Hatred for Zhang Yi and hunger for his home temporarily welded the two "plastic sisters" into an alliance. They paced and whispered, trying to work out how to take his house.
"To take his place, it's just the two of us won't cut it. We need help," Lin Caining said. Even in ordinary times they couldn't overpower Zhang Yi; now they were cold and ragged while he was well-fed and rested.
Fang Yuqing glared. "Call the neighbors? Are you stupid? Even if Zhang Yi has supplies, they won't feed a crowd. The fewer people who know, the better."
"So what then?" Lin Caining pressed.
Fang Yuqing's eyes lit up. "Zhou Peng."Zhou Peng was Fang Yuqing's loyal simp—eager, obedient, and hopelessly infatuated. While Zhang Yi had at least some backbone, Zhou Peng would do anything for her.
Lin Caining clapped. "Perfect. Simps are useful." Fang Yuqing called Zhou Peng. He'd already wasted away to skin and bone from hunger; as a warehouse worker he'd once had food, most of which he'd given to Fang Yuqing. He didn't see himself as played—he thought giving made him special, entitled to a future with her. So when Fang Yuqing phoned, he scrambled over, forgetting the cold.
At her door, Fang Yuqing adopted a hurt, trembling voice. "Wuwu, Zhang Yi's a monster. I only asked for a little food and he wanted me to sleep with him. Zhou Peng, you know I'm not that kind of woman!"
Zhou Peng swelled with chest-thumping pride. "She came to me first—she must think I'm special. This is love!" He pounded his fist and vowed, "I'll kill him for you!"
Fang Yuqing and Lin Caining exchanged glances—this simp required no convincing. Fang Yuqing looped her arm through his and leaned close, letting him feel the faint warmth through heavy layers. "Zhang Yi has food and a working fireplace. He doesn't deserve such a nice house. Let's take it and live there together."
Zhou Peng, resentful that Zhang Yi had always been more handsome and more favored by Fang Yuqing, was delighted. "I'll take care of it!" he declared.
Fang Yuqing's smile hardened. "Be careful—he might fight back. Bring weapons and strike first." Lin Caining, still furious that Zhang Yi had called her "too dark," hissed, "Better to kill him outright!" The cold had corroded people's morals; in talk it was easy to cross lines.
Zhou Peng hesitated—murder felt unreal after twenty years of civilized life. When Fang Yuqing scowled, though, he caved. "No, no, I'm with you. I'll do it."
They didn't stall. Fang Yuqing outlined the plan: trick Zhang Yi into opening the door, then— (she made a throat-slitting gesture). Lin Caining produced the tools they'd scavenged: two kitchen knives and a steel pipe—actually a clothes rack pulled apart. Zhou Peng shoved a knife into his down jacket, heart pounding with a mix of fear and feverish bravado.
They crept to Zhang Yi's door. Fang Yuqing and Lin Caining crouched to the sides, weapons hidden, peering through the peephole so as not to be seen. They signaled Zhou Peng to knock.
He rapped. "Zhang Yi, you there? It's Zhou Peng!"
Zhang Yi, who'd worked alongside Zhou Peng in the warehouse but never trusted him, heard the knock and the familiar voice. He didn't move to the door. Instead he switched on the TV and pulled up his surveillance feed.
Outside, the camera showed the three silhouettes: two women crouched knife-ready, a man nervously clutching a blade. Their faces were set with murderous intent. Zhang Yi felt a chill run the length of his spine—not from the cold, but from their ferocity. He'd fortified his home for this kind of moment, but even so, the sight made him catch his breath.
"Want to kill me?" he murmured, a cold smile cracking at the corner of his mouth. "You're not worthy."
A low, quiet killing intent settled into his eyes. The question of who would live and who would die had just become uncertain.