After playing the same message on a loop over the loudspeakers more than ten times, the community staff finally forwarded the official document from higher-ups into the neighborhood group chat. Then they added, "The supplies haven't arrived yet. Before any distribution can begin, each building corridor in the district must be cleaned. Cleaning tools are already prepared in the community area. Due to a shortage of manpower, we are now recruiting several volunteers."
Even with the announcement, most people were hesitant. After all, no one really knew how to protect themselves from the poisonous fog yet.
Someone quickly typed in the chat, "So how do you prevent the fog from hurting you? And what exactly do you mean by 'clean the corridors'? Do volunteers get paid? This is life or death—no one's working for free."
A staff member replied, "As long as the poisonous fog doesn't get into your lungs or touch your skin, you're safe. Just wear a protective suit and a gas mask, then you can walk outside. But if your gear tears or your mask slips, you'll be in danger. And no, this isn't unpaid. Volunteers will be provided with three meals a day and receive two packs of instant noodles as a daily bonus."
It was the same kind of gear Lan Jin had worn when she went out. But for people who hadn't yet felt the cruelty of this post-apocalyptic world, food didn't seem like a big deal. The idea of getting paid in instant noodles? That set off a wave of mockery.
"What is this, charity? Two packs of instant noodles a day? Are we talking the real kind? Do you know how much a pack costs? The expensive ones are barely two and a half yuan. So I'm worth five yuan a day now?"
"You're complaining like you're worth more. If you think it's too little, don't do it."
"If you think it's fine, then go volunteer."
"I don't think it's great, but volunteers usually don't get anything. Two packs of noodles is already generous. It's not like any of us can go to work right now. What are you picky about?"
"Then why aren't you signing up already? Better hurry before someone else takes your precious spot."
"Forget the noodles. I just wanna know what those three meals a day are. I haven't had proper rice in forever. If there's rice, I'm in."
"Yes! I've been eating instant noodles for days. I just want a bowl of hot rice. Forget the bonus, just give me that."
In response, a staff member sent a picture to the group: a self-heating rice meal and a bottle of mineral water.
They added, "This is tonight's dinner. One bowl of self-heating claypot rice, one bottle of mineral water. Also, we forgot to mention earlier—the supply bonus includes a bottle of water on top of the two noodle packs."
No one cared about the noodles anymore. All eyes were glued to the rice.
"Rice! Oh my god, I want some. I'm signing up!"
"To register, just add me directly. Don't post in the group. Click on my profile and message me one-on-one. It's currently 1:35 PM. Registration closes at 3 sharp. There's no limit on how many people can join. The sooner the corridors are cleaned, the sooner everyone can receive their supplies."
As soon as the message dropped, notifications flooded the staff member's phone. Relief washed over him. It was better to have too many than none at all.
Still, more wasn't always better. They weren't about to accept just anyone.
Anyone in poor physical health or lacking mental resilience was automatically ruled out. Cleaning corridors was just a nicer way of saying handling corpses. Anyone without the stomach or strength for it simply couldn't be allowed on the job.
So even if someone messaged to join, the staff would first explain the tasks clearly, give them time to think it over, and then decide whether they were truly fit for the job. The last thing they needed was someone backing out halfway and creating even more problems.
Whether others volunteered or not, Lan Jin had no intention of signing up. She had more than enough supplies stored in her space. There was no need to compete for food with those who had none. Besides, she had a child to take care of. It wouldn't be practical for her to do this kind of work. The community staff had already registered the status of each household and knew Lan Jin was a single mother. They wouldn't ask her to participate.
At least, that's what Lan Jin believed.
By 4 PM, the final list of volunteers had been confirmed. Many had signed up, but just as many were filtered out. In the end, including over a dozen community staff members, they had a total of 63 people.
But once those 63 volunteers actually got to work, they realized just how overwhelming the task really was.
Each district oversaw a different number of residential areas. In Lan Jin's previous life, the district across from hers had six neighborhoods under its management. The one she lived in now only had four.
That might sound smaller, but each area was divided further by zones and building phases. The total number of people wasn't low by any means.
Lan Jin's current residence was in the J Hua complex. It was divided into two phases. Phase One had fifteen buildings, and with Phase Two combined, there were thirty in total. Each building stood thirty-three stories high, with four households per floor. Imagine how many people that added up to.
The volunteers weren't responsible for managing the people. Their job was to split into small teams and cover every building. Some would start from the rooftop, others from the ground floor.
The rooftop team's first task was to check whether the access door to the roof was sealed properly. If not, they had to lock and seal it tight. Then they would work their way down, inspecting each floor's corridor for gaps or weak spots and sealing them if found.
Meanwhile, the ground-floor team had to seal the iron gate at the main entrance and install two layers of protective curtains. One was the transparent type Lan Jin had used on her own floor. The second was a thick, heavy-duty curtain, the kind used in supermarkets during winter. These layers created a kind of airlock, making it safer to filter out any poisonous fog clinging to the body.
Once everything was secured, the staff would use special equipment to draw the poisonous fog from the top floor down to the first floor, then out through the layered curtains to the outside. After that, they would install a fog detector near the windows on every floor. If even a trace of poisonous fog slipped in, an alarm would go off immediately, warning residents to stay inside and be careful.