The outdoor temperature had gradually dropped to minus fifty degrees.

Yu Xifeng looked out the window and felt as if the city were dead—silent and desolate.

The neighborhood had organized a single round of supply distribution. Each person received five insect cakes and half a pack of compressed biscuits.

It was the most uplifting day since the natural disaster began.

There was finally a hint of life in the residential area.

People gathered in the compound, queued up with their ID cards, and collected their share of food from the community office.

As soon as they received it, they rushed back home, unwilling to linger even for a moment.

They left footprints in the snow, looking like a swarm of ants.

Yu Xifeng stood by the window, wiping the fog with her sleeve, and watched the water drip down the glass.

The window quickly fogged up again in the warmth of the heater.

The colder it got, the more energy it took to keep the place heated. Even Yu Xifeng felt the sting of that expense.

While consumption increased, the effectiveness of the heating continued to decline.

Last night, the generator even malfunctioned a little—Yu Xifeng was woken up by the cold in the middle of the night and had to get up, shivering, to bang and fiddle with the generator.

It had broken down inexplicably and then just as inexplicably started working again.

These small household generators were now operating well past their designed limits in this extreme cold.

Even Little Orange, with its sleek, insulated fur, no longer wanted to come out of the spatial pocket.

Yu Xifeng didn’t push it and tidied up the house alone.

…

According to Hu Mu’s plan, she had been trying to stay connected with Yu Xifeng and Sister Yun regularly, hoping to build goodwill that could help her in critical times.

In times like these, relationships could be a matter of life and death.

But the moment she died, Zhao Yao and Hu Qiangyong couldn’t wait to cash in on that goodwill.

Zhao Yao’s youngest son had caught a cold, but after bundling up in bed and warming up by the fire, he was already recovering the next day.

Zhao Yao stared at that box of medicine, ultimately unwilling to open it.

Once opened, it would no longer be a complete box.

And a sealed, full box would definitely fetch a higher price than selling the pills separately.

The two handed Hu Mu’s body over to the community for unified burial, and then promptly sold that box of cold medicine.

Paper money was inflating rapidly in the market. The introduction and rising popularity of contribution points had all but destroyed what little credibility paper currency still had.

More and more survivors were losing faith in paper money, and those with foresight were quickly offloading it.

The value of goods kept climbing.

Even a regular lighter now cost one or two thousand yuan.

The box of medicine Yu Xifeng had given to Hu Qiangyong sold for six figures. Zhao Yao and Hu Qiangyong were overjoyed.

All their original money had been burned through by the disaster.

And now, for just a box of medicine, they not only recouped their losses but made a hefty profit.

Zhao Yao mocked, “See, I’m the capable one. Our mom only knew how to spend money. It’s only with me that money comes back.”

Hu Qiangyong didn’t say anything, but his expression softened as he looked at the thick wad of cash.

“Let’s go ask Yu Xifeng if she can spare a few heating patches,” Zhao Yao suggested. “She’s not lacking in supplies. Even if some slip through her fingers, it’s more than enough for us to survive.”

There was a sour note in her voice as she said it.

She had to admit now: Yu Xifeng, who could casually give away medicine and afford to run an air conditioner, was clearly living better than they were.

But so what? Yu Xifeng didn’t have her business savvy.

There’s a saying: “Sitting and eating will empty the mountain.”

Someone like Yu Xifeng should just give Zhao Yao the goods. She could sell them for profit, and maybe later even help Yu Xifeng in return.

They arrived at Yu Xifeng’s door and knocked for a long time, but there was no response.

“In this kind of freezing weather, where the hell could she have gone? Not afraid of freezing to death?” Zhao Yao muttered.

“Let’s ask Xu Yun,” said Hu Qiangyong.

They went to knock on Xu Yun’s door as well.

Again, no answer.

Hu Qiangyong began to feel uneasy. “Where could they have gone?”

Zhao Yao felt strangely unsettled too—like her heart skipped a beat and her whole body felt off.

The two of them discussed it for a while but came up with nothing.

“They’re so sneaky. Whatever they’re up to, they’re keeping it secret. So stingy,” Zhao Yao complained.

At that moment, the much-mentioned Yu Xifeng and Sister Yun were pushing a tricycle cart.

Their cart was piled so high it looked like a mountain, a thin layer of snow covering everything.

Inside were all the things they were moving to the underground shelter.

Now, the tricycle had gotten stuck in a snowbank. In this freezing cold, Sister Yun was sweating from the stress.

“I thought this road had already been cleared!” she said angrily, kicking the cart.

Yu Xifeng looked up and pointed at a nearby slope. “It must’ve slid down from there. We’ll just have to shovel.”

“At this rate, who knows how long it’ll take. We’re not even far from the shelter. Xiao Yu, keep an eye on the cart. I’ll go call a few people to help,” said Sister Yun.

Yu Xifeng agreed. “Okay, I’ll stay here and watch our stuff.”

She wore a cotton mask for wind protection, feeling completely stifled.

At first, she had tried lifting the tricycle, but Sister Yun wasn’t strong enough to help, so she gave up.

Yu Xifeng had her space pocket, after all. She was only dragging the cart for appearances. The heaviest item was the generator.

Everyone knew she had been running an air conditioner at home.

Sister Yun’s stuff, on the other hand, was miscellaneous. She was so paranoid about theft she practically wanted to pack up the whole house.

Yu Xifeng took a breath of fresh air before putting her mask back on.

Suddenly, six people came charging down from behind the slope.

Their faces were covered and they were bundled up like six big snowballs rolling in.

“Get lost! Leave your stuff and we’ll spare your life!” one of them shouted threateningly.

Yu Xifeng straightened her back, reaching behind her into the pile. She was going to grab her Tang sword but changed her mind and pulled out a wooden stick instead.

Hmm. Looked like a laundry rod Sister Yun used. It’d do for now.

She tested its weight. A bit too light.

Fine. Straight to the head, then.

The attackers saw her standing still. The leader waved his hand. “Get her!”

Yu Xifeng raised her leg and kicked the first one, then spun around and smacked the second one on the head with the stick.

These guys didn’t even have decent weapons—probably traded them for contribution points.

The one she kicked tumbled down and flailed around like an overturned turtle before finally struggling back up.

“Damn, she’s tough,” the leader cursed, eyeing the tricycle longingly.

So much stuff—definitely food among it. What a shame.

“We’re out!”

Yu Xifeng rolled her wrist and cracked her neck through her coat.

“You wish,” she said coolly. “Did I say you could leave?”