"Give me a hundred thousand, otherwise... Director Zhu, I won't hesitate to burn the bridge. If you so much as call the police, I'll send the video to the boss. I think you know what kind of consequences that’ll bring, don’t you?"
Ye Shu idly rubbed the cinnabar bracelet on her wrist, sounding utterly indifferent.
Zhu Tian’s teeth ground together, his otherwise refined features twisted in disbelief, his eyes blazing with spite as he spat, "A hundred thousand—why not just rob me? The most I’ll give you is seventy thousand. Not a cent more."
How—how did Ye Shu dare to threaten him like this?!
Ye Shu’s sweet voice sang out from the phone: "Deal. Thank you, Director Zhu! You have half an hour—I want to see the money. Or else..."
Zhu Tian’s jaw was clenched so hard he might shatter his own teeth. "I’ll transfer it to you right now."
If it was just about the money, then the problem was simple. Once she handed over the negatives, he’d have nothing to fear—he’d be back in control.
Ye Shu received a notification on her phone. Her wide, almond-shaped eyes curved joyfully. First, she dragged Zhu Tian into her blacklist, then tapped her phone a couple more times—the screen flashed: the video had been sent to all recipients.
In the Doujia company office, a middle-aged man watched the video and exploded in fury.
He’d worked tirelessly to build his business into an empire—only to discover his wife in bed with a colleague, the video now making rounds in the office chat! Where was he supposed to put his face now?
Zhu Tian saw the video in the chat and turned pale.
He never imagined that meek, honest Ye Shu would one day turn the tables and scam him.
But there was no time to mourn his lost fortune. If the boss saw this, losing an arm would be getting off easy...
Ye Shu beamed at the growing number in her account, already calculating how much more she could stock up at the supermarket.
No sooner thought than done—she hauled home every possible supply until her room was stacked to the ceiling.
It was day two of the game. So far, so quiet.
Nothing happened, aside from the relentless climb of the temperature.
The surface temperature, already 40°C the day before, crept upwards—to 42°C. Construction workers in the air were forced to put their work on hold. At noon, the streets lay deserted; step outside, and a wall of heat would pummel you. Even the very air felt oppressive.
The news was wall-to-wall with stories about the heat. Ye Shu checked the Internet for any mention of zombies or mutant attacks—none, either at home or abroad. Only then was she willing to believe that this game really was merely about rising temperatures.
In just a few days, countless people had already died from heatstroke. Tiny Jade Lake City, an eighteenth-tier town, actually landed in the trending searches because of its heat.
At forty degrees, the body sweats profusely, potassium leaks away, and dizziness and fatigue set in. Linger in those conditions, and your nervous system suffers... And worse could come. Heatstroke loomed over the city.
She’d stockpiled plenty of cooling potions, cooling patches, even bought a summer mat—preparing for the day when the locals started competing for resources.
If this global heat continued to climb... the polar ice caps would melt, the sea would rise, and coastal cities would be at risk. Luckily, Jade Lake City was far inland—at least for now, they were safe from the sea.
The local weather bureau issued a heat warning: temperatures now hitting a record 43°C.
Another hour, another degree—now up to 43.
The Internet filled with doomsday speculation about the heat. Ye Shu picked a video at random:
"No one paid attention at first—the disaster began with a dozen days of unending heat. Then came drought, the lakes ran dry, the fields cracked open. When humanity finally realized the disaster, the apocalypse had already arrived..."
Weird, ominous music underscored the video. Even through her screen, Ye Shu could all but feel the sweltering air. She gulped half a bottle of soda, hoping to settle her churning nerves.
She could slay mutant beasts with a blade—natural disasters, though, were not so easily vanquished.
Nature was a peerless creator, but when disaster struck on a vast scale, no self-proclaimed master of Earth could stand against it.
With food in the house, her heart was at peace.
That morning, she’d hauled home another mountain of groceries, including everything she’d stashed in her storage space. She had enough for two months—besides, players only needed to survive a month in this world. There was nothing to worry about at all.
With a sweet mouthful of ice cream, Ye Shu’s spirits brightened considerably.
…
During the blazing days, Ye Shu huddled in her room, following along with martial arts routines from online videos. She also found time to make herself a proper meal: tomato and egg stir-fry, garlicky bok choy, red-braised drunken ribs, and a bowl of refreshing mung bean soup to drive away the heat.
After a month of self-heating rice and instant noodles in the game world, her stomach had just about turned on itself. Now that supplies were plentiful, she wasn’t about to shortchange herself.
Three days ran by—days of firearms practice and foraging at night. Ye Shu scurried about like a nocturnal squirrel.
She even spilled out of character and dined at a restaurant, taking a stroll in the park afterwards to help her digest.
She went the wrong way and wandered to the end of the street. In front of a shop, a line of raincoats, rubber boots, and even some inflatable rafts were on display.
With half a month of relentless heat, no one had any use for rain gear. When Ye Shu finally wandered in, the owner lit up at the rare sight of a customer: "Hello, miss! Looking for something? We have anything you need—top-quality Camel-brand jackets, guaranteed! This umbrella holds steady even against a level-eight gale..."
Ye Shu, her arms full of rain gear, could only purse her lips in silence.
She hadn’t planned on buying anything, but she’d been utterly swayed by the owner’s enthusiastic sales pitch.
Eyeing the expedition jacket in her hands, she consoled herself: the quality really was good, the material sturdy. Far better than anything she’d seen back in her original world.
Ignoring the bemused glances from passersby, Ye Shu hauled her rain gear home.
An ambulance was parked outside her building, and the stairwell choked with neighbors.
"Old Man Chen just couldn’t bear to spend his children’s money. Refused to turn on the air conditioning. By the time his neighbor found him, the body was already reeking..."
"What a tragedy! This damned weather could kill a person."
"This ‘heat death’ they talk about online—is that what they mean?"
Ye Shu’s rented spot was out of the way, surrounded by old apartment blocks. Few residents here could afford air conditioning. Most were elderly uncles and aunties. Seeing someone really die from the heat, even the stingiest among them wouldn’t dare skimp on electricity again.
Half a month of high temperatures, and the only people making good money were appliance stores.
Want an air conditioner? You had to book ahead. Even at its pricy base rate, after a handful of heatstroke incidents, the price had skyrocketed. Some models were selling for tens of thousands.
Those who couldn’t snag an aircon scrambled for fans—any kind, big or small. Even the cooling patches in the pharmacies were gone.
For Ye Shu, these days marked her most relaxing stretch since entering the game—lounging in the breeze, snacking on popsicles, practicing her marksmanship and tai chi, and cooking whatever she fancied.
Her menu was never the same two days running: grass jelly, four-fruit soup, mung bean porridge—she treated herself, day after day.
In just a few days, she’d fattened herself up, almost forgetting she was in a survival game teeming with hidden dangers.
On the fourth day of the game,
The temperature kept rising: 44°C.
Fifth day.
Higher again—45°, then 46°, leaping two degrees at once.
The old apartment buildings started to show their age in the heat—walls cracking and crumbling, sloughing away to expose the red bricks and concrete beneath.