Shen Hanyin wandered around for a while before finding a secluded corner. After making sure no one was nearby, she pulled out her plastic bag and took a bag of chips, a chocolate bar, and two packs of spicy strips from her space, stuffing them inside. With the baseball bat in one hand and the plastic bag in the other, she headed home.
On the way back, she could feel people watching her.
More precisely, they were watching the black plastic bag and the baseball bat she carried.
In the end, however, no one made a move.
Going outside was just an act anyway. If she stayed cooped up at home all the time, people would start getting suspicious.
Since no one tried to rob her, she was perfectly happy to keep things easy. It wasn’t that she feared others, but avoiding trouble was always better than inviting it. A year of mixed martial arts training gave her a significant advantage over ordinary people, but Haicheng was a large city. Plenty of capable people existed out there. Being cautious could only help.
As for the firearms, under circumstances where order hadn’t completely collapsed yet, she absolutely could not reveal them.
If any government authority was still functioning, her short life in this disaster might end before it had truly begun.
Back at Building 9, Shen Hanyin ran into a married couple returning home as well.
The moment they saw the clearly food-filled plastic bag in her hand, their eyes practically burned with resentment.
During the early days of the rainstorm, when Shen Hanyin and the others had looted the supermarket, the husband had known about it. He had been furious at the time, though he blamed himself more than anyone else for lacking the courage to join them. Inwardly, he’d cursed them, hoping they’d be punished once the floods ended.
Instead of punishment, however, he had watched them return again and again with inflatable boats loaded with supplies.
By then, food had already become scarce.
When he had tried to buy some, they had rejected him outright.
Now, after spending an entire day searching without finding anything, he returned empty-handed only to see this young man carrying food home.
How could he not be jealous?
How could he not be angry?
Shen Hanyin slowed her pace slightly and watched the couple enter the sixth floor.
The hatred in their eyes left a deep impression on her.
She would need to be careful around them from now on.
Over the next several days, she repeated the same routine.
Everything remained peaceful.
Nothing happened.
Until the fourth day.
As soon as Shen Hanyin stepped outside, she heard crying and shouting echoing through the stairwell.
The elderly woman from the ninth floor stood outside the eighth-floor emergency exit, gripping a mop handle.
One moment she begged.
The next she cursed.
A crowd had gathered around her. Some offered comfort, while others quietly condemned whoever was behind the locked door.
When the old woman exhausted herself from crying, she began smashing the steel door with the mop.
Naturally, it didn’t even leave a dent.
Shen Hanyin had no idea what had happened, nor why the woman was so heartbroken.
She had no intention of getting involved.
Then the old woman suddenly rushed over and grabbed her arm.
“Young man, you’ve got a stick. Help me break the door open, please!”
Shen Hanyin remained still.
Her baseball bat wasn’t any more effective than a mop handle against a steel door.
The old woman’s voice trembled.
“He ate my Huanhuan! He even stole my food! Is he still human?!”
Shen Hanyin’s heart skipped a beat.
Huanhuan.
The corgi.
The one she had petted before.
Seeing no response, the old woman turned back toward the door, pleading desperately for Huanhuan to be returned.
Shen Hanyin’s clenched fist slowly relaxed.
She couldn’t save it.
Instead of going out, she returned to the seventeenth floor and hugged Suisui tightly.
Suisui had no idea what was happening.
The cat only felt that its servant was petting it so aggressively that it might end up bald.
Compared to most animals, Shen Hanyin generally preferred dogs.
Of course, Suisui was the exception.
But she couldn’t save that corgi.
Nor could she save the many dogs that might die in the future.
Not just dogs.
People too.
Men.
Women.
The elderly.
Children.
Even infants.
She reminded herself again and again:
Don’t soften your heart.
The only lives you need to protect are Suisui’s and your own.
…
One morning, Shen Hanyin left her apartment and ran into Li Yuan.
Li Yuan raised a hand and greeted her enthusiastically.
She responded with little more than a nod.
She didn’t want to isolate herself completely, but she also didn’t want to become too involved with others.
Emotional attachments clouded judgment.
Seeing that she wasn’t interested in chatting, Li Yuan wisely stopped trying and left with his wife in another direction.
This time, however, Shen Hanyin’s return trip wasn’t so peaceful.
A man suddenly rushed forward and tried to snatch her plastic bag.
She dodged.
Three more men immediately closed in, surrounding her.
All four carried spiked clubs.
Shen Hanyin set her plastic bag on the ground.
It was time for her first real fight.
These men were clearly ordinary civilians.
They had no technique and no coordination.
The moment an opening appeared, Shen Hanyin swung her bat.
Crack!
The club smashed into one man’s leg.
A miserable scream followed.
She distinctly heard the sound of bone breaking.
The remaining three froze.
Seeing that she had no intention of continuing the attack, they hurriedly dragged their injured companion away.
Shen Hanyin picked up her plastic bag.
The crowd of spectators quickly dispersed.
No matter the era, there would always be people who loved watching trouble.
Or people hoping to profit from it afterward.
…
The next day, just after breakfast, a helicopter appeared overhead.
Military personnel had arrived.
The announcement spread quickly:
Food would be distributed at Times Square.
Each person could receive one package upon presenting their ID card.
Distribution hours would be from 9:00 a.m. to 12:00 p.m.
Guli No. 1 Residential Complex was about a thirty-minute walk from the square.
Shen Hanyin didn’t need food.
But she still intended to go.
This was the military’s first visible action in more than a month.
At 7:30, she lounged around for another half hour before finally heading downstairs.
Cheers filled the neighborhood and surrounding streets.
For over a month, everyone had lived under crushing anxiety and despair.
Now their voices were louder.
Their spirits lighter.
The military’s appearance had given people hope.
…
Two military trucks stood in Times Square.
Nearby, a row of soldiers stood guard with rifles in hand.
When Shen Hanyin arrived, four lines already stretched far into the distance.
She wasn’t interested in collecting supplies herself, so she skipped the queue and moved closer to observe.
Each person received:
One package of compressed biscuits
Two bottles of mineral water
One bag of bread
The water bottles were frozen solid.
Many recipients complained.
Unfortunately for them, the military’s response was silence.
Faced with rows of rifles and expressionless soldiers, few dared voice their dissatisfaction.
The food might taste terrible, but it would keep people alive.
Many who had already collected their supplies remained in the square, watching.
Then someone bumped into Shen Hanyin.
Turning around, she saw an elderly man.
The man ignored her completely and walked straight toward the front of a line, cutting ahead of a young woman.
The woman immediately protested.
The old man acted as if he were entirely justified.
A man from farther back in line strode over and dragged him out.
“Stop cutting in line.”
The old man instantly sat down on the ground.
“Murder! They’re killing an old man! My legs don’t work right, and now they won’t even let me get food!”
The younger man was clearly furious.
But with soldiers nearby, he held himself back.
“Get in line.”
The old man ignored him and continued making a scene.
…
“What’s going on here?”
A military officer approached.
Everyone pointed at the old man.
“He cut the line.”
“Get in line.”
The officer dropped the instruction and turned to leave.
The old man grabbed his sleeve.
Then came the full performance:
Crying.
Shouting.
Making threats.
His voice was loud and shrill.
In the minus twenty-degree weather, everyone’s patience was already exhausted.
Eventually, someone sighed.
“Just let him go first and get it over with.”
Others agreed.
The old man immediately sprang to his feet.
Not a trace of frailty remained.
He started toward the front of the line.
Then—
The officer drew his pistol.
The barrel pointed directly at the old man’s forehead.
“Get in line.”
The old man froze.
In all his years, no one had ever reacted this way.
He pressed his forehead against the gun and continued forward.
“Who are you pointing that thing at? I’ve lived more than half a lifetime—”
Bang!
The gunshot cut him off.
His body slowly collapsed onto the frozen ground.
The entire square fell silent.
From gasps of shock to complete silence, it took less than a second.
Chinese soldiers were supposed to be the people’s soldiers.
They didn’t shoot civilians.
At least, they never used to.
This had only been an unreasonable old man.
People had been annoyed by him.
Nobody had wanted him dead.
A chilling thought spread through the crowd.
Could these soldiers be impostors?