The atmosphere at Youth Apartments was also heavy.
During the day, everyone had been casually sipping soda and chatting, and the zombie remains in the yard had been cleaned up—it had felt like a fresh start.
But then the evening news aired: an entire day of rescue efforts, and only that tiny patch of S City’s map had been lit up.
Reality hit hard.
Most people didn’t have maps on hand, but many instinctively stood in front of their TVs, using their hands to measure the distance on screen and estimate the progress.
After their calculations, silence fell.
At that moment, the loudspeaker in the hallways crackled to life: [Testing, testing, testing? Can everyone hear me?]
There was also the sound of intercom communication in the background: [Can you hear us on your end? Oh, oh—everyone can hear? Alright then.]
Another voice said: [We’re good to go.]
After that, the microphone clearly switched to someone else, and Jiang Cheng’s voice came through: [Good evening, everyone.]
The speakers echoed through the corridors. Many people opened their doors and crouched by the thresholds to hear more clearly.
Jiang Cheng’s voice rang through all six buildings in the neighborhood: [You’ve all seen the news. It’s not looking good.]
[Even worse than I anticipated.]
[Given the current situation, the chances of us going out as a group are relatively small. Now that the government has launched rescue operations, it’s safer to stay put and wait.]
[After this broadcast ends, I suggest everyone take stock of your supplies—especially food. Buyduo has already been cleaned out by us and the neighboring complex; there’s basically nothing edible left there.]
[This means our initial food supply projections may have been too optimistic. From now on, the supplies we have on hand need to last us until rescue arrives.]
[First, count what you have. Then plan your daily consumption. I recommend rationing your meals reasonably.]
[According to feedback from Zhao Yi, the garbage collected over the past two days still contains a lot of food waste. I suggest we stop that.]
[The situation has changed. I urge everyone to adjust your usual eating habits and cherish the food we have.]
[Keep in mind that many of our neighbors nearby are going hungry.]
[There have already been serious incidents in Jixiang Jiayuan. In extraordinary circumstances like these, once something like that starts, it’s likely to spread as supplies run out.]
[Besides preventing food waste, the interim committee will also hold a meeting tomorrow to discuss neighborhood security.]
[Before national rescue and supplies arrive.]
[I hope everyone can take care of themselves.]
[The interim committee will do its best to maintain order.]
[Good night.]
The broadcast went silent.
In the hallways, neighbors exchanged glances. No one looked happy—everyone’s brows were furrowed.
Several sighs echoed at once.
People filed back into their apartments to recount their remaining food supplies, calculate exactly how much they consumed each day, and figure out how many days their stockpile would last.
At the property management center, Gao Yuxuan looked a little nervous and asked Jiang Cheng: “Are we going to face a famine?”
“Probably not. Our food supply is still relatively adequate. We should be able to hold out safely until the rescue troops arrive,” Jiang Cheng replied. “But it’s still good to put a little pressure on everyone. Zhao Yi said that among the trash collected this morning, there was a failed cake.”
The cake hadn’t risen—it had collapsed, so they threw it away.
That was probably how they’d done things before.
But this was no longer “before.”
Hearing her say that, Gao Yuxuan felt relieved.
Jiang Cheng patted the microphone: “This thing really comes in handy.”
In the current situation, having a broadcast system that could reach every household in the entire neighborhood was far more effective than making phone calls or sending group chat notifications.
Jiang Cheng didn’t hold back her praise: “You and Zhao Yi—you guys have really been a huge help.”
When she complimented someone, her dark, bright eyes looked directly at them, carrying ten parts appreciation and twelve parts sincerity.
Gao Yuxuan rubbed the back of his neck happily and said, “Just using my expertise, that’s all.”
Jiang Cheng gave a small smile.
If Song Jingshuo, the finance guy, was the quintessential elite, then Zhao Yi and Gao Yuxuan were the classic hands-on technical geeks.
Li Jiangbing, the personal trainer, was clearly more of a streetwise social type.
And then there was Su Yu—a girl with a bit of kindness and a bit of courage.
Jiang Cheng found that she really enjoyed observing these people. Even the cleaner surnamed Liu whom she’d expelled from the neighborhood was included.
Everyone was so interesting—each one fascinating in their own way, and putting them all together made it even more compelling.
As Jiang Cheng had said, the residents of Youth Apartments at least didn’t have a food shortage for now.
Jiang Cheng had already inventoried her own stockpile. The most important thing was rice—people’s staple grain.
Originally, she’d had one and a half bags of rice at home, each 5kg.
On Sunday, during the first trip to Buyduo, she’d carried a backpack and pulled a handcart—her carrying capacity was very limited, and she’d only brought back three bags of rice.
But on Monday, during the second trip, she’d grabbed a shopping cart, which doubled her carrying capacity. She’d scored five bags of rice that time.
Now she had a total of just over nine bags of rice.
She didn’t eat much—under normal circumstances, with side dishes, she consumed 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, sausages, salted eggs, meat pastes, and pickled vegetables—her rice consumption had gone up a little.
Even so, she had enough to last at least three months.
But not everyone was as well-stocked as she was.
Despite her repeated emphasis on prioritizing staple foods and canned goods during the supermarket runs—and the limited carrying capacity—she’d still spotted people with chips, preserved plums, and other snacks in their carts.
Plus, men ate more than women. Jiang Cheng couldn’t estimate how long each person’s stockpile would last; they’d have to do the math themselves.
But thanks to those two shopping opportunities, Youth Apartments as a whole shouldn’t face a food crisis before rescue arrived.
Even Mo Li wasn’t short on food.
During both shopping trips, Jiang Cheng had gritted her teeth and sacrificed some carrying space to grab cat food for Mo Li.
Now, Mo Li’s body had even miraculously evolved to the point where he didn’t need to eat during the day—just sunbathe.
Mo Li only ate one meal at night before bed, and not much at that—he ate like an ordinary little cat with a tiny stomach. At that rate, the two bags of cat food plus what she’d already had at home would easily last Mo Li several months.
With food in hand, there was no need to panic.
Jiang Cheng said in the group chat: [Let’s meet tomorrow for a discussion. Is there any enclosed space in the neighborhood we can use for the meeting?]
Previously, when they’d met in the small plaza, a lot of residents would crowd around, eavesdrop, and even interrupt.
Some topics shouldn’t be directly participated in by all the residents. The interim committee needed to reach a consensus internally before presenting a unified front externally. So Jiang Cheng wanted to find an enclosed space.
In the end, Song Jingshuo said: [Come to my place. My unit’s a bit bigger.]
He gave his apartment number.
It turned out he lived in a duplex unit in Building 4.
The vast majority of Youth Apartments were small single-occupancy 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 open studio.
From a housing perspective, it was tiny.
But for a single person living alone, it had a living area, kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom—fully functional and more than enough.
The only larger unit type in the complex was in Building 4, and Song Jingshuo had bought exactly that—60 square meters, spread over two floors.
[Alright,] Jiang Cheng confirmed. [10 a.m. tomorrow.]
She could naturally wake up early—so could Song Jingshuo. But others might not. It wasn’t a workday, so there was no need to drag people out of bed and make them miserable.
Maintaining order and everyone’s mental state in the days ahead was exactly what Jiang Cheng planned to discuss with the interim committee tomorrow.
Finding an enclosed space for the meeting was to ensure they could get on the same page internally before facing the residents.
So, waiting at the clubhouse gym early Thursday morning was to get on the same page with Song Jingshuo before facing the interim committee.
Song Jingshuo was excellent at communication and organization—a highly charismatic figure.
If it weren’t for Jiang Cheng, the outsider transmigrator, he would have been the soul of Youth Apartments’ interim committee.
But now, he also acknowledged that the soul of the committee was Jiang Cheng.
Jiang Cheng had guessed that someone as self-disciplined as Song Jingshuo would definitely show up at the gym in the morning. There was nowhere else to go and nothing else to do anyway. Someone like him wouldn’t let himself sink into lethargy—the more he saw others’ dark circles from staying up late and waking up late, the more disciplined he became.
Sure enough, Song Jingshuo appeared in the gym, draped in morning light.
“Jingshuo,” Jiang Cheng called him.
This wasn’t the first time she’d addressed him by his given name alone. Whenever she did, it meant she needed something from him.
Song Jingshuo paused and sighed.
Jiang Cheng: “…”
Song Jingshuo draped his towel over his neck and walked over to her: “Didn’t you say communication with me doesn’t require any auxiliary techniques?”
Jiang Cheng smiled, her eyes curving into crescents.
Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, falling on her shoulders. Her hair was dark and lustrous.
Song Jingshuo’s resistance melted: “Go ahead. Just say it straight.”
“The rescue won’t reach us for at least half a month,” Jiang Cheng said. “Several thousand people are going to be cooped up in this neighborhood for half a month.”
Song Jingshuo’s expression turned grim.
He said, “I was up all night thinking about this.”
Anyone who’d ever led people knew—wherever there were people, there was drama. Where public security was weak, crime would breed.
Several thousand able-bodied adults locked in a neighborhood with nothing to do—and mostly male at that.
Many people wouldn’t even think of these things, but Song Jingshuo had been mulling them over until the early hours.
Of course, it was also because he was a core member of the interim committee—he had a responsibility to think more and worry more than others.
She only had to start, and Song Jingshuo understood.
He said, “Don’t worry. You and I—we’ll be perfectly aligned.”
His tone was resolute.
Seeing Jiang Cheng already waiting here early in the morning to discuss this issue was incredibly reassuring. At a time like this, having reliable partners was more comforting than anything.
“You and me,” he said, “and Jiangbing too—the three of us have to stay united.”
Truly someone on the same wavelength—Jiang Cheng didn’t need to waste a single extra word.
This was exactly what she’d wanted to hear from Song Jingshuo.
“Jiangbing’s solid,” she said, raising her hand to give a thumbs-up in front of her chest, then tilting her chin toward the treadmills. “Come on—let’s hit the machines.”
At 10 a.m., the interim committee members gathered at Song Jingshuo’s place.
His home was indeed the largest unit in Youth Apartments—60 square meters on a single floor. But the committee now had quite a few members, so the place was still packed.
The sofa and coffee table were full of people. They were all young anyway, so no one stood on ceremony—many just sat right on the floor.
“Government statements never waste words,” Jiang Cheng said, sitting on the dining table, higher than everyone else. “When I heard those four words—’order for survival’—my heart sank.”
“And there was ‘rebuild’ before that.”
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