When it rains, it pours.
The plague wasn't over, and now the power was out too.
That night, Chu Yian could faintly hear the sound of someone crying. The muffled sobs, thick with hopelessness, were carried far by the cold night wind in the darkness.
Game: Day Eleven
With the power still out, Chu Yian had to rethink her food strategy.
Frozen items could last a day or two more, but fresh ones would spoil if not eaten soon.
She pulled out a large slab of pork belly and some beef, thinking about how to preserve them.
The beef could be dried into jerky.
The lean part of the pork belly she'd stir-fry.
The fatty part—she'd render into lard.
As she sliced off the fat, she suddenly regretted not buying more of it. Properly rendered and stored, lard could last a long time at room temperature.
She fried the fat, strained out the crispy bits, then sprinkled them with sugar—kind of like duck skin from Peking duck.
Not bad. Pretty tasty, actually.
She stir-fried the lean meat with peas.
While she worked, she heard a commotion outside the compound.
She set her pan down and went to check.
Three black cars rolled in and parked along the road downstairs. About a dozen people stepped out—completely covered in long sleeves, gloves, masks. Each of them held a long metal rod.
Then, they ran straight toward the building across from hers.
BANG. BANG.
The main entrance was forced open.
The group rushed in. Screams and cries for help followed immediately from the first floor.
Thugs. Raiders.
Home invaders.
Chu Yian quickly turned off the gas and cautiously peered out the window. Her view was blocked by the building across, but she caught glimpses of figures moving past the windows.
They looted several apartments, carrying out food and medicine in their arms before jumping into their cars and speeding off.
[Robbery! Oh my god—home invasion! What is going on?!]
[Are there no laws left?! Don't they care about being punished once this disease is over?!]
People who hadn't been robbed filled the group chat with fear and outrage, condemning the attackers.
[I live just below them. They almost hit my place next—Jesus.]
[Who were those people? How many apartments did they hit?]
[They got up to the third floor of Building 2. That's nine families.]
Someone more informed answered:
[No idea where they came from. Their plates were removed, faces and bodies all covered. They stormed in, looted whatever they could. If anyone resisted—they got beaten.
Several people were injured. All their food and meds were taken.]
Then came this message:
[I think we should try to help them. If you have extra supplies—anything—please share what you can. Let's get through this together.]
Silence.
In this kind of situation, who had anything extra to give? Everyone was already rationing every grain of rice. If you had food, you were lucky.
The person kept pushing for donations, and some of the victims began pleading for help.
Photos came through: bruised faces, bloodied arms, crying elders, frightened children.
Each one worse than the last. It was hard not to feel sympathy.
Chu Yian felt it too.
But she didn't dare offer anything.
She couldn't afford to be known as someone with stockpiles.
If word got out, she'd be the next target.
Some people spoke up:
[I can spare a bag of rice.]
[I have a little flour. Just a bit.]
[I've got two bottles of soda—don't know if that helps, but it's something.]
Eventually, three or four households stepped up.
[Thank you. Please message me privately. Just leave the items at your doors—we'll collect and redistribute them among the victims.]
The group chat buzzed again with life.
Chu Yian read the messages, feeling a small sense of relief.
Then she closed the window, turned the stove back on, and finished cooking.
That night's meal: sweet pork cracklings and stir-fried pork with peas.
She packed up a portion and knocked on the apartment across the hall.
Lu Qingyuan opened the door faster than usual.
His first words:
"Don't give anything to anyone."
Chu Yian froze.
…Wasn't that exactly what she was doing?
"That group chat—just read it. Don't speak. Don't offer anything. Don't trade. And your drone—stop flying it outside."
It was the most he'd ever said to her.
But his point was clear: Stay invisible.
"Got it," Chu Yian nodded.
Something about Lu Qingyuan—maybe his aura from the last game—made her trust him instinctively.
He took the food from her hands. "Wait here."
Huh?
Chu Yian stayed put, watching him disappear inside.
Thirty seconds later, he returned holding a metal rod—looked like a rebar or something similar.
He walked toward the sealed elevator.
Chu Yian followed, glancing at the rod, then the doors—
She immediately understood.
"Wait, Teacher Lu!" she called, hurrying back to her apartment.
She returned with two pairs of sterile gloves—new, unopened.
She put one pair on and handed the other to him.
Lu Qingyuan gave her a surprised look, then put them on. Adjusted his mask.
Then—he pried the elevator doors open with the rod.
The shaft was empty.
The elevator was stuck somewhere between the seventh and eighth floors.
He wedged the rod into the mechanism, making sure it couldn't activate again, even if power returned.
After that, he brought out two more rods and some rope.
Together, they sealed off the stairwell with a makeshift barrier.
Their entire floor was now a sealed zone—no one could get in or out easily.
Safety.
At least, for them.
But not for everyone.
That night.
In the pitch dark, a blood-curdling scream split the silence.
"Robbery! Someone's robbing us!"
"Don't touch my stuff!"
"You bastards—I'll fight you!"
"Help! Anyone—please—help…"
Voices—men, women—desperate, crying, furious.
And yet no one came to help.
The same neighbors who were helping one another just that afternoon—now, they stayed quiet. Silent.
Eventually, the chaos faded.
Only the occasional sob floated through the wind.
It was deathly quiet.
Much later, a single message appeared in the group chat:
[One of the families who gave out supplies this afternoon… they got robbed.]
No sounds of escape.
No car engines.
It had been someone from inside the compound.
Chu Yian broke out in a cold sweat.