The next day, Mu Nan learned about the incident of the cut power lines from the group chat. To facilitate the community's tracking of residents and delivery of group-purchased items, everyone was required to change their group names to their door numbers. In the afternoon, as Mu Nan baked a small cake and waited, he checked his phone and saw a message from 15-02 praising the act of cutting the power lines: "That was really clever! Those who had the disease should have their power cut, so they're forced to move out and avoid infecting more people. Kudos to the person who cut their lines!"
22-09's Mom: "That's a bit heartless. They're just staying at home and not going out. It seems a bit too much."
15-02: "You're just talking because you live upstairs. If you came down to the 15th floor, you'd see it's not so simple. If they truly stayed home, what would they eat? They'd be forced to join in the group purchases and go downstairs to get their groceries. They'd still have to go out to throw away the trash. The air outside is full of viruses. If you're not afraid, why don't you come down and stay here?"
08-07 Guo Xintong: "Alright, the people are gone, so let's move on. Even if it's for the greater good, those people are indeed pitiful. Their child is sick, and the parents are helpless. Let's show some understanding."
Many people joined in, echoing the sentiment that avoiding trouble was better than creating more. They pretended to be understanding and magnanimous, as if they hadn't been the ones hurling harsh words at the family initially.
Seeing Qin Huai return with a shovel covered in dirt, Mu Nan recounted the situation with the young couple, speculating, "I suspect the person who cut their power lines might be 15-02. Their comments seem to hint at it. If it really was him, that's disgusting."
Qin Huai replied, "If the owner of 15-02 hasn't changed, you'd know them."
Mu Nan had stayed in a dormitory during high school and lived in the dorm during his first year of college. Later, for a quieter environment to work on his drawings and since his university was not far from home, he moved back. Although he lived there, he didn't know his neighbors well, only recognizing them by sight.
Curious, Mu Nan asked, "I know them? Who are they?"
Qin Huai said, "You had a classmate named Deng from elementary school. I think his name was Deng Chuan or something. You were called to school in third grade because of him. Don't you remember?"
Mu Nan shook his head. He had been called to school numerous times and didn't recall the specific reason for that third-grade meeting.
Qin Huai laughed, "That time you managed to get two yogurt-flavored jelly beans. You ate one and wanted to save the other for me. It was in your desk, but after gym class, it was gone, and someone had even drunk from your drink. You were told it was Deng who stole it, and your little temper flared up. You ended up pouring the whole bottle of drink into his backpack, and that's why you got called to school."
As Qin Huai described it, Mu Nan remembered. Back in elementary school, a certain type of jelly bean was popular, originating from a magical movie. There were many strange flavors, and yogurt flavor was considered the best. If someone received yogurt-flavored jelly beans, it was like getting a lucky prize. If Mu Nan's yogurt bean was stolen, it meant the luck he wanted to give Qin Huai was taken away. No wonder he was so upset. He recalled crying at that time, and Qin Huai, almost emptying his piggy bank, bought a lot of jelly beans, carefully picking out all the yogurt-flavored ones to cheer him up. It was such a simple and childish gesture.
Reflecting on this, Mu Nan smirked, "Stealing candy as a kid means it's not surprising if he's grown up to cut someone's power lines."
Qin Huai placed some overripe red peppers in the kitchen and took out a piece of pork from the fridge. When Mu Nan was young, he was picky about meat, refusing to eat either too fatty or too lean meat. He liked the kind with a bit of fat mixed with lean meat, especially enjoying shredded pork stir-fried with green peppers, using pork neck meat. Though Mu Nan seemed less picky now, Qin Huai still made the kind of food he loved.
Listening to Mu Nan's critique of his elementary school classmate, Qin Huai said while cooking, "Actually, staying outside can be a good thing. The hotel at the community entrance has been designated as a quarantine hotel. If the situation gets worse, someone might lose control and do something extreme. At least now, they don't have to endure malicious attacks from others."
Mu Nan leaned against the kitchen door, watching Qin Huai cut meat, and asked, "What if we were treated this way?"
Qin Huai turned and smiled, "I would make sure people knew I'm not someone to mess with. The first time I was attacked in the group, I'd fight back immediately. There's a saying, 'Barefoot people aren't afraid of those in shoes.' All resistance and exclusion are based on the virus. If it came down to it, they should be afraid of me, not the other way around. It's best if no one bothers me; if they do, they'll have to face the consequences."
Qin Huai continued, "Sometimes, constant retreat and tolerance don't lead to peace. Whether in times of peace or in future chaotic periods, those who are strong and tough won't be seen as easy targets."
Seeing that Mu Nan was listening attentively, Qin Huai added with a smile, "Leave such matters to me."
Mu Nan instantly understood Qin Huai's meaning. He went back to the living room with a slight huff, took a look at his black-screened phone, and pinched his cheeks, pulling them slightly. Realizing that he didn't look particularly formidable or intimidating, he thought he might indeed be at a disadvantage in the future. If he had looked more intimidating in his past life, perhaps he wouldn't have been cornered and robbed so easily.
However, the community's ostracism didn't stop with the Li couple's departure. Their case was just the beginning. In fact, the smoothness of their removal gave those harboring frustration an outlet to vent their pent-up feelings through these incidents.
In these old communities, most of the residents had lived there for over a decade or even several decades. While there were some newcomers and tenants, the long-time residents knew each other well. Everyone was aware of who was ill, who had been to the clinic instead of the hospital, who had recovered, and so on. Though the details might not be as comprehensive as official records, the general situation was known.
The next target was a middle-aged couple surnamed Zhu. Their first names were less clear because everyone just called them Old Zhu. The Zhu family were long-time residents of the community, having lived there for over twenty years. In their younger years, they ran a business and supported their children until they were independent. They then rented out their shop and lived comfortably on their pension and rental income, spending their days playing cards and dancing.
Since Old Zhu regularly visited his shop to collect rent and check on the premises, he continued his routine even during heavy rain. Unfortunately, after one of these visits, he developed cold symptoms. Initially, he endured it, but when breathing became difficult, he went to the hospital with his wife. They never returned home.
Old Zhu's wife, having milder symptoms, was discharged earlier. But when Old Zhu was discharged, it was during a severe smog outbreak, coinciding with a global pandemic. People were confined to their homes, and those who had managed to get to the hospital early were considered fortunate. When Old Zhu's breathing difficulties worsened, it was feared that had he arrived later, he might not have made it.
Yet, what seemed like good fortune at the time was quickly overshadowed by the resurgence of the outbreak. As the pandemic worsened, it seemed like destiny was unavoidable.
When information about the Zhu family's illness was shared in the group chat, it mirrored the previous hostility toward the Li family. Some people were adamant that the Zhu family should also be moved to a hotel for quarantine, speaking as though it was for their own good. They argued that the hotel was safer with professional medical personnel available.
Others appealed to sentiment, urging them to consider their long-time neighbors.
Amid these voices, there were harsh and aggressive comments, suggesting that if the Zhu family didn't leave, everyone would be at risk of their infection.
However, the Zhu couple were not like the young Li couple. Old Zhu took a small notebook and wrote down the names of everyone who had used harsh language and demanded their departure, posting a photo in the group: "Feel free to curse. We're all going to die anyway. If you upset me, I'll drag you down with me. And to those who cut the power lines, if you dare cut mine, no one will be spared from suffering!"
"To those sending hostile messages or private warnings, I suggest you all keep quiet. When I was out there, you were still at home drinking milk!"
Old Zhu didn't stop at just posting; he also recorded a video. In the video, he showed the home of the person who had been most vocally antagonistic, kicking the door repeatedly: "Anyone who mentions my family again, I'll come to your doorstep every day. Want to test if your door is sturdy? Go ahead and try!"
The community became eerily silent after Old Zhu's outburst. No one dared to speak up again.
Mu Nan observed the turn of events and commented, "Sometimes, you need to be a bit aggressive." Afterward, he felt a pang of sadness. He recognized Old Zhu as someone he had known from his childhood, whom he would greet in the elevator and whose snacks he had enjoyed when his father was still alive. Their relationship had gradually waned to just acknowledging each other in passing.
In his previous life, no one anticipated that this crisis would lead to an even worse disaster. Everyone believed the country would recover, and the calamity would pass. At that time, Mu Nan, isolated from family and friends and only concerned about Qin Huai, had been indifferent to the surrounding events. Facing life and death again, his perspective had naturally changed.
For Old Zhu, the pain wasn't from being rejected by old neighbors or from malicious attacks. His strong reaction was simply to seek peace. He wasn't sure if he could escape death like others during the second outbreak, but at that moment, his greatest feeling was not fear but a sense of confusion and reluctance.
Watching his wife meticulously organize their belongings, carefully writing down the passwords for their bank books and cards, Old Zhu felt a pang of sadness. She recorded a video for their children, detailing where their valuable items were, how much money was in each account, which cards were for savings and which for fixed deposits, and the distribution of gold jewelry and property certificates. After making the video, she reviewed it carefully to ensure she hadn't missed anything, then saved it, planning to send it to their children when the time came.
Seeing his wife, who was both watching the video and wiping her tears, Old Zhu wanted to smile but couldn't quite manage it. He sat beside her and, as if in casual conversation, asked, "Are you scared?"
The question made his wife cry even harder. After a long while, through her sobs, she choked out, "Am I scared? I'm just... reluctant. Tuan Tuan has just learned to call me 'Grandma.' I... I haven't even seen them grow up. I'm just so reluctant, really reluctant."
Old Zhu's eyes reddened too. Indeed, death itself isn't terrifying; when faced with it, there's nothing to be afraid of, just an overwhelming reluctance. Reluctance to leave behind their children and grandchildren, just wanting to stay with them a bit longer, just a little bit longer.