With more vehicles on our second trip, we managed to transport all the boxes back in one go.
Now, the children in the compound had ample food, supplies, and warm clothing—not exactly overflowing, but certainly plentiful. Everyone could even afford to be choosy. After all, once children are accustomed to a certain brand of formula, switching easily might cause diarrhea. So now, parents could continue feeding their children the usual brands.
After settling into the compound, Qin Goodluck was no longer anxious about whether we'd allocate enough supplies from his store for Little Sweet first. He told me, "Let's distribute everything equally. As long as Little Sweet has enough, it's fine."
He was no longer worried about shortages because he'd seen our capabilities.
Moreover, he immediately asked to join the Action Group. He now felt assured leaving Little Sweet in Dr. Xiaoshuang's care. Knowing her identity as a gentle pediatrician, he had no more reservations.
Despite his tough exterior, Qin Goodluck was soft-hearted and kind. He was deeply grateful for our help and eager to contribute to the compound.
I told him not to rush—there would be plenty of opportunities. We had much to do, but it had to be done step by step.
That evening, while I was playing ball and telling stories with Shuai Shuai, Sixth Brother called, inviting me and my husband over for discussion.
Sixth Sister-in-law had brewed coffee for us. This couple truly understood the art of living with taste and refinement. Their coffee was far more aromatic than anything from Western-style cafes.
"Here's the situation," Sixth Brother began calmly. "The coal stockpiled this year will only last until February. Originally, we planned to purchase more, but now it seems our only option is to conserve resources."
"Conserve resources? Does that mean reducing heating?" I grew anxious immediately. Adults could endure the cold, but what about all the children?
"Yes. The heating control room has a master switch. We have no other choice now," Sixth Brother replied.
A thought struck me. Each household had its own adjustable thermostat. If that was possible for individual units, what about entire buildings?
"Sixth Brother, does each building have its own independent heating control?" I asked.
"Yes. What are you thinking?"
"What if we consolidate everyone into Buildings 5 and 6? We could maintain heating in those two buildings and shut it off in the empty ones. Would that work?" I wasn't well-versed in property management systems, but Sixth Brother would know!
"That's a brilliant idea! It's feasible! But we'd need to move everyone into these two buildings quickly!" Sixth Brother slapped his forehead, perhaps never having considered relocating residents from their homes.
But these were extraordinary times, and it was necessary. Concentrating everyone would also make protection and care easier!
I suggested Buildings 5 and 6 not because I lived in Building 5 or Sixth Brother in Building 6. These two buildings were most suitable because:
First, they stood side-by-side near the compound's center, feeling safer than those on the periphery.
Second, Building 5 currently had the most survivors, making internal moves easier than relocating outward.
Third, Building 6 was the compound's only large luxury building, originally housing wealthy residents. Their vacant units were not only well-decorated and comfortable but also spacious.
Moreover, all our supplies were centralized on the lower floors of these two buildings.
The next day, we held a full compound meeting to explain the relocation plan and reasons.
No one objected. Especially those living in nearly empty units—they'd already felt terrified by the emptiness. Gathering together would provide greater security.
We assigned families with children to the spacious units in Building 6. We cleared out two empty rooms to create a mini play area. Everyone contributed their children's small slides, swings, rockers, ball pits, toy horses, and other toys. This way, the children could play together regularly, avoiding boredom from being cooped up indoors.
Adults could endure loneliness out of fear, but children, unaware and energetic, couldn't stand being trapped inside. Their daily tantrums gave parents headaches. Bringing them together for playtime solved the problem—for them, loneliness was the greatest enemy.
Every day, Grandpa would take Shuai Shuai to play, always under our escort. Leaving home or the unit required protection.
The first time Shuai Shuai went downstairs and stepped outside, he was amazed by the snow on the ground. I let his little hand touch the frost on a branch. The icy sensation thrilled him, and he shouted excitedly. Worried about attracting nearby zombies, we quickly hurried him and Grandpa into Building 6.
Shuai Shuai, reluctant to go indoors after finally getting outside, was soon captivated by the playmates and fun toys in the play area. Ah, children will be children! Even if they fought over toys, they'd soon become happy friends again, forgetting their squabbles. If the adult world could be as forgiving and magnanimous, wouldn't the world be peaceful and beautiful?
Little Sweet soon joined the compound's baby group, playing happily every day. Seeing his daughter finally safe and living a normal life put Qin Goodluck's heart at ease.
Once, I curiously asked him what he'd eaten during that month hiding in his store. He said, "Has your son ever gnawed on teething biscuits? And all those snacks and candies for older babies—things Little Sweet couldn't eat yet? I nearly gagged! Why is kids' food so awful?"
I laughed hysterically. Honestly, I'd tasted Shuai Shuai's baby snacks—not out of greed, but to check for artificial flavors and suitability. They were truly bland! No artificial flavors detected, but the taste was utterly plain!
Yet he'd survived on that for a month. Well, human potential is limitless.
After intense training, the men's physical fitness had reached a certain level. Though many still lacked实战 (actual combat) experience, their strength was now remarkable.
When not needed outside, the men continued training. During breaks, they discussed zombie-killing techniques. Their bodies were already stronger; now they needed to enhance reflexes and agility.
Against zombie attacks, keen awareness was essential. Taking down zombies required ensuring one wasn't injured. Combat with zombies differed from fights with humans or beasts—a mere scratch or a bite had the same outcome: infection and mutation! Carelessness was not an option!
The women, gathering together, focused more on livelihood issues:
Was there enough food? Enough warm clothing? How long would the compound's heating, water, electricity, and gas last? If heating failed in deep winter, how would so many people survive?
After discussions, the women decided on practical work: categorizing our stockpiled food.
Items with the shortest shelf life were consumed first. Canned and vacuum-sealed foods were saved for last, used sparingly without waste.
Though large supermarkets existed outside, it was uncertain if they'd been looted or emptied by other survivors. The women's homemaking skills shone brightly!
Until I asked, I never knew the women's favorite pastime: mahjong!
Yes! Four players, 108 tiles—the magical game of mahjong! Some called it sparrows.
Though fun, it only exercised brains and arms. Long hours sitting led to inactivity, excess fat, and little muscle—meaning lack of strength! Swinging a kitchen knife to kill a chicken was hard enough, let alone dealing with powerful, clawing, terrifying zombies? Not ideal!
Besides lacking strength, women suffered chronic issues: lumbar strain, cervical problems, stiff limbs, slow reflexes, herniated discs… Giving each a zombie would likely wipe them out!
I proposed women also undergo physical training and learn zombie head-shot techniques.
But naturally timid and weak, they feared wielding knives or guns, let alone facing zombies firsthand. They said even mice or cockroaches made them scream and jump. Close combat with zombies was unacceptable! Seeing their reluctance, I called a meeting.
"Dear sisters! If a horde attacks, you might say your husband is strong, loves you, and will protect you and your children at all costs!
But what if your man falls? Will you watch yourself fall to the zombies? OK, you say you wouldn't want to live without him anyway. But can you imagine being skinned alive, eyeballs gouged, belly slit, intestines pulled out, fingers bitten off, nose chewed away… without quick death, enduring ten or twenty minutes or longer, depending on where they start eating…
Yeah, it's gruesome, but that's how zombies feed. They won't first give you painless sleeping pills, waiting until you're senseless before delicately slicing and chewing your flesh with fork and knife. They crave freshness—your screams, cries, and struggles make their meal more exhilarating and satisfying!
And you mothers—you might not mind dying horribly, but can you bear your babies suffering such torture? Zombies show no mercy, no respect for age or innocence. They're absolute evil! Don't expect them to spare adorable toddlers—they'll devour them more eagerly!
As a mother, you are your child's protector! If you're not strong, how can you ensure your child's survival? Yes, our compound has many men, but only one is your husband, your child's father. In chaos, men will protect their own families—don't rely on anyone else!
Even your husband might fall anytime. When he's gone, your child can only depend on you! Now, do you still think physical training and learning effective zombie head-shots are unacceptable? Unless you prefer your child torn to pieces by zombies!"
By midway, many women were crying or trembling. But I hardened my heart and continued. Mentioning children, I avoided thinking of Shuai Shuai—such empathy would break me. But I had to be cruel—stating facts, not stories!
When I finished, silence fell. I quietly watched everyone. After about five minutes, all women raised their hands: "Duo Duo! I'll join! Give me the sharpest knife!"
"Duo Duo, I'll join! Tell me how to strengthen my arms!"…
I smiled. As a mother myself, I knew that to protect their children, even the timidest women would become as fierce as tigers—sometimes even surpassing fathers.