Jiang Cheng also went back to work.
As soon as President Peng saw her, she said, “You’re getting a promotion.”
She had to promote her, because there was no one left.
President Peng said, “You need to go on a business trip.”
All of Jiang Cheng’s colleagues who had been on business trips in other cities when the zombie outbreak hit had completely lost contact.
Neither their bodies nor their whereabouts could be found. This was the norm during the zombie crisis.
The bodies incinerated at the youth apartment complex, and the ones later hauled away by the government—to their families, they were all people who had vanished without a trace.
If their families were still alive, that is.
The people were gone, but the company’s equipment and materials were still there—those were company assets.
And there were also clients’ unfinished projects. Would they terminate the contracts due to “force majeure,” or postpone and resume later?
Someone had to go deal with it.
So Jiang Cheng got her promotion and truly became the “little supervisor” she had claimed to be to Li Jiangbing.
Jiang Cheng went to the office in the morning and went home in the afternoon to pack her luggage.
Mo Li actually ate very little cat food. But Jiang Cheng still left him a large bowl full.
Mo Li could open the window himself, and he came and went freely every day. He didn’t need Jiang Cheng to carry him in and out through the front door at all.
And Jiang Cheng believed that Mo Li definitely had the ability to hunt outdoors as well.
“I’m going to be away for a long time. You stay home and behave, and don’t transform casually,” Jiang Cheng said.
She tried to simplify the message as much as possible and transmitted it to Mo Li through telepathy.
During the assault on Renxin Hospital, the moment Jiang Cheng saw the state of the few zombies in the corridor outside the cannibal doctor’s room, she knew Mo Li must have transformed at that time.
No one had seen him.
But Mo Li showed none of the exhaustion from his first transformation after his second one.
The first time he transformed, it was probably because he had been badly injured before and hadn’t recovered yet, which was why he had been so drained.
Now there was nothing to fear. Her little black cat was a magical being that could absorb the essence of sunlight and transform into a great beast.
Jiang Cheng turned the faucet to a drip so Mo Li would have water to drink if he needed it. There was also a fountain in the courtyard of the complex. The water had been changed recently, and many of the neighborhood cats drank there.
After arranging all that, Jiang Cheng dragged her suitcase and got ready to leave.
But Mo Li bit down on her pants leg.
“No. I can’t take you this time. I have to take a plane.”
Mo Li held on and wouldn’t let go.
Helpless, Jiang Cheng crouched down, stroked his furry little head, and tried hard to convey the message:
[Going out.]
[A long time.]
[Safe.]
Mo Li finally let go of her pants leg and watched her walk out the door.
With a snap, the front door closed, leaving Mo Li home alone.
Mo Li sat in the entryway, his tail curled around his paws, his head tilted up, staring at the tall, imposing door.
All alone.
Jiang Cheng boarded her flight without incident. She had just gotten off the plane and arrived at the hotel when her phone rang. It was Song Jingshuo.
He said, “A restaurant with great ambiance just opened near our company, and I got a reservation. Want to have dinner together tonight?”
“Can’t make it.” Jiang Cheng held the phone between her ear and shoulder, busy pulling clothes and shoes out of her suitcase. “I’m on a business trip. Wait until I get back, and the three of us can have a meal together.”
Song Jingshuo: “…”
Song Jingshuo had actually wanted to have dinner with just Jiang Cheng.
But Jiang Cheng sounded busy on her end, and it wasn’t a good time for a proper conversation.
He asked, “When will you be back?”
“Hard to say. I have to visit three cities. We’re shorthanded now, so my boss is working each of us like three people.”
Song Jingshuo had no choice but to say, “Then I’ll wait for you to get back.”
Jiang Cheng agreed: “Okay.”
Even while out of town, Jiang Cheng still watched the news every day.
City S was highly efficient and had rolled out many policies, such as rent reductions for merchants and tax rebates for businesses.
And those merchants and businesses whose property had been damaged during the disaster could apply for government compensation.
Deputy Mayor Zheng had become Mayor Zheng.
Secretary Sun had become Deputy Mayor Sun.
Deputy Mayor Sun appeared on television for the first time. He might have appeared before, but at the time, no one knew who he was.
Jiang Cheng had spoken to him on the phone several times, and now she finally knew what he looked like.
Whether mayor or deputy mayor, they had all become high-up figures she couldn’t reach.
Government agencies were starting to resume operations.
Police, firefighters, and doctors were all back on duty.
Markets and supermarkets had all reopened. Truck drivers were working at full capacity, shipping all kinds of daily necessities from production sites to distribution hubs, and from distribution hubs into the city.
A massive blood transfusion. The entire city had been reinfused with life.
New situations kept emerging one after another, and new policies kept being rolled out to address them.
For example, the police department would not accept missing persons cases during the epidemic period.
They couldn’t process them—if they did, just registering the information alone would exhaust the police force to death.
This matter was delegated down to the streets, neighborhood committees, and property management companies to conduct a large-scale census of the resident population.
Similarly, they would not accept cases of property theft—especially the seizure of survival supplies.
This included everyone’s “zero-yuan shopping” at the Duomai Supermarket.
What people grabbed in the early days were survival supplies. As for the non-survival goods that mysteriously disappeared later—dishes, mops, rags, dish soap, washbasins, and the like—the supermarket couldn’t be bothered to track them down and simply applied for government compensation across the board.
But homicide cases still had to be accepted.
The homeowners of Shanshui Yayuan filed a collective report.
And they had evidence.
Back then, owning a digital camera or handheld camcorder was considered advanced and trendy.
Some households in Deqingli had those too.
But most people believed that surveillance cameras only existed on the streets. The vast majority had no idea that cameras could also be installed inside homes.
Because most people lived in small apartments and didn’t need any surveillance.
But the homeowners of Shanshui Yayuan, who lived in large villas, generally had surveillance cameras installed throughout their properties.
The survivors of Shanshui Yayuan had preserved the evidence.
The entire process of the family massacres had been recorded—ironclad proof.
Many people from Deqingli were taken away. Handcuffed and loaded into police vans.
Their families wailed and sobbed: “Then how were we supposed to survive? Those selfish bastards only cared about themselves!”
But it was useless.
Murder is murder. Murderers must pay with their lives.
There were also a few scattered households from nearby neighborhoods who reported that their husbands/children’s fathers had gone out one night to meet someone at Jixiang Jiayuan and never returned.
These were missing persons cases and were theoretically not accepted.
But in one of those households, the wife’s father was a police officer. With his son-in-law gone, the father-in-law still went to look into it.
Zhou Wang, as the community manager and organizer at the time, was visited for questioning.
Zhou Wang said, “There was such a day. Our neighborhood had thieves. I even put on the wrong shoes when I ran downstairs. Most of them got away; we caught a few, beat them up, and chased them off.”
This middle-aged man was exceptionally calm.
His gaze was direct, his answers smooth and unhesitating.
And with his extensive criminal investigation experience, the father-in-law knew this man was lying.
He questioned a few more residents, mainly those on the lower floors. Since his son-in-law and his group had come to steal, they would have definitely targeted the lower levels.
Everyone gave the same story as Zhou Wang.
All of them were lying.
Collusion.
The father-in-law took a stroll around the neighborhood, looked up, spotted the courtyard surveillance cameras, and asked to review the community’s footage.
Zhou Wang said apologetically, “They were burned. There was a fire back then, and all the equipment was destroyed.”
No witnesses, no evidence.
The father-in-law thus knew that this was the end of the line for his son-in-law’s case.
When he told his daughter, she burst into wailing tears: “He was beaten to death, wasn’t he? He’s dead, isn’t he—”
He might have been beaten to death, or he might have been thrown to the zombies. Either way, it was no longer traceable.
The father-in-law smoked several cigarettes in a row and urged her to live on for the sake of her child.
What was past was past.
The gym where Li Jiangbing worked had reopened.
His boss had been applying for those rent-relief policy benefits all these days, and every day he pressured them to bring in new members.
Otherwise, they’d go bust and everyone would be out of a job, left to starve.
Li Jiangbing was no longer Brother Li, striding confidently through the neighborhood.
He was once again the big, loud-mouthed personal trainer, handing out flyers in the neighborhood and hustling to recruit people.
He had built up quite a bit of goodwill during the disaster. And back then, people had indeed exercised actively to stay alive, and he had given many of them guidance.
Many people, mindful of the bonds formed during the disaster, signed up for memberships with him.
Li Jiangbing was all gratitude and smiles, buttering people up left and right.
After a long day of work, he went home and collapsed onto his bed. Turning his head, he caught sight of the armor set in the corner.
Pale white.
Some stains wouldn’t wash off—they were his battle scars.
Many people who used to call him “Brother Li” now addressed him as “Jiangbing” instead.
Lying in bed, Li Jiangbing felt like the era when everyone called him “Brother Li” belonged to a hundred years ago.
The clubhouse owner finally came back.
And then all hell broke loose.
Because the swimming pool was heavily contaminated.
The trash had all been removed, but the pool was absolutely filthy.
Everything had its priority. Back then, Zhao Yi still had to show up at the Duomai supply point to work as labor for Li Feng. The trash here had already been cleared, so it wasn’t urgent and got put on the back burner.
By the time the supply point was dismantled, Zhao Yi did think about cleaning the pool, but by then it was impossible to organize any volunteers.
The unity forged during the crisis had dissipated like quicksilver the moment the crisis was over.
The clubhouse owner stormed over to the property management office, kicking up a fuss and demanding compensation for the cleaning costs.
The property manager wasn’t a pushover either and wasn’t about to take the blame.
He peeled a form off the wall and shoved it at the clubhouse owner: “Go talk to them.”
The form was a contact list of the temporary committee members from during the crisis.
Everyone’s building number, apartment number, and contact information were on it.
The very first name on the list was Jiang Cheng, Building 2, Unit 0306.
The manager added snidely, “The first one on the list is the person in charge.”
The manager had heard way too much about Jiang Cheng these past few days.
Everyone at the property management office was afraid of her.
She had driven Liu Hongwang out.
She had, in effect, pronounced Liu Hongwang’s death sentence right then and there.
After hearing that story, the manager knew that this “Miss Jiang” was not someone to mess with.
So he simply passed this troublesome matter along to the troublesome person.
The clubhouse owner charged straight over to Jiang Cheng’s place, but she was away on her business trip. So he called her instead.
After listening to him, Jiang Cheng told him, “You can apply for government compensation.”
The owner said, “That’s my business. You people dirtied my pool, so you have to pay.”
Jiang Cheng said, “Then go ahead and sue all the homeowners. If the court rules in your favor, we’ll pay.”
Jiang Cheng hung up, plugged her laptop into the hotel’s Ethernet cable, opened the group chat, and notified everyone: [The clubhouse owner came looking for me. I advised him to apply for government compensation. He wants us to pay, so I told him he can sue all the homeowners.]
Everyone replied: [The government already has a policy for that.]
[Let him do whatever. The court won’t accept it anyway.]
[I feel for him, but there’s nothing we can do.]
The owner actually went ahead and filed a lawsuit.
He applied for government compensation and sued all the homeowners at the same time. He wanted to have his cake and eat it too.
But the court wouldn’t accept the case.
“Cases of this nature during the disaster period are not accepted. Just apply for government compensation.”
The court threw cold water on him outright.
The police wouldn’t accept it either. The policy was clear: property losses incurred during survival efforts during this period were not accepted—just apply for government compensation.
The owner’s scheme didn’t pan out. Disgruntled, he ended up having to pay for the cleaning himself and wait for the government compensation to come through.
The exercise equipment that had been distributed to the lobbies of each building was also moved back to the clubhouse, and the small gym reopened.
But word got around that he had tried to sue all the homeowners. And his attitude had indeed been atrocious, which rubbed everyone the wrong way.
That pool had not only been filled with garbage—the remains of the cremated bodies had also been collected in there.
Even after the pool was cleaned and reopened, no one went.
People from other neighborhoods would come to use it, and someone would inevitably make a remark. Soon, people from the surrounding communities found out too.
The clubhouse business was particularly bleak. No one went to the coffee room or the gym anymore.
Soon, a sign appeared on the front door: “SUBLEASE AVAILABLE, CONTACT 139XXXXXXXX.”
This actually turned out to be a boon for the gym where Li Jiangbing worked—one less competitor.
Around this time, Master Zhou finally got in touch with a welder with cutting experience.
The property manager negotiated a price with him, and the welder showed up at the youth apartment carrying his tools.
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