To manage resources fairly, we elected three people to oversee distribution: 24-year-old twin sisters Lin Xiaorui and Lin Xiaodie, and the gentle Duancheng.
The twins were tall and striking, with sharp chins, large eyes, and full lips. Xiaorui, the elder sister, had been an accountant at a private firm and excelled at bookkeeping. Xiaodie, the younger, had managed inventory at a supplies company—compared to handling thousands of types of materials, managing our resources was simplicity itself!
When silent, no one could guess how sharp-tongued they were. They finished each other's sentences seamlessly—a pair of fiery little peppers!
Duancheng, 29, nicknamed Chengzi, was their close friend and confidant—not a boyfriend or anything ambiguous, just their ironclad buddy. He treated all women with old-fashioned chivalry, making him widely liked. In just a few months, he'd become the most popular man in the compound—no contest.
Chengzi was ordinary-looking but grew on you—not strikingly handsome, yet flawless in a subtle way, with a medium build. Few knew he practiced Aikido—I only noticed during training sessions. His movements were distinctly skilled. When asked, he quietly admitted to three years of Aikido training but never tested for rankings, so he deemed it unremarkable.
Yes, Chengzi was低调 (low-key) and deeply just. He spoke little, often listening with a smile, but would frown and silently withdraw from inappropriate topics. He even felt fleeting pity for zombies—though it never slowed his head-shot precision.
Previously, Chengzi was a seasoned courier at Shentong Express—sorting and delivering goods was second nature to him. Together, the trio volunteered to manage and distribute supplies, saving everyone much hassle.
Distribution was simple: based on need, ensuring everyone had enough without waste.
All residents knew these supplies came at great risk—hauled back through life-threatening efforts. Everyone vowed to use them sparingly, without waste!
Currently, households had sufficient rice, flour, and oil, with original stockpiles still decent, especially in lower-floor units of our building.
Those in need applied, Xiaorui recorded it, then she, Xiaodie, and Tang delivered the items. To prevent waste, Xiaorui analyzed consumption based on family size, age, and prior allocations—a task requiring expertise she handled effortlessly. Specialization matters!I certainly couldn't do it.
Many requested toilet paper—no surprise, demand was high! Underwear and socks saw no requests yet—with water still available, people could laundry.
Food-wise, rice, flour, oil, and frozen meats went first. Junk food was last resort—we loved its taste but hated how we craved it! Pre-apocalypse, I'd stockpile chocolate, Peko's lollipops, and cakes, eating while watching movies despite stomach discomfort—I couldn't resist!
Now I'd overcome it—snacking was for leisurely times. Now, survival left no room for such whims.
An elderly woman secretly asked me for snacks for her grandson. I gently refused: first, snacks harmed children; second, they were backup food, not treats. I urged her to prepare healthy meals—soon, kids might only have vacuum-sealed chips and candy as staples, which was no joy.
Sixth Brother had reopened a sealed deep well in the underground garage—a contingency he'd kept since construction, remembering a Songhua River pollution incident years ago that cut water. Now, our water passed through a compound-built storage tank—another of Sixth Brother's safeguards. If water plants failed, the tank could sustain the compound for a week. With only two buildings using water sparingly, it might last a month. Pipes from the well already connected to the tank—complex-sounding but logical. If water supplies ceased, we'd self-sufficient.
Gasoline was stored in many drums in the three gatehouses—too hazardous for buildings, with dedicated guards preventing accidents.
Weapon resupply was trickier. Aze mentioned police stations, SWAT teams, and military bases had firearms and ammunition, but we might be too late.
We visited the military compound first—a mess, with only uniformed zombies and no survivors! Normally soldier-dense, outbreaks spread fastest here. Even armed, soldiers couldn't contain the sudden disaster. No wonder no military rescue came—they were overwhelmed themselves!
We returned empty-handed, disappointed.
Without firearms, we relied on blades.
Solar panels required technicians we lacked, so the plan was shelved.
After heavy snow, temperatures plummeted. To conserve coal, heating was reduced, lowering indoor temperatures.
Shuaishuai caught a cold. Dr. Xiaoshuang checked him, advising more warm water and no medication yet. His little nose ran constantly, and he slept fitfully, sniffling and waking repeatedly. He didn't understand the discomfort, twisting and crying, but would sleep again in my arms.
In a mother's embrace, a child is in heaven!
A mother holding her child feels sunlight in her heart, even in hell!
Where there are humans, there is conflict—I forget who said it, but it's true!
With zombie threats seemingly neutralized, life appeared normal—food and clothes secured, but without internet, TV, or shopping, boredom bred complaints.
Adults gathered nightly in the compound's central recreation room for meetings—chairs and a whiteboard for maps replaced former amenities. The room held 300; our 100+ fit comfortably.
Everyone voiced opinions—demands, suggestions—meetings were lively. Though many ideas were unfeasible, it showed high hopes for survival, no surrender.
But tonight, a serious new issue emerged!
A middle-aged man named Daqi proposed: staying in the compound was waiting for death—everyone should migrate together.
The room stirred—I sensed many supported him.
Daqi's points weren't unreasonable: in cities, consumption without production would eventually exhaust supplies. Though utilities still worked, no one guaranteed they'd last. If water and power failed, compound life would turn harsh. Zombie numbers would only grow—delaying might trap us.
Daqi's words struck me deeply. I'd fiercely treated the compound as the only safe haven, leading efforts to fortify it and haul essentials, unwilling to consider fleeing to the wilds. But I'd secretly pondered these risks hundreds of times…
After Daqi spoke, many responded actively—half raised hands in support!
They argued we had vehicles, gasoline, and passing gas stations, with abundant supplies to bring along, restocking when possible.
Some eagerly discussed routes—south following Aqiang's path, or north to sparse towns?
As enthusiasm waned, I stood to speak.
"Everyone, I understand your feelings! But I speak for the elderly and children not here.
Is migration feasible? Forced, yes—but first consider our elderly and children. Nearly 100 lack self-defense. Elders can't move quickly; children average age 5—useless in fights or flight!
In crises, we'd only save our own kids. What about orphans? Elders without family? Here, we protect them together; outside, zombie attacks would trigger instinct to flee with our own—human nature, not shameful, but inevitable!
Here, we give them a safe harbor—no奔波 (running), no fleeing, with warm rooms, beds, hot water, milk, and meals! On the road, we can't provide that.
Even if elders eat canned and fast food, how do we heat milk for children? Boil water? Pre-apocalypse, we'd carry thermos—but on the road, can we guarantee finding spots to boil water? How many infants rely solely on formula?
I urge patience until spring. Our youngest is six months—by spring, nearly one, weaned off pure milk, with snow melted, migration conditions improved!
Staying put is best! But please, think of our elderly and children!"
Silence fell after I spoke…
Suddenly, a voice hissed from a corner: "In these times, all burdens should be abandoned! Leave the old and children behind—only those who can fight deserve to survive