“No, he just suddenly packed a backpack and left a few days ago. We asked him, but he wouldn’t say anything. His phone isn’t reachable, and he’s not replying on WeChat either. We even thought he was with you, off enjoying some couple time.” The roommate’s voice carried a note of helplessness.
The roommate did not know Jiang Yi’s whereabouts, and Jiang Yi’s phone had remained switched off the entire time. It seemed that, for now, there was no way to find him.
Cheng Lin’s fingertips lightly tapped against the tabletop, producing a steady rhythm. Beneath her youthful face, her eyes churned with a coldness and determination that did not match her age. When the apocalypse arrived, she would have plenty of time to find him.
The most urgent matter was not dwelling on those trivial romantic entanglements of the past, but stockpiling supplies.
There were only thirty days left before the apocalypse would descend. Within these thirty days, she had to gather enough supplies to sustain two people for five years. It was a race against time.
The school was crowded, and it would not be safe once the apocalypse began. Cheng Lin decided to return to the villa first before taking action. The three essential steps for surviving the apocalypse—stockpiling supplies, fortifying shelter, and enhancing strength—had to begin with the most basic one.
However, funds had become the biggest problem. The Original Owner’s parents had died in a plane crash when she was eighteen, leaving her a considerable inheritance and a detached villa in the suburbs. But in her youthful recklessness, the Original Owner had devoted herself to so-called “charity work,” donating most of her assets and leaving behind only scattered savings and a pile of flashy but impractical luxury goods.
Cheng Lin searched through all the bank cards and payment apps under the Original Owner’s name. The total she managed to gather was less than five hundred thousand. This amount was far from enough—let alone supporting two people for five years, it could barely cover basic emergency supplies.
Without hesitation, she opened a secondhand trading platform and listed all of the Original Owner’s expensive luxury handbags, jewelry, and designer clothes. She set the prices extremely low, aiming only for quick sales. Fortunately, the Original Owner had good taste, and all the items were authentic. Before long, everything was snapped up.
With the money from selling those assets, Cheng Lin finally managed to gather five million as her initial stockpiling fund.
Unfortunately, she did not possess the standard spatial ability of a reborn protagonist, which made storing supplies a major challenge. Luckily, the Original Owner had at least been sensible enough not to sell the villa left behind by her parents. Otherwise, when the apocalypse arrived, she would not even have a place to stay.
The villa was located in the suburbs, in a remote area with few neighboring residents. It came with a massive basement and a spacious yard—it was practically a natural Apocalypse Fortress.
To avoid exposing the villa’s exact address and attracting unnecessary trouble, Cheng Lin specifically went to a service center to get a new phone card, dedicated solely to receiving deliveries. She also found a storage rental platform on her phone and rented a warehouse far from the city that could automatically receive shipments, using it as a transit hub for all supplies.
The moment she signed the warehouse lease, Cheng Lin let out a long breath. Leaning back in her chair, she called out to the system Heheda, “Generate a comprehensive apocalypse stockpiling list. Focus on practicality while considering cost-effectiveness. Total budget: two million.”
Very quickly, a detailed list was generated. Cheng Lin carefully reviewed it, making adjustments based on actual needs and her budget. She replaced short-shelf-life foods with compressed biscuits, canned goods, and vacuum-packed grains. For medicine, she prioritized antibiotics, fever reducers, hemostatic drugs, and wound treatment supplies. For energy tools, she focused on solar generators, batteries, and gasoline generators.
She opened a shopping app, her fingers flying as she added items to the cart one by one. Food came first:
Fifty boxes of high-fiber compressed biscuits without fillings; one thousand jin of vacuum-packed rice; one thousand jin of flour; one thousand jin of assorted grains; two hundred cans of instant oatmeal; two hundred self-heating rice meals; one hundred self-heating hotpots; one hundred packs of dried noodles; fifty boxes of instant noodles in various flavors; one hundred packs of Liujia Luosifen; one hundred packs of Manjia rice noodles.
One hundred cans each of luncheon meat, braised beef, tuna, and sardines (to rotate flavors); thirty jin each of kelp, seaweed, and dried shrimp; five hundred jin each of vacuum-packed cured meat and sausages; one hundred cans of egg powder; thirty jin of meat floss.
One hundred cans each of mixed freeze-dried fruits and vegetables like strawberries, apples, broccoli, and carrots; one thousand jin of dehydrated vegetable packs (vegetables were essential for digestion in the apocalypse); one hundred cans each of Cheng Lin’s favorite freeze-dried okra and watermelon radish; fifty jars each of pickles, preserved mustard greens, kimchi, pickled long beans, and sweet-and-sour garlic; twenty jin of pickled radish.
Three hundred bars each of dark and white chocolate; one hundred jin each of beef jerky, pork jerky, and dried chicken; one hundred jin each of dried hawthorn, goji berries, dried longan, chrysanthemum, walnuts, almonds, peanuts, cashews, and pine nuts (plus ten thousand sealed bags to prevent moisture); one hundred jars of honey; two hundred bags of milk powder; twenty cans of protein powder; five hundred marinated eggs; two hundred salted duck eggs; two hundred sesame eggs.
Three hundred bags each of salt, brown sugar, and white sugar; three hundred alcohol fuel blocks; fifty alcohol stoves; two hundred hotpot bases; fifty soup stock cubes; two hundred jin of 60-degree liquor.
Emergency medical supplies were essential, so she ordered over-the-counter items online:
Five bottles each of safflower oil and Yunnan Baiyao powder and spray; five bottles of iodine solution; one thousand alcohol pads; one thousand band-aids; two hundred rolls each of hemostatic cotton, gauze bandages, and medical tape.
Thirty boxes of ibuprofen; twenty boxes each of montmorillonite powder and omeprazole; fifty boxes each of acetaminophen and Xiao Chai Hu; twenty boxes of loratadine (indispensable for allergy-prone Cheng Lin, even if she often let it expire); one hundred bottles each of multivitamins, vitamin A, B6, C, and E.
Ten tubes each of burn ointment and frostbite cream; thirty boxes of medicinal patches; thirty boxes of antihypertensive medication; five mercury thermometers; three blood pressure monitors; three heart rate and glucose meters; ten pairs each of medical tweezers and scissors; three first aid kits; fifty sets of cotton swabs and medical gloves.
Next came daily necessities:
Ten sets each of down jackets, outdoor jackets, down pants, raincoats, and rain boots; fifty sets of thick cotton thermal underwear and Martin boots; thirty pairs each of wool socks and snow boots; ten sleeping bags rated for minus thirty degrees; five low-power electric blankets.
Fifty jin each of laundry detergent and washing powder; fifty bars each of soap and bath soap; one hundred bottles each of disinfectant and alcohol; one hundred packs of toilet paper; two hundred packs each of wet wipes and moist toilet tissue; two hundred packs of sanitary pads; five hundred pairs of safety underwear; five hundred panty liners; fifty bottles of intimate hygiene wash.
Two thousand N95 masks; five sets each of protective face shields and protective suits; five hundred pairs of thick rubber gloves; one hundred bottles each of insect repellent, medicated oil, and cooling oil; one hundred boxes of mosquito coils.
For survival tools and self-defense:
One solar generator; twenty 20,000 mAh power banks; five hundred units each of candles, matches, and lighters; thirty kerosene lamps and flashlights (with spare batteries).
Five portable gas stoves; thirty gas canisters; ten sets of stainless steel tableware; one hundred sets each of water purifiers and purification tablets; one hundred one-ton water tanks.
Twenty waterproof tarps; one hundred meters each of rope and wire; ten multifunctional knives; fifty packs of seeds (vegetables and grains).
The moment the order was placed successfully, and she saw the confirmation page pop up on the screen, Cheng Lin’s lips finally curved slightly upward, revealing her first smile since her rebirth.
The evening sun outside the window was just right, casting a warm glow over her profile. She picked up the photo of Jiang Yi from the table, her fingertips gently brushing over the bright features of the boy in the picture. She murmured softly, her tone filled with certainty.
“Golden thigh, my retirement life depends on you. You must stay alive.”