No key for room 1803. Jiang Ning thought about finding tools to pry the door open, but unexpectedly, Lu Yu pulled out a strangely shaped single hook from his pocket and fiddled with the lock for a few minutes—then it opened.

Jiang Ning, breaking out in a cold sweat from shock, was speechless.

Suddenly, she felt that the two doors at home were unsafe!

Zheng Weili gave an awkward smile, “No worries about getting in or out. He’s been tinkering around the house for two days.”

Room 1803 is a three-bedroom, two-living-room apartment, quite spacious. The furniture was all covered with cloth; when uncovered, it was all top-quality furniture. It seemed the owner wasn’t short on money, which was probably why it hadn’t been rented out.

Trespassing into a private residence is illegal. Zheng Weili felt uneasy and discussed with Lu Yu, “We’re just staying temporarily, so let’s try not to touch their stuff and restore everything when we leave.”

They chose the room with the least furniture and started cleaning. Jiang Ning helped out.

The house was pretty nice, except the balcony wasn’t sealed with glass—only surrounded by invisible stainless steel wires—so water was everywhere.

“Gratitude for rice, hostility for grain,” Jiang Ning noticed there was still about one and a half bags of rice, but noodles and rice vermicelli were mostly eaten. It could barely last until the typhoon ended, so she gave up on hoping for outside help.

She prepared separate portions for Lu Yu and Zhang Chao, afraid that giving too much might attract suspicion, so only gave the basic essentials. How far they could go next had to depend on themselves.

After tidying up inside and outside, seeing they were both exhausted, Jiang Ning said goodbye and went back inside.

Being neighbors, it was inevitable to visit each other, so she hid anything that shouldn’t be seen and had a sumptuous lunch:

Cordyceps flower chicken soup, braised pork ribs, stir-fried water spinach, and a piece of Qilin watermelon.

After waking from a nap, the internet was down.

Once the internet was cut off, it was total isolation from the world. Loneliness surged in her heart.

Feeling gloomy, Jiang Ning started exercising.

She was in good shape and had joined several clubs in college: Taekwondo, Tai Chi, military boxing and self-defense, and she had learned Sanda from Zheng Weili.

She wasn’t specialized in any but had good comprehension.

After training repeatedly for two hours, sweating profusely and exhausted, she felt an indescribable comfort throughout her body.

To survive, and to live better than others, she needed to keep improving herself.

Jiang Ning made a plan: spend two hours daily exercising, three hours studying Chinese medicine, and another two hours self-studying basic surgical knowledge.

The space was filled with over a hundred books, all “borrowed” covertly from the school library, which she could slowly study over the years.

She also took psychology books, wanting to learn quickly.

Besides those who died from various natural disasters, very few normal people survived the apocalypse—there were suicides, self-harm, and those taking revenge on society.

Including Jiang Ning herself, who was also mentally affected.

Irritable, anxious, and depressed.

So this time she prepared a good amount of antidepressants, hoping she wouldn’t need to use them.

The glass was sealed tight, but the house still felt damp.

Jiang Ning bought many large compression bags to store unused clothes and bedding, and hung wet clothes to dry on the balcony in the space.

The black earth was mysterious; although the time matched the outside, vegetables grew much better inside. The potatoes in the planting pots had sprouted, and the grape vines showed signs of budding.

After coming out of the space, Jiang Ning found several thick plastic boards and covered the drains with them, then weighed them down with stones.

On rainy days, cockroaches were abundant, especially during later stages when insect infestations were relentless, often climbing up from the drains.

Floodwaters rising made flushing toilets especially troublesome.

Those living on higher floors were better off. On the 2nd and 3rd floors, before the internet cut off, residents were already complaining in the group chat about toilets spraying sewage and asking the upper floors to have some public decency and stop flushing.

Actually, those on the higher floors weren’t feeling much better; although they could barely flush, the stench kept rising and made them sick.

Just in case, Jiang Ning prepared many black plastic bags to handle sanitary needs.

But thinking about throwing them downstairs, she held back and planned to use the space instead.

Just as she was about to cook, Zheng Weili knocked on the door.

After sleeping for a day, they both felt much better.

Zheng Weili brought some alcohol wipes. She was surprised to find Jiang Ning’s supplies so complete—the balcony growing vegetables and raising rabbits nearly made her drop her jaw. “A Ning, no wonder Lu Yu said you could survive alone in the desert.”

Jiang Ning loved stockpiling and growing things, nothing to hide, though many things needed provenance.

“I was just lucky. A few days before the typhoon, I took an order for Zhang Chao—a rich second-generation who’s addicted to apocalypse games—and I prepped quite a bit of medicine for him. When I delivered, he handed me a survival gift pack.”

She pointed out several items, including a rubber boat and an earthquake first aid kit.

Zheng Weili and Lu Yu were shocked. “Hearing you talk, it feels like the world really is ending.”

It wasn’t just the two of them thinking this. In fact, in the first few days of the typhoon, online posts exploded.

Having lived nearly twenty years, no one had experienced such a disaster before, and the affected area wasn’t just the southern coast. The worst part: there was still no rescue news. Who wouldn’t be scared?

Lu Yu suspected the rich kid had gotten early warnings; otherwise, how could he be so lucky?

In his building, a single young man with depression lost his mind after a few days without food and jumped from the upper floor to drown.

What’s the difference between now and the apocalypse?

He suddenly asked, “Are you still in contact with Zhang Chao?”

Jiang Ning shook her head. She converted her commissions from selling medicine into supplies, ordered anonymously online, and delivered to his door. As for what happened after, he had to manage himself.

Zhang Chao was loyal and generous when hanging out, a good friend.

But he was very needy for love, always dating older women. Whoever tried to warn him would upset him, so Jiang Ning gave up.

“He found a new girlfriend,” Lu Yu said with a forced smile, “she’s over ten years older, divorced with two kids—a 10-year-old daughter and an 8-year-old son. That woman clearly mixes in shady circles and just wants Zhang’s money.”

Jiang Ning was speechless. “Is he looking for a girlfriend or a mom?”

“Who knows.” Lu Yu looked tired and sighed quietly. “Coming out of the orphanage, who doesn’t have issues?”

He was the same, mocked as a ‘pretty boy living off others.’

Zhang Chao had fallen many times but never complained. Jiang Ning couldn’t judge; after all, she had once been foolishly obsessed with Yang Weicong herself.

Everyone has their choices; as long as they’re happy, that’s all that matters.

She never met Zhang Chao in her past life, so she didn’t know if he survived the harsh apocalypse.

The two were chatting in the living room when Zheng Weili suddenly shouted from the balcony, “Quick, quick, tornado!”

Jiang Ning walked out to see her looking shocked and terrified, eyes wide like copper coins, barely breathing.

Following her pointing finger, they saw an extremely dark sky with a huge tornado…

No, two tornadoes—double tornadoes!