Jiang Ning never expected that in apartment 1801, not only would there be a new tenant moving in, but it would be a young man who helped out at the courier station.

The man looked slightly surprised, nodded to her, and continued working.

He was handsome and cold-looking, tall and lean, with muscles faintly visible under his clothes, giving off a powerful, explosive vibe.

Jiang Ning felt a chill run down her spine. After greeting him, she quickly retreated to her room.

This life was different—not only was the typhoon arriving early, but there was a new neighbor.

Who in their right mind would install three stainless steel doors?

It would be best if everyone could live peacefully, but one must remain cautious.

Though the man acted bravely for a just cause, before a natural disaster and with the moral decay brought on by the apocalypse, who could guarantee he’d keep his original intentions?

She locked her door, brushed her teeth, washed up, and ate breakfast. The sky had brightened slightly but remained heavily overcast.

Jiang Ning stood on the balcony. The fierce typhoon howled like ghosts and wolves, continuously battering the walls. The heavy rain pounded the blast-proof glass, making a loud cracking sound.

In just one night, the streets flooded; many cars were submerged, and in low-lying, fast-flowing areas, vehicles were swept away by the floodwaters.

The rain obstructed her view; the distance was shrouded in gray mist. The sky grew darker and heavier, like invisible black hands compressing the entire city into a palm and crushing it mercilessly…

Jiang Ning held a telescope, standing on the balcony looking down at the city. Roads were submerged in water, black clouds lowered further, and a water vortex connected sky and earth, rapidly spinning, sucking in rain, trees, cars, and everything else—seemingly ready to devour all living things…

A tornado!

Jiang Ning was shocked, watching as the tornado instantly cut through an overpass. Lightning struck trees, starting fires, but the heavy rain quickly put them out.

Was there a tornado in her previous life?

She didn’t remember one. She felt like many things were different, seeming to be heading in a worse direction.

Her phone buzzed nonstop with messages. Annoyed by the noise, she turned off the internet and went to the kitchen to wash and cut vegetables, busying herself.

She blanched frozen chicken and duck feet to remove the bloodiness, took out various seasonings to prepare braised dishes, and spent a lot of time cleaning pork and beef offal.

After all the smoke, she lost her appetite and made a simple tomato and egg noodle dish for lunch.

When she turned off the exhaust fan, she faintly heard a child crying.

She ignored it, packed up the trash and took it outside. Just as she was about to return to her room, she heard the crying again, coming from next door.

Having studied medicine for only a year—not even half-qualified—she still knew more than most. The child’s crying sounded off.

Hesitating for a moment, she knocked on the door of 1801.

The three stainless steel doors were very thick. Jiang Ning knocked for a long time but got no response. Just as she was about to turn away, she heard the door click open.

After some fumbling inside, the door finally opened, revealing a small child’s timid, tear-streaked eyes and face. Vomit hadn’t been fully wiped away from her mouth, and her cheeks were abnormally flushed.

“Why is Dou Dou crying?” Jiang Ning asked, reaching out to touch the child’s head, which was scorching hot. Clear mucus dripped from her nose—she had a cold and a high fever.

“Where’s your dad?”

“My brother is missing,” the child said hoarsely, her small hand wiping away tears. “Brother doesn’t want Dou Dou anymore.”

So? It seemed she had been abandoned before.

Looking at the impenetrable triple stainless steel doors, Jiang Ning gently patted the child’s head to comfort her. “No, he probably went out for something and will be back soon. How about coming to your sister’s house for now?”

The sick five-year-old was especially scared of the unfamiliar environment, but she recognized Jiang Ning as her sister and hesitantly nodded in agreement.

Jiang Ning took Dou Dou back to her place, took her temperature—it was over 39 degrees Celsius. She found some child-appropriate cold medicine with fever-reducing ingredients.

After giving her the medicine, Jiang Ning left a sticky note on the door of 1801 in case the parents worried.

Listening to the roaring typhoon outside, Jiang Ning grew curious about the neighbor. Who would go out in this weather? It’s just suicide.

The typhoon occasionally brought lightning. The TV had lost signal. Seeing Dou Dou curled up trembling on the sofa, extremely scared and uneasy, Jiang Ning thought of her own childhood—seeing other kids loved by their parents, while she could only curl up crying in bed, feeling abandoned by the whole world.

Not knowing how to take care of a child, Jiang Ning grabbed a tablet and played some downloaded cartoons for Dou Dou.

The cartoons worked wonders; the previously listless child became somewhat more alert.

Jiang Ning sat next to her, scrolling through her phone. Several profile pictures lit up—one of them was Yang Weicong.

“An Ning, I was rude yesterday, please don’t be mad.”

“I was really looking forward to you coming to my birthday, but you didn’t show up, so I felt so disappointed…”

He looked like a model but had such a soft backbone—couldn’t even hold up for one night.

Well, no wonder. So many people celebrated his birthday; at home there were still seven or eight guests, with snacks, beer, and cake. They never cooked, so there was no food stock.

Even instant noodles and crackers wouldn’t last with so many mouths to feed.

Jiang Ning checked the time—it was sent an hour ago. Sure enough, he was hungry and begging for food.

Several friend requests came in after Yang Weicong’s message, but she ignored all of them.

Two parents from tutoring groups messaged, thanking her for the reminder to rush to the supermarket to buy food, or else their families would have gone hungry.

One even sent a red envelope as thanks.

Jiang Ning didn’t accept it—there was no chance to spend it anyway.

Scrolling through the group chats, she saw people showing off seafood feasts, eating hotpot and drinking Lafite wine during the typhoon, and others bragging about their stocked refrigerators.

Many were competing, even playing chain games, completely unaware of the heavy price they’d pay for their behavior.

Half a month of typhoon and heavy rain—no matter how much the country wanted to rescue them, the harsh reality wouldn’t allow it. Once food ran out and lives were threatened, these people would be the first targets for plunder.

Where there were people bragging, there were also people asking for help.

The numbers were not small, mostly young people relying on delivery food, usually careless with spending and never cooking, with plenty of clothes and skincare products but no food.

“Yesterday, I went to the supermarket, but all the instant noodles were gone. Can a kind soul help?”

“I didn’t get any either. I bought two packs of plain noodles but have no pot to cook them.”

Someone started the thread, and many followed. Someone even invited a pretty girl to their home for hotpot, but sadly not in the same building.

Most people were just there to watch the chaos, with few truly helping. Until someone suggested bartering—five-pack facial masks for instant noodles—and soon, someone responded.

There were too many messages. Jiang Ning quickly scrolled down and saw a forwarded video of a car being swept into the flood. Firefighters braved the typhoon to rescue it, but the flood surge from an upstream dam break swallowed them instantly.

There were many such videos—some successful rescues, others complete wipeouts.

Jiang Ning felt heavy-hearted. Just as she was about to exit the phone, Yang Weicong popped up again…