Ye Shu was keenly attuned to the good and evil in people. In an instant, she saw through the false courtesy painted on the woman’s face.
Besides, after six days of torrential rain, who in their right mind would voluntarily bring meat soup to an unfamiliar neighbor on the thirty-second floor? This was an obvious trap—she refused to fall for it. No doubt this was how some residents’ doors had been forced open.
“Hello! I’m a resident from the sixteenth floor. I have some extra food at home. Little sister, if you’re short on supplies, come downstairs and eat with us. Could you please open the door?”
Ye Shu curled her lips in contempt, eyeing the door that was being hammered with deafening persistence. Did she really think she was funny? Or did that woman truly believe she was persuasive?
It was so clear she was after the stores Ye Shu had accumulated. If she dared unlock her door, she’d end up like the man on the thirteenth floor—turned into a pincushion.
“I’m not opening up. Leave at once.”
Perhaps it was just too noisy. Ye Shu finally raised her voice.
“Little sister, just open up! I brought you meat soup out of kindness—you could at least take one look!”
Ye Shu peered through the peephole at the cloudy, murky soup. She could see a few strands of meat floating atop, but who knew what else might be lurking beneath?
Thud-thud-thud—
The woman seemed unwilling to concede, hammering on the door with relentless determination. But Ye Shu was not someone easily fooled. She simply ignored it, fit her earplugs back in, and resumed her calm.
The door endured an hour of pounding. Eventually, the woman’s sweet and gentle voice devolved into biting bitterness. Clutching her bowl of thick soup, she shot a venomous glare at the securely locked door before slinking away, defeated.
Zhang Yue turned at the corner, shaking her head at a few men with a bitter grimace. “That girl’s sharp, wouldn’t open up no matter what I said. I’m sure her family’s hoarding a ton of supplies. She might even be a player.”
Zhang Yue was a rookie player, recently dragged into this nightmarish game—and terribly afraid. She’d naively thought it was just about enduring the heat, so she spent all her savings to rent a cool basement. For a few days, life seemed manageable.
But fate had other ideas. The torrential rain fell without warning and, in a single night, flooded the entire basement. All her supplies vanished beneath the water. At her wit’s end, she had no choice but to seek help from other players.
Stranded in Yuhai Bay, waiting in vain for rescue, Zhang Yue was forced down this dark road. She looked simple and honest, which made her perfect for knocking on doors and luring those NPCs out. What happened after that was no longer her concern.
Watching the waters rise, all eyes turned to the top floor. Since trickery had failed, force would be next.
The men exchanged knowing glances. Zhang Yue, shivering, clung to her bowl of soup and shrank away into the shadows. Her gaze was complicated as she looked toward the tightly-sealed apartment door. A subtle flicker of worry crossed her expression, but it soon faded.
This wasn’t her first time.
The first time, she had watched an entire family huddle together in terror. Crushing guilt smothered her conscience, leaving her awake all night, refusing even to touch the stolen food—until hunger finally overcame morality.
She chose, in the end, to compromise.
Gulping down the soup, mouth stuffed with meat, Zhang Yue ate numbly. Inside, she ached to return to her once peaceful and simple life. Poverty was bearable—constant fear was not.
————
With no more pounding or commotion outside, Ye Shu plucked out her earplugs.
Water cascaded down the window in endless sheets. The sight of relentless rain stretching into the void was enough to suffocate the soul.
Suddenly, in the blurry curtain of rain, a faint shadow appeared.
A heavy thud—a body hit the water below. Muddy, gray water splashed high, followed by the gasps, cries, and shrieks of the onlookers.
Someone, crushed by the mounting pressure, had leapt from the building.
Ye Shu’s hand stilled, her gun half-cleaned. Her face betrayed no joy, no sorrow.
This wasn’t the first time.
With no water, no food, and no hope of contact, people lost the will to survive.
Ye Shu counted herself lucky: this was merely a game world. Her own reality was safe from such endless, soul-crushing rainstorms.
And yet, here—where every “NPC” had their own joys and sorrows—could all this truly be the product of a few lines of code?
As noon approached, she prepared herself a bowl of spicy sour noodles.
Yesterday, the power grid in Yuhai Bay failed completely. Now, only generators hummed in the distance—a sound that didn’t bother Ye Shu in the slightest. While there was still opportunity, she boiled several buckets of water and stored them in her inventory space. The system-upgraded space gave her a five-meter static bubble, filled with drawers of untouched old popsicles.
She queued up a drama and slurped her noodles, enjoying a moment of precious peace.
Not far outside her apartment, a few men stood sentry, mouths watering at the scent of her spicy noodles.
“How the hell does that chick still have instant noodles?”
“Hasn’t the whole building lost power? Where’s she getting hot water?”
“Looks like the boss’s plan needs to move up—we can be sure apartment 3201 is hoarding a feast.”
Ye Shu was oblivious to these schemes. Even if she’d known, she wouldn’t have cared.
It was the thirteenth day of the game.
The twelfth floor was now flooded. Twigs, foam, plastic debris—and even pale, swollen body parts—floated amid the sewage.
Not long ago, the building’s chat group had been brimming with chatter. Now, it was silent as a tomb—oppressive with despair.
Someone knocked again at the door of apartment 3201.
Thud-thud-thud—
“We’re property management from Yuhai Bay…Zhang Ping…ma’am, we’ve met before. The twelfth floor has flooded. The radio says a rescue team will be here tomorrow. We’re here to register people for the rescue list. Please cooperate!”
Ye Shu glanced through the peephole. Yes, she remembered this man from when she had just moved in—he really was from property management.
But…why would a rescue team show up now, of all times? Something felt off.
She hadn’t heard any such announcement on the radio last night.
“Wait a second—I’ll open up right away. By the way, do you have any food? I haven’t eaten in two days. Anything will do, as long as it fills me up!”
Ye Shu noticed, just out of the corner of her eye, that a suspicious fleck of meat clung to the corner of Zhang Ping’s lips. Instantly, she understood: the property manager was in cahoots with that woman—they’d never meant to help at all.
“Ma’am, we’re short on food ourselves…but if you come with us to the twentieth floor, we’ll share.”
Zhang Ping’s face was all warmth and hospitality, words gentle and polite.
But Ye Shu wasn’t fooled. “How about this—you bring me something now, and the next time the rescue team arrives, you can come get my registration. There are plenty of others who need help; I’m young, I can wait.”
“Miss Ye, please cooperate. We need a record of every resident in Yuhai Bay—”
A steely gravity replaced his earlier warmth. Were it anyone else, maybe they’d have cracked under the pressure, flung the door open in fear. But Ye Shu wasn’t the type to be bullied.
Her voice was hard as iron. “Go away. I don’t need help, and I’m not opening the door!”
Zhang Ping’s eyes went cold, all pretense of kindness fallen away. “Don’t be stupid. Open the damn door! If you piss me off, I’ll saw through this door myself. My patience is running thin…”
A chainsaw gleamed menacingly in the man’s hand—stained with smeared, dark-brown sludge. The sight was nauseating.
The buzz of the chainsaw biting into the steel door made Ye Shu’s brows draw tight.