CHAPTER 43: APOCALYPSE: THE FIRST LANTERN FESTIVAL

Jing Shu still loved drinking soup, so she prepared 1 cubic meter of Seafood Shrimp Porridge, 1 cubic meter of Carrot Corn Mutton Soup, 1 cubic meter of Shiitake Mushroom Chicken Soup, 1 cubic meter of Pork Ribs Lotus Root Soup, and 1 cubic meter of Crucian Carp Tofu Soup.

Considering the need to save electricity, Jing Shu also fried her midnight snack of steak and Yuqing sausages, filling up 2 cubic meters.

Whenever Jing Shu had time at home, she would make all sorts of delicacies and, like a hamster, store them in her space. She even planned to grind the soybeans and make various kinds of tofu when Mr. Jing and Grandma Jing visited later.

Mrs. Jing still went to work every day, complaining daily that the Dark Day hadn’t ended yet, even after more than 30 days. She also made Mr. Jing go to the wholesale market to buy more things every day. Lately, everyone was anxiously awaiting the end of the Dark Day while quietly stocking up on more food.

As for vegetables and fruits, forget it. The prices had soared to over a hundred yuan per jin, and there was nothing fresh.

Various bottled drinks and cold beverages hadn’t been restocked on the shelves anymore.

The once fully stocked shelves of snacks, daily condiments, and staple food products were imperceptibly running low, and it seemed they hadn’t been replenished. Now there was a purchase limit of 200 yuan per person, which did not buy much, but even a mosquito’s leg is still meat, right? Unless one was willing to pay a high price to scalpers.

Ever since the small supermarket had countless items confiscated due to rampant price hiking, the number of scalpers had drastically decreased. Citizens had no idea where the seized goods went, but Jing Shu knew that when people were about to starve, the government had used them to save lives.

Some small shop owners, seeing that raising prices wasn’t working, decided to close up and hoard supplies. The next day, two police officers would stand guard like door gods, frightening the shopkeepers into continuing to sell their goods.

In Wu City’s largest agricultural market, the sale of seafood, staple foods, and oil was temporarily halted by the government, which covertly took control. Jing Shu only learned later that as these products became outrageously expensive, the authorities, in cooperation with the Armed Police, directly confiscated all goods in one fell swoop. Politely, it was called "expropriation."

With the Dark Day showing no signs of ending, the nation grew anxious. According to the plan, light should have gradually returned after twenty-odd days, but many days later, it was still dark. Experts predicted it might take at least another month, and so the colossal machinery of the nation began to move.

It was February 5, 2023, the Lantern Festival. The country had originally planned to move the Spring Festival from January 22 to February 5, the day of the Lantern Festival reunion feast, hoping the Dark Day would have ended by then. But the Dark Day had not yet ceased.

However, to stabilize public morale, the Spring Festival Lantern Festival gala started promptly at 20:00. This year, all the hosts wore their original clothes: dirty and disheveled suits, unkempt beards, dresses of indiscernible color, haggard faces, and greasy hair. There was no makeup, no dressing up.

"I apologize to our audience and friends, I haven’t bathed in half a month," the bare-faced female host said, still maintaining her elegant demeanor.

"What a coincidence, I haven’t bathed in a month either," the male host said into the microphone, beginning the show with these remarks.

Today, with uninterrupted electricity, every household could enjoy a reunion dinner and happily watch the Lantern Festival gala.

Jing Shu’s family of three sat at Uncle’s house for their reunion dinner today. This was an established tradition: New Year’s Eve at Grandpa and Grandma’s, and the Lantern Festival at Uncle’s.

Considering the shortage of vegetables, Mrs. Jing brought some dried goods, eggs, tomatoes, bean sprouts, cabbage, garlic shoots, and cured meat, along with 2 liters of Sprite.

These items, which usually looked quite ordinary, had now become highly sought-after commodities.

Mr. Jing still wanted to bring a couple more fish. The pond had spawned another batch, and Jing Shu had fried so many crispy fish that many were left over. Just as Jing Shu was about to refuse, Mrs. Jing preemptively declined, "That’s enough, these are sufficient. If my sister-in-law finds out we have so many good things and don’t give them any, she’ll start whispering in his ear again."

In truth, Mrs. Jing, a woman who held onto slights, was still bothered by the matter of borrowing money.

Mr. Jing drove, and the family of three arrived at Uncle’s house that afternoon. Uncle’s house was in the old western district of the city, an area characterized by dense, low buildings, a poor environment, and high property prices. The flood in the second year hadn’t reached them, but an earthquake in the third year buried Uncle’s family of three under their building, a truly tragic end.

To prevent Mrs. Jing from reverting to her pushover self, Jing Shu decided she had to somehow ensure Uncle’s family survived.

By the time Jing Shu’s family arrived, two other groups of guests were already at Uncle’s house.

"Ah, you’ve come, and brought so many things! I’m so embarrassed! At least you’re better than some people, who come empty-handed to freeload," Aunt Wang Fang said as she opened the door, smoothly taking the pile of items from Mr. Jing’s hands. Seeing the green vegetables, tomatoes, cabbage, and cured meat, her eyes lit up, and she couldn’t stop grinning. She was thrilled they could finally have some vegetables for the New Year and even save some.

"Come in, come in, quick. This year my elder brother Wang Gang and his family are celebrating the New Year with us. This is his wife, Liu Shufen, whom you know. And this is their daughter, Wang Can. She’s 25 years old, and my brother managed to get her a job as a clerk in a government office," said the aunt, though she felt somewhat inappropriate after bragging.

For the New Year, Aunt’s family had made a special effort to clean up. They had wiped themselves down with a damp cloth, washed their faces, and changed into clean clothes, though they hadn’t dared to wash their hair. Little did they know, Jing Shu’s family, apart from some freshly settled dust, was perfectly clean. Their hair wasn’t oily at all and even carried the scent of Blue Moon brand laundry detergent.

Looking at her own family, no matter how they dressed, they still exuded a rustic aura.

Jing Shu’s family entered and greeted Uncle’s family. They noticed that the three-bedroom, two-living-room house, which Mr. Jing had once luxuriously outfitted, was now rather dilapidated and had an indefinable foul smell. Various sized jars filled with water were placed around, and the small bedroom was crammed with a freezer. Through its glass door, they could see it was about half full of frozen meat.

Only the kitchen light, the living room TV, and the air conditioner were on, making the illumination dim. At that time, every household had an electricity quota; exceeding it would result in a power cut.

"Sprite! Sister Jing, you still manage to get 2-liter bottles of Sprite? That’s awesome!" Su Long exclaimed, his eyes gleaming like a ravenous wolf’s as he saw the beverage Jing Shu was holding. He rushed over, attempting to snatch it.

Su Long was Uncle’s youngest son, 17 years old, wearing glasses. He was short and thin due to his love for snacks since childhood. It was this spoiled brat who, during the earthquake, had insisted on going back to their home, ultimately leading to his family’s tragic demise.

Jing Shu pressed a finger against Su Long’s forehead. "This is for everyone to drink with the meal. You’re not allowed to have it now." In fact, Jing Shu hadn’t wanted to bring Sprite because it was so versatile—Sprite with lemon, Sprite with sour plum juice, Sprite with milk—all created unique and exciting flavors.

"PFFT, as if that’s anything special," sneered Zhang Hanhan, hugging Wang Can’s arm and glaring at Jing Shu. She then murmured something to Wang Can. They didn’t seem bothered by the heat; to save electricity, the air conditioner was set to only 28°C, even though the outside temperature was a scorching 47°C.

Zhang Hanhan, Su Meimei’s daughter, had deliberately worn a red dress today. She had tied her hair in a Wanzi hairstyle, applied makeup, and spritzed on some perfume to mask her body odor. Jing Shu always felt that students from the art academy, once they were all dressed up, ended up with the same kind of internet celebrity face—a style she herself had liked to emulate over a decade ago, in her previous life.

It was surprising to see Aunt Su Meimei and her husband, Zhang Zhongyong, here. Weren’t they supposedly estranged? Wasn’t he even trying to force her into a pig cage?