The morning light pierced the clouds, tinting the newly painted off-white exterior of the "Firefly" community center with a warm golden edge. The air was no longer filled with the smoke of gunpowder and the despairing smell of rust. Instead, it was filled with the dampness of newly turned earth, the fragrance of freshly cut wood, and the distant, warm aroma of simmering nutritious paste from the humble canteen. A vibrant energy, a mixture of exhaustion and excitement, flowed like electricity through the rebuilt streets.
The first plenary meeting of the newly formed Downtown Joint Committee took place in the community center's largest conference room. Once the site of lavish banquets for chaebol executives, the crystal chandeliers had long since been removed and sold, replaced with bright energy-saving bulbs. Around a large circular conference table, made of rough but sturdy reclaimed wood, sat representatives from various districts and industries across Downtown. They wore bleached work clothes, their faces etched with the marks of weathering and hardship, but their eyes shone with a cautious excitement of taking charge.
Li Shuo sat in the main seat, his burly frame like a heavy foundation stone. Spread out before him was a massive, hand-drawn map of the downtown reconstruction plan, with different colored markers marking water supply, energy, residential areas, medical points, and defense checkpoints. His voice was loud and clear, carrying unquestionable authority, yet also tinged with a subtle hint of fatigue:
"…The repair of the North Seven District's water supply main is lagging behind! Energy Team, where are the backup generators you promised?! The renovation of the cooling system for the old reactor in the West District can't be delayed any longer! Security Team, your patrol routes don't cover the edge of the 'Paradise Harbor' ruins. That's where the Black Scorpion remnants are most likely to infiltrate! Manpower! Resources! Time!" His rough fingers pounded heavily on the blueprints, making a dull echo. "We're rebuilding our home on the ruins! This isn't playing house! Everyone, pay attention!"
The atmosphere in the conference room suddenly became solemn. The faces of the representatives who were called out flushed. Some stiffened their necks and tried to plead a lack of resources, while others lowered their heads in shame. In the corner, a middle-aged man, his clothes washed to a pale gray, but his collar and cuffs still immaculate, gently adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses. His name was Zhou Rui. He was once a mid-level manager in a marginal department of the Chaebol Alliance, known for his "efficiency" and "rationality." Now he was a newly promoted member of the Materials Coordination Committee. He looked at Li Shuo, an elusive smile on his lips, and spoke slowly:
"Chairman Li, we all understand your urgency. But with all due respect, reconstruction can't be accomplished solely through sheer enthusiasm. Resources are limited, and they must be optimally allocated. For example..." His gaze swept across the several large residential area planning points marked on the blueprint, "We should prioritize ensuring living conditions for personnel in core areas and key production departments to improve efficiency. As for those in marginal areas and... non-essential labor," he paused, glancing meaningfully at the several members of the Disabled Persons' Union in the corner, "they can be temporarily relocated to transitional camps, where they will be provided with basic survival needs. After all, our priority is to ensure Firefly's heart is beating strongly, isn't it?"
"Commissioner Zhou, what do you mean by that?" A burly man with a scar on his face, representing the Southern Third District Heavy Industry Consortium, suddenly stood up and shouted like thunder. "Are those from the marginal areas no longer members of the Lower City District? Are those brothers injured in the resistance no longer human?! If they hadn't risked their lives to blow up the chaebol's energy center, how could you sit here and talk about 'optimized configuration'?"
"That's right! A transitional camp? What's the difference between that and the old slums?" A gray-haired old woman representing the community medical mutual aid network spoke tremblingly, her eyes sharp. "Reconstruction is for everyone! It's not about building another pyramid!"
The conference room erupted in a clashing frenzy. Those who favored the centralization of resources, known as "efficiency," clashed fiercely with those who demanded fair distribution, known as "universal benefit." The newly formed ray of hope seemed to be obscured by the shadow of reality and the fissures of division.
Li Shuo's face grew darker, and veins throbbed on his forehead. He slammed his hand on the table, and the loud noise instantly stopped the argument.
"Enough!" His eyes swept across the room like lightning. "Will arguing solve the problem? Commissioner Zhou's 'efficiency' doesn't mean sacrificing fairness! Old Chen and his team's 'fairness' doesn't mean hindering reconstruction! What we need is a balance! A path that allows everyone to see hope!" His gaze finally fell towards the conference room entrance, with a subtle hint of anticipation. "We've invited a special consultant to hear his opinions."
Everyone's eyes turned to the door.
Lu Cheneng appeared there. He had changed out of his bloodstained combat uniform for a clean, unmarked gray work suit. His face still bore the paleness of someone recovering from a serious illness, and his figure was even a little frail. But he simply stood there quietly, his back straight, like a pine tree, strengthened by the baptism of a storm. His eyes, clear and deep, held a depth of pain and struggle unimaginable to ordinary people, yet now they were unusually calm, possessing a penetrating power that penetrated superficial appearances.
The conference room fell silent. You could hear a pin drop. Awe, curiosity, anticipation, and even a subtle dread—a complex mix of emotions mingled in the air. This former "ghost," after ending Pandora, destroying the Matrix, retrieving the coordinates of the Ark, and ultimately defeating the nightmare within, had become a legend passed down through the generations of the Lower Town. His very existence was a banner.
Lu Cheneng didn't take the main seat, nor even approach the circular table. He simply walked to a relatively empty spot at the front of the conference room, his gaze calmly sweeping over the faces that were either excited, nervous, or scrutinizing. His voice wasn't loud, even a little low and hoarse, but it carried a strange power that could soothe all impetuousness, and it reached everyone's ears clearly:
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