Chapter Thirty-One: Sophia's Units of Measurement

Yang Jie rubbed his aching forehead but accepted the situation—what else could he do? The outside world was in chaos now. The only consolation was that it didn’t take up his precious time; he could still coordinate the women stockpiling supplies via his phone. Unfortunately, those medical devices and blood supplies required him to personally collect and store them.

After some thought, Yang Jie decided to wait until he could go out himself before taking them in. Sipping his iced Americano, he began to contemplate. The stockpiling was already on track; everyone who needed to know was informed. The main concern now was when the current protests would end. In his visions of the future, he saw that this event would indeed happen.

But at that time, it had nothing to do with him—he hadn’t paid much attention, only knowing it dispersed quickly without causing much damage, according to the news. Of course, Yang Jie didn’t believe a word of it. Even if hundreds were killed, the news would still claim no casualties.

It was like the hurricane in Florida; if not for TikTok, no one outside Florida would have known just how badly the storm would devastate the state. Thinking of this, Yang Jie couldn’t sit still. He quickly found some white paper outside the window, set it on fire, mixed the ashes with water to make ink, and then smeared it over the front and back glass windows.

The glass was old-fashioned, reflecting light at first glance, but when pressed close, one could faintly see inside. “Yang Rongrong, cover the front and back windows with this!” “Ah? Okay, okay!” After giving the order, Yang Jie went to the car, took an oil can from the storage space, and refueled the vehicle repeatedly before returning to the room.

He had nothing else to do now but could finish all the preparations. As he was about to enter the room, he saw a staff member downstairs anxiously making a phone call. Yang Jie immediately went down and pulled him into a hug.

“Hey, friend, any good news?” The staff member hung up, looking utterly defeated.

“We’re doomed. I heard the LGBT group joined the protests. They’re smashing, looting, and burning everywhere in the city. Many Hajji gangs have turned our place into their base — they rest and eat here when tired!”

Yang Jie’s expression darkened. Seeming to realize something, he quickly asked, “Is the route to the Outer Continent still open?”

“It was closed last night!”

“Fuck!” Yang Jie cursed silently. According to his plan, if he couldn’t leave in another day, he’d detour through the Outer Continent, a drive of at most ten hours. But now, even that was impossible. What was the point then?

Was he really going to have to take a plane? The skies were all closed. If he took off, he’d almost certainly be locked onto by police helicopters. His identity might not hold up. If the National Guard showed up, was he supposed to fight their armed helicopters? Ridiculous. His planes were all private or rescue and transport aircraft—not a shred of combat capability.

Though there were armed helicopters, they never showed themselves openly. If they did, things would escalate seriously.

Yang Jie took out three hundred dollars from his pocket and stuffed it into the staff member’s shirt pocket.

“I need ten dishes of delicious food. Organic would be best.”

The staff member’s spirits lifted immediately but snorted when he heard “organic.”

“Sure! Should I book a table at the Claire Restaurant in Manhattan for you?”

Yang Jie gave him the middle finger and left. American jokes—never funny.

Back in his room, Yang Jie lay down intending to nap, when a message popped up in the group chat.

Zhao Baitong: Yang Jie, we’ve compiled fifteen sets of data. Want to screen them?

Yang Jie: Send privately.

Private message to Zhao Baitong: How’s Chris’s performance?

Zhao Baitong: Very good, highly professional, with a mindset similar to ours—not one of those local lunatics or egotists.

Yang Jie: Good. Keep a close eye on the protests. Notify me immediately if there’s any news about the no-fly zone being imposed or lifted. I’m trapped in a motel now with nowhere to go!

Zhao Baitong: No problem!

After closing the chat, Yang Jie opened the files.

Ivan Siegler: 28, male, former army, criminal record...

Everett Dennis: 31, male, public elementary school physics teacher, no criminal record, family members...

Katherine Vivian: 25, female, actress and model, no criminal record, mixed race, Arctic bear descent, came to the city at eight, no family left, hobby: firearms.

Donna Ellenstein: 34, female, forensic doctor, actress, no criminal record, Argentine descent, hobbies include various firearms and vehicles, has a daughter.

...

After reviewing all fifteen sets of data, Yang Jie immediately began eliminating those who didn’t fit his team.

Drug users? Out!

Sex offenders? Out!

Unstable personalities? Out!

In the end, holding two lists, Yang Jie felt on the verge of tears. His standards were already low. Apart from professionalism, hardly any were normal.

He was looking for normal people with crisis awareness, gratitude, and obedience. Having family was fine, but no more than one relative to keep control manageable. But the family member couldn’t be overly sensitive or they’d cause trouble.

Despite appearances, the group barely numbered ten—just enough for a small tactical squad.

Deep down, Yang Jie wanted to recruit some men—easier to negotiate with and able to shoulder more responsibility. Unfortunately, they were all hopeless cases, some even perversely so.

Comparing the two lists, he felt one candidate was unsuitable due to an overly flamboyant personality. To put it nicely, outgoing; less kindly, a chaotic hipster with tangled connections, difficult to control. And if told not to mention it, would she keep quiet?

Finally, he confirmed one file.

Private message to Zhao Baitong: Who recommended Donna Ellenstein?

Zhao Baitong: Chris and Li Siyao.

Yang Jie: Send me her daughter’s file too. Ask Chris to get in touch and get a feel for the situation.

Zhao Baitong: Honestly, very few white people don’t have body odor. Are you really that concerned? If you want, just stockpile deodorant.

Yang Jie: I can tolerate it, but not if it’s excessive. Otherwise, one person’s smell fills the whole house. Nobody can stand that. The strongest smell can’t be worse than Sophia’s—I’ve been putting up with her for a long time!

Inside the villa, Sophia stared at Zhao Baitong’s phone, doubting herself. Did she really stink? How had she become a unit of measurement?

To put it bluntly, there was a line of men waiting to pursue her, all the way to Paris. If her thoughts weren’t elsewhere, she’d have been married long ago.