There were too many unoccupied, ownerless units.
Of course, the owners’ family members might come to handle things later. If they did, the keys would be handed over.
But it was already foreseeable that quite a few units might not even have family members left.
Wait—there was too much to deal with right now. Those things could wait.
The property manager asked Guo Jun: “So what do you guys want?”
Guo Jun laid out their request. The property manager understood—Guo Jun and his people didn’t want to move out.
Because everyone knew these units were “ownerless” now. They’d all been nursing hopes of taking advantage of the situation.
The property manager understood perfectly—because he had his own ideas too.
There were so many empty units. Guo Jun’s people had only taken over seven, and the property staff hadn’t taken many either. Compared to the total number of vacant units, it was nothing.
And right now, the property management was desperately short-staffed.
Everyone was short-staffed—every industry, every position. Too many people had died.
In the end, the property manager and Guo Jun reached an agreement: they’d work part-time for the property management to cover their rent.
After Guo Jun and his people left, Master Luo asked: “So what about us…?”
The manager said: “Stay.”
It was common in many neighborhoods for property management to use owners’ empty units without notice.
An owner would buy an apartment, leave it untouched for a year, then come back ready to renovate—only to open the door and find a dozen metal bunk beds crammed inside, turned into a collective dormitory for thirty people.
This was standard property management practice.
The manager said: “If family members come looking, we’ll deal with it then.”
After over a month of shutdowns and work stoppages, suddenly resuming operations meant there was a mountain of things to do.
The manager asked: “What’s with that meeting room?”
Why was the door welded shut?
Master Luo explained what had happened at the time.
The manager listened in astonishment.
“This ‘Miss Jiang’ is quite ruthless,” the manager said. “Who is she?”
Guo Jun and his people had mentioned “Miss Jiang” when they were talking. Yang Xinyan had also said this was from “Miss Jiang” when she handed over the form.
Miss Jiang this, Miss Jiang that—everyone kept mentioning “Miss Jiang.”
Who was she?
Master Luo: “She lives in Building 2, Unit 0306. I’m in 0308 now, right next door.”
The property manager had no recollection of the female owner of Building 2, Unit 0306.
With over a thousand people in one neighborhood, it was impossible to remember everyone.
But the meeting room couldn’t just be left alone.
The manager asked: “What’s inside…?”
Master Luo: “We don’t know either. At the time, someone inside smashed the surveillance cameras.”
The manager didn’t want to hear about it. It had finally passed—like a nightmare he didn’t want to relive.
But the meeting room couldn’t be ignored. They had to open the door.
The manager went over and knocked: “Is anyone there? Anyone still alive?”
Yang Xinyan shrank behind Master Luo: “There can’t be anyone…”
It had been over a month.
Even if someone had survived by eating human flesh, they’d have responded to a knock by now. And so far, the authorities hadn’t reported any cases of infection without mutation.
But by that logic, there should be at least one zombie inside.
Yet no matter how many times the manager knocked, there was no response.
If there were a zombie, it would have been slamming against the door long ago.
Everyone was now very familiar with the behavior of original and second-generation zombies.
The manager said: “We need to find a way to open it.”
Removing the weld would require an angle grinder.
Master Luo: “The angle grinder is broken.”
Over the past month, Cui Haiyang and his group of engineering guys had been modifying protective gear at high intensity and had worn out several tools. Now the property management was short on both tools and people.
And welding was one thing—removing it was another. They’d need a welder with experience in demolition.
The manager said: “Go find a welder. Get one to come take care of it.”
But welders were hard to come by right now too.
Today, only essential jobs were resuming operations. Small private businesses—like eateries, small shops, and independent contractors—hadn’t restarted yet. They’d have to wait a few more days.
For now, the manager first sorted out the schedules for the cleaners and security guards, getting the neighborhood back to a normal state of maintenance.
Then he planned to go check out those vacant, ownerless units and see what he could do with them.
Master Luo remembered something: “We owe Miss Jiang and Mr. Song money.”
The manager listened to his explanation and wasn’t pleased: “Why did you spend money at all? During the disaster, weren’t people just taking things for free?”
Master Luo argued back: “That was the very first day. No one dared to take things for free back then.”
He’d recorded in a little notebook exactly what they’d bought and how much it cost, and now he showed it to the manager.
In fact, they were supposed to restock the kitchen that day anyway. The delivery person would have gone to the accountant to settle the bill after dropping off the goods.
It was a legitimate expense.
The manager grumbled, but because Master Luo insisted, he had the accountant pay it out.
“Be smarter next time,” he said. “You should have just taken things from the start.”
What kind of talk was that? Was that even human?
Next time.
There were too many things to handle, too many details. Jiang Cheng wasn’t omniscient—she was bound to forget some things.
Like the property meeting room.
Like those vacant, ownerless units.
Guo Jun and his people’s situation reminded Jiang Cheng of something. She asked in the group chat: [Does anyone have Peng Ze’s emergency contact?]
She wanted to remind Peng Ze’s parents to reclaim his apartment.
She’d heard that over the past month, some people who’d gotten close had exchanged emergency contact numbers with each other.
In case something happened to them.
But no one in the group had exchanged numbers with Peng Ze.
Su Yu: [I’ll go ask.]
After a moment, she replied: [He Tian said Peng Ze’s parents have been unreachable since day one.]
Jiang Cheng stared at the screen for a long time, then lightly typed: [Got it. Thanks.]
At noon, Mayor Zheng delivered a speech.
[Countless touching stories have emerged.]
[United in heart, weathering the storm together.]
[I declare that the zombie disaster in S City has come to an end.]
It was over.
One by one, cities across the country declared the disaster over.
Humans had reclaimed their living space.
Of course, it wasn’t completely over. Some areas were still conducting mopping-up operations.
Even in a big city like S, there was no guarantee of 100% clearance. There might still be a zombie or two lurking in some overlooked corner or crevice.
But they no longer posed a threat to the entire city.
So—it could be declared over.
Jiang Cheng was lost in thought when she heard someone open a window and shout into the courtyard: “It’s over—it’s over—”
Soon, many others joined in.
Chaotic cheers erupted.
Just like when the interim committee had led everyone in clearing out the neighborhood back then.
Jiang Cheng smiled.
And then she thought… Is that it?
Is this world really that simple?
How boring.
That evening, Master Luo came to her door and handed her an envelope: “The money you and Mr. Song fronted back then.”
Jiang Cheng had nearly forgotten about that.
She took it and asked about the housing situation. Learning that Guo Jun, Master Luo, and the others could continue staying in the vacant units, she said: “That’s good.”
Master Luo stood outside the door, feeling that Jiang Cheng—just a step away—seemed somehow different from before.
He went back to his room and told Sister Pan about it.
Sister Pan was folding freshly washed clothes and said: “Ah, back when Xiao Jiang was in charge, she had to be tough so people would listen to her. Now that she doesn’t have to manage things anymore, of course she’s different. She’s relaxed.”
Master Luo thought his wife was right.
On July 24th, the bus finally brought back the last batch of militia members.
The militia’s mopping-up operations were finished, and the militia itself was disbanded.
Li Jiangbing had come back four times in total during that period, each time resting for just one day before signing up for the next batch.
This time, he was finally back for good.
Some companies had gradually started resuming operations, but many still hadn’t. Some people had even lost their jobs outright—their bosses had died, and their companies were left unmanaged.
So there were still plenty of people in the neighborhood staying home idle.
When word spread that the last batch of militia had returned, everyone came out to see.
Li Jiangbing had been a big, sturdy man before. Now he was a tanned, big, sturdy man.
More precisely, he was now a partly tanned, partly spotted big, sturdy man.
Because the armor had holes for breathability, it had left his arms with two-toned patches—little dark circles dotting the pale skin.
He carried a worn-out backpack, held a solid steel spiked club in one hand, and clutched an extra-large set of armor under the other arm.
He was beaming.
Song Jingshuo’s mouth twitched: “You actually managed to bring one back?”
Li Jiangbing turned around, facing away from Song Jingshuo, and shook his massive frame.
The beat-up backpack on his back jingled and clattered.
Li Jiangbing looked supremely proud: “Full set!”
It turned out the backpack contained the arm and leg guards.
In theory, after the militia disbanded, all the armor should have been returned.
But this was the final end. The armor would have just ended up in storage anyway, so when the militia members asked to keep it, they were allowed to take it back.
In fact, the armor in the New Tech District had all stayed in civilian hands too.
Li Feng had brought it, but when he left, he never mentioned taking it back—everyone had tacitly treated it as a consumable, like rice and cooking oil.
So basically, all the fighters who’d participated still had their own sets of armor at home.
Jiang Cheng and Song Jingshuo’s armor were both still in their apartments.
Cui Haiyang rushed over: “Let me see, let me see—is that a spiked club?”
Zhao Yi crowded in: “How did you even get to bring this back?”
Li Jiangbing grumbled: “Don’t even mention it. I wanted to bring back a machete, but they wouldn’t let me. I talked their ears off and only managed to get this club.”
Zhao Yi: “Of course—blades are regulated.”
Several other people had brought back their protective gear too. But Li Jiangbing was the only one who’d brought back a spiked club.
Everyone who’d been in the militia had told stories about the standard-issue weapons—machetes and spiked clubs—and that you could choose whichever felt better in your hand.
But most people were seeing one for the first time.
A bunch of guys lined up to take turns swinging the club, pretending to smash zombies.
The people in the back kept urging: “Hurry up, hurry up, you’ve had enough. Just swing it a couple of times—there are so many of us waiting in line.”
Song Jingshuo and Jiang Cheng followed Li Jiangbing to his place.
After he’d carefully put away his precious armor, Li Jiangbing chatted with them: “The last few days were just mopping up. It’s pretty much all done—the whole city’s pretty much clear.”
Even if a few stragglers remained, they wouldn’t need this many militia members anymore.
The large-scale sweeps were over. For any sporadic cases, the police, city management, and civilians could handle it together.
It was over.
“I made a good chunk of money. Are any restaurants open yet?” Li Jiangbing said happily. “I’m treating you both to a meal.”
But Jiang Cheng burst his bubble: “Only two restaurants on the food street have opened, and they’re completely booked. You’re saving money.”
A lot of people were itching to go on a revenge spending spree when it came to food, but the restaurants had lost staff, and many places were still contaminated.
The government had mandated that the food and beverage industry had to be thoroughly decontaminated before they could operate.
Song Jingshuo said: “I got a notice from my company today—I’m going back to work tomorrow.”
“Oh, work…” Li Jiangbing sighed.
What a strange word. It sounded like something from a past life.
Song Jingshuo asked Jiang Cheng: “What about you?”
Jiang Cheng was about to answer when her phone rang. The caller ID showed “President Peng.”
It was her boss.
Jiang Cheng: “…”
What an incredible jinx.
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