Chapter 7: The Cold Wave Strikes

Mu Jiu picked up her phone. Headlines everywhere were reporting on the nationwide abnormal weather.

At the end of July—an odd time for such a shift—temperatures plummeted across both the south and north, and snow fell nationwide.

The Meteorological Center claimed it was just due to a massive cold air front moving through and warned of extreme weather over the next two days. But they assured the public it would warm up soon.

Residents were advised not to panic, to take basic precautions, and not to spread or believe rumors.

Only Mu Jiu knew that this so-called “temporary” disaster would actually last for three full years, not just two days as experts claimed.

Online, however, the narrative was totally different.

Many celebrities were already posting aesthetic nine-photo grids titled “This Year’s First Snowfall,” romanticizing this unprecedented apocalyptic blizzard.

Their fans followed suit, posting selfies in the snow.

People in the south even commented that it was the first time in their lives seeing snow thick enough to blanket the ground.

Only Mu Jiu stood out—an anonymous voice urging everyone in the comments of viral posts to stock up on food and firewood immediately, warning that the snow would soon lock down the cities.

But hardly anyone listened. People were too wrapped up in their happiness to care.

Those who did comment mostly laughed at her for fearmongering.

Some even joked that she was probably trying to stir up panic-buying so she could start selling supplies herself.

A few aggressive users even reported her and got her account muted.

Mu Jiu knew her voice carried no weight. Even if she called or wrote letters to government officials warning about the apocalypse, it would likely be ignored—no one would believe the ramblings of an ordinary person.

So she gave up trying to help. She let go of that burden and focused on surviving the apocalypse herself.

She stored the untouched hotpot ingredients in her space’s cold storage—ready for the next meal.

The pots and dishes went straight into the villa’s dishwasher—no need to lift a finger.

Smelling of hotpot, Mu Jiu went upstairs to fill the massage tub with warm water for a bath.

The water came directly from the mountain’s hot spring and had therapeutic benefits.

After bathing, she climbed into her five-meter-wide custom soft bed and rolled around alone before falling into a peaceful sleep.

It was a night of good dreams. Mu Jiu was woken the next morning by noisy voices outside the window.

Yawning, she pulled back a corner of the thick blackout curtain and looked out.

Whoa. Overnight, the resort road had filled with trucks and cars. People were hauling supplies into the villas.

Families—young and old—were braving the snow to move into the hot spring resort!

By Mu Jiu’s estimate, all 50 villas in the resort had been filled just that morning.

Clearly, wealthy people had received insider tips. Otherwise, why would they rush to move in just before the snow sealed off the city?

After all, renting a villa here wasn’t cheap.

Short-term stays were charged like a five-star hotel—four-digit prices per night.

Later, Mu Jiu learned these families had heard rumors about an unusual cold front hitting over the next month.

So they came here to escape the cold and enjoy the hot springs—treating it like a vacation wasn’t a bad deal.

But Mu Jiu wasn’t worried about any of that. Her own villa had been upgraded to SSS+ security level, and her space was loaded with a massive arsenal of hot weapons.

Whatever happened outside wasn’t likely to touch her.

So she continued her normal routine—eating, drinking, business as usual.

After waking up, Mu Jiu went downstairs for breakfast. Overnight, the indoor heating had fully warmed up the house.

Wearing short sleeves and shorts, barefoot on the cashmere carpets, she didn’t feel the slightest chill.

Outside, it was already -1°C. Snow covered the roof, grass, and roads—everything blanketed in white.

In the kitchen, she made tomato and egg noodles and poured herself a big glass of spring water from her space.

Through the dining room’s floor-to-ceiling windows, she spotted a family of four and an Alaskan Malamute moving into the villa next door, about ten meters away.

They looked well-prepared, bringing plenty of food and supplies—enough to last half a year if they didn’t waste anything.

After breakfast, Mu Jiu rested for a bit, then headed to the villa’s ground floor gym to work out.

A strong body was the first key to survival in the apocalypse.

While the spiritual spring had boosted her strength and speed to insane levels, she still needed to train in basic combat moves and techniques.

Practice would build muscle memory—crucial for maintaining an advantage in future battles.

She had learned all this from a professional trainer in her previous life at a base.

Now, she picked it up again with a scientific, step-by-step approach to avoid injury.

Three hours later, soaked in sweat, Mu Jiu left the gym, showered, changed into clean clothes, and began prepping lunch.

Even though she lived alone, Mu Jiu—well-stocked and with time to spare—still treated each meal with care.

She entered the space and caught twenty freshwater prawns from her farm pool.

She picked a broccoli from her garden, grabbed an egg from the chicken coop, and found a frozen steak in her warehouse.

Lunch: boiled prawns, pan-seared black pepper steak, garlic broccoli, and an egg pancake—with another glass of spring water.

She ate while watching a long-winded palace drama on the dining room’s projection TV.

Since the internet was still working, she had been frantically downloading movies, shows, and e-books nonstop.

Thanks to her overseas “zero-dollar shopping” sprees, she had countless hard drives—dozens of boxes, thousands in total.

No worries at all about running out of digital storage.

After lunch, Mu Jiu didn’t nap—never had the habit. She went out front to till the soil of her 70㎡ garden.

Even with a farm in her space, she didn’t plan to grow vegetables out front.

She had stored plenty of flower seeds and planned to fill the garden with blooms.

Bright colors and fragrance would be a much-needed mood booster in the bleak, frozen world.

By nightfall, the entire resort finally quieted down.

Mu Jiu checked the outdoor thermometer: -5°C.

The next morning, she heard someone ringing the doorbell and went to answer it.

A blast of bone-chilling air rushed into the courtyard.

Fortunately, Mu Jiu had already dressed in thick thermal gear and wasn’t shocked by the extreme temperature difference.

“Miss Mu, sorry to bother you. We’re the housekeeping team managing the resort.”

She saw more than a dozen men and women outside, wrapped in military coats, noses red from the cold.

Overnight, the temperature had already dropped to -10°C.

“We’re here to deliver some resort benefits!

Our hot spring resort has a green organic farm, which includes orchards, vegetable gardens, livestock, and fish ponds.

Due to the extreme weather, all the crops were harvested.

We’ve prepared a share of the harvest as complimentary gifts for each villa resident.

These are your packages—our team will carry them inside for you!”

Mu Jiu glanced at the ten beautifully packed bags behind them—clearly quality goods.

This was probably the best pre-apocalypse freebie she’d ever receive.

“Thanks, but you can leave them outside. I haven’t tidied up inside yet—I’ll move them in myself later.”

Mu Jiu didn’t want anyone stepping into her territory.

After all, in the apocalypse, anyone could become a potential enemy—she couldn’t afford to be careless.