After returning to the small house in Changfu Village with the water pipes, Han Ying immediately closed the courtyard and main gates and went up to the rooftop. She took out three of the largest inflatable swimming pools from her spatial talisman. After inflating them and cleaning them thoroughly, she attached the electronic faucets to one end of the water pipes, while the other ends were connected to the existing faucets on the rooftop.
As for using inflatable pools to store drinking water, Han Ying didn’t mind at all. Each of these three pools could hold 10 tons of water. Once the three pools were set up, she secured the electronic faucets and placed them near the edge at about the nine-ton mark. This way, as the water flowed in, there was no noise, and when each pool reached around nine tons, the faucets would automatically shut off.
She opened the water flow, and a gentle stream of water started filling the pools. Because the pools had a large surface area, even when fully filled, Han Ying wasn’t worried about putting any strain on the house structure.
After setting up the three rooftop storage pools, Han Ying went to the third floor. Since the house had been occupied for years, it was very clean inside. She moved all the furniture from the living room and bedrooms to a corner inside her spatial talisman and then repeated the same procedure as on the rooftop. Each bedroom had its own bathroom, so she connected the water pipes directly from there. Each of the three bedrooms got a pool capable of holding over 5 tons of water, and the living room had a pool like the rooftop one, holding 10 tons. Once the electronic faucets were secured, she opened them and started storing water.
On the second floor, she used the same method to place four swimming pools, then went downstairs. Perhaps because children had lived in the house before, each floor had a door installed at the staircase corners. Han Ying locked these staircase doors with keys. She didn’t plan to store water on the first floor, as it could easily be noticed by outsiders. Even so, with a few more spring sources, the daily water storage on the second and third floors plus the rooftop would be substantial. After the apocalypse, Han Ying would have sweet spring water to drink every day.
By the time she finished, it was already 2 p.m. Han Ying quickly had lunch and then drove to the club. She had scheduled to start shooting, sanda (Chinese kickboxing), and karate lessons today, but she was already half an hour late.
In her shooting lessons, she learned crossbows, though she had already agreed with the instructor that she would eventually learn air rifles. After finishing the afternoon shooting and sanda lessons, she felt fine and not overly tired.
She returned to the milk tea shop to collect orders, then went to the bank to deposit some money into three newly opened accounts. Just as she was looking for a place to have dinner, she received a WeChat message from Ye Xiaohai: her house had been sold. The buyer seemed in a hurry, paying without even seeing the house. Following the WeChat alert, her bank sent a message confirming 4.25 million yuan had been credited—matching the price she listed. This meant the agency hadn’t charged her a commission, likely because Ye Xiaohai recognized her and didn’t want to.
Han Ying often visited the agency and knew their fees, so she transferred the money directly to Ye Xiaohai, not wanting to owe him a favor. Although over 40,000 yuan could buy a lot, Ye Xiaohai refused the money and instead asked if he could invite her to dinner—just a casual meal. After some thought, Han Ying agreed. She would give him a small tip before the apocalypse, treating it as a “messaging fee.”
After scheduling the house transfer and furniture move with the buyer, Han Ying replied to Ye Xiaohai that he could wait regarding the dinner. Lately, she had been so busy that even meals were spent thinking about stockpiling supplies—there was no time for casual dining.
Putting away her phone, Han Ying went to a noodle shop near the university town and ordered beef knife-cut noodles. Seeing that the portions had plenty of toppings, she immediately placed bulk orders to go:
20 servings of beef ramen,
20 servings of beef knife-cut noodles,
20 servings of zhajiang noodles,
20 servings of oil-splashed noodles,
20 servings of fried noodles.
If the noodles weren’t packed immediately, they would clump together, so she avoided ordering too much at once to preserve flavor. The shop owner was stunned, thinking he had misheard.
“You heard right. Twenty servings of each, double toppings, packed to go. Be quick—otherwise, it’ll clump and taste bad!” Han Ying said, then began eating.
Knowing that the hundred portions might take time, she took out her phone and placed online orders. For wholesale market items, she bought them there, but some things—like women’s products—were easier, cheaper, and more diverse online. Using two phones and two addresses, she bought 100 boxes each of sanitary pads, overnight pads, and tampons.
While browsing, she saw a recommended item she had purchased many times before: roast duck racks. Wang Shiqi often called her to buy these, claiming she couldn’t eat them otherwise. Han Ying had never minded, since she earned from her milk tea shop at the time.
In the online store, she purchased 200 sets of their four-item combo—duck racks, duck necks, duck wings, and duck tongues—and another 200 signature duck racks. She couldn’t buy more due to purchase limits.