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Chapter 1: Awakening and Stockpiling
The muffled rumble of thunder came from the horizon beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows as Shu Fu stood in front of a tall supermarket shelf, selecting different flavors of hot pot soup bases.
The thunder attracted the attention of others in the store. Someone glanced outside and complained, “It was thundering yesterday, and now it’s thundering again today. But all we get is thunder and no rain! The weather forecast promised rain—when will it actually come?”
“Exactly! This weather is unbearable. It’s already October, and we’ve had a two-week-long heatwave. It’s enough to suffocate anyone!”
“Global warming, you know. Last winter wasn’t even cold, and it ended quickly. If this continues, Huagou won’t have winters anymore…”
It was a weekday afternoon, and the supermarket wasn’t crowded. Most of the other shoppers were likely there to enjoy the air conditioning, casually pushing empty carts and chatting as they strolled through the aisles.
When one person passed by Shu Fu’s cart, they couldn’t help but glance at it and do a double-take.
This supermarket had particularly large shopping carts, with a spacious top basket and an additional rack below. Shu Fu’s cart, however, was filled to the brim, with items neatly stacked both above and below. The items in the basket were piled high but arranged so skillfully that nothing fell out.
Out of politeness, the passerby refrained from commenting in front of Shu Fu. But as they turned into the next aisle, hushed whispers could be heard:
“Wow, that young lady is buying so much stuff by herself…”
“And wearing long sleeves and a mask in this heat—is there something wrong with her?”
“Shhh, don’t meddle in other people’s business. Let’s go somewhere else to enjoy the air conditioning. I’ll treat you to afternoon tea…”
Shu Fu ignored them completely. She deftly placed the 20 packets of hot pot base she was holding onto the carefully stacked items in her cart.
Her shopping cart contained five packs each of toilet paper and facial tissues, three boxes of 24 instant noodle packs, over a dozen bags of assorted sausages and smoked meats, three cases of eight cans of luncheon meat, several packs of meal replacement energy bars, two trays of 50 fresh eggs, fresh milk, yogurt, and four cans of powdered milk.
This was her third fully-loaded cart from this supermarket. The fruits, vegetables, fresh meats, and frozen meats she bought earlier had already been paid for and stored in the trunk of her compact two-door car.
Buying from the supermarket wasn’t as cost-effective as sourcing from farmers’ markets or wholesale suppliers. However, this supermarket was reasonably priced and conveniently located just 1–2 kilometers from her rented apartment, making it easy to transport her purchases quickly.
On her way to the checkout, Shu Fu passed the snack aisle and swept several packets of beef jerky, pork strips, duck tongues, cookies, multigrain crisps, spicy sticks, nuts, seaweed toppings, chocolates, small bread rolls, cakes, and candies into her cart until there was no room left for anything else.
Shu Fu’s apartment was in an old residential area directly behind the supermarket. To get there, she had to turn off the main road onto a long, narrow two-lane street flanked by tightly packed shops—breakfast diners, hardware stores, water stations, noodle houses, convenience stores, BBQ stalls, fast food outlets, milk tea shops, appliance repair shops, and mobile phone stores.
The community had virtually no security—its entrance gate was permanently raised. Inside were about 20–30 residential buildings, all built at different times, with varying designs and layouts.
Her apartment was on the top floor—the fifth—on the east side of a long building near the perimeter wall. The building lacked unit entrances and was entirely open, with two staircases: an external fire escape on the far west side and an interior stairwell in the middle.
If Shu Fu had to carry all her purchases up the stairs to her apartment, she’d be utterly exhausted. Luckily, her destination was the ground-floor battery bike garage beneath the building.
The garage was small—about 7 or 8 square meters with a 2-meter ceiling height. It lacked windows and was used by residents to store bikes, electric scooters, and delivery boxes. When Shu Fu signed a two-year lease, the landlord had given her the garage key as a bonus, seeing that she was a single young woman.
She reversed her car to the garage door, unlocked it, and swiftly transferred her purchases from the car to the garage.
Though not physically active by nature—she preferred sitting to standing and lying down to sitting—Shu Fu was drenched in sweat and nearly bent double after unloading an entire carload of goods at high speed.
But she didn’t stop to rest. Locking the garage, she got back into her car and headed to the grain shop near her community.
Although rice, flour, and grains weren’t staples she consumed often, they were essential as space-efficient, long-lasting food supplies.
The grain shop also stocked various coarse grains and seasonings, offering a wide selection.
To maximize trunk space, Shu Fu had folded down the back seats of her car, turning the trunk and rear seating area into one large storage compartment. She listed her purchases, and the shop staff helped load the car.
Hearing her detailed list, the staff gave her curious looks. But seeing her well-covered appearance, they thought better of asking questions. After all, there were plenty of eccentric people these days, and business always came first.
Her list included 20 bags of 20-pound rice, 5 bags of 20-pound flour, and small bags or containers of millet, oats, black rice, barley, and cornmeal—5 to 10 units of each.
Stockpiling Essentials in the Apocalypse
[1] – Awakening and Hoarding
Vegetable oil was an essential item. She picked up fifteen 4-liter bottles.
For seasonings like salt, chicken essence, sugar, soy sauce, pepper, and chili powder, she asked the shopkeeper to pack three large cardboard boxes. While her cooking skills were average, the thought of bland, boiled food without oil or spices made it clear she had to stock up.
While the shop assistant loaded her car, she kept busy on her phone, placing immediate delivery orders from nearby supermarkets. By ordering from multiple places, she maximized efficiency, wasting no time. She even skipped same-day delivery options, selecting instant delivery instead.
The delivery orders were perfect for bulk, non-perishable items like bottled water, drinks, boxed milk, coffee, underwear, towels, toothpaste, toothbrushes, shampoo, body wash, laundry detergent, alcohol disinfectant, cleaning supplies, and feminine hygiene products.
When she tried ordering bottled water, the shipping cost for exceeding the weight limit was too high. Realizing there was a water station on the same street, she canceled the bottled water order and redirected her budget toward drinks and milk.
At the grain store, her car was filled to capacity with her purchases. She paid through her phone and, on the way back to her apartment complex, stopped at the water station.
Because the location was close, and her order was large, the shop offered free delivery. She listed the e-bike garage as the delivery point. While they could deliver it to her doorstep, carrying it upstairs was out of the question.
To ensure easy stacking, she chose 5-liter water bottles instead of the larger 19-liter ones. Each box contained four bottles.
Clean drinking water was critical. She calculated the storage space in her garage and ordered 30 boxes. At her planned consumption rate of one bottle per week, the supply could last a long time, even under tight rationing.
The shop assistant didn’t ask too many questions, assuming she was stocking up supplies for a company in the area.
Water delivery would take over an hour, so she headed to a nearby pharmacy in the meantime.
There were two pharmacies nearby. Aside from restricted medications like amoxicillin and cephalosporins, she bought as much as she could of everything else:
She purchased eight to ten boxes of each, knowing even if she didn’t need them, they would be useful later.
Additionally, she bought a variety of vitamin supplements: vitamin B, calcium magnesium tablets, vitamins A and E, and vitamin C effervescent tablets for drinking. These would help maintain health when food sources were limited.
The pharmacy also sold outdoor first-aid kits containing over 39 items, including essential medicines, bandages, tourniquets, alcohol swabs, heat packs, whistles, scissors, a self-generating flashlight, safety hammer, multi-tool knife, and a first-aid manual. Each kit was compact but comprehensive and reasonably priced at just over 100 yuan. She bought five.
Lastly, she noticed water purification tablets that could sterilize and deodorize water. Though she wouldn’t drink directly from it, the purified water could be used for daily needs. Each bottle contained 120 tablets and cost just over 20 yuan. Buying in bulk earned her a discount.
After checking her account balance, she bought a box of purification tablets from each pharmacy—100 bottles per box, totaling two boxes. The purchase cost 4,000 yuan, depleting about 5% of her savings.
While expensive, these medications and supplies occupied minimal space. Two boxes fit into the car’s trunk, while the rest were placed on the passenger seat and front floor.
When Shu Fu returned to the e-bike garage with a fully loaded car, another muffled thunderclap rumbled overhead.
The sun had disappeared, the sky had darkened, and heavy clouds began to gather. The air felt even more stifling.
It seemed the weather was about to change.
She glanced at the sky briefly, then resumed unloading her supplies into the garage.
The successive batches of goods filled the small space to capacity. Remembering the upcoming deliveries of boxed water, beverages, and household supplies, she ignored her aching back, locked the garage door, turned on the light, and rolled up her left sleeve.
On her pale wrist was a silver, matte bracelet.
The bracelet appeared seamless, with no clasps or decorations, fitting snugly around her wrist. It was impossible to tell how it had been put on or if it could be removed.
Sighing, Shu Fu pressed her finger against the bracelet and held it for two to three seconds. The surface lit up like a touchscreen, displaying two icons: a bottle and a backpack.
She tapped the backpack icon, and the bracelet instantly transformed. The matte silver split into metallic particles that flowed smoothly along her wrist, spreading over the back of her hand and fingers before fully encasing her hand, forming a glove-like shape.
The entire process was swift, taking less than two seconds from the moment she tapped the icon to the glove’s formation.
The glove had a soft metallic texture and was seamlessly connected to the bracelet. Maintaining its matte finish, it looked unremarkable—just like a silver-gray glove. Unless someone witnessed the process of the bracelet transforming into a glove, they would simply assume she was wearing a regular pair of gloves.
If not for this scientifically inexplicable phenomenon, she wouldn’t have spent so much money stocking up on supplies today.
With a mere thought, every item she touched while wearing the glove vanished into thin air. Simultaneously, she could “see” these items appear in a mysterious, invisible space linked to the bracelet.
She referred to this as the “bracelet backpack space,” not because the space was divided into organized sections like a game inventory, but simply due to the backpack-shaped icon on the bracelet.
In reality, the space was a single, undivided volume. She could sense its dimensions—approximately 150 cubic meters—with time suspended inside.
Though not immense, it was more than sufficient for storing all her necessities.
To store items, the glove mode was required. Retrieving items, however, merely required a thought and could be done instantaneously.
This spatial bracelet had appeared on her wrist earlier that morning, coinciding with an abrupt and surreal awakening of her consciousness.
The awakening felt bizarre and sudden, like a dusty pane of glass in her mind being thoroughly cleansed by a stream of water. She realized she wasn’t originally from this world!
She had been in this world for several years but had lost all memories of her original world until now. During that time, she had absorbed the life and memories of the “original owner” of this body, fully integrating herself into this life as if she were a native. She led a quiet, ordinary life, even attending school.
The point at which she arrived in this world was when the “original owner” had just moved to this city for university. The “original owner’s” parents had died unexpectedly, leaving her a house in her hometown. To escape greedy relatives who coveted the house, she sold it and relocated permanently.
She had lived in the dormitory, and the money from the house sale had been enough for tuition and living expenses. Now, she had just graduated, secured a job, and chosen to rent a place instead of committing to a mortgage—an arrangement that left her with enough funds to stockpile supplies.
The person she had replaced in this world was also named Shu Fu, and she was certain she hadn’t taken over the original owner’s body. This was her own body from her original world—familiar down to every detail, including the mole on the inside of her elbow and the tiny scar behind her ear.
But the Shu Fu of this world had looked very similar to her, despite differences in age and experiences. She had no idea where the original Shu Fu had gone. Both worlds seemed to have developed similarly in terms of ecology and culture, with her counterpart here being an uncanny doppelgänger.
While lying in bed pondering whether she had entered a parallel universe, she noticed the sudden appearance of the matte silver bracelet on her wrist. The night before, her wrist had been bare.
Touching the bracelet accidentally unlocked it. When she tapped the bottle-shaped icon, a familiar glass bottle materialized in her hand.
The bottle was palm-sized, resembling a miniature version of a standard liquor bottle. Its body was clear and transparent, sealed at the top, containing a pool of azure-blue water that evoked the color of the sea.
Floating on the water was a tiny wooden raft, complete with a flat-roofed hut. No matter how she shook the bottle, the water rippled, but the raft remained stable, never sinking.
It looked like an ordinary decorative message-in-a-bottle one could casually buy online. She tried to unscrew the cap but failed, and a line of text appeared on the bottle:
[“Unsinkable Floating Island Cabin” has not yet been activated.]
When she saw this, she felt as though lightning had struck her.
“Unsinkable Floating Island Cabin”—this was an invention straight out of the animated series she had written!
Good news: She was the writer and had just finished drafting the entire storyline.
Bad news: It was a post-apocalyptic survival adventure series…