After thinking about it for a long time, Shen Mu decided not to try it.
Right now, the other person might not even know he exists. But if he made a move and exposed himself, the other person would definitely realize that this space already had an owner. At that point, would the other person also choose to stay out of each other’s way?
Shen Mu couldn’t be sure.
What he was even less certain about was—if it came down to fighting for control of the space, what were his chances of winning?
He sped up the process of going through his mother’s belongings.
Before going abroad to stockpile supplies, he had already stored all of his mother’s things in the space.
His mother had passed away when he was eight. She left behind many belongings. Shen Mu’s father, who had already inherited all of his wife’s family assets, didn’t touch them for the sake of appearances.
That was why Shen Mu was able to search through everything for several days before finally finding some clues.
It turned out that the pendant he had worn since childhood was a family heirloom from his maternal side. It was a paired set: a “mother pendant” and a “child pendant.” The main heir wore the mother pendant, while the spouse wore the child pendant.
Originally, his mother should have worn the main pendant, and his father the secondary one.
But his mother had a close childhood friend, and they had agreed early on to become in-laws in the future. So she gave away the child pendant in advance. After Shen Mu was born, she gave the main pendant to him.
However, according to his mother’s diary, that friend later seemed to have had an accident. There were no further records.
So the child pendant must have ended up in someone else’s hands—and that person had accidentally activated the space.
There was no mention in his mother’s belongings about the pendant containing a space. It seemed they had only treated it as a family heirloom.
So he would have to figure out the secrets of the space on his own.
The most reassuring solution would be to take the other pendant and merge the two into one.
But he didn’t know who the other person was, nor how to take it. For now, the matter was stuck.
While Shen Mu was troubled over the space, Cheng Feng was living quite comfortably.
He moved all the supplies near the fog toward the center to avoid losing anything again. Even though he had plenty of supplies, losing things for no reason still hurt.
Recently, the temperature had finally started to drop. The wild vegetables had grown old and were no longer worth picking.
Aside from chopping firewood and hunting, Cheng Feng finally had time to rest.
In his yard, he had planted cold-resistant radishes, Chinese cabbage, and a lot of garlic shoots.
The backyard was left empty for drying things.
After the apocalypse began, temperatures would drop quickly, and the world would be covered in snow.
But zombies wouldn’t be affected by the cold. In fact, later on, intelligent zombies would even use the snow as cover to ambush humans.
This morning, the temperature had already dropped noticeably. He could see his breath in the air.
Yesterday, Cheng Feng had hunted a wild chicken. Today, he planned to cook something good.
The chicken wasn’t big, but stewing it with dried mushrooms would make it incredibly flavorful.
After setting the chicken to stew, he took out a fresh lamb leg from the space and prepared to make braised lamb. Eating lamb in cold weather was perfect.
Boiled lamb was also delicious, but since he was already making chicken soup, he decided to go with braised lamb for variety.
Once the lamb was cooking, he sliced up some cucumbers to balance the richness.
When everything was ready, Cheng Feng couldn’t help but sigh.
“What a feast!”
Since moving into the mountains, aside from times when he was too busy and ate casually, he had never treated himself poorly.
Back when he was still an artist, even though he wasn’t very famous, he still had to manage his figure and mostly ate low-fat meals.
But after moving into the mountains, he completely let himself go.
He loved good food, and with his daily physical labor, his appetite had grown.
He ate freely every day. He hadn’t gained much fat, but he had definitely become stronger. If he went back now, he could easily outmatch many “pretty boy” celebrities with fake muscles.
Sitting on a chair, looking at the lush vegetable garden outside and feeling the quiet of the mountains, he felt completely at peace.
He played a variety show he had downloaded earlier and started eating.
The chicken was tender from slow cooking over charcoal. The mushrooms and broth were so rich and fragrant that he finished almost the entire pot, leaving only some soup.
He needed to save room for the lamb. He wouldn’t waste the soup—he’d use it for noodles later.
He liked his braised lamb spicy. The tender, slightly fatty pieces melted in his mouth, making him squint in satisfaction.
It wasn’t overly soft—it still had a bit of chew, but was easy to eat. Paired with rice, it was incredibly satisfying.
His cooking skills had improved a lot!
When it got too rich, he ate a few cucumber slices—fresh, refreshing, and appetite-boosting.
By the time the show ended, he had finished an entire pot of braised lamb and a plate of cucumbers.
Satisfied, he let out a burp, cleaned up, and even brewed a pot of tea to aid digestion.
In the afternoon, he stayed home and sat under the corridor, splitting bamboo strips.
There was plenty of bamboo in the mountains. He had already cut and stored a lot in his space.
He preferred not to do such detailed work at night, so he did it during the day.
He had bought many baskets before, but they were almost all used up. Since bamboo was abundant and he knew how to weave, he decided to make more.
Splitting bamboo was delicate work. His grandfather had supported him with this craft when he was young. He had watched and learned, so his skills were decent.
At first, his hands were injured even with gloves. But as calluses formed, it got much easier.
He worked quickly. One or two hours of splitting bamboo was enough for him to weave two baskets at night.
Cheng Feng’s life was simple but fulfilling.
And in such days, the apocalypse arrived.
On February 2nd, the temperature had dropped below freezing. Frost covered the plants in the yard, and distant wolf howls could occasionally be heard.
It was around 3 a.m., but Cheng Feng was fully dressed, sitting on his bed.
Many others were the same.
Anyone who had seen the prophecy knew that at 3 a.m. on February 2nd, a global fog would descend—the beginning of the apocalypse.
It was winter break, so most people were with their families.
Some families who chose to face life and death together sat in their living rooms, holding hands tightly.
Others, more rational, stayed in separate rooms with locked doors.
That way, if someone turned into a zombie, the others might still survive.
Shen Mu stayed in the basement of his fortified home, watching surveillance screens to guard against intruders.
His villa area would later become part of a safe zone. It was relatively secure, though there would still be chaos at the beginning.
Shen Ke, Jiang Yun, and Shen Mu’s father were all locked in their own rooms.
Even though they had survived in the previous life, no one dared to take risks.