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It was pitch black before Su Xiao’s eyes. The whooshing noise above her head told her there was a powerful gale raging outside.
【Congratulations. You have entered a Safehouse. Stay here for one hour to bind the Safehouse. If you leave before the binding is complete, the countdown will reset, and the Safehouse will become available to other survivors.】
【Time until hurricane disaster arrives: 36min 28s】
Only a fool would leave now!
She couldn’t see a thing in the pitch-dark cellar, but thankfully, she had her backpack with her from work.
Su Xiao began rummaging through her bag to see what she had brought.
A notebook, tissues, a bottle of water, two braised eggs, two mooncakes, an unopened bottle of milk from yesterday, a high-capacity power bank, and half a pack of sanitary pads.
Not bad.
Her phone buzzed with a “ding ding” — surprisingly, there was still signal inside the Safehouse.
It was a message from the company group chat. The manager had tagged everyone: “@All staff, work today proceeds as usual. Don’t forget to clock in. Tardiness will result in full attendance bonus being deducted.”
Su Xiao: …
Is this idiot seriously thinking this is just an ordinary windy day?
A coworker immediately chimed in:
“The wind really is crazy today. My electric scooter got blown away. Can we clock in an hour late?”
“Yeah, even half an hour would help. I’m almost at the office, but there’s a huge traffic jam from an accident.”
The manager replied coldly, “If you had left home thirty minutes earlier, this wouldn’t be an issue.”
Su Xiao clicked her tongue. Hoping for empathy from a superior like that? Might as well talk to a brick wall.
She was just about to shut off her phone when she noticed someone had tagged her: “@Su Xiao, I saw you earlier on the road, and then you suddenly disappeared — did you find a Safehouse?”
It was from Yang Haiyi.
What a lovely person.
Su Xiao was a programmer. After graduating from university, she had joined a gaming company.
Programmers — well, everyone knows the drill.
The company promised a 9-to-6 schedule during recruitment, with an hour lunch break. Weekends would alternate: one weekend off per week, sometimes two. Starting pay was 8k.
But from the second day, things went sideways. A baffling 996 schedule (9 a.m. to 9 p.m., 6 days a week) kicked in. She arrived at 8:30 a.m. to find the office already packed.
After 6 p.m., the managers stayed put, so nobody else dared to leave either. People kept working until 9 p.m., when management finally started trickling out.
Su Xiao wasn’t having it. From day three, she began leaving at 6 sharp, bag in hand. Yang Haiyi confronted her, asking why everyone else was working overtime but not her.
Her reply: “Because I don’t need overtime pay. I finish my tasks within working hours.”
Yang Haiyi, in his thirties, wasn’t particularly skilled but was a master at brown-nosing.
He complained to the supervisor, accusing her of a poor work attitude and suggesting they replace her with another intern.
But the very next day, the game project encountered a major bug — one that had been lurking for a while. No one on the team could fix it. Su Xiao stepped in and solved it.
And just like that, she was officially hired. Her post-probation salary was 12.8k — higher than Yang Haiyi’s. Naturally, he resented her ever since.
Now he was deliberately fishing for information in the group chat, clearly having seen her vanish on the road and guessing she’d found a Safehouse.
Su Xiao didn’t reply.
She shut WeChat and turned on her phone flashlight to inspect the Safehouse.
The room wasn’t large — about three meters high, ten square meters in area. There was no lighting. The walls were concrete, clearly a cellar. The only conspicuous feature was a red lever on the center wall.
Su Xiao walked over for a closer look.
The lever could move in four directions: up, down, left, and right.
With a light tug forward—
She felt her whole body tilt. It was obvious: the entire cellar had shifted slightly forward. But the moment she let go, the movement halted abruptly, like slamming the brakes.
Su Xiao tugged again — bang!
It hit something immovable.
Looking up, she noticed a digital map on the wall. It scanned a one-kilometer radius around the cellar.
Sparse red dots blinked across the screen. They couldn’t be bypassed — they’d result in a collision.
Next to the map was a legend.
Gray areas represented land, white areas were hollow zones, and blue areas were water.
The Safehouse could only navigate within gray zones. Blue and white had to be avoided.
Her phone buzzed again — another tag from the company group.
Wen Ming, the HR guy, had tagged everyone: “Have you all found Safehouses? I came to the office an hour and a half early and found one here. @Everyone”
Wen Ming was notoriously stingy.
When Su Xiao had applied for the job, he had tried to squeeze her base salary during negotiations.
Her resume wasn’t top-tier, but it wasn’t shabby either. She had drawn the line at 10k — anything less and she might as well stay home freelancing.
This man, who treated the company like his personal property, was now trying to flex about finding a Safehouse? Some people really never see themselves as the beast of burden they are.
Liu Yun: “Safehouses should hold more than one person, right? Let us in for a while?”
Guo Jiajia: “I searched the whole office and didn’t find any Safehouse. Brother Wen, where are you exactly?”
Wen Ming: “I don’t think that’s a good idea. It says I need to stay inside for an hour to bind it. I can’t leave now.”
Liu Yun: “A Safehouse can only hold one person?”
Wen Ming: “It’s not that big.”
Liu Yun: “Still better than nothing. Let us in, Brother Wen. This wind is insane.”
Manager Wang: “@Wen Ming, where are you?”
Wen Ming: “One moment, Manager Wang. I’ll DM you.”
Idiot.
It was obvious this wasn’t a regular typhoon.
If the world really was ending, then anyone who found a Safehouse had already seized the upper hand. Of course people would be jealous.
And here he was, still trying to curry favor with higher-ups. Probably capable of saving others, but not himself.
Su Xiao turned back to studying the cellar.
There was a vent-like structure overhead. When she touched it, a prompt appeared:
【Oxygen supply duration: 23h 33m 12s】
A countdown.
So even though this was a Safehouse, it still required an oxygen reserve.
The cellar’s exit also displayed a prompt when touched:
【Level 20 Hurricane Disaster is imminent. Safehouse is not yet bound. Confirm departure: Yes/No】
Of course not.
It was far too dangerous outside.
After searching every corner of the cellar and finding nothing else of note, Su Xiao sat down to rest.
Just then, a loud banging echoed from the Safehouse’s entrance — like someone was hitting it with tremendous force. It almost sounded human.
Su Xiao moved to check.
But just as she approached the cellar door, a mechanical voice rang out:
【Hurricane Disaster has officially begun. This disaster will last for eight hours. Survivors inside Safehouses will not suffer any adverse effects during this period. All others — do your best to survive.】