Jiang Sui went to the property management office, only to be refused service on the grounds that she was not an owner. They wouldn’t even let her join the group chats.
She argued for a long time, but they refused to budge. In the end, an older aunt quietly told her the reason: since the lockdown began, the property staff were under immense pressure.
There were always unreasonable residents causing trouble. They had to handle supply distribution, deal with urgent resident issues, and endure constant harassment from irrational people. Everyone was on the verge of collapse every single day.
They truly couldn’t take care of tenants like her. The aunt looked exhausted and begged Jiang Sui to understand. She suggested she go find neighbors instead—get added into supply-purchase groups through them, and then collect supplies together at the community gate with other residents.
Following the aunt’s advice, Jiang Sui knocked on the door of a neighbor on the same floor.
They lived diagonally across from her in a large unit with a family of six. The one who opened the door was the wife, Sister Lin. She looked kind and friendly, immediately adding Jiang Sui on social media and pulling her into multiple supply groups one by one.
She even told her which group sold cheaper items—but quantities were limited and required staying up late to grab orders.
Jiang Sui took notes carefully and thanked her.
Before leaving, she saw a chubby little girl, about four or five years old, peeking her head out curiously at her.
Their eyes met, and the girl immediately broke into a shy smile before retreating back inside.
Very cute.
Jiang Sui felt a little healed by that and her mood improved.
She returned to the rented apartment. The moment she opened the door, she met Xie Yanhán’s gaze.
But he only glanced at her briefly before looking away again.
After a long exhausting day, Jiang Sui was starving. She cooked a pot of rice, mixed three different canned foods into fried rice, and made seaweed soup on the side.
A proper meal with meat, vegetables, and soup.
Perhaps because she had been too tired and under too much pressure lately, even such a simple meal almost made her tear up from how good it tasted.
She ate hungrily, cheeks puffed up like a squirrel, her chestnut hair clipped messily with a shark clip, stray strands falling softly around her face.
Xie Yanhán quietly watched her and slowly took a bite of rice.
The canned-fried rice was unexpectedly fragrant.
As he chewed, he suddenly remembered the day he was whipped—when he had a fever and lay unconscious on the floor of a small study. In that haze, he had smelled a similar aroma of fried rice.
Back then, he thought it was a hallucination, because Jiang Sui had never cooked before.
His gaze slowly swept over her face.
Soft brows, curled lashes, bright almond eyes glistening like glass. Her cheeks puffed up as she ate, full of life and brightness.
For a moment, she felt unfamiliar.
It was Jiang Sui—but also not Jiang Sui.
Thinking back, she had been completely different since that day.
Had she been replaced?
“Jiang Sui.”
He suddenly spoke.
“Huh?” She looked up, eyes bright. “What is it?”
Her reaction to the name was normal—no hesitation, no delay.
“Nothing.”
She rolled her eyes halfway, as if trying to but stopping herself at the last moment.
Jiang Sui wouldn’t have made that expression.
“If there’s nothing, then eat more,” she said, picking up a jar of pickles. “Want some?”
He shook his head and continued eating.
But the moment she lowered her head again, he looked back up and silently watched her.
When she lifted her head again, he immediately looked away as if nothing had happened.
Halfway through the meal, Jiang Sui spoke again.
“I joined a few supply groups. We should be able to get vegetables and fruit tomorrow. Do you have anything you like or dislike? Any allergies?”
Xie Yanhán slowly looked at her.
“None.”
She didn’t believe him.
“No preferences at all? Nothing you especially like or hate?”
His eyelashes lowered slightly, a faint trace of something like loss flickering across his face.
After a long pause, he said again:
“No.”
That reaction made Jiang Sui think of his miserable background.
The Xie family treated him badly. The Jiang family had raised him like a dog. Hunger was normal for him. Someone who had never been properly fed had no right to be picky.
She suddenly felt a little sorry for him.
“Alright,” she said. “I’ll just buy everything randomly then. You can try them all later.”
Xie Yanhán lowered his gaze and ate quietly, the faint amusement at the corner of his lips carefully hidden.
To Jiang Sui, he was still just a gloomy, quiet, pitiful man with a tragic life story.
And that was good.
After dinner, Jiang Sui helped him onto the bed and told him to rest and play on his phone if needed.
The room quieted down.
She collapsed onto the sofa, and only then did the pain set in—bruises from the car accident, soreness all over her body, exhaustion from running around all day.
She curled up and finally checked her phone.
The news was full of notifications.
More cities had reported strange contamination—giant moths scattering glowing powder, mutated fish surfacing in rivers…
With outbreaks spreading everywhere, the national administration officially announced a nationwide lockdown.
Videos of mutated humans and animals flooded the internet, along with soaring prices, shortages, and disappearing medicine supplies. The panic was almost tangible.
She even felt like she could do a military drill just from watching.
Too tired to move, she scrolled for a while, then messaged the female lead, Jiang Shuangxue, asking how she was.
She replied politely: I’m fine. How about you?
“I’m okay too,” Jiang Sui replied. “It’s dangerous outside now, and there are infected people. If you go out, bring weapons and protect yourself.”
“I understand. Thank you. You too.”
They exchanged a sticker, and Jiang Sui felt slightly better—another successful “familiarity boost.”
She turned over and looked toward the balcony.
Night had fallen. City lights gradually lit up the skyline, still dazzling and prosperous from afar.
If one ignored the occasional gunshots and skyrocketing supply prices.
She eventually placed orders for meat, eggs, vegetables, fruit, and dry goods at extremely high prices.
Even though everything was getting more expensive, she didn’t hesitate.
She also ordered clothes for the upcoming temperature drop. Logistics still worked—for now.
Exhausted beyond thought, she fell asleep.
The room fell silent.
No one knew how long had passed before the sound of a wheelchair rolling broke the stillness.
Xie Yanhán pushed open the slightly ajar door and looked toward the sofa.
Jiang Sui was curled up there, messy hair spread out, her face softly lit by a night light. Her eyelashes were closed, breathing steady, completely defenseless.
He moved closer, stopping half a meter away.
Expressionless, he stared at her for a long time.