“Dad, I just stored the coffee table away.”

Shen Xiaoxiao blinked, lightly tapping the Black Card twice with her fingers.

In the blink of an eye, the 1.5-meter-long gray marble coffee table reappeared before the three of them.

In the living room, apart from Shen Xiaoxiao, both Father Shen and Chen Juan were completely dumbfounded.

After a while, exchanging glances, they finally accepted the shocking truth.

Their daughter really had an invisible space—it seemed she was connected to some extraordinary organization.

Father Shen collected his thoughts for a long moment before asking with difficulty, “Xiaoxiao, this doesn’t come with a cost, right?”

He couldn’t shake the feeling that such a lucky thing wouldn’t fall into the hands of ordinary people so easily.

Shen Xiaoxiao smiled and shook her head, taking her father’s arm to reassure him. “No, Dad. But once we enter the base, we may have responsibilities to take on. That’s not a problem, though.”

Father Shen finally relaxed.

“All right, if you have a plan, then let you young people handle it.”

“But with the rain, it’s impossible to know when it will come again. Even with an inflatable boat, it’s not safe. Let’s wait until the water recedes a bit before heading to the meeting point.”

Shen Xiaoxiao nodded emphatically. “Yes. I’ll go cook with Mom. While the water and electricity are still working, we’ll cook all the food we can and put it into the space—it keeps things fresh and warm.”

“Good. I’ll gather all the valuables at home, see what’s useful, and bring them along.”

After assigning tasks, the family got to work.

During the brief pause in the rain, residents scrambled to find tools, sealing window and door gaps to stop leaks.

Some households were worse off—windows shattered by wind, water flooding balconies, soaking floors despite most of it being scooped out. They busied themselves sweeping, mopping, and clearing debris and broken glass.

Others hurriedly contacted nearby installers to fix windows.

But the entire city had been affected. Many homes had varying degrees of damage, leaving installers overwhelmed with orders. Latecomers had to wait in line and pay exorbitant fees, often two to three times the normal price.

No one dared to haggle; workers were in high demand. Refusing to pay meant the workers would move on to another job, possibly charging even more.

Those whose homes were flooded had no choice but to grit their teeth and pay a large sum to get help.

Authorities had warned that heavy rain would continue, causing serious flooding. If possible, residents were advised to move to higher ground.

Many people were trapped, and even rescue teams prioritized those in immediate danger, unable to attend to high-rise residents.

To ensure safety, the city implemented timed water and power outages.

Residents had to charge all electronic devices and power banks, ensuring they would have light even during outages.

They also collected all water containers—basins, buckets, bottles—and filled them with clean water.

Currently, the outages were staged, and as the weather cooled, there was no immediate worry about refrigerated food.

The rain had only stopped for about three hours before resuming.

Shen Xiaoxiao drew back the curtains, staring at the persistent rain and water that had already submerged car roofs and landscaping trees. Some neighbors, wearing raincoats, were paddling makeshift boats made from swim rings and water bottles to reach shops for supplies, looking lonely on the murky water.

The community and building group chats were also busy. Entrepreneurial residents seized the opportunity to source goods from various channels and resell them at high prices: food, life jackets, swim rings, batteries, emergency lights, even motorized inflatable rescue boats.

But after just one day, most people were merely inquiring casually. Those who bought were usually just looking for some vegetables, fruit, or emergency lighting.

However, the rain lasted much longer—five days straight.

It was already autumn; the weather grew colder, and residents needed blankets at night.

Water, electricity, and gas were intermittent. Residents boiled water when utilities were available, stored water, and charged phones as much as possible.

The only way to maintain contact with the outside world was via phones, checking official rescue updates to ease anxiety.

For those with limited food at home, supplies were running out. Even those trading goods were running low.

Someone in the group chat posted asking if anyone had extra food to sell at a high price.

The buyer was a mid-level company manager in another building, with plenty of money.

After a while, someone asked in the chat, “How much will you pay for food?”

“200 yuan per bag of instant noodles, or dried noodles and dumplings. Cooked food is fine too. Money’s no problem.”

The price tempted many immediately.

Yet some were brazen: “I have two bags of noodles, selling for 500 yuan.”

The manager instantly agreed, “Fine, I’ll buy.”

Seeing this, others became motivated. “Snacks? I have chips and bread, selling for 500 yuan.”

“Good, no problem. I’ll transfer the money.”

Although a few with ample food dared to sell, most residents remained cautious. If the rain continued, how would they get more supplies?

After all, in such a crisis, you can earn money but can’t afford to die.

Such people were overly greedy, a minority in the community chat.

Some couldn’t stand it: “You’re manipulating prices. I’ll report you.”

Sellers smugly replied, “You have money, you buy. In these special times, food supply is limited. Charging more is reasonable.”

Some even asked for medicine: “My child is sick, out of fever medicine. Does anyone have extra? I’ll pay.”

With the precedent of overpriced food, someone immediately demanded, “500 yuan for a box of fever medicine. Interested?”

Seeing others profit, many refused to sell cheaply, feeling they’d be at a loss.

But finally, someone stepped in: “I have some. Come get it for free. Taking advantage of the chaos shouldn’t start here.”

The mother thanked them repeatedly.

The chat praised this selfless act.

Yet most knew that once someone started, it didn’t mean the behavior would end.

If supplies weren’t distributed soon, chaos would break out in the community.