After hanging up with Lawyer Wang, Lin Chu stared at the constant stream of WeChat messages on her phone, a cold smile curling at the corner of her lips.
Good news never travels far; bad news spreads like wildfire.
In this social circle, rumors spread faster than any virus.
In just half an hour, the once respectful “elite ladies’ group chat” had completely exploded. No one dared to @ her directly, but the sarcastic and mocking messages—passed around by a few jealous so-called “plastic sisters”—still reached her eyes.
[Did you hear? The Lin family heiress went crazy gambling in M Country!]
[Oh my god, really? I heard she lost 2 billion!]
[Absolutely true! My cousin works at a bank. He said she maxed out all her credit cards and is now borrowing from loan sharks everywhere!]
[Tsk tsk… Chairman Lin was so brilliant, how did he end up with such a spendthrift daughter? The Lin Group is probably going to change hands now.]
[Hurry, let’s block her. What if she comes to borrow money from us?]
Watching the notifications of people leaving groups and blocking her, Lin Chu didn’t feel angry at all. Instead, she felt an unprecedented sense of relief.
“Good.”
“Let the flies run away. The world is finally quiet.”
In the approaching apocalypse, connections would no longer be resources—they would be burdens.
If she were still the “wealthy heiress Lin Chu,” countless people would moralize her in the end times: “You’re so rich, sharing some food won’t hurt you.”
But now that she was a “gambling addict who went broke,” everyone would only try to stay far away from her.
“The public narrative is set. Now it’s time to stage the ‘crime scene.’”
Lin Chu put away her phone and looked around the newly completed steel fortress.
Although the exterior resembled a prison, the interior had originally been extremely luxurious. Qin Xiao’s team had used top-tier eco-friendly materials, and even in the empty living room, the high-end foundation was still visible.
“Too clean,” she muttered.
“This doesn’t look like a desperate gambler’s house.”
With a thought—
Whoosh!
She directly removed the remaining luxury fixtures: curtains, crystal wall lamps, even the smart control panels—everything was stored into her space.
Leaving only bare concrete walls and a cold gray floor.
Then she drove the armored Hummer she had brought back from abroad straight to the largest scrap yard in the suburbs.
“Boss, doing business?”
The scrap yard owner, a shirtless old man sorting cardboard, jumped in shock when a massive Hummer stopped at the entrance.
Then a stunning young woman stepped out… asking to buy trash.
“Buy… what?”
“I want the most broken, most ruined furniture you have,” Lin Chu said, pointing. “That mattress with springs popping out, that broken table with a missing leg, and those moldy woven sacks… I want them all.”
The old man stared blankly. “Girl… are you doing performance art?”
“Yes. Performance art.”
She tossed him a red hundred-yuan bill. “No need for change. Load it into the car.”
Half an hour later, at the Banshan villa.
Lin Chu moved like a diligent laborer, carrying in those moldy, foul-smelling scraps of furniture one by one into a villa worth hundreds of millions.
Living room:
A yellowed, blackened mattress sat in the center, with two torn cotton blankets thrown on top. Next to it was a chipped coffee table piled with instant noodle cups and empty alcohol bottles she had deliberately bought.
Floor:
She scattered a bag of prepared household trash—fruit peels, paper scraps, plastic bags—across the expensive heated flooring. To make it more realistic, she even poured a bit of spoiled liquid into a corner.
The smell instantly overpowered the fresh mint scent of the ventilation system.
Walls:
She grabbed a can of red paint and scribbled messily:
[PAY BACK THE DEBT!]
[A LIFE FOR A LIFE!]
When everything was done, Lin Chu stood in the center of the living room, looking at the scene that resembled a ransacked den or a junkie’s hideout. Satisfied, she clapped her hands.
“Perfect.”
Even if Gu Yan’s father came back from the dead, he probably wouldn’t recognize this as his daughter’s home.
The sunset streamed through the unfinished floor-to-ceiling windows, casting an orange glow over the trash-filled room, creating a strange, tragic beauty.
Lin Chu walked to a mirror that hadn’t been splashed with paint yet.
In the reflection, she wore a pristine designer dress, flawless makeup, bright eyes.
Behind her, however, was ruin.
The contrast made her laugh softly.
“In this city… I’m about to become the most miserable person.”
“Gu Yan. Lin Wan.”
“I’ve built the stage. The lights are on you.”
“Tomorrow… it’s your turn to enter.”
She checked the time.
July 13th, 18:00.
Forty-two hours left until the apocalypse.
And one night left before her final trip to the farmers’ market.
“Sleep well tonight.”
With a thought, she pulled a top-grade latex mattress from her space and laid it in the only clean master bedroom upstairs (of course, it would be stored away before the scum arrived tomorrow).
“Tomorrow… I’ll go buy things with a bit of ‘earthy freshness.’”
“After all, in the future, even eating fresh scallions with soybean paste… will depend on what I grow myself.”