Chapter 17: Honest Song Sandao

During the scramble for food, things went smoothly at first, but before long, Fei Chengqiang’s group lost another ten men, with several more wounded. They had inadvertently run into a formidable opponent.

This man was known as Old Song, or Song Three-Blades. He was fifty-five, with a robust frame. No one remembered how he’d earned his nickname; people only recalled that Song Three-Blades had once run a small convenience shop in the tourist district, selling sundries and odds and ends. When neighbors dropped by for little things, Song would always say, “Take it, it’s yours, no charge.” If tourists came to him for help, he never refused them.

To his neighbors and the restaurant staff, Song Three-Blades was a simple man, a good man—he was only short of being crowned a “timely rain” hero. When the catastrophic rainstorm hit, Song was the first to respond to the tourism company’s call, donating more than half his shop’s food for communal distribution. Everyone thought Song was noble and generous.

No one expected the company’s food storage building to be swept away by a mudslide so soon, buried and lost. Luckily, the restaurant still stood, and the remaining food would last a few days more. Seeing everyone’s plight, Song donated most of his remaining food as well.

But then the restaurant’s master chef was viciously beaten and humiliated by tourists from the villa district. In despair, he turned on the gas and blew up the entire restaurant. That time, Song’s spirit was crushed. Relying on others was futile.

So, when Fei Chengqiang tried to rally the survivors for revenge, Song didn’t join. He had only a little food left, which he hid away, resolved to ration it and hold out for official rescue.

Song never anticipated how quickly things would change. Fei Chengqiang’s assault on the villa district failed, and then their base in the ruins was raided by Chang Jieming’s security team, who stole all their food. Desperate for supplies, Fei Chengqiang turned his sights on those who had stayed out of the conflict.

“Old Song, Song Three-Blades, we know you still have food. For the sake of how you’ve always looked out for us, we won’t make this hard on you.”

“Song Three-Blades, we all know you’re a good man. Put down the knife, you really don’t have to do this.”

“That’s right, Old Song. Just hand over what you’ve got and nothing more will happen. Chang Jieming stole everything from us.”

“Old Song, there’s so many of us—if it comes to a fight, you’ll be the one who loses. Don’t worry, once we score something tonight, we’ll pay you back.”

A handful of men armed with steel pipes and clubs surrounded him in a corner, still trying to persuade him. Song gripped a sharp blade, glaring at them with clenched teeth. Suddenly, he lunged like a tiger, driving the knife into the chest of the man with the pipe. He twisted it hard, then shoved the blood-spurting body aside.

This brute had only survived the past few days because of Song’s charity—who would have thought he’d repay kindness with betrayal? The rest were no better, assuming that since Song had given so much before, he must still have plenty hidden away.

In truth, he had only enough left for a few more days.

“Kill him! That old bastard must have a stash of food somewhere!” Enraged by their comrade’s murder, the group surged forward to finish him off.

But no one imagined that the seemingly meek Song Three-Blades, when cornered, would fight like a demon, with no regard for his own life. In the blink of an eye, he killed six more, gravely injured five who came to help, then staggered away, bleeding heavily.

By the time Fei Chengqiang arrived, all that was left was a row of corpses and pools of fresh blood. People searched Song’s hiding place for ages, finally uncovering six rock-hard, dried buns and half a bag of crumbled instant noodles—nothing more.

Fei Chengqiang stared at the meager spoils, his face dark with rage at the cost. “Someone tell me what happened here.”

“Brother Fei, we never thought Song Three-Blades would be so ruthless. He always seemed so harmless, always let us take his things without a fuss, but this time…”

The gaunt survivor said, “But Brother Fei, we cut him up pretty bad. He’s not going to make it.”

Fei Chengqiang spat out, “Find that old bastard and finish him—avenge our brothers!”

…

In the cave, the security team had gathered some firewood. Though it was still damp, they piled it next to the diesel stove, letting the steam rise as it dried. A large pot simmered on the stove, filled with meat, instant noodles, rice, flour, pickled vegetables—everything they had.

“Brothers, tonight we celebrate!” Chang Jieming said with a smile.

The aroma filled the air, and everyone beamed with joy.

…

In the villa district, Wang Siyang and Brother Long were having an animated conversation. But as the night wore on, Wang Siyang and his bodyguard began to sense something was wrong. Drowsiness overtook them as they watched Brother Long and his men; soon, they collapsed.

“How should we deal with them, Brother Long?”

“Chop them up,” Brother Long replied cheerfully. “It’s been long enough.”

His men moved in immediately, slashing the throats of Wang Siyang and his bodyguard.

Famed in the media, notorious for bedding countless socialites, this wealthy heir never imagined his end would be so ignoble at the dawn of the apocalypse.

At that moment, a refined young man in his twenties, known as Fox, spoke up, “Brother Long, let’s keep the women. The brothers have never tried such high-class rides.”

Brother Long glanced at the women huddled together in the corner and slapped his forehead. “Right! We’ve been starving for days. With so much in hand, I almost forgot.”

“Brothers, take one each—don’t be shy.”

“Pity about Old Cat. He’s stuck on the other side of the mudslide and can’t join us.”

As Brother Long and his crew approached, the socialites clinging to each other in the corner grew ever more terrified and desperate…

…

Su Miao and Xia Xiaoan had already showered and changed into clean, dry clothes. Taking advantage of the power still on in the villa, Su Miao decided to celebrate with a hot pot meal.

Xia Xiaoan watched as Su Miao brought ingredient after ingredient from the kitchen. She asked nothing, quietly helping to set things up.

Soon, the table was laden with beef rolls, tripe, mushrooms, and more. This time, no one disturbed their feast. The two of them happily enjoyed a steaming, delicious hot pot.

“I’m so full,” Su Miao said, rare contentment washing over her. She felt drowsy and wanted nothing more than a good night’s sleep.

Xia Xiaoan, too, was full and happy. Just as Su Miao was considering what to do next, the doorbell rang downstairs.

Su Miao checked the monitor and saw a haggard woman standing outside, cradling a baby, both soaked to the skin. The woman pressed the bell over and over, desperate for someone inside to open the door.

“Please open up, just a bite to eat, I beg you!”

“My child is starving.”

“Please, I’m begging you!”

…