Looking back on her previous life now, Nan Muran felt she had been laughably naïve. She had actually believed that they only found her in the top-floor apartment two months after the apocalypse started because they were worried about her.

If they had truly been concerned, they wouldn’t have waited until they were completely out of supplies before coming.

She couldn’t help but mock herself—maybe she deserved that calculated, tragic end.

All these years, her grandmother and her uncle’s family had been putting on a show, wearing different masks in front of her and behind her, all for one thing—the Nanqiao Corporation her parents left behind.

With Nanqiao, the golden goose, in hand, they could maintain their wealth and prestige—something that family of five could never earn through a lifetime of effort.

Her cousin Nan Muting, with her daily smiles, was after the marriage alliance with the Qi family.

And she—what a fool she’d been—gave everything up just to preserve what she thought was family love.

Thinking of all that made Nan Muran feel like she couldn’t breathe.

If only those people had shown their ambition earlier, maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad. But they were patient—putting on an act for ten whole years, deceiving her indifferent and sensitive heart completely.

Now that she had another chance, she would never fall for it again. She wouldn’t just avoid the same mistakes—she’d take back every old and new grudge.

Since it was still early before heading to the Nan family villa, she needed to think carefully about two important matters.

First, before the apocalypse began, she had to find a suitable location to build her own survival shelter.

The shelter had to be far from Xishi’s city center to avoid being overwhelmed by the corpse tide that would erupt after the acid rain. She recalled something Si Ye once mentioned in her past life—a European-style villa near an underground lab.

That place would be ideal—and convenient for when he reappeared. But finding it now would take time—certainly not something she could do today.

So she moved to the second issue: stockpiling enough survival supplies.

That required money. Nan Muran checked her bank accounts—less than ten million yuan available. It looked like a lot, but it wasn’t even enough to build one complete shelter.

She dialed a number in her phone labeled “Lawyer Guo”: “Feige, it’s me, Ranran.”

The voice on the other end was clearly excited to hear her, especially when she called him “Ranran” like in the old days. His eyes even welled up: “Ranran, is something wrong?”

“I need your help going through all the assets under my name,” Nan Muran said directly.

Guo Fei had been her grandfather’s proudest student. He came from a poor mountain area and was one of the beneficiaries of the Nanqiao Hope Project.

He was someone who never forgot those who helped him—trustworthy, in both past life and present.

After her parents passed away and her elderly grandfather was on his deathbed, all family assets were left to her, but entrusted to Guo Fei to manage.

Guo Fei paused, worried: “Ranran, what’s going on?”

“I’ve made up my mind. Sell off everything I own—except the apartment I’m currently living in. Feige, I need your help.”

“Where are you right now?” Guo Fei asked. He had suggested she sell her Nanqiao shares before, since the Nan family had taken control of upper management and pushed the company to the brink of legality. Sooner or later, there would be trouble.

He had brought it up several times to protect her, but she’d refused because of the Nan family’s objections. Now she not only wanted to sell her shares but all her other assets—that definitely wasn’t normal.

Nan Muran felt a bit warmed by his concern. “I’m home, don’t worry. I understand now—Nanqiao has probably lost its way. As for the rest of the assets… rather than letting that family of five trick them away bit by bit, I’d rather cash out now. At least I’ll be able to keep the money safe.”

Hearing that, Guo Fei sighed in relief. He had seen through the Nan family’s intentions long ago but hadn’t said anything out of respect for her. Now that she understood, all the better. “Alright, but it’ll take some time.”

“Feige, everything has to be liquidated within a month. Even if it means selling at a loss,” Nan Muran said firmly.

There was silence on the other end before Guo Fei finally said, “Okay.”

After hanging up, Nan Muran headed straight to the fridge. Seeing it packed with food made her mouth water.

She piled the food onto her desk and sat down to work.

Knowing that the list of supplies she needed was long and easy to overlook, she opened her computer and began drafting a checklist while eating. Despite craving food badly, she didn’t eat too much at once to avoid shocking her stomach.

At the top of the list was her uncle’s chain of seven large supermarkets—Shenghui Group.

With those stores and their warehouses and suppliers, she could hoard end-of-world supplies in the most cost-effective and secure way.

Once she had control of the supermarkets, she would stockpile fruits, vegetables, meat, daily necessities, and ready-made meals in bulk. The rest could be covered with existing warehouse inventory.

By transferring those items into her spatial storage, she’d have about 70% of the necessary categories covered—all in one go.

Clothing would need to be acquired separately. She pinpointed several outdoor, athletic, and casual clothing brands’ warehouses and planned to sweep up all suitable sizes. Spring, summer, fall, winter—extreme heat and cold—she had to prepare for everything: thermal gear, cooling shirts, outerwear, boots, all of it.

Next on the list: medicine. Fortunately, the Qiao family used to own a pharmacy chain, and the network still existed. Western and Chinese medicines were no problem. Common meds like cold tablets, cough syrup, fever reducers, antibiotics, alcohol, iodine, gauze—those were easy. Even some less accessible drugs could be arranged. She also needed basic surgical tools and instruments.

Then came appliances: TVs, fridges, washing machines, dishwashers, dryers, ovens, air fryers, air conditioners, heaters, fans, induction cookers, diesel generators, solar batteries, gasoline generators, flashlights, regular batteries—and even basic stuff like candles and lamp oil.

She also listed vegetable and fruit seeds, saplings—especially willows. Anything she could think of, she wrote down.

Coal, gas tanks, firewood—those were must-haves too. In the second year of the apocalypse, there would be six months of extreme cold—temperatures dropping to minus 60°C. She’d need coal for warmth and gas tanks for cooking when electricity wasn’t an option. She couldn’t cook, but who knew if it might become necessary?

Then she added tents, portable tables and chairs, moisture-proof mats, sleeping bags, storage boxes, camping lanterns, power banks, portable stoves, fuel canisters, large backpacks—anything useful for survival outdoors. Finally, she included water scooters, kayaks, motorboats, snowboards, ice motorboats—vital transportation for different apocalypse scenarios.

Last and most important—weapons. She couldn’t get those in China, so she planned to go abroad to buy them from the Russians. Knowing how they operated, as long as she paid well, she’d get quality gear. With spatial storage, she wouldn’t even have to worry about transporting it back.

As for RVs, off-road vehicles, and large transport vehicles, even fuel like diesel and gasoline—she planned to stock some initially and then stop.

Once the apocalypse hit, she’d go out and grab things for free.

In the early days of the end times, survival materials were more important—those wouldn’t be immediately looted.

With the list complete, Nan Muran got straight to work. First, she ordered 5,000 supermarket shelves to help organize the supplies in her spatial storage.

Next, she dealt with her food problem.

Having supermarkets and raw ingredients was great, but it didn’t solve her actual meals.

After five years in the apocalypse, she knew one thing well—her cooking was absolutely terrible. So she had to stock up on ready-made food.

Luckily, Xuanwu’s time-freeze ability could preserve food indefinitely, so she didn’t have to worry about spoilage.

She was 22 now—assuming she could live to 100, she needed 78 years’ worth of meals. Three meals a day plus a midnight snack—that’s four meals a day, for 78 years.

At 200 yuan per day, that added up to about 5.64 million yuan. Nan Muran mentally doubled and tripled the number.

After all, one meal at a top-tier restaurant could cost ten times that daily amount.

But her cash was running low. At this rate, she’d burn through everything in three to five days. She had to make money fast.

Having made up her mind, she opened a food delivery app and began calling her favorite restaurants one by one.

She started with various cuisines and starred hotel banquets, then moved on to Sichuan, Cantonese, Hunan, Northeastern, Shaanxi, Shanghainese, Hong Kong dim sum, barbecue, hot pot, malatang, Sanqin set meals, buns, fried dough sticks, tofu pudding, spicy soup, noodles, rice noodles, braised meat, KFC, McDonald’s, Korean fried chicken, pastries, desserts, milk tea, and every kind of snack she could think of.

Even dishes she didn’t like—she ordered them too. Who knew how her tastes might change in the future?

Plus, she wouldn’t be eating alone.

On the other end of the phone, vendors thought she was crazy when she asked for 50 full sets of menu items, for 20 straight days.

Nan Muran didn’t like explaining herself, so she just added them on messaging apps and transferred half the total cost as a deposit.

Naturally, they took her seriously after that. Business is business—no one’s stupid enough to turn away free money.

Six straight hours on the phone left Nan Muran dizzy and parched. She’d contacted over 30 hotels, restaurants, and food shops. Although she’d spent more than 2 million in deposits, everything went smoothly since she paid so quickly.

Collapsing onto the sofa in her living room, Nan Muran thought to herself: Spending money can really be a workout sometimes.