Reborn into this life, the timeline had shifted.
The government had distributed relief rations, preventing the famine that would have driven the neighborhood to form supply-gathering teams. Without those teams, Song Yue would never have left her apartment, and the tragedy of her past life would never have happened.
Song Yue sat cross-legged on the sofa, munching on snacks as she thought.
With food, water, and electricity all secure, her family of three remained calm and composed, no matter how heavily it rained outside over the next few days.
Five days passed in the blink of an eye. By July 10th, the five-day supply of relief rations had been nearly exhausted. Everyone was holed up in their homes, anxiously awaiting the arrival of the helicopters.
But when morning passed, no helicopters appeared.
When afternoon came, there was still no sign of them.
By evening, not a single helicopter had been spotted anywhere in the city.
Panic began to spread across the internet once more.
No way. They only sent rations once?
Are the reserves empty? Are we going back to the Dark Ages?
I think the government has abandoned us.
It’s over. This time, it’s really over.
***
Sometimes, the sudden withdrawal of hope is far more devastating than a sudden descent into despair.
The people had seen the government act. They had glimpsed a future where they might survive this crisis together. So why hadn’t a single helicopter appeared today?
Those with less emotional resilience began lashing out online, spewing negativity. Some, more volatile than others, threatened to go out and loot food.
One such man lived in Song Yue’s Nanshan Community.
In the gathering gloom of evening, a megaphone blared from below.
“I’ve got a kayak! I can go out and find food! Anyone want to come with me? I’ll split whatever I find!”
He shouted several more times, but no one answered.
“If you miss this trip, I might not take you next time!” the man yelled. “Think carefully: do you want to sit around and starve, or do you want to take a chance out there?”
Still, no one responded.
Fuck!
The man spat, fury seething in his chest.
“I see how it is,” he snarled. “Every man in this complex is a fucking coward! A bunch of spineless wimps!”
“Just wait! You’ll all starve to death! You useless pieces of trash!”
The man snarled, then stowed his megaphone and paddled his kayak slowly out of Nanshan Community.
Lin Xiaojuan and Song Tianyuan sat in the living room, having heard every word of the man’s outburst.
“Xiao Yue,” Lin Xiaojuan asked, her eyes filled with worry as she looked at her daughter, “do you think the government has really abandoned us?”
Song Yue shook her head, her gaze steady. “No.”
In her past life, she might have doubted. But this time, she trusted the authorities completely. They must be preparing something, which was why the food distribution had been delayed.
The relief rations were originally packed in five-day portions, but if people rationed them carefully, they could stretch the food to six or seven days. This was why the man’s pleas had fallen on deaf ears. As long as they still had a little food left, no one was willing to risk their lives going outside.
More importantly, they believed the state would not abandon them.
So, throughout that evening, no one in the community dared to step outside.
The next morning, July 11th, just as the first light of dawn broke, Lin Xiaojuan heard the blare of a government loudspeaker from below. She sprang up and woke Song Tianyuan and Song Yue.
“Look! The government is here!”
Song Yue rubbed her eyes and looked down.
Sure enough, three medium-sized assault boats were docked at the community entrance. Several men in military uniforms stood on deck.
“The government is recruiting temporary volunteers!” the voice boomed. “Hours are 9 AM to 6 PM. Daily pay. Three meals a day included! If you wish to participate, please bring your ID card to register. On-the-spot review and approval!”
Song Tianyuan’s eyes lit up. “That’s not bad! Three meals a day… I’m tempted.”
Lin Xiaojuan clicked her tongue and shot him a glare. “Don’t we have enough food for you at home?”
Song Tianyuan grinned sheepishly. “Hey, that’s not what I meant. I just meant the benefits are great!”
It really is good, Song Yue thought.
So that’s why the helicopters didn’t come with food yesterday.
When the floods first broke, the government had sent helicopters to ensure everyone’s basic survival, knowing not every household had stockpiled food.
But the government’s food reserves were limited; they couldn’t distribute them for free indefinitely.
If you wanted food, you had to work. This was a fair exchange.
Soon, people began appearing on their balconies.
“Hello! I’d like to sign up!”
“Is there an age limit? I’m in my fifties—can I still join?”
“Are there gender restrictions? Can women apply?”
The soldiers, clearly used to these questions, answered with practiced ease. “No gender restrictions! Anyone between sixteen and sixty years old can join. As long as you’re able to work, you’re welcome!”
The residential complex buzzed with excitement.
“Great! I’m going down to register right now!”
“Wait for me! I want to sign up too!”
Wary of residents wading into the floodwaters to register, the men on the assault boats called out, “Everyone, please stay calm. We’ll be recruiting building by building. Every building will have a chance—no need to rush or push! We’ll bring the boat to you!”
The soldiers’ words acted as a reassurance, instantly calming the crowd of eager applicants.
“Oh, I see. Then I don’t need to rush.”
“We’re in Building 12. It’s probably not our turn this time, right? Let’s just go back inside. We’ll sign up when the next group comes around.”
“Dad, we’re in Building 1! They’re definitely recruiting from our building first. I’m heading out now. You and Mom stay safe inside, and I’ll see you tonight.”
Song Yue lived in Building 6, which happened to be situated between Building 1 and Building 12, even though the buildings weren’t numbered in order. She overheard their conversations clearly and felt a wave of relief.
This is so much better.
In her past life, this situation had devolved into a chaotic scramble—people fighting, shoving, and even drawing blood. But this time, everyone was following the government’s instructions, waiting patiently for their chance to apply.
The assault boats at the complex entrance slowly began their rounds, stopping first at Building 1.
Fifteen people—ten men and five women—emerged from the building. Through her balcony glass, Song Yue saw the soldiers take only fourteen of them. The last person was rejected for some unknown reason. She couldn’t hear what was said from so far away.
The boats then moved toward Building 2. Since it was located in a different section of the complex, Song Yue lost sight of them as they navigated the flooded streets.
After more than ten minutes, three assault boats reappeared, now filled with people. Every face bore an expression of hope and anticipation.
New messages quickly flooded the neighborhood’s owners’ chat group.
“I counted. They took 45 people in total—14 from Building 1 and 31 from Building 2.”
“Huh? I thought way more people would sign up. Why so few?”
“True. Each building in Nanshan Community has 30 floors with four units per floor, so that’s 120 households per building. You’d expect at least half of them to send someone. This is a surprisingly small turnout.”
“Most people are probably still waiting and seeing. After all, they don’t know what the volunteers will actually be doing. What if it’s back-breaking labor?”
“So what if it is? They’re paying, and they’re providing three meals a day. What’s wrong with that?”
“Haha, then why didn’t you sign up?”
“You think I didn’t want to? My wife wouldn’t let me. Otherwise, I would’ve gone down there ages ago. Sigh.”
“Same here… I wanted to sign up, but my parents absolutely forbade it. Nothing I could do.”
Song Yue scrolled through the chat, understanding their hesitation.
Any new policy would go through a brief period of adjustment. But that was fine. She trusted the government to prove the value of this temporary recruitment drive through actual results.
That evening, the first batch of volunteers returned to the complex.
As if they had been waiting for this very moment, residents crowded their balconies, craning their necks to see if the trip had been worth it.
Song Yue went to take a look as well.
The forty-five volunteers were brought back to the complex one by one on an assault boat. Each person carried a bag of supplies, which, judging by the weight, seemed to be food.
Song Yue’s phone buzzed in her hand. She glanced down—it was the Owners Group.
“Just asked my dad. They were helping build a temporary shelter. The work isn’t exactly easy, but everyone’s keeping in line. They’re providing three meals a day, and the food’s actually pretty good.”
“What about the pay? How’s it calculated?”
“Oh, I forgot to mention—you can choose to be paid in cash, ranging from 60 to 120 yuan a day depending on the workload. Or you can trade it for supplies: food, toothpaste, laundry detergent… all sorts of daily necessities.”
“Holy shit, that’s awesome!”
“I thought the daily pay was just yuan. I was thinking, in this situation, what good is money if there’s nowhere to spend it? I didn’t realize you could trade it for supplies.”
“Suddenly I really regret not signing up today. What a huge waste…”
The group chat was filled with people expressing their regret. Song Yue noticed that the two men who had complained about their wives and parents forbidding them from going earlier were now lamenting their missed opportunity.
Still, others offered them words of comfort.
“Don’t worry,” someone messaged. “I asked today. The recruitment is going to continue for a long time. Everyone in the complex will get a turn. It’ll be Buildings 1 and 2’s turn in a few days.”
Only then did the group chat finally quiet down.
On July 12th, the assault boat took the volunteers from Building 3.
On July 13th, it took half the volunteers from Building 4. The remaining people exceeded the quota, so the coordinator said they would return the next day.
On July 14th, the rest of Building 4 joined the volunteer effort.
On July 15th, the government increased the quota and took all the applicants from Building 5.
On July 16th, it was Song Yue’s turn in Building 6.
“Xiao Yue, do you think our family should still go?” Lin Xiaojuan asked, rubbing her hands together, unable to make up her mind.
Song Yue had already decided. “Go,” she said simply.
Lin Xiaojuan hesitated. “Huh? But we don’t lack food. Maybe we should just keep quiet this time?”
“That’s exactly why we have to go,” Song Yue told her mother. “Look, transportation in C City has been completely paralyzed since June 28th. Everyone’s been shut inside for over half a month. Even families who stock up will be running low by now.”
“With the government offering these volunteer spots in exchange for supplies, everyone’s scrambling to join. If we’re the only ones who don’t go, what do you think people will assume?”
It wasn’t paranoia; it was a lesson learned the hard way in her past life.
Back then, she had kept a low profile while scavenging for food with the search team. Whenever they weren’t looking, she’d stash the best supplies in her space and fill her bag with random junk to maintain appearances. She had been meticulous, or so she thought.
But after being reborn, she realized her efforts had been her undoesing. During a period when her space was well-stocked, she had skipped a few outings with the team. That single, seemingly insignificant choice had caught the eye of a sharp-witted teammate, who began spreading hints that her family had plenty of food.
The rumor spread like wildfire, reaching not only their neighbors but even Zou Chen, who then set his sights on her family.
She couldn’t let history repeat itself. They couldn’t give anyone a reason to suspect them.
After listening to her, Song Tianyuan nodded in agreement. “Xiao Yue is right. We need to blend in, or we’ll become targets.”
Lin Xiaojuan considered this and finally relented. “Alright, we’ll go. But… who’s signing up?”
Song Yue had already decided. She raised her hand. “I’ll do it.”
“Absolutely not!” Lin Xiaojuan shot back, straightening her posture. “Either I’ll go, or your father will. You’re not doing this.”
“Mom, this isn’t up for debate. I’m the one going,” Song Yue replied, completely unfazed. “First off, I’ve lived through this disaster before. I survived for six months the last time, constantly scavenging with a team. I have more experience and knowledge than both of you. Second, I’m younger, stronger, and faster. And third—most importantly—I have my space. If things get dangerous, I can just slip inside.”
She posed a challenge. “What about you two? What’s the plan if you get into trouble? Give me a reliable solution, and I’ll let you or Dad go.”
Lin Xiaojuan was silenced, her eyes darting to Song Tianyuan for help.
He only shrugged, clearly siding with his daughter. “Don’t blame me for being cold-hearted, Lin Xiaojuan, but Song Yue is right. Her space is the ultimate trump card. She can just hide in there to stay safe. What do we have? These old bones and aching joints?”
Lin Xiaojuan was left speechless.
Lin Xiaojuan knew her daughter was capable, but she couldn’t stand the smug look on Song Tianyuan’s face.
She turned her frustration on her husband. “Oh, so you’re the only one who knows how capable our daughter is? What, you think I don’t know? I’m just a mother worrying about her child! Look at you, agreeing so quickly. What kind of father are you?”
Song Yue recognized her mother was just taking her frustration out on her father and smiled, choosing not to get involved.
The assault boat arrived as scheduled. Song Yue grabbed her ID card and headed downstairs.
As she descended, she overheard a conversation from the floor above. It sounded like the neighbors were discussing the man who had taken a kayak out on his own the other day.
“Sigh, he was too impulsive. If only he’d waited one more day, the soldiers would have come to recruit people.”
“I know. What a waste. I heard by the time the soldiers found him, his body had already been in the water so long it was practically falling apart.”
“Oh, please, don’t go into detail. I’m getting nauseous just hearing it.”
“Fine, fine. Let’s drop it. Come on, let’s go downstairs and sign up.”
Song Yue withdrew her gaze from the conversation and continued down the stairs.
All of C City was flooded, but its mountainous terrain meant some areas were higher than others. Her Nanshan Community was on higher ground, so the floodwaters weren’t deep—only reaching waist-height on the first floor.
Song Yue stopped at the bottom of the stairs leading to the second floor.
She handed over her ID card and filled out a form. A soldier scanned the card with a handheld device, glanced at the screen, and pointed inside. “You’re eligible. Go on up.”
One by one, people boarded the boat.
When a thin man stepped up, the soldier’s device flashed red. He raised a hand to stop him. “Sorry, you don’t qualify.”
The man’s eyes widened. “What do you mean, I don’t qualify?!”
Respecting the man’s privacy, the soldier didn’t say it aloud. Instead, he turned the screen to show him the result.
The man’s pupils shrank. His defiance vanished.
“…Fine. I understand,” he muttered, lowering his head as he walked away.
Song Yue hadn’t seen the screen, but she overheard a few middle-aged women on the boat talking. It seemed the man had a serious criminal record. The volunteer program didn’t accept such individuals, and the man knew exactly what he’d done, which was why he’d left without another word.
The assault boat sped forward, kicking up a wake of white foam.
After passing through several blocks, they arrived at a large plaza.
Before the floods, the plaza had been a bustling hub—filled with square-dance troupes, elementary schoolers practicing rollerblading, and parents with their children. Now, with the surrounding area submerged, only the raised steps of the plaza remained dry, and it had been requisitioned as a temporary shelter.
Song Yue stepped off the boat to find the plaza already dotted with prefabricated shelters, many of which were filled with injured people. Yet, a steady stream of casualties continued to arrive from the flood-stricken areas, and the available rooms were clearly insufficient.
The male volunteers were immediately called away by the construction crew leader to help move and assemble building materials. The female volunteers were assigned to logistics based on their skills.
Among the neighbors from Building 6 was a nurse in her thirties. A seasoned professional, she volunteered her services to the staff. With medical personnel in desperate short supply, the supervisor immediately assigned her to patient care.
Song Yue knew some pharmacology and nursing—skills she had learned from this very woman in her past life—but she kept this to herself. She told the staff she could only help with general chores.
They assigned her to a relatively light task: cleaning up trash on the plaza and moving government supplies.
“You’re Song Yue, right? Just so you know, these lighter jobs don’t pay much. Are you okay with that?”
“Fine by me,” Song Yue replied without a second thought.
“Alright. Here’s your work badge for the day. Don’t lose it. Go grab some breakfast first—you’ll need your strength for the work.”
“Thank you.”
Song Yue took the badge and noticed it was white, unlike the others. The nurse’s was red, and the construction crew’s were orange. She figured the colors must represent Contribution Points, similar to a rarity system in a video game: white, green, blue, orange, red. The higher the rank, the more supplies you’d receive. Her white badge placed her at the lowest level.
She didn’t mind. She was only here to maintain appearances while she scoped out how much the world had changed since her rebirth.
After finishing the morning cleanup, Song Yue picked up a meal box and found a quiet spot to eat.
She was halfway through her meal when a familiar voice startled her.
“Xiao Yue?!” A figure she knew all too well suddenly appeared at her feet. “Didn’t you say you were going on a trip?”
Song Yue didn’t even look up. “I came back.”
“When did you get back? Why didn’t you tell me?”
Only then did Song Yue slowly raise her gaze. “I forgot.”
Zou Chen’s mouth hung open, his expression showing just how absurd he found her answer.
He remained half-crouched on the ground, looking up at her. “Xiao Yue, your aunt and I have nowhere to stay. Your family has an empty room—it’s just sitting there, right? Can you give me the key? We just need a place to crash for a while.”
“No,” Song Yue said immediately.
“Xiao Yue… how could you…” Zou Chen froze, unable to find words.
It was strange. This was the person he knew, yet she felt like a complete stranger. Before, she would have agreed to anything he asked. Now, her face was like ice, keeping him a thousand miles away.
He swayed, still half-crouched on the ground. Then his shock melted into a smile, and his tone softened. “Xiao Yue, please, just listen to me. Your aunt is injured, and it’s so hard for her to get around. She really needs a quiet place to recover. I’m your boyfriend—is it too much to ask for a little help?”
He reached out to grab Song Yue’s hand, but she pulled away, standing up to block him.
She looked down at him, her eyes devoid of any warmth. “Did I cause your mother’s injury? No? Then what does it have to do with me? If she needs a place to recover, why aren’t you, her son, finding a solution? There are government officials right here—why are you asking me instead of them? What, you’re just that fond of my family’s apartment? Fine, buy it from me. One point three million yuan. Cash only.”
Zou Chen stared at her in disbelief. “I’m just asking to stay for a bit. How does this even involve money?”
“You pay to stay at a guesthouse,” Song Yue shot back. “Why should you stay at my place for free? On what grounds?”
On the grounds that you’re a ‘Phoenix Man’? Or the grounds that you just got fired?
She sneered and turned to leave.
Suddenly, a figure darted in front of her.
“Xiao Yue, how can you be so cruel?” his mother shrieked. “My son is here, begging you with all his pride cast aside, and you won’t even look him in the eye! Do you despise us so much just because we’re from the countryside?”
Song Yue raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
Seeing Song Yue’s reaction, Mother Zou raised her voice.
“Xiao Yue, we aren’t asking you for anything. We never have! I traveled all the way from the countryside to the city just to see you and Zou Chen. I only wanted to know you were both doing well so I could finally rest easy. But how can you treat us like this? We just want to sit in your home for a moment, not steal it. Why are you guarding your door against us like we’re thieves?”
The crowd shifted their gaze to Song Yue, their whispers turning into open criticism.
“How could that girl be so selfish?”
“Her future mother-in-law is being so reasonable, yet she won’t even let her in the door. That’s outrageous.”
“Young women these days are so spoiled. They think they’re too good for everyone else. No respect for their elders—no manners at all.”
More people gathered, and Song Yue recognized several familiar faces. They were her neighbors from Building 6.
“Song Yue, we know you’re well-off, but you can’t just bully people like this.”
“Exactly. Why are you still drawing lines between the city and the countryside? We’re all just ordinary people. You’re taking this way too far.”
“Look at your boyfriend’s mother. She’s injured! People are supposed to have hearts, Song Yue. You can’t be this cold-blooded.”
Mother Zou waved her hand dismissively as she listened to the crowd’s support. “Forget it, forget it. Children are just ignorant. We adults can’t hold it against them. If she won’t let us inside, so be it. Son, my leg hurts. Help me go rest.”
Now that everyone’s on our side, she thought, Song Yue can’t hold out for long.
A smug look began to dawn in her eyes. She was already picturing herself and her son moving into the new apartment.
“Are you finished, Auntie?” Song Yue asked, her eyes narrowing as she stared at Mother Zou.
The older woman froze, a sudden chill running down her spine. “What… what are you trying to do?”
Song Yue’s lips curled into a mocking smile. “Uncles, Aunties, you’re all here, so you might as well bear witness to this. Otherwise, I’ll never be able to clear my name, no matter how hard I try.”
“I’ve been dating this man for six months. During that time, I paid six months of his rent. The basketball shoes he’s wearing? I bought them. The watch on his wrist? I ordered it from overseas for him. And most of our daily expenses were paid by me. Since you’re all here, maybe you can help me figure out how much that adds up to?”
The crowd fell silent.
This… this can’t be cheap…
“It cost me thirty-six thousand yuan in total.”
A collective gasp went through the crowd.
Holy crap, they thought. Almost forty thousand spent in just six months? That’s nearly eighty thousand a year! That was more than some of them earned in a whole year’s salary.
Seeing the tide turn, Mother Zou tried to smooth things over. “Well, that’s because you have a good job and a high salary!”
The crowd stared at her in disbelief. Is that how an adult is supposed to talk? Just because someone else’s child is successful, they have to spend all their money on her son?
Song Yue glanced around and sighed. “Actually, my job isn’t all that great. I’m just a junior accountant, making a few thousand a month. I only did it because I saw my boyfriend was struggling, and I wanted to help however I could. I lived frugally every month, giving him all the money I saved.”
“But I never expected him to not only keep me paying for his daily expenses but now to expect me to support his mother, too. Uncles, Aunties, think about it—how could my salary ever cover so many people? And is it even my responsibility to support them? We aren’t even married; we never even got a marriage license.”
“Good heavens,” the crowd murmured, shaking their heads.
They had assumed Mother Zou was just paying a courtesy visit. Instead, she had the audacity to move into someone else’s home and expect their daughter to support her.
Mother Zou glanced around, her head suddenly spinning.
But Song Yue wasn’t finished. She turned her gaze to Zou Chen. “Zou Chen, I’ve been meaning to ask—am I just your ATM? If you want money, I have to give it. If you want a place to live, I have to provide it.”
“You’re her son. Why is it my responsibility to care for her when she’s sick? What, are you the only one who’s a precious child? Am I not my parents’ precious daughter too?”
“Or are you just taking advantage of my parents’ kindness? Do you think I’m an easy target?”
Her words cut deep, striking the very core of the issue.
The crowd’s initial shock turned to outrage.
Every family has a daughter, they thought. Every daughter is her parents’ pride and joy.
This girl had spent all her hard-earned money on her boyfriend instead of herself. Was someone else’s son so much more valuable? Was her own daughter born to be cheap? To be used and thrown away?
Yet even after all this, this mother has the nerve to ask for more. Have they no shame?
We thought the girl was being cold-hearted, but to see how truly vile the man’s family is… this is too much!
She’s been so patient. If this had happened to our own daughters, we would have torn that family apart!
The tide had completely turned.
Those who had previously defended Mother Zou now felt their kindness had been thrown back in their faces. They turned on her, pointing fingers and hurling insults.
Mother Zou watched in horror as the crowd’s sympathy shifted to shock, then to fury and contempt. Unable to bear the shame, she swayed on her feet, her face ghastly pale.
Zou Chen grabbed his mother, his glare murderous. “Song Yue, I never thought you could be this cruel. I misjudged you. We are done—completely!”
“Good.”
This is exactly what I was waiting for.
Song Yue’s lips quirked up, though she fought to hide her smile. “Fine. I won’t even ask for the money you owe me. Just stay away from me and my parents. If you don’t, I’ll post everything that happened here online.”
She raised her phone. The glass lens caught the light.
Zou Chen’s eyes burned with a murderous rage. “Mom, let’s go. Don’t let a person like her get to you!”
He gritted his teeth, supporting Mother Zou as they beat a humiliating retreat, disappearing from view one step at a time.
The other neighbors from Building 6 stood in a stunned silence, their faces alternating between flushed red and ashen pale.
What did we just say?
They had blindly judged Song Yue as selfish and spoiled, refusing to consider any other side of the story. Now, the shame of it all left them unable to keep their heads up.
“I’ve learned my lesson today,” an older woman said, shaking her head. “From now on, we shouldn’t believe every rumor we hear, or we’ll just be played by people like that.”
“You’re right,” another added. “Imagine that, at my age, I let myself be used as a pawn. How embarrassing.”
“We said some terrible things. We should apologize to Song Yue when we have a chance, don’t you think?”
“Yes, we should. This was entirely our fault.”