Xu Zhenlan reached the edge of the property just as Rouxi told the woman with the shaved head that she was the lesson.
The words carried across the road clearly enough for everyone to hear them, including the men hiding inside the workers' houses. The vines around their windows shifted again, tapping the glass to make sure that the people had heard her words. That way, there was no way they could pretend they had missed the warning.
Rouxi stood on the porch with one hand resting against the railing, looking almost comfortable as the street filled with blood.
Zhenlan stopped for a moment and simply looked at her.
He had spent the last hour inside Old Chen's house discussing patrol routes, food distribution, and what the growing number of survivors in the surrounding homes would need before supplies became too scarce. The conversation had been necessary, or at least he had believed they were when he agreed to attend them.
