However, reality is often more complex than imagined. Duan Chenghong didn't rush to open the rickety roller shutter door. Instead, he cautiously peered through the crack and asked in a low, wary voice, "Who's out there?" Before he finished speaking, a sleazy, slightly provocative voice pierced through the crack like a sharp blade in the cold wind: "Hey, did you guys steal the food from next door? We're starving, hurry up and bring out some food to share!"
Upon hearing this, Duan Chenghong's heart tightened, and a barely perceptible hint of guilt flashed across his face. After all, in this era of extreme scarcity, any amount of food could be crucial for survival. But then, a surge of indignation welled up within him. Why could these people so brazenly demand things? Where were their own hands? Were they destined to wait for handouts?
When asked if he took the items, Duan Chenghong didn't answer immediately. He remained silent for a few seconds before saying, "Yes, it was them." This brief silence felt particularly heavy in the small space. His eyes flickered in the dim light, as if weighing the weight of each word. The people outside were clearly impatient and began banging on the roller shutter door. Each bang was accompanied by increasingly arrogant shouts, instantly making the atmosphere in the noodle shop extremely tense.
Liu Xin stood to the side, gripping a wooden stick tightly—a makeshift weapon they had prepared for any eventuality. His gaze was equally sharp, fixed on the rickety door, a mixture of wariness of unknown danger and unwavering support for his comrades. He knew that at this moment, their choice would determine whether they would coexist peacefully or face an unnecessary conflict.
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