This was a Beginner Instance , a low-difficulty mission system No. 099 had secured for her. These were designed with simple objectives and short durations, giving first-time bound users a chance to adjust so they wouldn’t die immediately upon deployment.
Still, Song Yue couldn’t shake her anxiety.
It wasn’t the fear of dying in the Instance that gnawed at her. She was terrified of being dragged into it before she could stockpile enough supplies for her parents.
Instance opened once a month. If she missed the window, the system would reclaim her second life.
Today was June 21st. With less than nine days until the next Instance opened, the timeline overlapped almost perfectly with the massive rainstorm forecast for next week.
Time was running out—both for the Instance and for her parents.
099, accept the Instance information.
Song Yue prided herself on her adaptability. If entering these Instance was her destiny, she wouldn’t run from it.
In response to her command, No. 099 unfurled the mission details in her mind:
Instance Type: Flood
Difficulty: Novice
Mandatory Tasks:
Optional Task: Save 10 citizens (Reward: 60 Lifespan Points).
Song Yue hadn’t expected her first Instance to be a flood. For her, this was practically an open-book test.
In her past life, she had survived six months of torrential rains and devastating floods. Now, reborn with that experience and a stockpile of supplies specially chosen to combat such disasters—some of which she could even bring into the Instance—she felt confident. Combining her knowledge with her resources, the two mandatory tasks seemed manageable.
The optional task, however, was the real challenge. Saving ten people during a natural disaster was no small feat.
But the reward was too enticing to ignore.
Her rebirth had come at a steep price. system No. 099 had expended immense energy to send her back, and in return, she owed it 100 Lifespan Points. The rules were clear: repay the debt within three months or forfeit her life.
Lifespan Points could only be earned by completing Instance missions. This Beginner Instance ‘s mandatory tasks offered a combined total of only 15 points—a mere drop in the bucket compared to her 100-point debt.
If she waited for the next mission, it wouldn’t be for another month.
Her repayment deadline was three months. There was no guarantee future mission rewards would be any higher; if they remained this low, she would be in grave danger by the third month.
Song Yue was a cautious person. She never gambled on uncertainties. Instead, she seized every opportunity that came her way.
This optional task was her chance.
I have to succeed, she resolved.
As she reviewed the Instance’s details, she felt system No. 099 withdraw from her mind. She had many questions left unanswered, but she knew the system wouldn’t engage. No. 099 was like a machine governed by rigid rules—it spoke only when absolutely necessary.
Pulling her thoughts back to the present, she strode into a shop specializing in security doors and windows.
She had intended to order a Grade A reinforced door, but the salesperson informed her they only had Grade B in stock. A Grade A door would have to be custom-made.
Custom orders took time she didn’t have. Settling for the next best thing, she ordered a Grade B set.
Even at Grade B, the door’s inner and outer panels and its frame were thicker than what she had at home. Installing it at the entrance would mean having two doors side by side. Zou Chen wouldn’t be able to saw through that.
In the face of disaster, hearts turn unpredictable, she thought. After the lesson Zou Chen had taught her, she vowed never to let her guard down again.
With the door settled, she turned her attention to the windows.
The shopkeeper, sensing her serious intent to buy, likely assumed she came from a wealthy background—perhaps with a safe or gold bars hidden at home. He became even more eager, leading her through the shop and gesturing toward the security window bars.
“Take a look at this one, miss,” he said, a broad smile on his face as he pitched the product. “High-quality galvanized steel. Rust-resistant, corrosion-proof, and built to last. It’ll keep your home secure.”
Song Yue didn’t even glance at the display. Instead, her eyes landed on a sample that had been sitting in the back for a while.
“Is that a tempered glass window?”
The shopkeeper blinked, taken aback. “Yes, it is. But it’s a customer return. It’s been sitting here for a while and might be a bit dirty, so—”
Song Yue cut him off. “How many meters long is it?”
“Five… five meters,” the shopkeeper stammered.
The length was perfect. Her living room was exactly five meters wide. “That works. Deliver it directly to my home. Does that include installation?”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“Fine. Add the installation fee to the total. I need it delivered by tomorrow at the latest. Can you do that?”
The shopkeeper seemed dazed, as if she’d placed the order too quickly for him to process. He sniffed, then finally remembered to write up the receipt. “Tomorrow’s fine. You can count on it, miss.”
Only after securing the confirmation did Song Yue gather the stack of receipts and head to the mall’s central checkout.
Behind her, the shopkeepers she’d just visited watched her go, their faces filled with admiration.
“That woman’s loaded,” one remarked. “Walks in and picks the most expensive items without even looking.”
“Yeah, barely checked anything before ordering. So decisive.”
“Probably a business owner. This kind of money is nothing to her.”
If Song Yue had heard them, she would have found the irony hilarious.
She was just an office worker with a total net worth of 290,000 yuan. Where would she get that kind of money?
But the situation was desperate. She had no choice but to spend it all.
After leaving the home improvement market, she headed to the nearest mechanical and electrical market and bought three diesel generators.
Generators needed diesel, but according to state regulations, individuals couldn’t buy it freely. However, with the apocalypse imminent, those rules would soon become meaningless.
Song Yue didn’t have the connections to acquire fuel, but she knew someone who did—her childhood friend, Ling Feng. He had grown up on the streets, building a vast network of contacts. He was the perfect person to ask.
She called him and quickly explained what she needed.
Ling Feng chuckled on the other end. “What’s a desk-jockey accountant like you doing with all that diesel? Planning to start a shipping company?”
Song Yue trusted Ling Feng. He was tight-lipped and reliable. In her past life, he had helped her family. Later, she’d received another call from him saying he’d secured more supplies and would deliver them the next day. But before the delivery arrived, she and her parents were killed.
Because of that, Song Yue didn’t hold back. She quickly explained the whole story to him.
“Alright, I got it.”
Ling Feng’s voice was curt. He didn’t question her, nor did he argue.
Song Yue was stunned by how easily he’d accepted her explanation. “You’re really meant to be a boss, aren’t you? You’ve seen it all.”
“Damn right. Who do you think you’re talking to?”
Song Yue chuckled. After a few more minutes of conversation, she urged him to stock up on his own supplies.
As soon as she hung up, she went online and ordered a modular, stainless-steel insulated water tank. It held ten tons and measured 2.5m x 2m x 2m—just the right size to fit in her living room. She specified a strict three-day delivery deadline.
Ten tons of water could last a family of three over a month in normal times. If she rationed it after the apocalypse, it would easily stretch to two or three months.
More importantly, three months meant she would have completed three Instance. If she survived them and paid off her Lifespan Points, she could—according to the system’s rules—transfer any water she found in the Instance back to the real world.
Water is the most precious resource there is! she thought fiercely. I have to make this work.
Besides, the system stated that every time a Task-taker successfully completed a Instance, their Portable space would expand.
This meant she could eventually store large items like the water tank directly in her space, rather than leaving them out in the open and risking unnecessary trouble.
Song Yue was thrilled about the space’s expansion feature. In her past life, she had tried everything to enlarge the space that had suddenly appeared on her, but she’d never succeeded—a regret that had haunted her.
Now, in this new life, she’d finally found a way.
Yes, she possessed a secret space that had materialized after she’d fainted. It wasn’t large—only 125 cubic meters (5m x 5m x 5m)—too small for bulky items like kayaks, but more than enough to store several months’ worth of food.
In her previous life, Song Yue had been a key member of her neighborhood’s scavenging team. Whenever she found supplies, she stored them in the space, only taking them out when needed.
Her parents knew about the space. They considered it a divine blessing for their family to have such a magical, portable storage area during the apocalypse, so they kept the secret fiercely guarded.
But even though they were cautious and lived as if walking on thin ice, it didn’t stop others from coveting what they had.
Everyone in the neighborhood knew Song Yue was calm, capable, and always well-supplied. While others were fighting over a single cracker, her family of three was still eating hot instant noodles.
No matter how much she tried to hide it, the green-eyed envy of those around her was unstoppable. Rumors spread, eventually reaching the ears of the scumbag Zou Chen. After that, tragedy struck.
If only this space were larger, Song Yue wished. Then it could hold an assault boat, a van, or even a motorhome—something we could use to move at a moment’s notice.
In her past life, she had tried everything. She’d stuffed the space with jade and gold, mimicking a tactic from a novel in hopes of expanding it. She’d even tried mental connections and fervent wishes, hoping to wake up to a transformed space.
All of it had been useless.
Song Yue had been forced to accept the reality that the space would never grow.
And yet, reborn into this new life, she had somehow found the expansion code!
With her cold-weather supplies mostly purchased, Song Yue checked her bank account. She had roughly 160,000 yuan left. Every cent was precious now; she needed to make sure not a single penny was wasted.
Still needing daily necessities, she headed to the general wholesale market.
Six heavy cotton quilts, three air-conditioning blankets, and three towel blankets. Twenty bottles each of shampoo and body wash. She skipped bath towels—they had plenty at home. Twenty tubes of toothpaste, twenty of facial cleanser, three electric kettles, three thermoses, and six hot water bottles. Ten sets of heavy-duty hangers, ten power strips, five cases of candles, five boxes of lighters, three stainless steel alcohol stoves, and five cases of fuel tablets…
The total came to over 30,000 yuan.
Song Yue glanced at her remaining balance with a twinge of sadness. If her funds weren’t so limited, she would have bought a hundred of everything.
Next to the general market was a fresh produce section. Song Yue turned into the area, intending to buy up hundreds of pounds of fruit in one go. But when she saw the empty stalls, she realized it was already too late. All the fresh fruit had been sold by noon. All that remained were a few shriveled, bruised pieces of produce.
Though she was pressed for time in this new life, she couldn’t bring herself to buy fruit that would give her parents diarrhea.
I’ll come back tomorrow morning to sweep the place clean, she decided.
As she left the market, a light rain had begun to fall, and the temperature dropped a few degrees. Passersby grumbled about the weather as they hurried past, but their complaints were meaningless. None of them realized that a far greater disaster was about to strike.