Once they confirmed that Lan Jin and Huang Jingke's home still had food, Ling Jiang and Lao Gao finally breathed a sigh of relief.
"That's great," Lao Gao said. "I was just wondering how we were going to manage if there was nothing to eat. If you've got supplies, even better. We can trade with you, or you can write it down and we'll pay you back once the rain stops and we get more materials."
Ling Jiang agreed without hesitation. "Yes. Even if you have supplies, you paid for them. We're not just going to take them for free. Let's figure out something fair to trade."
"Alright," Lan Jin said simply.
She was willing to share, but she had never intended to give away supplies for nothing. The fact that they offered to trade saved her from an awkward conversation. And just like Ling Jiang said, she had spent money to stock up. Why give it away for free? A borrow-and-repay arrangement was ideal—it avoided resentment that could fester over time.
With the supply problem settled, only safety remained to be addressed.
"I wonder how long this rain will last," Huang Jinghe said, looking at the water outside. "The water's already so high, and no one's doing anything about it."
In the past, Lan Jin would have had an answer ready in her mind: the rainy season would last three months, the flood would rise to the eighteenth floor, and then this disaster would end. Then she would die.
Now, she truly didn't know. But surely it wouldn't flood past the thirtieth floor.
…Right?
…Probably?
Still, the week-long downpour had already thrown their plans into disarray.
Lao Gao sighed. "We were talking about stocking up on other things before, but I guess that's not happening now. And it's getting colder, too."
"It's January. It's supposed to be cold," Ling Jiang said in a tone that was half scolding. "You should be wearing more at home. If you get sick, there's no medicine to buy now."
The temperature outside was between five and seven degrees Celsius—time for heavy winter coats. Yet Lao Gao was still in just a long-sleeved T-shirt. He was clearly freezing. If it got any colder, even Lan Jin would have to dig out her down jacket.
Of course, little Qiao Qiao was already bundled in her puffy coat, though kids and adults were different.
Still, cold was cold. Lao Gao's thin clothes were no match for it. He glanced down at his own outfit, then at the warm layers the other three wore. Fine. He would put on another shirt.
…
Since Su Han's death, another middle-aged man from the eighteenth floor, Qian Jun, had gradually become the new figure of authority in the building.
Unlike Su Han, who was always hesitating and worrying about everyone's opinions, Qian Jun was the opposite—impulsive, aggressive, and self-serving. His first targets had been the weaker residents of the building. He didn't care who else starved as long as he could eat.
But food was scarce, and within just two days, everything was gone.
Now, his eyes turned toward the thirty-second and thirty-third floors.
But people still remembered the last time—they had lost badly.
"Brother Qian, we couldn't beat them even with a bigger group last time. You think we can win now?" one man muttered. It felt like walking into a beating.
"If we don't go, we starve," Qian Jun said matter-of-factly. He quickly gathered those willing to follow, armed them, and headed upstairs without wasting a moment.
This time, he had a new plan. They couldn't win head-on, but what if they didn't face all four? If it was just two women, surely the odds would improve.
And since women were usually weaker than men, their targets became Ling Jiang and Lan Jin.
Plus, Lan Jin had a dog.
Dog meat seems delicious.
Qian Jun had twelve people. The corridor on the thirty-second floor couldn't fit them all, so he stationed two outside the stairwell door and two more inside, blocking the exit so no one from upstairs could come help.
The remaining eight would deal with the two women. Qian Jun felt confident enough.
But things did not go as planned.
As soon as the stairwell door opened, Nana noticed the movement and warned Lan Jin. Lan Jin immediately grabbed her walkie-talkie to alert the others. Ling Jiang, already suspicious, was standing ready at her own door.
"Sister," Ling Jiang said into her walkie-talkie, "your warning's a little late for me."
Lao Gao's voice came through, relaxed. "Want me to come down?"
"No. The corridor's small, and you're too big—you'll just get in the way. Lan Jin, you stay inside too."
Before anyone could say more, Qian Jun banged on their doors. "Listen up! I'm your neighbor from downstairs. You've got five minutes to hand over all your food, or I'll break in and take it.
You've got old folks, kids, and even a dog. I've brought a dozen people, and we've blocked the stairwell. You can't call for help unless you open that door. Be smart, hand it over, and I might let you live."
Ling Jiang snorted. "Like I need you to give me a way out."
She flung the door open and charged. She went straight for Qian Jun, wrenched his weapon away, and then let loose. In less than a minute, every man in the corridor—including the stairwell guards—was on the ground, groaning in pain.
Ling Jiang frowned slightly. She hadn't even hit that hard. Were they really this weak?
Qian Jun glared at her, cursing—but stopped mid-sentence.
From where he stood, he could see Lan Jin's expressionless face. More importantly, he could see the gun in her hand, aimed directly at them.
In the past, he would never have believed Lan Jin had such a weapon. But last time, she had injured people the worst despite holding back the most. Now, faced with the sight of her holding a gun, he couldn't dismiss the threat.
"You can't scare me with that thing," Qian Jun said, though his voice trembled. "I wasn't raised to be afraid."
"Why don't you try me and see?" Lan Jin said, taking a step forward.
Qian Jun instantly stepped back, fear washing over him. "Sorry! Sorry, we were wrong! Please let us go, we won't dare again!"