Jiang Cheng first called Li Jiangbing: “Jiangbing, where are you?”
“Yeah, something’s come up. Come with me to see Jing Shuo.”
“Okay, see you downstairs.”
Jiang Cheng hung up and called Song Jingshuo.
“What’s wrong?” Song Jingshuo asked.
The two of them used to meet up every morning at the clubhouse gym. After the exercise equipment was moved to the lobbies of each building, they hadn’t seen each other the past couple of mornings. They only met in the morning now.
The interim committee would gather around noon every day, mainly to oversee the operation of a few things in the neighborhood, like sanitation and maintenance.
That was when everyone got together, not a private meeting.
Jiang Cheng gave a brief explanation and said, “Jiangbing and I are coming over to see you now. Let’s discuss how to handle it.”
Song Jingshuo: “Okay.”
He added: “Let’s talk it through before doing anything.”
Was he afraid she’d be too angry and lose her temper on the spot?
Jiang Cheng hung up and, out of habit, glanced up at the mirror before heading out. The cracked mirror only reflected half her face.
As if.
This sort of thing couldn’t even stir half an emotion in her.
She met up with Li Jiangbing downstairs. He was working out in the lobby, drenched in sweat.
He saw Jiang Cheng come down, stood up, and wiped his sweat: “What’s up?”
There were other people working out in the lobby, so Jiang Cheng said, “Let’s talk outside.”
On the way, she gave Li Jiangbing a brief summary as well.
Li Jiangbing cursed: “What an idiot.”
Jiang Cheng observed him.
Although Li Jiangbing cursed at the guy, it was purely because he thought the person and the situation were stupid, so he said as much.
As for emotions like anger and disgust—the kind Su Yu would empathize with—he didn’t have them.
He was a man.
Song Jingshuo was also a man.
Jiang Cheng was well aware of this. At Song Jingshuo’s place, she said, “When order collapses, it doesn’t collapse in just one aspect.”
It wasn’t that if someone bullied a girl today, only incidents of bullying girls would happen and nothing else.
On the contrary, when a floor leader used that little bit of privilege to seek something for himself, the targets he faced couldn’t possibly be limited to female residents.
Wherever there are people, there is drama.
Song Jingshuo was clear-headed and fully understood what Jiang Cheng meant.
In fact, the theme of their previous meeting had been “order.”
The government said they needed to rebuild a survival order. The youth apartment didn’t need “rebuilding”—just maintenance. The interim committee’s responsibility was to prevent order from deteriorating to the point where “rebuilding” became necessary.
“Nie Kuizhang from Building 3, right?” Song Jingshuo took the matter on himself. “We’ll handle this. You stay out of it.”
Li Jiangbing nodded in agreement: “The two of us will go.”
Li Jiangbing wasn’t like Song Jingshuo and the others—college students with degrees—but his street smarts were far stronger than many people’s, like Zhao Yi the shut-in.
He’d already thought on the way over that it was best if Jiang Cheng didn’t get involved. Song Jingshuo had the same thought.
That was exactly why Jiang Cheng had brought Li Jiangbing to see Song Jingshuo.
She had no intention of stepping in herself.
“Good.” She nodded. “I’ll leave it to you.”
She didn’t make any demands about what should be done to the person or anything like that. Exactly how to “resolve” this matter was up to Song Jingshuo and Li Jiangbing.
Song Jingshuo asked for He Tian’s phone number. Jiang Cheng gave it to him and went back home.
Passing by the pavilion, she didn’t see Mo Li. Mo Li used to sunbathe on top of the pavilion, but people kept wanting to pet him. Now he’d found another spot to soak up the sun.
Jiang Cheng didn’t know where he was, but she focused and sent out a telepathic pulse, receiving a faint flicker of feedback. Knowing he was nearby was enough.
About an hour later, Su Yu came knocking.
“He Tian asked me to come say thank you to you,” she said.
If she were truly grateful, why wouldn’t she come say it herself? No one had work or school these days; everyone had more time than they knew what to do with, all bored out of their minds.
Jiang Cheng asked: “She’s not satisfied with how it was handled?”
Su Yu bit her lip slightly, her eyes cast down.
Jiang Cheng asked: “How did they handle it?”
“They made the guy apologize to He Tian and promise not to do it again. Then they took half of the medicine he had.”
“But you’re still not satisfied?” Jiang Cheng said.
Su Yu kept her eyes down and didn’t deny it. Not denying was as good as admitting—which meant she wasn’t satisfied.
Jiang Cheng asked: “Then how did you expect it to be handled?”
Su Yu looked up: “I thought you would step in.”
He Tian had gotten a call from Song Jingshuo asking her to come over.
The girl, still sensitive after what happened yesterday, asked if Jiang Cheng would be there too. Song Jingshuo said she wouldn’t be.
So He Tian called Su Yu, and Su Yu went with her.
Nie Kuizhang’s place was full of men.
The interim committee had seven core members in total—Jiang Cheng plus the six floor leaders. Aside from Jiang Cheng, all six floor leaders were there.
Clearly, the resolution had been agreed upon by all six of them.
These men were all tall or burly.
Before last night, Su Yu and He Tian would have felt a strong sense of security around these people. But just now, inside Nie Kuizhang’s home, that feeling had completely reversed.
It felt like two little lambs wandering into a pack of wolves.
Of course, the two of them were very dissatisfied with the outcome.
But all the men—even Nie Kuizhang himself, despite his grim expression—had accepted it. Everyone thought “this is enough” and “it’s pretty good already.”
Neither of them could bring themselves to voice their dissatisfaction.
They swallowed their pride, accepted the apology and two bottles of stomach medicine as compensation, and were told the matter was closed.
Walking into the elevator, the moment the doors closed, both of them even felt a sense of “we got out.”
He Tian hadn’t asked Su Yu to come thank Jiang Cheng on her behalf. Actually, she’d asked: “Is that it?”
Su Yu was also deeply disappointed, so she said: “I’ll go ask Jiang Cheng.”
“You seem to have misunderstood,” Jiang Cheng said.
“From the zombie virus outbreak last Saturday until today, one week’s time, I’ve done my best to keep our neighborhood under control,” she said. “Maybe that gave you the illusion that I’m formidable and all-powerful?”
Su Yu’s lips moved slightly.
“All-powerful” might be an exaggeration, but in Su Yu’s heart, Jiang Cheng really did have the ability to solve many problems.
She had thought Jiang Cheng could resolve this matter effortlessly too.
But in reality, Song Jingshuo was the one running things over there. She hadn’t expected Jiang Cheng to hand this off to him. She had lost trust in all these men now.
She just wanted Jiang Cheng to handle this and be their pillar of support.
“You’re mistaken,” Jiang Cheng said. “There’s no difference between me, you, and He Tian. We’re all just ordinary female residents in this neighborhood.”
She cut straight to the point: “You were hoping Nie Kuizhang would be stripped of his floor leader position, weren’t you?”
Su Yu blurted out: “What right does he have to be a floor leader!”
What right did a scumbag like that have!
Jiang Cheng chuckled: “Yeah, you tell me—what does he have going for him?”
What did he have going for him?
Suddenly, the scene from earlier at Nie Kuizhang’s place in Building 3 flashed before Su Yu’s eyes.
They knocked, and Li Jiangbing opened the door. He was especially burly, with bulging muscles—one man alone could block the entire entryway.
Walking inside, all six men stood up.
The oppressive weight hit them immediately.
Neither she nor He Tian was satisfied with the outcome, but neither had dared to speak up or object there.
They’d even felt relieved when they left.
Su Yu was stunned.
Jiang Cheng could tell from her expression that she was probably starting to understand.
“We don’t have the authority to strip someone of their floor leader status,” she said, laying it out more clearly and thoroughly. “Because the floor leader title isn’t a title bestowed or a position assigned by the interim committee.”
The floor leaders, in reality, were chosen from among the people in each building who went downstairs to kill zombies—the tallest, the strongest, the toughest, the most daring, or the most ruthless.
Li Jiangbing went without saying—he was a fitness trainer by trade.
Song Jingshuo looked lean and tall, but underneath his clothes he had muscle and clear signs of working out, plus he was one of the earliest organizers.
The scumbag Nie Kuizhang was chubby and stout—sure, his muscle couldn’t compare to Li Jiangbing’s, but his sheer bulk made him someone you didn’t want to mess with.
So Su Yu and He Tian, standing among these men, felt like lambs among wolves.
“Actually, we don’t have that authority,” Jiang Cheng said. “Could the three of us—me, you, and He Tian—stand in front of them and tell Nie Kuizhang he’s no longer allowed to be a floor leader? Would he listen? Would anyone else support us?”
“Aside from ourselves, no one else is actually opposing this outcome, right?” she asked.
“We” and “others”—she had clearly drawn the line by gender.
Su Yu hesitated: “They…”
“They’re all men,” Jiang Cheng said. “People used to overlook my gender because my interests have always aligned with everyone else’s. They all seem willing to listen to my suggestions, but in reality, they’re listening to the suggestions themselves—not to me.”
“But this time, if I step in, the others on the interim committee will realize that my interests don’t align with theirs anymore.”
“If I had the power to remove one floor leader, that would mean I could remove any floor leader.”
Just like that, Jiang Cheng would be standing on the opposite side of the six male floor leaders, rather than on the same side.
“I’m not some indispensable figure. Anyone on the interim committee could replace me. Li Jiangbing could. Song Jingshuo could. Nie Kuizhang could too.”
“There would definitely be people happy to take my place—no doubt about it.”
Of the seven core interim committee members, only Jiang Cheng was a woman.
She could easily be pushed out.
Because when it comes to gender, men tend to band together especially quickly.
The outcome that Su Yu and He Tian were dissatisfied with was exactly what the other six men were uniformly satisfied with.
They genuinely thought the situation was bad, but this handling of it was already very good. They could never develop the kind of mindset He Tian had—”I want to beat that scumbag to death.”
They believed Nie Kuizhang had already paid the price for this—admitting fault, apologizing, having half his medicine taken away.
That was good enough. Six men—or at least five of them—were very satisfied with the resolution.
Su Yu returned to her own place, opened the female residents’ group chat, and found everyone chatting animatedly. They were talking about this very matter.
He Tian had posted a lot of angry messages.
Everyone was comforting her, and also expressing disappointment with how the matter was handled and with Jiang Cheng.
He Tian: [Su Yu went to talk to her. We’ll see what she says when she gets back.]
Su Yu read that, was silent for a moment, then typed: [I’m back. I’ve finished talking with Jiang Cheng.]
[What did Jiang Cheng say?]
[Why didn’t she step in and left it all to the men?]
[They should just kick that fat bastard out of the neighborhood! They kicked out that cleaner before! Kick him out too!]
[Those men are definitely going to cover for each other—didn’t Jiang Cheng realize that?]
Jiang Cheng realized that exactly, which was why she didn’t step in.
Su Yu concisely relayed her conversation with Jiang Cheng to everyone in the group.
The chat went silent.
After a long while, someone said: [What she said… does make sense…]
Su Yu continued typing: [Jiang Cheng asked me what makes a floor leader a floor leader, and then I thought—what made me think I had the right to remove Nie Kuizhang from the position?]
[It was “morality” and “law.”]
[When I figured that out, I suddenly realized that right now—at this stage—neither morality nor law seems to…]
[Matter anymore.]
The chat fell silent again for a long time.
Someone said pessimistically: [Are we entering some kind of primitive, law-of-the-jungle society?]
Someone tried to reassure: [It’s not that bad.]
But “not that bad” isn’t a complete negation—it’s an incomplete negation, which is as good as an incomplete affirmation.
So the screen didn’t refresh for a long time.
No one posted.
Su Yu sat in front of her computer, unable to stop herself from biting her knuckles.
Jiang Cheng had said: I’ll do my best to maintain order and keep our neighborhood from deteriorating to an irreparable point.
Look at me—I’m just an ordinary girl like you.
I don’t have any special power to restrain others.
So I have to first secure my say in the interim committee. I can’t let them join forces and kick me out.
Su Yu knew everything Jiang Cheng said was right, but she felt terrible.
That terrible feeling started at the back of her neck and traveled all the way down to the very last vertebra of her spine.
It hurt everywhere.
Leave a Reply