This was, of course, a joke.

Sister Yun was able to bring this out from home. Even if she didn’t know exactly what it was, she vaguely understood the value of this wooden bead string.

The Fatty said, “It really has to be Sister Yun. I’ve been busy for several days, but it still can’t compare to Sister Yun’s one move.”

“If I just took it for free, then I’d feel embarrassed to ask Sister Yun for help in the future,” Yu Xifeng said. “Others usually pay with food. It can’t be that when it comes to Sister Yun, she has to give it away for free. You can’t always be the one benefiting.”

“We’ve known each other so long, I’m still someone else,” Sister Yun shot Yu Xifeng a glance. “If this thing is useful to you, just take it. Don’t say all sorts of nonsense.”

Sister Yun turned around to change the charcoal in the brazier, while Yu Xifeng stayed put. Seeing the Fatty scratching his head, Yu Xifeng also ran his fingers through his hair.

The Fatty said, “Why are you staring at me? Sister Yun gave it to you. I can’t decide.”

Yu Xifeng smiled, “Alright then. Dragon Boat Festival is coming in a few days. I’ll bring some sweets then.”

“I’ve been so busy I forgot the date. Getting more and more muddle-headed each day — it’s almost Dragon Boat Festival already,” the Fatty said, lifting the hot water pot off the brazier.

Yu Xifeng told them about the theft at her home.

Sister Yun and the Fatty couldn’t sit still on the spot; they wanted to go and give Zhao Yao some trouble.

“I’ve already dealt with her. Most likely this was my stepmother’s idea. It takes courage to break one’s own limits. Zhao Yao barely went out before coming to the underground shelter. Sister Yun, you’re the one who got involved because of me.”

Sister Yun shook her head: “If not her, it would have been someone else. We got along okay before, but didn’t expect it to end like this — it really makes one sick.”

Yu Xifeng thought for a moment: “Leave this to me. I’ll make them pay.”

The Fatty said, “We can’t get bamboo leaves for zongzi now, but I still have some dry lotus leaves. Later I’ll wrap some glutinous rice — that should suit the occasion.”

Glutinous rice.

Yu Xifeng had tens of tons stored in her space, collected from Zheng Weiyang’s factory.

Eating too much glutinous rice isn’t good for digestion, but portioned and steamed with some honey dates and brown sugar, it was perfect for making steamed cakes.

Yu Xifeng got an idea.

She hadn’t made cooked food for a while.

Taking advantage of the Dragon Boat Festival, it was the perfect chance to make a batch.

Zhang Qiu escorted Yu Xifeng to her doorstep.

Outside Yu Xifeng’s door, a sand painting appeared.

Had the proselytizing reached the inner circle already?

People from the inner circle could go out freely, while those from other zones needed to register with the patrol team to enter.

From the hints leaked earlier by Wang Anmin, the patrol team’s control was tightening.

This sand painting was probably made by someone from the inner circle or someone connected to it.

Yu Xifeng stopped to think.

In the underground shelter, those who believed in the Solar God cult weren’t necessarily devout or poor, but they definitely liked to take advantage.

Next door, Sister Zhang had already taken Deng Feiyu back to the inner circle. When their eyes met, Sister Zhang quickly pulled the curtain shut.

Zhang Qiu took off a piece of jade from around her neck and handed it to Yu Xifeng.

Yu Xifeng was still thinking about the sand painting.

The Solar God cult was growing stronger every day.

From the sand painting outside the door, a lot could be inferred.

The appearance of a sand painting meant the church wanted to recruit that person.

If the sand painting was intact, even carefully protected by a screen, it meant they were a believer.

Destroying it was also a way of expressing attitude.

Yu Xifeng stepped on the fragile sand painting, then looked up at the jade pendant showing the kind-faced Guanyin. Her mind twitched.

“This is also your dowry?”

Zhang Qiu’s face, covered by a mask, turned red with warmth from her ears outward.

“That one’s from the old man, this one’s mine. Isn’t it useful to you? Take it.”

Yu Xifeng touched it—warm, still carrying Zhang Qiu’s body heat.

Her inner space stirred in her consciousness.

Yu Xifeng asked, “What do you want?”

Zhang Qiu thought for a moment: “Give me a zongzi for Dragon Boat Festival? I want a sweet one.”

Yu Xifeng looked at Zhang Qiu deeply and smiled: “Okay.”

Sister Zhang next door peeked through the door crack and sighed regretfully.

That person had promised that for every person recruited from the inner circle to join the Holy Word Prayer, they would get two packs of compressed biscuits.

Sister Zhang, carrying white porridge and some flatbread, had come looking for Yu Xifeng twice. The first time, Yu Xifeng wasn’t home; the second time, Yu Xifeng didn’t open the door.

From the crack came the warmth of steamed glutinous rice, the sweet fragrance of honey dates, and the smell of meat.

This spoiled woman.

Did she even deserve to eat such good food?

Sister Zhang took a deep breath.

If Yu Xifeng had been a good girl, married to her son, then it would be she and her son enjoying such comforts inside.

The Dragon Boat Festival arrived.

Rarely, the smell of food wafted outside.

At least some still remembered the calendar, remembered the festivals.

For the apocalypse, festivals were destined to be a luxury word.

From outside the circle came the sound of choral hymns.

A priest stood on a shabby platform; below were pale, thin faces, heads tilted up, eyes following the priest’s moving lips.

Wang Anmin, fully armed, stood with the patrol team to one side.

Above, the rampant church was left unchecked.

Life in the underground shelter was not easy; survivors needed spiritual sustenance.

The hymn was supposed to be ethereal, but the hundreds or thousands singing were hoarse and noisy.

Wang Anmin seemed distracted.

People died every day in the shelter.

Many had spent all their money and endured countless hardships just to get here.

More had died on the way.

Frozen, starved, killed by others, or illness.

If there really was a god above, could it see all this?

The priest’s expression was indifferent, looking down at the survivors, his gaze briefly sweeping over Wang Anmin.

Wang Anmin felt a shadow of ill omen cross his heart.

He thought of the letter whose origin he’d never found.

If the low temperatures weren’t the end…

Would this catastrophe ever end?

Could humanity truly survive?

As the hymn ended, each person received a bowl of white rice.

Soft, fragrant, enough to fill the stomach.

Heavy in the hand.

The atmosphere reached a climax.

The believers loudly shouted the Solar God’s sacred name, praised His great power, and kissed the priest’s shoe tips one by one.

Then they pricked their fingertips to draw blood and smeared it on their foreheads.

This orgy only worsened the already fragile mental state of the survivors.

Yu Xifeng wrapped the honey date glutinous rice cake in lettuce leaves, tying a string around the outside.

Zhang Qiu’s requested sweet zongzi was ready.

Yu Xifeng also prepared two with salted egg yolk and meat, planning to give them to Old Cai and Sister Yun.

She had planned it all: lunch at Old Cai’s place, dinner at Sister Yun’s.

Suddenly, with a hiss, the power went out.

The underground shelter relied entirely on manual power, with no external light sources.

When the power went out, it was pitch black, pitch black as ink, not even able to see your hand.

Yu Xifeng was stunned, then stood up.

A flashlight appeared in her hand out of nowhere.