Chapter 65: Priority Goes to Miss Jiang

Sun Jingtao lived on a higher floor, so he didn’t feel things as acutely.

But the rest of the owners who were still “defending their rights” were basically camping out in the downstairs corridor, sleeping on the floor, and their discomfort was much more direct.

There was no way they could spend every day in fear and nausea at the sight of a rotting corpse, so, without even needing to discuss it, everyone raised their hands and unanimously voted against the idea.

3202 was empty, but it was right next to Jiang Yan’s living room. Sun Jingtao was worried it might affect her.

The others were even more wary of Jiang Yan than he was.

If she was unhappy with how things were handled and came out to “bang”—shoot someone—it wouldn’t be impossible.

As for He Chunmei’s apartment, it was clearly livable, so they couldn’t put the body in there either.

In the end, they simply moved the corpse and the remains to the 31st floor for now, planning to burn them all together once they found some kerosene.

After all, it was pouring rain outside every day, and the power had been out for ages. They weren’t worried about starting a fire.

Earlier, when Ye Qing interrogated Guan Sanqiang, he’d confessed that among the supplies Liu Dahong’s group had stashed on the 17th floor, there were a few 1,000ml barrels of kerosene.

If they didn’t go now, someone else might sneak in and take them later.

The mop was quickly stained red with blood.

There were still some instant rice packs, Snickers bars, and self-heating hotpots left, but they’d already leaked and spoiled in the heat.

The bloodstains on the floor tiles were noticeably less, but the whole 32nd floor corridor still looked like hell on earth.

Most of the blood on the tiles and walls had already dried.

Su Dai, who had been hiding in her apartment, cautiously observing the outside, finally opened her door and came out.

But they’d all heard—or even secretly witnessed through the crack of their doors—the brutal events upstairs. In the end, all they could do was bluff with threats like, “Hurry up and deal with it, or you’ll be sorry,” but nothing came of it.

No matter how you looked at it, those who are close to the water get the moon first; flowers facing the sun bloom earlier in spring.

Sun Jingtao frowned in thought for a few seconds, then sighed, “Fine.”

“What else can we do? Everyone go home, find your own family.” Sun Jingtao lowered his eyes to glance at his worried wife, and said unhurriedly.

Liu Dahong had clearly lied to Jiang Yan, making empty promises.

But as Sun Jingtao said, the reason they’d managed to win and get the supplies was inseparable from Jiang Yan’s involvement.

But now, after experiencing life and death once again, all he wanted was to go home and be with his wife.

After all, today they’d risked their lives to take out the property management people.

Everyone felt like they’d just been force-fed dog food* for no reason—their stomachs, which had been growling with hunger, suddenly felt full.

[*dog food: slang for witnessing public displays of affection]

After all, if not for her today, things would have turned out very differently.

A group of people soon marched to the 17th floor, where the property management had stored supplies.

Earlier, because of the urgency and his sense of responsibility, he’d had to take the lead.

As for being the leader, he really wasn’t interested.

The main contributors who deserved the supplies were themselves.

Everyone was a bit indignant, wishing they could drag Liu Dahong and the others out and flog their corpses.

Anyway, no one in the building had anything now; what they had most was time.

Tian Jiliang pushed up his glasses, looking worried:

But when it really comes to facing death, who can truly face it calmly?

Sun Jingtao glanced over everything and said,

“As for these supplies, my personal suggestion is: let’s set aside one share of each item for Miss Jiang in 3201. The rest, we divide equally among ourselves. What do you think?”

After all, when the underground was scorching hot, they were so short on water they had to drink their own urine.

But he understood a lot of things very clearly in his heart.

There are no secrets that don’t get out.

If you search floor by floor, you’ll find what you’re looking for eventually.

The others immediately caught on: “Yeah, Tao-ge, the supplies are important—take us there!”

The property management would rather let these supplies rot here than share them—they’re truly heartless and cruel.

When the door opened, everyone was stunned.

The lock was quickly pried open.

The couple, having survived the ordeal, just hugged each other tightly in silence.

“Tao-ge, why don’t we strike while the iron’s hot and find Liu Dahong’s supply stash? Otherwise, who knows what might happen if we wait too long,” Ye Qing said coldly, glancing at the group.

There were six boxes of canned bread, eight boxes of bagged sugar, twenty boxes of braised beef-flavored instant noodles, five boxes of dehydrated beef jerky, ten boxes of canned meat, eight boxes of dehydrated vegetables, seven boxes of dried fruit, eight boxes of compressed biscuits, and thirty cases of small bottled mineral water.

Everyone looked at each other for a second: “...”

What you see through the peephole and what you experience in person—the shock of the bloody smell—are worlds apart.

Ye Qing went straight to He Chunmei’s master bedroom, tore off the bedsheet, and followed behind Sun Jingtao’s wet mop, using his foot to hold it down and wipe away the bloodstains.

Su Dai gagged and almost turned back, but seeing her husband still working nervously in the pool of blood, she gritted her teeth and forced herself to walk quickly over to him.

Who knew when the rain would stop? Every bit of supplies meant a little more hope of survival.

Some people who’d lost their wives in the “blood mosquito” incident had already started to quietly miss the nagging, bad-tempered, but great-cooking woman they used to call “old hag.”

Among everyone present, Sun Jingtao and Ye Qing were the best fighters, and it was clear they were on the same side.

“Tao-ge, I agree with this plan. But I noticed that even though she wore a mask today, her complexion and state were obviously way better than ours.”

Fortunately, the latter was smart enough not to fall for it.

Everyone was having a hard time now—some were even thinking about ending it all.

Sun Jingtao listened to Ye Qing, pondering for a second.

So-called “warehouse supplies” actually only filled half a bedroom.

So, even if people had objections, no one dared speak up.

Even if it was just temporary storage for a few days, the four households on the 31st floor were clearly against it.

Everyone present had heard about the property management hoarding supplies.

“Go ahead, honey, I think Xiao Ye is right,” Su Dai said, seeing her husband frowning.

Sun Jingtao simply went to He Chunmei’s bathroom, found a filthy cotton mop, stuck it out the window to soak in the rain, and quickly mopped the corridor.

His name was Tian Jiliang; he used to work in investment at a local listed company in Anming.

The leaderless crowd looked at Sun Jingtao in confusion and hope, like headless flies.

After all, his family was big, with elderly and children, all waiting to be fed.

“Tao-ge, what do we do now?” Seeing Su Dai, eyes brimming with tears, poking her head out of Sun Jingtao’s arms, the bespectacled man finally spoke up.

He wasn’t much of a talker in daily life.

The tap water had long since stopped, so there was no way to wash the floor.

And that Miss Jiang—just looking at her, you could tell she wasn’t short on food or clothing, the type who only needed to feed herself and didn’t care about anyone else.

Of course, the others weren’t happy about it, since it meant their own share would be smaller.

People are unpredictable even in normal times, let alone in an apocalypse.

Her family was probably well-prepared, lacking nothing, and she probably wouldn’t care about these ordinary supplies anyway.”

“Yeah, I bet she won’t even want them. I’ve never even heard of some of these brands,” others chimed in.

Before they could finish, Sun Jingtao raised his hand and cut them off:

“Whether she wants them or not is her business. Whether we offer them or not—whether we show our respect and attitude—is ours.”"