm bell?” Li Jiangbing chimed in. “I remember one day during daytime they ran a test and played music. But that was on a weekday, so you must have been at work.”
The last sentence was directed at Jiang Cheng.
Master Luo, however, waved his hand: “That won’t work. I don’t know how to operate that. The person in charge of it isn’t in the community.”
Master Luo and the other two engineers were electricians and handymen. But that broadcast system was connected to a computer system. The engineering department had one person specifically managing the surveillance and broadcast systems, and he was paid significantly more than the rest.
That man didn’t live in the staff dormitory, so he wasn’t in the community now. None of the others knew how to work it.
Once that was clarified, the engineering guy said, “That’s simple.”
He turned around and cupped his hands to his mouth, calling out: “Gao Yuxuan! Gao Yuxuan! Come here for a second!”
A young man from the pool area came running over: “What’s up?”
The engineering guy told him: “We want to use the building broadcast system. The engineer isn’t here. Can you get it working?”
Gao Yuxuan didn’t hesitate: “Easy!”
Gao Yuxuan was clearly another engineering-type guy.
Engineers were incredibly useful.
Gao Yuxuan headed off without another word.
Jiang Cheng asked the engineering guy: “What’s your name again?”
It was obvious the engineering guy wasn’t good at socializing with attractive women. When reporting technical things, he was smooth and fluent, but as soon as they entered social territory, he got nervous: “Zh-Zhao Yi.”
Jiang Cheng’s eyes curved into a smile, bright and radiant: “It’s so great to have you guys here.”
Zhao Yi’s ears visibly turned red.
Jiang Cheng said, “Then I’ll leave the clubhouse matters to you. I need you to plan things out—make sure the pathways for bringing in garbage stay clear, and manage the space for storing the rest.”
Zhao Yi nodded emphatically: “Okay, leave it to me.”
Song Jingshuo glanced at Jiang Cheng, somewhat surprised.
Compared to Zhao Yi, who was clearly still an innocent young guy, Song Jingshuo had much more experience. He could easily tell that Jiang Cheng was effortlessly handling Zhao Yi.
But this broke the impression she’d given him over the past two days.
In those two days, Jiang Cheng had displayed a calm rationality that was completely detached from gender.
He’d thought she was the type who deliberately separated her capabilities from her gender in work settings.
He’d encountered many women in his work—some used their looks as a weapon, while others took the opposite approach, believing that being perceived through the lens of gender at work was an insult to their abilities, striving to project a genderless professionalism.
He’d thought Jiang Cheng was the latter, but now he saw she wasn’t.
Turns out she was the type who didn’t care whether she used her looks or her abilities—she simply chose the most effective solution for the situation and the person involved.
People like that were bound to succeed at anything.
He was that kind of person himself.
Yang Xinyan had left the clubhouse to gather the cleaning staff.
The younger residents, stuck at home without work, kept a constant eye on the forum. Plus, the interim committee members had notified everyone floor by floor.
Everyone had seen Su Yu’s post. Since many of the supplies from the past two days of shopping were still unopened and taking up space at home, people got to work.
Before long, Yang Xinyan saw residents coming downstairs one after another, each carrying cardboard boxes and packaging.
“Over here, put them over here.” Yang Xinyan waved them over. “Just leave them here, we’ll take care of it.”
She was a young girl, and the residents were generally friendly with her: “Thanks for your hard work.”
Yang Xinyan replied politely: “It’s our job.”
At this moment, the residents’ moods and spirits were the best they’d been since Saturday night. Most of them were decent people who said thank you with courtesy.
Yang Xinyan found it relatively easy and pleasant dealing with the residents.
Among the cleaning staff, a younger one—a man—watched her interacting with the residents and let out a “Tch” under his breath.
The older cleaners were actually quite happy. Master Luo had told them that once things returned to normal, all these cardboard boxes, plastic bottles, and the like would be theirs to sell for money.
But this younger one, not even forty yet, who was usually lazy and never proactive at work, said: “What if things never return to normal?”
The older ones: “Huh?”
The middle-aged male cleaner said: “If things never get back to normal, if this chaos just keeps going, with monsters everywhere, then these worthless cardboard boxes won’t be sellable anywhere. So what’s the point?”
One of the cleaning aunties said: “That can’t be.”
“Why not?” the middle-aged cleaner scoffed. “Look—the government still hasn’t sent rescue. Even during past floods, things never shut down nationwide like this. Have you ever seen anything like this?”
They really hadn’t. In the past, whether it was earthquakes, floods, or typhoons, the damage was always localized.
When one area suffered, help came from all directions.
But now, there were zombies everywhere.
Even the interim committee people had said that this time, even the military might not be able to do much—the army couldn’t fight a virus through willpower alone.
If things really fell apart…
“My great-grandmother used to flee famines,” the middle-aged cleaner said. “In times like that, money becomes worthless paper—only good for wiping your ass.”
“Besides, if things really go to hell, not only can we not sell these cardboard boxes, no one’s going to pay our wages either…”
As he spoke, his expression gradually changed, as if something had suddenly clicked in his mind.
“In that case, why the hell should we keep working for them?”
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