Chapter Twenty-Three: Settling on a Place to Stay

It wasn't until they had left Taishan and his group far behind that Qi Feiwu finally couldn’t hold back her laughter. She nearly ran out of breath as she said, “Xie Han, I never expected you to be so humorous. You’ve really made me laugh to death.” Xie Han shrugged and replied, “There’s no other way. We’ve just arrived here—best to avoid trouble whenever we can.” Chu Tianhe agreed with him on this point and said, “Boss, since we’re all following you now, what about the housing situation? Shouldn’t we think about sorting it out? We’re all scattered about; that’s not ideal, is it?”

Xie Han had already considered this matter. Most of the buildings in the neighborhood were apartment-style, and if they found a larger one, it should be no problem to fit ten people. The real challenge was persuading those who already lived there. But Xie Han wasn’t worried; he believed that, when faced with a gun to their head, most people knew what choice to make.

Xie Han beckoned to Lu Haiyang and, pointing at the still-fuming Taishan in the distance, said, “Haiyang, go tell him I’m inviting him for a meal—white rice.” Lu Haiyang nodded without asking why and ran off towards Taishan. Having experienced life and death, boys like Lu Haiyang were hardly afraid of street thugs.

Xu Qiang, somewhat puzzled, looked at Xie Han. “Why are you inviting him for a meal?” Xie Han smiled. In his original world, many things weren’t settled by force, but rather through negotiation. And for the Chinese, the best place for a discussion was always the dining table. In this post-apocalyptic world, there was nothing more tempting than a bowl of rice, so Xie Han wasn’t worried that Taishan would refuse. As long as Taishan came, Xie Han had his ways to make him useful.

The room assigned to Xie Han was a two-bedroom suite, but one of the rooms was already occupied by a bespectacled man in his thirties. Judging by his refined demeanor, he was probably a white-collar worker before the world changed. The apartment was small, and the arrival of ten people startled the man so much that he immediately retreated to his room and locked the door with a bang.

“Come on, we’re not robbers. Why lock the door?” Chu Tianhe was annoyed and cursed at the man’s door, which only made the occupant even more reluctant to open up—the scraping sounds suggested he was barricading himself inside. Chu Tianhe could only fall silent and slump back onto the sofa.

Xie Han clapped his hands. “Alright, let’s stay here for now. Old Gu and Old Li, sorry to trouble you, but could you cook? We’ll have a special meal today—cook all the rice.” Qi Feiwu was alarmed. “No, if we cook all the rice now, what will we do tonight? Who knows what the food distribution will be like here?” Her concern was understandable. At their previous base, the daily ration was only two mantou. With at least 130,000 or 140,000 people at Wangtian Base, food was scarce, and their share was never much. If they cooked all the rice now, they’d be half-starved again tomorrow.

Xie Han understood Qi Feiwu’s worries, but to him, rice—so precious to them—was just rice. With his own ability, he could produce a square meter’s worth a day, enough to feed fifty people. He waved his hand for the elders to go ahead and start cooking, then reassured Qi Feiwu, “Don’t worry about the food. I have my own arrangements.” Qi Feiwu almost protested, but in the end, she said nothing. The leadership of the group had already shifted to this enigmatic man before her.

Natural gas in town had been cut off two years ago, but the apocalypse had its own silver lining: technology had leapt forward. Now, gas boxes the size of a fist could burn for 120 hours, nearly replacing natural gas. Most people in town used these new, more efficient gas boxes—just slot them into the stove, and you were set.

To Xie Han, the post-apocalyptic world was full of treasures. Fifty years of technological progress had yielded inventions that could make him rich beyond measure if brought back to his own era.

Soon, Taishan returned with Lu Haiyang, bringing only two henchmen. He looked at Xie Han with some confusion. “I heard you’re inviting me to a meal of white rice?” Xie Han smiled and nodded. “That’s right—steaming white rice.” Taishan was skeptical; there was no such thing as a free lunch. He sat down and said, “We’re all men here. Just say what you want. I don’t believe you’re so generous.”

Xie Han tossed a whole pack of cigarettes onto the table. “Straightforward, just how I like it. I need you to help me with something. Do it well, and the cigarettes are yours, along with a hearty meal of rice. What do you say?” Taishan stared at the cigarettes, swallowing hard. “Not a bad deal. What do you need done?”

Xie Han grinned. “It’s simple. I need you to get me a large apartment—something that can house ten people.” Taishan hesitated, glancing at the cigarettes. “That’s not easy. Housing here is strictly regulated. Every room has an intelligent system. If the authorities find out someone doesn’t match the registered ID, they’ll come down hard.”

Xie Han stroked his chin, gazing at Taishan. “An intelligent system? I refuse to believe, in a place full of smart people, that no one knows how to bypass it.” Taishan, under Xie Han’s gaze, became uneasy. “Well, there is someone… but…” Xie Han smiled. “Five kilos of rice. Whoever can bypass the system gets it.”

Taishan was stunned, then delighted. “If there’s food, anything is possible. Leave it to me—by tomorrow night, you’ll have a spacious apartment.”

Qi Feiwu was startled to hear Xie Han trade five kilos of rice. All their rice had just been cooked—where would they get more? She tried to signal Xie Han, but he ignored her, instead chatting with Taishan about trivial matters. Seeing that she was being ignored, Qi Feiwu grew indignant, pouting and turning away. Even she didn’t understand why the strong-willed woman she once was always showed such softness in Xie Han’s presence.

Before long, Old Li and Old Gu had cooked the rice. Though the only side dish was dried radish, to everyone there it was a feast. Xie Han quickly had Taishan and his men sit, and thirteen people formed a large circle, each soon with a bowl of steaming white rice.

Taishan devoured his rice in a few large bites, chewing on the crisp dried radish, and, astonishingly for a grown man, tears welled up in his eyes. “I’ve eaten nothing but mantou for over a year—I was about to turn into one myself. I’d almost forgotten what rice tasted like.” His two followers were even more desperate, ignoring their boss as they wolfed down one bowl after another.

Xu Qiang and the others felt much the same. If not for Xie Han, they might never have had the chance to eat rice again. Because of that thought, almost everyone looked at Xie Han with a new fervor. Perhaps following this man was the right choice—the only way to survive and go further in this desolate world.