Yu Xifeng’s cat was at home steaming rice, making rice balls.

Using a rolling pin, she pressed the rice into palm-sized balls, stuffing them with pork floss, vegetables, and eggs. She tore open a few packs of nori, wrapped the rice balls, then sliced them, making a decent imitation of sushi.

The arguments in the hallway didn’t reach the top floor.

The window on the 15th floor was broken, and the wind howled through the corridor, cold and biting. No one had come to repair it.

Even if residents had to sleep in the hallway because their homes were flooded, no one chose the 15th floor.

That gave Yu Xifeng a bit of peace.

Mid-December.

After the typhoon, it had been raining heavily for an entire month.

And there was no sign of it stopping.

The water level had risen to the sixth floor. The hallway was too crowded, and many people had moved to the shelters.

Li Qingchu had gone too, but less than two days later, he came back by inflatable boat.

The reason was simple: the shelter was even more crowded than the hallways.

In there, if the person in front tilted their head, their hair could end up in the mouth of the person behind them.

On his first night at the shelter, Li Qingchu dozed off for a bit, and when he woke up, someone had taken the bag he brought.

He looked for help from the rescue team, but they were too busy to deal with such a small matter.

There were too many people—rescues were ongoing, and the shelters were continuously receiving new arrivals.

Li Qingchu couldn’t take it anymore after two days. He used the cash he’d hidden on his person to pay someone to bring him back by boat.

When he left, he had clothes, rice, oil, and other supplies. When he came back, he only had the clothes on his back.

Anyone else who had been considering going to the shelter gave up after hearing his story.

That night, Yu Xifeng suddenly opened her eyes.

Beyond the sound of rain, there was a rustling noise at her door.

Someone was outside.

Yu Xifeng took a sickle from her spatial storage and held it in her hand, silently approaching the door.

The person outside was bundled up tightly. The face wasn’t visible on the surveillance camera.

Opening the door to confront them or even shouting might scare them off, but Yu Xifeng weighed the sickle in her hand—she felt it would be hard to control her strength if she attacked now.

According to the timeline, official supplies would arrive in two days.

Killing someone now would cause trouble when the authorities came.

“Who’s there?!” Yu Xifeng shouted.

The figure froze, then turned and ran.

Yu Xifeng stood at the doorway, but didn’t chase.

She thought for a moment, downloaded the surveillance clip, and posted it in the building’s group chat.

It was late at night. A few people replied:

“Damn.”
“Is that guy from our building?”
“Must be. With this heavy rain, someone showing up is pretty obvious.”

By the next day, things had escalated.

Someone’s home had been broken into—an old woman on the ninth floor, Granny Zhao.

The thief didn’t take money but emptied her kitchen and fridge, even taking the pot of scallions growing on her balcony.

There was a crowd in the hallway outside Granny Zhao’s home—Li Qingchu was also living on that floor.

To get into Granny Zhao’s place, the thief had to pass through the crowded hallway.

In other words, the theft was either done by someone living in the hallway or done with their silent approval.

Those staying in the hallway were bitter.

They were all cramped together—why should the original residents still get to live comfortably?

Even borrowing water or electricity meant asking nicely and being at someone else’s mercy.

After the theft, many people were secretly gloating.

“She’s trying to kill me,” Granny Zhao sobbed, pounding her chest. Her husband slammed his cane to the floor in anger.

The group chat was quiet.

No one defended her, no one condemned anyone either, but everyone could sense that the building’s atmosphere was getting worse.

Two more thefts happened later—one victim was a young woman living alone, the other an elderly widow.

Both had previously refused to let others stay with them.

Everyone was on edge. When Yu Xifeng went downstairs, the people she passed looked at her with a mix of envy and wariness.

But since she had posted the video, everyone knew she had a surveillance camera at her door. For now, no one dared to mess with her.

When she got back from checking on the neighborhood, she found that Chen Caifeng had moved in with Tan Wanwan.

Ma Tian leaned against the doorway, smoking, and stared openly at Yu Xifeng, his gaze brazen and unashamed.

He had clearly been involved in the theft. Once someone crossed a line, there was no going back.

In the hallway, a new kind of order was beginning to take shape.

Disorder, violence, and blood.

Yu Xifeng looked back at Ma Tian and slowly smiled.

Granny Zhao went door to door, begging for food.

She wasn’t the first, and she wouldn’t be the last.

Even Li Qingchu had once knocked on Yu Xifeng’s door. She didn’t open. He knocked for a long time before moving on to the next door.

Right now, letting others know you still had food was dangerous.

No matter how much she had stored, Yu Xifeng wasn’t going to feed the whole building.

In the group chat, many people started tagging Chenchen’s Dad:

“Big bro, I’m starving, please open up @Chenchen’s Dad”
“Just a bowl, even half is fine @Chenchen’s Dad”
“I’m not picky, anything edible is fine @Chenchen’s Dad”
“Don’t let me die like this. I can smell food from your place @Chenchen’s Dad”
“You’ve got so much stockpiled. Just share one bite @Chenchen’s Dad”
@Chenchen’s Dad
@Chenchen’s Dad
@Chenchen’s Dad

Building 2, Chenchen’s home.

The door was constantly being knocked on—day and night, nonstop.

First begging, then cursing, and finally threats.

“You son of a *#!%, are you even human? We’re all starving and you’re hoarding food?!”

“I swear I’ll burn your place down—if I die, we all die!”

“You turtle bastard, get the hell out here!”

Most of these people had once received half a pound of rice from Chenchen’s dad.

Someone scraped a kitchen knife across the door, leaving scratches. The mother hadn’t slept properly in days.

Chenchen kept his head down, eating his rice slowly and carefully, licking the last drop of chili oil off the pickled vegetables.

Chenchen’s dad put down his bowl and muttered, “That’s all?”

Meeting the woman’s disgusted stare, his voice faltered. He finished his food in a few quick bites and locked himself in the bedroom.

Yu Xifeng lay on her bed—she no longer cooked.

The smell would drift out and attract people from the hallway.

Better to avoid trouble. The cooked food in her storage space was enough to last her a while.

For lunch, she had roast duck over rice—half a duck leg, cut into slices, with seaweed strips and shredded potatoes.

After eating, she sliced an orange for herself.

Then she packed all the trash into her storage space.

In the afternoon, she rewatched a childhood anime, cleaning and prepping romaine lettuce as she watched.

She didn’t cook, but it was still fine to prepare some ingredients. After all, there wasn’t much else to do.