Yu Xifeng returned home. After that dinner, she roughly understood what kind of people lived around her.

Diagonally opposite lived a family of five. The couple looked refined and cultured; they had been university professors before.

Behind them lived a pair of brothers, whose beer bellies hadn’t shrunk even after the disaster.

That household was large. Two families squeezed into a room less than twenty square meters, plus four children, making the space cramped.

Further back was the Zheng family.

The Zhengs spanned three generations, five people living there. Waiters temporarily hired for banquets were recruited from the outer ring of the underground shelter.

This matched the housing purchase rules Yu Xifeng had learned earlier — each household was only allowed to buy one single room.

No more, no less.

Just like the previous job system.

All to ensure the family unit was maintained and maximize survival rates.

She and Yang Rong were no longer family.

At that time, she only hinted that life was hard and that she wanted a job in the community. Yang Rong immediately removed Yu Xifeng from the household registry.

It was hard to say whether it was tragic or ridiculous.

Now it was settled: Yang Rong held onto a community center employee position that would sooner or later close, while Yu Xifeng naturally monopolized a single room in the underground shelter.

Everyone was happy.

No one could use the head of household status to question Yu Xifeng’s housing purchase procedure.

“Did you two go on a blind date before? That Yang Rong’s daughter?” Zheng Weiyang asked his son for confirmation.

Zheng Chengfan was lying on the sofa, acting casual: “One woman — is it really necessary to treat her like some mortal enemy?”

“I haven’t seen Yang Rong around here; she lives alone over there,” Zheng Weiyang pondered, “That woman’s something special.”

Just judging by the fact she could buy and occupy that room in advance alone, you had to keep an eye out.

The room Zheng Weiyang originally wanted was the one Yu Xifeng now lived in.

When he went to deliver supplies, he found it had already been bought ahead of time.

He wondered who had such fast and reliable information.

“You didn’t even check her background before offending her. How did I teach you?” Zheng Weiyang scolded his son, frustrated. “You’ll be the death of me someday.”

Zheng Chengfan put on a hurt expression: “Dad, I didn’t mean anything. Just wanted to scare her a little.”

Zheng Weiyang softened his tone: “If you like her, then pursue her properly. You might even win her over. Why stir things up like this?”

“Pursue her properly? As if she’s worthy. I want her to kneel and beg me.”

Zheng Weiyang pressed his fingers to his forehead: “Since you’ve offended her, you better crush her completely — leave no chance for retaliation.”

His voice was calm, but he quickly made a decision: “Cut ties with those messy women of yours. When you seriously marry a proper wife, and since the house is full now, after settling the Yu Xifeng situation, I’ll give you her room.”

Forget it — a lone girl.

Yang Rong was a small-time boss he didn’t take seriously even before the disaster.

Zheng Weiyang arranged for his son to meet her mainly because she looked good and had good education — so his son could support her, and maybe they’d have smart, beautiful children.

No need to ruin his and his son’s relationship over her.

Zheng Weiyang said, “Right now is a crucial time for the representative committee election. Behave yourself. If you cause trouble now, I’ll make sure you regret it.

After the food shipment is sent out, go monitor the factory. Don’t just laze around every day.”

The batch of food he had was doomed anyway.

He couldn’t give it all away, but he couldn’t keep it all either.

Using the election to raise funds helped reduce his losses, and the donations would boost his political capital.

Only what’s in hand counts as leverage.

The underground shelter would soon officially open.

Then, survivors would keep pouring in, and the demand for food there would only grow.

Zheng Weiyang planned to add fuel to the fire.

At the critical moment, giving out this batch of food would win the most support.

That would show his importance.

Maintaining this balance was like walking a tightrope. Zheng Weiyang had no spare energy for someone like Yu Xifeng.

If his son wanted a woman, just give it to him. It wasn’t the first time.

Soon, the underground shelter officially opened.

Once the news spread, spots were fiercely competed for.

To maintain order, daily quotas were set at five thousand people, entering in batches, registered by family units.

More and more people came, and everyone was assigned an area.

In theory, the allocation was random.

Those with connections or resources to send stuff up often managed to get better locations.

Those truly randomly assigned were unhappy with their tiny two or three square meters — changing sleeping position meant their feet encroached on others’ space.

Some, relying on their arrival order, simply grabbed a better spot.

They followed their own rules: screw the “random” system, first come first served. If the spot was empty, why couldn’t it be theirs?

Others put out stuff early to claim more space, one person stacking their belongings over more than ten square meters.

Such space hoggers were hard to deal with.

Logic didn’t work; staff couldn’t watch 24/7. The underground shelter spanned dozens of acres, and the resettlement task was heavy — no way to manage all these petty disputes.

Sometimes staff came, scolded the rule-breakers, fined them, and the offenders reluctantly gave up the space.

But once staff left, they’d revert to their old habits, even assaulting the original complainants.

Chaos reigned for a while.

Everyone felt unfair — their spots were small compared to others.

The food given out was insufficient.

Those tiny bug powder biscuits? What a joke.

Why could some live in rooms inside the inner circle, while they had to cram into large dormitories?

Why did the canteen serve some at will but not them?

There was clearly food, so why wasn’t it distributed?

Every day someone caused trouble, big or small. The largest riot had over two hundred people. They looted nearby people’s supplies, then surged into the underground shelter’s contribution exchange center.

They were violently suppressed.

That day, blood flowed like a river.

Zheng Weiyang kept his promise and privately paid some rewards.

Nowadays, life was cheap — a few packets of compressed biscuits could make people do anything.

On that day’s success, Zheng Weiyang opened a bottle of red wine for himself.

People everywhere always divided into classes.

In this, humans were no different from animals: the alpha wolf grabbed the most resources; the upper class gathered around it, receiving second-tier resources.

The bottom tier? They were the resources themselves.