When a group of people organizes and gains a bit of strength, they start to feel powerful.
But when the state shows its might—when armored vehicles roll in, stained with blood and dragging severed limbs, followed by supply convoys in solemn, silent formation—everyone present couldn’t help but feel small.
The front of the armored vehicles was covered in dark brown—zombies had blood too, but it wasn’t bright red—it was a very deep, dark brown.
Severed limbs hung from the tracks. An arm was wedged in the treads, rotating with them, slapping the ground with every turn.
Even if there were fewer zombies on the Fifth Ring Road, they weren’t absent. The Fifth Ring was 110 kilometers long. From the south of the city, they had to pass through the South, East, and West Fifth Rings to reach the North Fifth. One could only imagine how many zombies the lead convoy had crushed along the way.
The convoy didn’t stop. It ignored the crowd gathered at Wanzhuang Bridge and continued steadily forward.
A few people jumped up in frustration, ready to chase after it, but were held back by others who scolded: “Didn’t you read the government notice yesterday? Echelon advance.”
Echelon advance—the frontmost vehicles had to reach the farthest destinations.
The supply convoy entered the Fifth Ring from the south of the city, traveling both east and west, and would meet at a certain point on the North Fifth Ring. That point was the endpoint of this supply run.
Wanzhuang Bridge was still some distance from that point.
The first convoy of trucks wasn’t destined for Wanzhuang Bridge.
Another half hour passed, and two more convoys went by. Many people grew anxious: “When is it our turn!”
Someone even suggested a bad idea: “Let’s set up roadblocks and stop the trucks. They’re all for the people anyway—what difference does it make who gets them? We’re people too!”
Some actually agreed.
But when it came to actually driving someone’s car into the middle of the road as a barrier, no one was willing.
In the end, they dragged over some water-filled barriers from the intersection and placed them in the middle of the road.
Peng Ze saw it from the bus roof: “Some people want to block the convoy!”
He said: “According to the announcement, the next two convoys aren’t for Wanzhuang either—it’s the one after that.”
He’d been staying on the roof, craning his neck: “What do we do?”
Peng Ze was a somewhat simple, somewhat passionate young man. He didn’t have many ideas of his own, but he trusted Jiang Cheng completely—if she said something, he followed without hesitation.
He felt that blocking the road was a bit unethical, but if it worked, they’d get supplies sooner. He could understand those people—many of them were probably desperate with hunger.
Because he understood, he was conflicted.
Jiang Cheng said: “We just need to get our supplies. Don’t worry about anything else.”
Don’t worry about what others do, and don’t worry about whether this convoy was meant for them.
Peng Ze said “Yeah!” and stopped overthinking.
He was actually curious too—could those water barriers really stop the convoy? And if they did, what would happen?
Ten-some minutes later, another convoy arrived.
Each convoy was led by an armored vehicle. But the later ones looked much better—less zombie blood, no clearly visible severed arms or legs.
The convoy rolled in.
Most people shared the same mindset: blocking the convoy was definitely wrong, but in times like these, “right” and “wrong” didn’t matter as much. If they could stop it, they’d rush up and grab supplies.
They had nothing to lose.
With that mentality, everyone stared at the lead armored vehicle.
Unfortunately, the armored vehicle didn’t slow down at all—it even sped up, smashing straight through the water barriers.
One barrier was knocked over and crushed by the tracks—probably just like the zombies had been crushed. Everyone heard that teeth-grinding crunch, and debris flew everywhere. The people standing nearby panicked and scrambled behind their cars.
The convoy still didn’t stop. Their destination wasn’t Wanzhuang Bridge. They rumbled on.
Li Jiangbing happened to turn his head, ready to laugh at those people, but instead saw Jiang Cheng watching the convoy disappear into the distance—with a faint smile at the corner of her lips.
He turned to look—the convoy was already gone.
He asked: “What are you staring at?”
Jiang Cheng looked away and sighed: “It’s beautiful.”
Li Jiangbing was baffled: “Huh?”
Jiang Cheng’s eyes held appreciation: “Armored vehicles.”
Li Jiangbing: “Oh, you’re a military enthusiast?”
Jiang Cheng: “Not really. I just kind of like them—maybe because of these special times.”
The decisiveness and ruthlessness as they crushed everything in their path. The silence and solemnity of the entire convoy.
[A steel torrent.]
Jiang Cheng’s feeling could be summed up in those four words.
She kind of liked it. Liked it a lot. Liked it too much.
Li Jiangbing made a steering wheel gesture: “Who wouldn’t like it? Sitting in one of those, driving straight over everything—rumbling along—so badass. No fear of zombies.”
But Jiang Cheng’s feeling went beyond just “liking.”
[I want to possess one.]
She didn’t know why that thought crossed her mind. In theory, that kind of thing wasn’t something an individual could own.
But that “in theory” was probably “in theory” for “Jiang Cheng.”
Not for Jiang Cheng.
Finally, the convoy responsible for the Wanzhuang Bridge drop point arrived!
As Jiang Cheng had said, supplies were meant for “people.” So although the youth apartment’s four buses were a bit farther from the others, when they saw the convoy coming, they waved frantically and shouted.
The lead armored vehicle did slow down, and the trucks behind also decelerated.
The first truck passed, the second passed… When the last truck was still a short distance from the four buses, it raised its cargo bed, and cardboard boxes and burlap sacks tumbled out the back in a clatter.
There were many people there to receive supplies. Even though the youth apartment’s four buses had positioned themselves at the farthest spot, some cars and people were still next to them.
As the cardboard boxes rained down onto the road, those people surged forward.
But the youth apartment had already discussed this—they’d even rehearsed during the wait. Everyone knew exactly what to do.
A dozen physically imposing people—whether burly, fat, or tall, anyone with a commanding presence—formed a human wall, blocking the oncoming crowd.
Shouts erupted: “Back off!”
“Go get yours over there!”
“This side is ours!”
Li Jiangbing’s brawny frame, Nie Kuizhang’s towering bulk—both were in that human wall.
Naturally, some people angrily wanted to demand, “What gives you the right?”
But facing a row of burly men, each holding a steel pipe of identical size and length—all wearing the same colored fabric strips on their arms or foreheads—the scattered individuals had no courage to confront such a unified front. They swallowed their protests and quickly turned to chase the convoy instead!
The trucks in the same convoy also unloaded in echelon. The ones at the rear unloaded first, then the ones in front. Supplies were dropped on the slow lane, and after unloading, the trucks merged into the fast lane.
The youth apartment’s human wall kept people from rushing over to grab their supplies.
The rest of their team focused entirely on hauling.
They’d brought four shopping carts from Biduoduo, one for each bus. Besides that, the young men carried boxes and sacks in their arms, on their shoulders, running load after load to the buses.
There were too many people—chaos everywhere.
Those who’d been waiting for hours swarmed the trucks before they’d even merged into the fast lane, grabbing wildly.
By the time the convoy disappeared, many had already come to blows.
Not everyone there was a man, nor were they all young—curses, screams, and even sobs rang out. The scene was utter pandemonium.
On the other side of the human wall, where people wore purple fabric strips, everything was orderly.
But these people had taken way too much supplies!
As the supplies on the slow lane vanished at an alarming rate, while the group on the other side of the human wall kept methodically hauling away, some who’d gotten nothing finally threw caution to the wind and tried to break through.
“You still have so much!”
“These are government-issued supplies! What gives you the right to take it all!”
It was genuinely pitiful—understandable, really.
So Li Jiangbing just barked and shoved them back with his bear-like hands: “Back off! Back off! Didn’t you hear me! Keep pushing and I’ll—”
But before he could finish, Nie Kuizhang had already kicked out!
Su Yu had just picked up a cardboard box and turned around just in time to see it—
Nie Kuizhang was tall and fat, with a massive frame. The force of his kick sent the person flying backward, crashing to the ground several meters away with a heavy thud.
Those who’d been lurking on the sidelines, thinking of slipping through the human wall in the chaos, backed down. They realized these people in purple fabric strips weren’t joking—they really were organized as a gang, seizing and hoarding supplies.
A strange melancholy washed over everyone’s hearts.
No one had time to figure out why they felt that way, but the feeling surged up all the same.
It was a feeling of powerlessness.
In truth, the youth apartment wasn’t the only organized community.
But unlike the youth apartment, where everyone wore the same colored fabric strips on their arms or foreheads—making them instantly recognizable and preventing internal conflict—the other organized communities fell apart mid-scramble. Not everyone knew every neighbor to begin with, and in the chaos, who could tell whether someone was from their own complex or another? They shoved whoever came near, and it escalated into fists, hair-pulling, even weapons.
Many people ended up bleeding.
Facing the youth apartment’s organized, disciplined, and calm ranks, many felt helpless.
How could you, as an individual or a family, contend with so many organized young men?
How could you possibly grab any supplies?
Su Yu held the box and watched for a few seconds.
Jiang Cheng stood just behind the human wall. Though the people in front were all tall and burly, that didn’t stop her from seeing everything.
She stood there precisely to control the scene and react quickly if anything happened.
But when Nie Kuizhang kicked the man down, Jiang Cheng showed no reaction at all. She just kept standing there.
Su Yu could only see her back, not her expression. But the fact that she didn’t move meant she saw no need to stop or correct Nie Kuizhang’s actions.
She thought it was fine.
Su Yu paused for only those few seconds, then turned back and carried the box onto the bus.
The stretch of road the youth apartment had claimed held a large amount of supplies. But this trip wasn’t calculated per person—it was a collective operation. The scavenger team was grabbing supplies for the entire neighborhood’s residents.
In the minds of the youth apartment people, after taking everything back and dividing it evenly, each person wouldn’t get much.
But in outsiders’ eyes, these people with the big buses and purple fabric strips had taken way too much.
Damn them.
One by one, the private cars began to leave. The roadside, which had been as crowded as a vegetable market, gradually quieted down.
The four buses also began to turn around.
By now, there were no traffic rules at all. The traffic lights were still automatically cycling, but no one obeyed them anymore. The buses simply drove up onto the sidewalk to turn around and went the wrong way down the road.
They rejoined the Jixiang Jiayuan convoy on the way.
Li Jiangbing stuck his head out the window: “Old Zhou! Old Zhou!”
Zhou Wang rolled down his window, his head covered in blood.
Li Jiangbing: “How’d you get hurt?”
Zhou Wang sighed helplessly: “Too many people, too chaotic.”
Li Jiangbing grinned and asked: “How was the haul?”
Zhou Wang looked up at the tall buses. Through the windows, he could see the supplies piled high—cardboard boxes stacked with burlap sacks on top.
He felt a pang of envy and replied: “Better than nothing.”
Su Yu sat on the bus, on this side too, watching up close as Li Jiangbing talked to Zhou Wang in his car below.
She glanced ahead. Nie Kuizhang, being very fat, had taken up a double seat by himself—no one squeezed in with him.
And in the row right in front of Su Yu sat Jiang Cheng and Song Jingshuo.
Suddenly, a strange thought popped into Su Yu’s mind.
She knew, of course, that Li Jiangbing was Jiang Cheng’s particularly trusted right-hand man. Everyone said privately that among the interim committee’s core members, Jiang Cheng, Li Jiangbing, and Song Jingshuo were the iron triangle.
People thought Li Jiangbing and Jiang Cheng were almost like siblings, while Song Jingshuo and Jiang Cheng had likely become a couple.
Nie Kuizhang was also a core committee member and a floor leader, but he didn’t have such a close and special connection with Jiang Cheng.
Su Yu knew all this.
But the strange thought that suddenly came to her was this: Both Li Jiangbing and Nie Kuizhang were physically imposing figures. Yet their personalities and characters were completely different. Setting aside feelings, personal relationships, and existing factions—just looking at the current environment and evaluating individual ability—who would Jiang Cheng actually value more?
Would it really be Li Jiangbing?
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