After a whole day of busyness, the sky was already getting dark.

Su You had placed so many orders on her tablet that some items needed to be restocked. Manager Wang promised her that everything would be delivered to the designated place tomorrow.

So, Su You first moved all the items from the cart into the car.

When no one was paying attention, she transferred them into her warehouse space.

Altogether, these items amounted to over ten thousand yuan. With the system’s rebate, Su You’s account balance instantly increased by one million.

But that money was still just a drop in the bucket.

Su You knew that only by spending harder could she gain rebates and expand her base space.

On the road, she passed several cake shops she liked but normally couldn’t bring herself to buy from. Today, she went into every single one.

Black Forest cake, tiramisu, mousse cakes, cheesecakes, brownies, Swiss rolls, soufflés, Bavarois, marble cakes, red velvet cakes…

And trending desserts: cream puffs, snow maidens, caramel puddings, box cakes, mochi, egg tarts, cheesecakes, qingtuan, towel rolls, and layered mille crepe slices in every fruit flavor.

In each store, Su You bought five servings of everything. After loading them into the car, she immediately stored them in her space, then went on to the next shop to continue stockpiling.

She also placed orders through food delivery apps, scheduling them to be sent to her designated hotel room the next day.

Using the same method, Su You ordered large quantities of milk tea—yam bubble milk, roasted brown sugar boba milk, jasmine milk green tea, snow-top latte, mango pomelo sago, taro-grape mix, coconut latte, cheese foam milk tea, cheese-grape, fleshy-grape, brown sugar pearl milk tea, and more—ten cups of each.

Bulk orders weren’t unusual. Many companies ordered afternoon tea for their employees, and celebrities often sent drinks to fans in batches of hundreds or even thousands. Su You didn’t have to worry about attracting suspicion.

When passing some restaurants, she also packed big bowls of beef noodles, plain rice noodles, crossing-the-bridge rice noodles, clam noodles, Korean noodles with plain and pickled flavors, snail noodles, Korean fried chicken, tonkotsu ramen—ten portions each.

While waiting for her orders, she noticed a famous local barbecue shop nearby. Excited, she went in and ordered 50 skewers each of lamb, beef, pork, chicken wings, roasted vegetables, grilled tofu, charcoal-grilled shrimp, and roasted buns. The sizzling oil and smoky aroma made them irresistible.

She carried everything back to the car and promptly stored them into her base warehouse.

The warehouse’s preservation function could lock in the taste of food forever, allowing her to enjoy the same fresh flavor even after the apocalypse.

By the time she returned to the hotel, most of her deliveries and errands had arrived.

After booking her room, Su You gave instructions to the front desk to collect her takeout and leave it in her room.

Money talks—so the staff happily arranged someone to receive her milk tea, cakes, and hotpot ingredients.

Su You had booked a suite in this five-star hotel, spacious enough to hold all those deliveries.

By the time she stored everything into her warehouse, it was already late.

She showered, changed clothes, and didn’t forget to let the big orange cat out of her space for some air. Together, woman and cat had a midnight snack.

The cat ate meat sticks, while Su You ate freshly grilled lamb skewers—tender meat seasoned with cumin and chili powder, paired with iced cola, a perfect match.

While eating, she scrolled through the news on her phone, searching for signs of the coming apocalypse.

Sure enough, after she searched “abnormalities before doomsday,” countless articles popped up—global warming, environmental degradation, volcanic warnings, minor earthquake alerts.

These seemingly insignificant details were exactly the signs of what was to come.

Just then, messages flooded the group chat linked to Su You’s gaming account. Fans were asking when she would stream again.

A new doomsday-themed game had just launched, and Su You had beta access. Fans were eager for her to give them a unique experience.

That was when Su You remembered the promise she had made to them.

After all, when the apocalypse arrived, there would be no electricity, no Wi-Fi, no running water—bare survival would be the only concern. Who could still play games then?

After three years away, facing her account again felt strangely unfamiliar.

But as she scrolled through old chat logs, her memory gradually returned, and she recalled who these people were.

Unfortunately, after the apocalypse came, she had lost contact with them all. She had no idea what became of her fans.

But Su You knew very well—disasters that followed were far beyond what ordinary people could endure. Even those who survived floods and storms would later die from acid rain or earthquakes.

She had laughed and grown together with these fans, so it pained her to think of them entering the apocalypse unprepared.

Yet warning them rashly, without proof, would convince no one.

Worse, if word spread, she might be accused of endangering public safety and investigated.

Still, she knew that if the country and its people could prepare early, they would not be caught off guard in the early days of the apocalypse, and more lives could be saved.

Governments usually kept emergency supplies and organized rescue efforts when disasters struck.

But in a truly indiscriminate catastrophe, even a nation could not shield everyone.

Not to mention the plagues of insects, mutations, and the onset of a frozen world—no matter how powerful, no state machine could endure endless darkness and despair.

Three years into the apocalypse, even survivors within bases had nearly lost hope.

Su You had met many people—some helped her, others betrayed her.

Novels often said “saints die first in the apocalypse,” but in reality, good people still existed. Some would even share their last bite of food with others.

Once, in bitter cold and hunger, Su You herself had been helped by a small base.

So she believed that while there was evil, there was also good.

She could not let the cruelty she had suffered erase her conscience or punish the kindness of others.

As long as she didn’t put herself in danger, she would push things forward before the end came.

Su You didn’t go live that night.

But she remembered one particular person in her group—a skilled hacker called Amber.

They had met through gaming, first as rivals.

Amber was great with computers but terrible at games. After losing to Su You more than ten times, he willingly became her “little brother.”

Later, when she was cyberbullied, Amber defended her with evidence posts.

They became online friends, and sometimes he even helped her with personal matters.

Now, staring at the beta game info, Su You came up with a plan.

She contacted Amber and asked him to build an untraceable doomsday website.

In one week, she would start a countdown to the end—and post prophecies about the disasters to come.