Chapter 95

Dr. Qiu Shisha had been murdered! Why would these people do this?

But in a flash, Lin Tu guessed the answer.

Because they were too afraid of the plague spreading, so they simply cut off every possible source of transmission—including several living lives. The so-called law of exile was nothing more than a fig leaf.

When the news of Qiu Shisha and the others' deaths reached them a week later, everyone would only sigh and say how unlucky those people were, and at least they had been exiled, so they hadn't infected anyone else.

No one would dig deeper into whether Dr. Qiu Shisha had actually been infected, or whether she had even died of the plague.

Lin Tu took a step back and took one last deep look at the glaringly red infection rate on the corpses.

Too bad they hadn't realized that while people were alive, the infection rate rose more slowly and was less contagious; once dead, the infection rate skyrocketed, and the speed of spreading the plague actually became faster. These people were too clever for their own good, cutting off their own escape route with their own hands.

It seemed the spread of this plague was already inevitable.

Lin Tu closed the door and quickly returned to her room, deciding on the spot that for the next few days, unless absolutely necessary, she would not leave her cabin.

As for whether to leave the Black Pearl? Lin Tu had heard Qiu Shisha say they were heading toward the Watchman, and the more she thought about it, the more she recalled that before entering the disaster, the ship she had seen in her dream—filled with death and disease—was called the "Watchman." If she could catch a ride on this ship to the destination, it would be far safer than drifting alone in her small boat.

Of course... that was assuming they really were heading toward the group-ticket location. She still needed to call the deputy captain tomorrow to confirm the coordinates—Lin Tu had already decided to stay holed up in her cabin and avoid all human contact.

Early the next morning, the breakfast hall, which should have been bustling, had only a handful of people. Most passengers were following the principle of self-preservation and staying in their rooms.

As a result, large amounts of butter-fried toast, silky scrambled eggs, thin slices of smoked meat, fried potatoes, and fish fillets gradually turned cold in the beautiful display cases. But even as they cooled, the passing waiters could only stare at them with longing—at their wages, they could never afford such food. Even if the leftovers were reheated and sold at a lower price for the next meal, it would still be a luxury for them.

For Malin En, however, there was no such worry. Because she never thought about things she couldn't afford; she focused more on what she could buy.

There were very few people in the dining hall this morning. The floor, which had been mopped last night, was still smooth by the time breakfast was nearly over. Malin En had fewer mops to wash, but her heart was heavy with worry.

The food at the market had sold out.

For them, daily life meant going to the market to buy ingredients and cook for themselves—flour, noodles, rice. A single buttered bread could buy a bundle of noodles that would last two full days. A pan-fried fish fillet could buy half a bag of rice, which, if cooked into porridge, could last half a month. Discussing whether the buttered bread was slightly burnt wasn't life; going to the market, haggling, and buying things was life.

But after last night's plague outbreak, Malin En had a feeling that ordinary life was about to slip away. This morning, she had gotten up at the earliest possible hour to go to the market and buy rice and flour, only to be told they had sold out.

Through her mask, Malin En smelled the dull, greasy scent of cold food and made up her mind: she would go directly to the supermarket later. It would be more expensive than the market—the supermarket stocked quality goods—but there was no other choice. People had to eat. Even those who had skipped breakfast and wanted to hide in their rooms to avoid the virus would eventually have to come out to eat; that was life.

After mopping the floor, Malin En quickly cleaned the restroom again, then sat in the farthest stall to eat her lunch—a few thin slices of bread spread with a little peanut butter.

After lunch, she took off her work uniform, changed into her own clothes, grabbed her wallet, and hurried to the supermarket.

The supermarket was on the second deck, decorated warmly, but the prices were far less friendly. The shelves, usually stocked with beautifully packaged, expensive snacks, were now completely empty. The well-dressed people were no longer concerned with appearances, shoving each other and cursing.

"You fat pig! You don't need to eat potato chips! Give the calories to someone else!"

"Someone like you, who'll starve yourself to death before the plague even gets you—why don't you just drop dead?"

Malin En almost laughed, but couldn't. She spotted a bag of chips wedged in a gap between shelves, got down on the floor, pulled it out, and placed it between them before continuing toward her goal.

The supermarket looked like it had been ransacked by robbers. Almost every shelf held only one or two items. The more Malin En walked, the more worried she became. When she reached the rice and flour section, her suspended heart completely sank.

Not only rice and flour—vegetables, fruits, cooked food, and raw meat were all sold out. People were shouting at the staff to restock immediately.

Malin En's heart jumped, and she no longer dared to stroll leisurely. She almost crawled and scrambled to the shelves, trying to find any leftover food, but there was nothing left. She then ran to the instant food section and, luckily, found a relatively intact box of cereal under one shelf.

Malin En hugged the precious cereal and went to check out, only to find that in that short time, the price had already quintupled.

Malin En didn't buy it. It wasn't that she was stingy—it was that her daughter's tuition was due soon. If she bought this cereal, she wouldn't be able to pay the tuition. The school provided free lunches, and the higher-ups wouldn't skimp on that. So in Malin En's eyes, handing over the tuition meant her daughter would both learn and eat—far more worthwhile than this box of cereal.

"Are you buying or not?" the person behind her in line said impatiently. "If not, give it to me! I'll give you 100!"

"Sorry!" Malin En quickly bowed to apologize and handed the cereal over.

She hadn't wanted the 100, but her faded white T-shirt clearly made the person behind her want no further dealings with her. They forced the 100 into her hand and said, "Don't come looking for me later."

"Thank you! Thank you!"

By the afternoon, the situation had become even more severe. The dining hall's food was completely sold out, and they closed before dinner. The waiters, who were hoping for leftovers, looked grim, but there was nothing to be done.

With the dining hall closed, Malin En got off work early, but during her rare time off, she could only sit in the restroom, silently enduring hunger, thinking about how long her savings would last—of course, assuming she could still get her wages by working in the dining hall every day.

The answer was: she couldn't last.

...

Nightfall.

Once everyone had fallen asleep, Lin Tu put on her clothes and planned to make one last outing.

Earlier that day, she had asked the deputy captain and learned that the cruise ship was indeed heading toward the Watchman, where Deng Haixiang's body was. She immediately decided to hitch a ride on this ship to the destination.

Lin Tu planned to stay cooped up in her cabin until the ship arrived, but she needed to know what was happening on board. Otherwise, if the plague broke out and the crowd panicked, someone could smash her door with a hammer one day and she wouldn't even know.

Lin Tu's purpose this trip was to place surveillance cameras at several key entrances and exits on the ship.

The ship had six decks in total. Decks five and six were where the so-called lower-class people lived—stewards, porters, cleaners, and so on. Decks three and four were for middle-class people like Lin Tu. The second deck held public areas like the dining hall, school, and supermarket. The first deck was for so-called upper-class people—politicians, merchants, celebrities. Of course, even within decks five and six (lower) and decks three and four (middle), there were subtle differences in status.

The ship's deck was where the spy computer indicated the most resource points in this disaster. From her dream, Lin Tu could also see that it was piled with containers full of supplies, along with small farms and pastures.

Given the current situation, Lin Tu wasn't allowed on the deck, or even on the first deck. Of course, she hadn't planned to place cameras there either. From a practical standpoint, she only needed to worry about ordinary people rioting and banging on her door. The upper-class people, all surrounded by military bodyguards, wouldn't be bored enough to come down to the fourth deck to steal her things—unless Lin Tu stole from them first. Of course, that would only be a consideration after the ship docked and she safely got her 5,000 points.

Lin Tu placed cameras behind the glass of fire hydrants on each floor from deck six down to deck three, plus one extra in front of her own door—nine in total.

Then, Lin Tu went to the second deck. There were buildings like the supermarket, school, and medical office here, and of course, official surveillance cameras. To avoid being caught on camera, Lin Tu ate two Night Blueberries, climbed up a few pillars to cover the cameras, and then began placing her cameras in suitable, hidden corners.

While she was in the dining hall, she suddenly heard a noise coming from deeper inside.

Lin Tu pressed her mask warily. "Who's there?"

"Hello," a woman in her fifties with slightly dry hair stepped out, holding a mop. She looked a bit puzzled, squinting and deepening the wrinkles at her eyes. "Can I help you..."

"I'm looking for a necklace I lost earlier today." Seeing her cleaner's uniform, Lin Tu relaxed, but she was still puzzled. "Why are you still mopping?"

"I was thinking of getting it cleaner so guests feel comfortable in the morning," the woman, Malin En, explained a bit sheepishly. "Times are tough lately; I'm worried about layoffs in the dining hall, so I wanted to do my best." As she spoke, her stomach let out a loud rumble.

Lin Tu was silent for a moment. "Go ahead with your work. I'll just look for it myself."

"Okay, sorry." Malin En covered her stomach awkwardly, picked up the mop, and left.

Lin Tu quickly installed the camera, then thought of something. She followed the direction Malin En had gone and arrived at the women's restroom door. Hearing faint sounds inside, she hesitated and walked in.

In the elegantly decorated restroom, the door to the innermost stall was closed during the day, but now it was open. Lin Tu walked over and saw that inside the stall, on the left was a pile of mops, the toilet in the center served as a table holding shampoo, toothbrushes, toothpaste, and a lunchbox, a few rags hung by the toilet, shoes underneath, and in the right corner was a cramped bed where Malin En was curled up. On the right wall hung a few clothes, filling the space.

"You..." Lin Tu realized. "You sleep here at night?"

"Yes, I wanted to earn a bit more, so I rented out my bed," Malin En said solicitously. "Is there anything else you need? Need me to help find your necklace?"

"I found it," Lin Tu said, her emotions complicated. "I just thought... I had some leftover food from the evening that I didn't finish. Maybe you could use it."

She pulled two sandwiches from her backpack and placed them at Malin En's feet.

"No, I can't..." Malin En quickly sat up and waved her hands, but her eyes lingered uncertainly on the two intact sandwiches.

"Actually, I have a favor to ask," Lin Tu said earnestly, looking at her. "I'm actually a scholar studying people's dietary culture. I just came to the dining hall to secretly investigate whether any food was left over." Yeah, right.

"Is that so," Malin En quickly replied. "Not a bit left."

"I noticed," Lin Tu said with a smile—otherwise, someone who worked in the dining hall wouldn't be going hungry at night. "But doing this kind of undercover investigation isn't exactly honorable, so would you mind not telling anyone about me being here tonight?"

"I won't! I respect educated people the most," Malin En quickly shook her head and said proudly. "My daughter, she's also studying—taking cultural classes! Even if I can't afford to eat, I'll support her education. In the future, she won't have to do dirty work like us; she can become a scholar like you."

Lin Tu, who had only wanted to lie to get Malin En to keep her secret, suddenly felt like fleeing this cramped, suffocating restroom.

She should do something, Lin Tu thought. She remembered her skill [Peace Envoy]. She pretended to rummage through her backpack while actually activating the skill to produce [Peace Token].

She pulled out a mesh bag of supplies. Through the rope net, she could see two apples, four potatoes, a pack of masks, a small bottle of alcohol, and a box of fever-reducing painkillers.

"I greatly admire people who love learning," Lin Tu said. "Think of this as a token of support. I hope your daughter's academic path goes smoothly."

She slipped a stack of bills into the mesh bag, didn't wait for Malin En to refuse, set down the supplies, and turned to leave.

Lin Tu was fast. By the time Malin En picked up the supplies, stood up, and hurried to the restroom door, Lin Tu had already left the dining hall.

"Thank you!" Malin En shouted loudly, not sure if the woman heard her. There were still good people in the world; there was still hope in life. For some reason, Malin En's eyes stung. She wiped her tears, carefully took out the money, and put the supplies into her bag.

Everything would get better, Malin En thought to herself. Both she and her daughter would be fine. The next time she ran into this lady, she'd ask for her name and room number, then bring her daughter to thank her personally.