Song Yue didn’t answer the phone immediately. Instead, she picked it up and crept to the front door. She pulled open the first door and peered through the peephole of the second, newly installed one.
Just as it had happened in her past life, Zou Chen was already standing there. Two suitcases sat at his feet.
Unaware that Song Yue was watching him through the peephole, Zou Chen wore no gentle smile. His eyes gleamed with a fierce, predatory intensity, like a debt collector coming for payment.
Song Yue quietly closed the second door and retreated to the living room before answering.
“Hello?” Her voice was cold and devoid of emotion.
There was a brief pause on the other end. Then, Zou Chen’s voice returned in the same gentle tone Song Yue knew all too well from her previous life. “Babe, are you awake?”
Song Yue sneered. “I am.”
“Oh, since you’re up, could you open the front door for me? I’m outside.”
Song Yue was about to respond when Lin Xiaojuan walked out of the bedroom, yawning.
“Oh, Song Yue, you’re up early?” Lin Xiaojuan said, her face full of surprise. “Haven’t had breakfast yet, have you? Wait here, I’ll go make you something in the kitchen.”
Her mother’s voice was naturally loud. Fearing Zou Chen would hear her from outside, Song Yue quickly pressed a finger to her lips and shook her head, signaling her to be quiet.
Though puzzled, Lin Xiaojuan knew her daughter wouldn’t warn her for no reason. She nodded and immediately fell silent.
Hearing her mother’s voice, Zou Chen said, “Is that Auntie? Babe, I actually brought some of that Hami melon she likes—shipped fresh from Xinjiang. Why don’t you open the door so I can come in and explain?”
Song Yue gave a soft scoff. “We’re not home.”
There was a pause. “…What? You’re not home? Then… where are you?”
Zou Chen’s tone dropped noticeably.
“Traveling,” Song Yue replied.
“But you didn’t mention any trip last week?”
“It was a last-minute decision. I’ve already requested the time off from work. What’s going on with you? Why the sudden visit?”
She had chosen the word “visit” for a reason—to let Zou Chen know that their relationship wasn’t yet at the stage where he could just show up at her parents’ house.
In her past life, Zou Chen had somehow gotten fired. Unable to afford the exorbitant rents near his old office and unwilling to live in a dilapidated apartment from twenty years ago, he’d set his sights on her.
Sure enough, Zou Chen stammered on the other end of the line before finally getting to the point.
“…Babe, I might be homeless right now.”
“So you want to live in my place?” Song Yue asked.
“…Yes.”
“We won’t be back in C City anytime soon.”
“Then… when’s the earliest you’ll return?”
“I don’t know.”
“Babe…” His tone on the phone gradually became pleading. “Can’t you and your parents come home right away? I really have nowhere else to go…”
Song Yue intentionally remained silent, waiting to see what he would say next.
Just as she’d expected, there was a brief silence before he recited the same lines from her past life.
“Um, I remember your parents bought you an apartment in the next complex. It’s empty, right? Can you mail me the keys? Please, babe, I’ll only stay for a few days. Are you really going to watch me end up on the streets?”
So that’s it, Song Yue thought. Getting into the new apartment my parents bought for me was his goal all along.
Zou Chen, a “phoenix man” from a poor rural county who’d fought his way into Main City University, had been playing her from the start. He’d planned to seize her property and resources piece by piece, using her to secure his own foothold in the city.
Song Yue had been too blind to see it. She’d thought she’d found an ambitious, dependable boyfriend, only to realize she’d invited a wolf into her home—a mistake that had cost her and her parents their lives.
A cold sneer escaped her nose at the memory.
“Just get a hotel,” she snapped. “The cheap ones are only a few dozen yuan. It won’t cost you much. Anyway, I have to go—we’re leaving now.”
Before he could respond, she hung up.
Zou Chen stared at the phone, the line dead. Astonishment and fury warred on his face. He ground his teeth, glared at Song Yue’s front door, and then, as if to vent his rage, threw a powerful kick against it.
The Grade B security door shuddered with a loud, metallic bang.
But the noise was all it did. He couldn’t dream of breaking down a Grade B door with his foot—or even an axe, for that matter.
Left with no other choice, Zou Chen dragged his two suitcases into the elevator and stormed off.
Lin Xiaojuan and Song Tianyuan, who had just awakened, had witnessed the entire display. They stood frozen in shock.
Song Yue, however, remained calm. She turned to her parents, her expression hardening. “Dad, Mom, you saw what just happened. The disaster hasn’t even hit yet, and people are already losing their self-control and plotting against us. When the chaos truly arrives, even more people will come for what we have.”
She paused, her voice grave. “This is what I need to tell you. From now on, no matter who knocks—neighbors, friends, family—you are not to open this door without my permission. Do you understand?”
Her words were so resolute that Song Tianyuan and Lin Xiaojuan, both accustomed to the social niceties of their community, struggled to accept them.
Lin Xiaojuan, in particular, was a warm-hearted woman who got along with almost everyone in the neighborhood. They had always exchanged produce, meat, and snacks. Song Yue understood her mother’s hesitation at the thought of cutting off all ties so abruptly.
“Mom,” Song Yue said, walking over to wrap her arms around her mother. “I just want you both to be safe.”
Only then will this second chance at life be worth it, she thought.
The bond between mother and daughter was blood-deep. Lin Xiaojuan felt Song Yue’s emotion wash over her and returned the embrace. “We understand,” she said firmly. “Your father and I will stay inside. We won’t go anywhere.”
Their daughter knew the future and possessed an extraordinary space. They would listen to her.
Besides, Zou Chen’s behavior was a stark warning. If even someone so close could turn so vicious, how could they expect strangers to remain kind?
Song Tianyuan nodded in agreement, promising he would never selfishly open the door.
Song Yue nodded slightly, finally at ease.
She had no intention of telling them about Zou Chen’s assault on them in her past life. The memory was too agonizing, too desperate—even a fleeting thought of it made her chest ache with a chilling dread.
Now that her parents had accepted her situation, there was no need to recount their fate from that other life.
Some things are better left buried, she thought. I’m the only one who needs to know.
With the scheming man finally “sent away,” Song Yue officially began her culinary feast.
She retrieved steaming-hot red bean buns, braised pork buns, scallion pancakes, youtiao, and soy milk from her space, arranging them on the dining table one by one.
She had ordered everything from a food app the day before. The moment the delivery driver arrived, she had stashed the items in her space, where time stood still. Whatever went in remained exactly as it was, untouched by the passage of hours.
The buns were still soft and springy, the youtiao golden and fragrant, and the soy milk wafted a rich, nutty aroma that made her mouth water just from the scent.
For the past few days, she had been so consumed with gathering supplies—running back and forth, eating whatever she could find on the go—that she’d completely neglected her own appetite. Now that everything was ready, she could finally relax and enjoy a proper meal.
Song Yue picked up a soft red bean bun and took a large bite. The filling was smooth, sweet, and fragrant.
“Dad, this is delicious,” she said, pushing the plate toward him.
Song Tianyuan, who had a sweet tooth, grabbed a bun and popped it into his mouth. After a few chews, he exclaimed, “Which place did you get these from? They’re amazing.”
Song Yue thought for a moment. “The breakfast chain at the entrance of Tiantian Residential Area. Eat as much as you want, Dad.”
But after finishing the first bun, Song Tianyuan shook his head. “No, no. You said supplies will be scarce later. We should save them.”
Song Yue giggled. “Don’t worry, Dad. I ordered thirty steamers’ worth. There are eight buns in each—plenty for you.”
“Thirty?!” Song Tianyuan’s eyes widened. Then, remembering the space his daughter had mentioned, the number suddenly seemed reasonable. He no longer held back, grabbing two more buns and happily munching away.
Meanwhile, Lin Xiaojuan had finished a braised pork bun and a youtiao. “This pork is excellent,” she praised. “Tender, juicy, and perfectly cooked.”
Song Yue nodded with a smile, her eyes filled with happiness as she looked at her parents.
The three of them each had a cup of hot soy milk. The breakfast had left them savoring every last bite.
Meanwhile, Zou Chen, who had just been sent packing, was hiding from the rain under the awning of a grocery store. He dared not venture too far inside for fear the owner would chase him out.
Half his body was soaked, his thin T-shirt clinging to his skin, and he couldn’t help but sneeze.
His phone rang. Without checking the caller ID, he answered it.
“Hello, Mom. No, not yet. Song Yue is away on a trip. Don’t worry—just stay at the guesthouse for now. Song Yue is a softie. If I beg her a few more times, she’ll give in eventually. Yes, she has a small two-bedroom apartment, fully furnished. I’ll make sure you get to stay there.”
That afternoon, the rain paused, and her childhood friend, Ling Feng, arrived as promised with the diesel.
The drums were massive—190 liters each. Moving such heavy items from the truck to the trailer was no easy task, yet Song Yue watched as Ling Feng lifted them with ease. He even lowered the last one gently onto the trailer, careful not to crack the wooden boards.
“What’s wrong?” Ling Feng asked, wiping sweat from his forehead as he noticed her scrutinizing gaze.
Song Yue blinked. “When did you get so strong?”
“I’ve been hitting the gym,” Ling Feng admitted. He rolled his white shirt sleeves up to his elbows, revealing tanned, muscular forearms under the garage’s dim light. Though his upper arms were still covered, the tight fabric hinted at their power.
Song Yue looked on in surprise. She offered a few quick compliments but couldn’t offer much practical help, so she simply assisted him from time to time.
Soon, all ten diesel drums were moved into the house.
Before he left, Song Yue tried to invite him for a meal, but Ling Feng declined, explaining he had things to take care of at home.
“Be careful,” Song Yue said, letting him go with a final word of caution.
Once he was gone, she began transferring the diesel into the space.
She hadn’t told Ling Feng about the space. It was her trump card—a secret she wouldn’t reveal to anyone but her parents unless absolutely necessary.
Speaking of the diesel, normally one liter could generate about 9.987 kilowatt-hours of electricity. That meant 190 liters could produce roughly 1,897 kWh. A 1,000-watt appliance would consume one kWh per hour of continuous use.
Taking a radiator as an example, which typically has a power rating of around 2,000 watts, one drum of diesel—ignoring minor losses during generation—could keep it running for 940 hours, or about 39 days. Ten drums would last over a year, 390 days to be precise.
Of course, these ten drums wouldn’t just power a single appliance. When the temperature plummeted in three months and the power grid collapsed, the house would need electricity for far more than just heat. The diesel wouldn’t last a full year.
Besides, Song Yue needed to reserve two drums in her space for emergencies.
She resolved to push herself harder during her next Instance run to bring back more water and diesel.
On the fourth day after her rebirth, the rain began to fall again. It was still just a light drizzle, not enough to draw much attention from the public.
On the news, pedestrians shrugged off the reporter’s questions. They figured it was just a two-week rainy spell and everything would return to normal once it cleared up.
One young couple even joked to the camera, “If the sky falls, we’ve still got delivery drivers. We’ll just order through the app and never have to leave the house.”
Only a few residents sensed the disruption this rain would bring to daily life and began stockpiling supplies.
People responded to nature’s warning in different ways. But no matter their strategy, none could match Song Yue’s preparations.
On the fifth day after her rebirth, news reports stated the rainfall was intensifying—transitioning from light to moderate. Side street drainage system were already struggling to keep up with the volume, and citizens were advised to stick to the main roads.
By the sixth day, the moderate rain showed no sign of letting up. Some companies shifted to remote work, and the streets saw far fewer pedestrians and cars than usual.
On the seventh day, the predicted downpour finally arrived.
Raindrops as large as hail pelted the windowpanes like fists, creating a relentless drumming sound. Water cascaded from the awnings, carving several-meter-wide streams through the residential complex.
Song Yue watched the world outside with a dark, somber gaze.
She knew the apocalypse had officially begun.