It's often said that while we shouldn't intend to harm others, we must still guard against harm from them. So being cautious around strangers is hardly wrong. Lan Jin's warning to Huang Jinghe had simply come from the boy showing her kindness on two occasions. It was understandable.
But among everything Lan Jin had just said, the key detail hadn't been missed.
"You said someone tried to pick your door lock last night?"
Lan Jin nodded. "Yes. The sound was very quiet. I didn't hear it, but Nana did. He ran to the door while I was still asleep. I guess they got careless and made some noise, because Nana started barking. He barked a few times at the door. By the time I woke up and went over, I didn't hear anything else outside. I didn't dare open the door at night, so I waited until daylight. Then I checked the lock and saw clear signs it had been tampered with. This door was newly installed when I moved in, and I've always been careful with it. One look and I knew I wasn't the one who damaged it."
After hearing that, it was clear Lan Jin didn't have any issues. And once the officers had finished taking statements from the entire building, she and Huang Jinghe faded from focus. After all, that man and woman had gone door to door, trying to borrow food from nearly every resident living alone. Attempting to break in was something that only happened at Lan Jin's place.
Most likely, that was because she had a dog. Without Nana, she might not have heard anything either. And if they had managed to get the door open, the consequences would've been unimaginable.
Everyone who had been approached for food seemed innocent, but in truth, all were potential suspects. Even those who hadn't been asked for food weren't automatically in the clear. After all, how exactly had those two ended up dead?
That part was baffling.
The windows and doors had all been sealed shut. There hadn't been a trace of poisonous fog in the stairwell. So how did those two end up lying on the lawn outside?
It was a terrible incident, and the officers were definitely going to keep investigating. Whether or not they'd find anything, however, was another story. As far as Lan Jin was concerned, it no longer had anything to do with her. In this current state of the world, it was nearly impossible to sneak two grown adults outside without exposing a home to the poisonous fog.
Without a clear explanation, the case remained unsolved. Eventually, it was classified as a cold case.
…
Meanwhile, a directive from higher authorities was issued: All business licenses were to be revoked immediately, and all private goods stored in shops would be forcibly reclaimed. These goods would be converted into contribution points, then returned to the original owners in that form.
Naturally, the process would not go smoothly. But there was no choice. Even the biggest warehouses could not support this many people for long. Reclaiming supplies was the only viable solution.
As for how to handle the transition, that was left to the staff on the ground.
Contribution points had been designated as the official currency of China starting in May of 2121. Community workers would visit households to help residents set up their systems and teach them how to store, earn, and use the points. People were told to stay home and wait for assistance.
But the announcement only mentioned contribution points. There was no word on the fate of the RMB, leaving many residents completely bewildered.
Lan Jin, however, knew the truth. Ever since the earthquake, all the banks had stopped operating. Any money people had stored in their accounts had become nothing more than numbers on a screen. Online payments, which had been a staple for over a century, were now a thing of the past. Even the once-stable digital yuan was officially phased out, traded in for physical goods and then erased from the public system.
When the news broke, it sent shockwaves through the entire country.
People could accept the switch to contribution points under emergency conditions. But what about the RMB? Was there no follow-up plan? If the old currency was still usable, fine. But what if it wasn't? Then all their savings would be gone just like that?
And the answer, unfortunately, was yes. Just gone.
In online groups, outrage exploded.
"What do you mean, it's just gone? I worked my butt off saving that money, was planning to buy a house with it. And now, poof?"
"Exactly. You can't just say it's worthless. What are we supposed to eat when this poisonous fog clears and people go back to work?"
"Yeah. When we start working again, what do we get paid in? Contribution points too?"
"Are you guys not getting it? There's no guarantee work is coming back."
"That's what I'm saying. How are we supposed to live? We can't just not eat."
Still, things weren't entirely hopeless. Work would return, just not for every industry. Not everyone would be able to return to their old jobs. In this new world, companies simply didn't need that many people anymore.
Relief supplies were limited, but they were still being distributed weekly. It was just enough to keep people going.
For everyone else, new jobs would be arranged—manual labor, for example. As long as someone was willing to work, there would be ways to survive.
That same evening, the community released another notice.
"Contribution points can be exchanged using household goods, including but not limited to food. Items like gold, silver, iron, glass, wood, and other unused materials can also be traded in. Prices for all materials are standardized across the country, so there's no need to worry about discrepancies.
Once items are exchanged, the contribution points will be stored directly in each person's residence ID. Tomorrow, we will visit homes to activate this function and ensure residents know how to use it.
Note: If you wish to exchange any items, please have them ready when we visit tomorrow to activate your residence ID. There will be scheduled times in the future for exchanges, but it won't be available on demand. Please take this seriously."
Why use residence IDs instead of the standard ID cards?
Because many children were too young to have official ID cards, but residence IDs were different. Anyone living in City J—or even just temporarily settled—was required to have one. Adults and children alike.
The residence ID served multiple functions. It proved a person lived in the area, gave access through gate scanners, and contained a chip that allowed for subway and bus rides. It could also be used to shop at designated supermarkets and convenience stores. It was already part of daily life.
Since everyone had one, it became the perfect tool for storing contribution points. After all, in a crisis like this, there was no time to design a new system from scratch.