“Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh—”

On the seventh day of the heavy rain, the downpour showed no signs of easing up. The intense rain pounded against the glass windows, and the water on the roads had risen to waist height.

The water level in the reservoirs, which had dropped due to the high temperatures, began to rise again and continued to climb.

Thanks to official early warnings, the ongoing heavy rain did not cause panic among people who had stockpiled food at home. Online work and virtual classes were still proceeding in an orderly manner, and the downpour didn’t stop office workers and students from continuing their daily routines.

With most people stuck at home and no extra entertainment options, a wave of people began to show off their stockpiled goods and food online. More and more people rushed to post pictures of their supplies on Weibo and social media, competing to flaunt their preparations.

After a few days, when everyone realized the rain wouldn’t stop as the authorities had predicted, and their food supplies were running low, they started to discreetly hide their stockpiles and hurriedly delete the pictures they had previously posted. However, those with sharp eyes had already taken note of them. In the ensuing chaos, they became the first to be targeted.

Comfortably aware that the heavy rain would last for a long time, and that they wouldn’t be leaving home until the official aid supplies arrived, Comfort and her friends were prepared.

When renovating their house, Yanmor had considered the possibility of being unable to leave for extended periods, so he had not only built a gym but also a shooting range. In the post-apocalyptic world, physical fitness and shooting accuracy were crucial.

Good physical condition could at least ensure that one could wield a knife and run fast when escaping. As for shooting, there were no bullets being produced in the apocalypse—ammo was a non-renewable resource, so you couldn’t afford to waste it.

If they were ever running from zombies, unable to fight back, unable to aim, and too slow to escape, then if they were lucky enough to survive, the protagonist could have their spot.

Yanmor tailored a training plan for Comfort and Bo Xiangwen, as both of them had poor physical fitness—Comfort had been pampered since childhood, and Bo Xiangwen had spent years in the office. Yanmor, who had trained since he was young, and Mu Qimai, who had always been involved in the behind-the-scenes work, had already developed excellent physical reflexes. Only Comfort and Bo Xiangwen were complete weaklings.

Their apartment complex had one unit per floor, and residents typically used the elevator for daily entry and exit, rarely using the stairs. This suited Comfort’s group for their daily training.

The building had 25 floors, and Yanmor first arranged for the two of them to run up and down 20 rounds a day for five days. Afterward, they gradually added weight and limited their time to push their potential, forcing them to improve their speed.

In addition to the stairs, there were other basic exercises. Yanmor and Mu Qimai also explained various types of firearms and their uses, followed by shooting practice.

But neither Yanmor nor Mu Qimai slacked off. They trained alongside Comfort and Bo Xiangwen, adding three extra hours of physical training and two hours of shooting practice every day to ensure their own abilities remained at peak levels.

After daily training, Comfort and Bo Xiangwen were exhausted, feeling like dead dogs. If it weren’t for being so hungry, they wouldn’t have wanted to move a single finger.

Yanmor suggested feeding Comfort, but she firmly refused.

It wasn’t just the two of them at home; there were other people around. Comfort couldn’t act so clingy in front of others. She would be so embarrassed she’d practically dig a castle with her toes. Though Yanmor just gave her a look, and the other two quickly lowered their heads, silently eating their meals without looking at them.

In the evenings, when Yanmor gave Comfort a muscle-relaxing massage, her shrill screams could be heard through the building. Bo Xiangwen, downstairs, was getting the same treatment.

If not for the good soundproofing in the house, others would have thought they had some strange kink or were in the middle of a gruesome murder scene based on the mixed screams coming from their apartment.

Comfort and Bo Xiangwen endured the brutal training every day, complaining of exhaustion and pain, but never once mentioned giving up.

They both understood the importance of this training—it was a matter of life and death. They had no complaints. They just gritted their teeth and pushed through everything.

Yanmor watched as bruises and swelling appeared on Comfort’s body from the training, his heart aching to the point that he almost told her to stop. In the end, he held back.

The dangers of the post-apocalyptic world were everywhere. He couldn’t always ensure he could protect her or be by her side at all times. She needed to have enough self-defense ability for him to feel somewhat at ease.

Time passed quickly, and the days were busy but fulfilling. Others, however, were not in such a good mood.

The sky seemed to have torn open, and rain continued to pour down from the crack. On the fifteenth day of staying at home, the rain showed no sign of stopping.

The city’s drainage system was overwhelmed by the massive rainfall. In the lower-lying areas, the water had already risen to five or six floors. The neighborhood where Comfort and her friends lived was on higher ground, but the water still reached the first floor.

After half a month of training, the results were evident. At least now, Comfort didn’t feel like a dead dog after training. She even had the energy to play on her phone.

Having not checked the neighborhood owner’s group for a long time, Comfort finally had the time to look at her phone messages during the lunch break.

When she opened the messages, there were so many that her phone crashed. She had to restart it.

There were 99+ missed calls, texts, and WeChat messages, mostly from unfamiliar numbers. It was easy to guess they were from her uncle’s family. After their falling out, she had blocked and deleted all their contacts. When they realized they couldn’t reach her, they started calling from new numbers.

She wasn’t about to answer their calls—she didn’t have the time to listen to their nonsense and immediately blocked and deleted their new numbers.

The owner’s group was also in chaos. Comfort had added Yanmor to the group, but knowing his personality, he wouldn’t be looking at this useless chat.

The messages in the group now consisted mostly of people begging for help from the property management, asking to stay in someone else’s apartment for a while.

Today, the water had flooded the first floor. The neighborhood was a new development with less than 50% occupancy, so many apartments hadn’t been sold. The property management had keys, and residents whose homes had flooded were trying to contact them to move in temporarily.

However, no one in the property management was responding. In this situation, who would risk their life to go out and give people keys? No matter how much the residents cursed in the group, the property management didn’t care.

Unable to contact the property management, the lower-floor residents shifted their attention to others in the same building. When someone asked about borrowing a place to stay, the lively group chat suddenly fell silent. No one spoke again.