Chapter 103: The Door Has Been Broken

Almost no one still on the water’s surface escaped unscathed.

The hail came quickly and left just as fast.

Supplies floating on the water were soon snatched up by people jumping in from various stairwells.

There was another fierce scramble for supplies—some even got into physical fights, all for just a few packs of instant noodles.

What happened after that, Jiang Yan didn’t know.

Staring at a few hailstones the size of pigeon eggs left on the windowsill, she fell into deep thought.

In her previous life, after the apocalypse began, she had been locked in the basement by Song Deming and Zhang Qiqi, so most of what she knew about the outside world came from their daily conversations.

She only knew the general developments, not the specific details.

In fact, even Song Deming and Zhang Qiqi, who had always hidden indoors, didn’t know much either.

Now that she was experiencing it all firsthand, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

But what exactly, she couldn’t say.

Outside, the sky grew darker and darker, and the rain started pouring down again, drumming against the windows.

Thunder rumbled, and now and then, blue and purple lightning flashed across the sky.

Jiang Yan returned to the living room, drew the blackout curtains, and turned on the lights.

She glanced at the thermometer: it was only 3°C outside.

Inside was much better, nearly twenty degrees.

Jiang Yan added some firewood to the fireplace, then went to check the surveillance cameras she hadn’t looked at in a while.

The 31st floor’s camera feed looked relatively normal.

Some people were curled up on makeshift beds, fast asleep; others lay on their backs, staring blankly at the ceiling.

A group had built a fire at the stairwell entrance, probably cooking together.

Judging by their expressions as they chatted, the atmosphere was surprisingly harmonious.

From the look of it, they seemed to be making the same kind of stir-fried noodles that Su Dai used to cook.

Stir-frying the noodles not only preserves them longer and keeps them from getting damp, but also makes them easier to eat.

Nearby, there was a pile of broken table legs and boards for burning.

Makes sense—there’s still some fuel left for now.

But in a little while, hot food would become almost impossible.

To avoid carbon dioxide poisoning, the window at the stairwell was half open.

Some of the surrounding glass had been shattered by the earlier hailstorm, and the floor nearby was soaked.

Smoke billowed through the corridor.

Coughs rang out from time to time.

Some were from the smoke.

Others, most likely, were from colds—the coughs were clearly phlegmy.

It was to be expected: these past two days, people had been diving for fish and searching for supplies in the rain and cold. Even the strong could catch a cold, let alone those already weak and malnourished.

The 20th floor looked much messier.

Trash was scattered everywhere.

The door to 2002 had been kicked open, and a crowd was packed at the entrance, all glaring angrily—who knew what had happened.

They looked like people who had temporarily moved up from lower floors.

But they didn’t realize that the room they were fighting so hard for would, in a few days, also be swallowed by the rising water.

Two women sleeping on the floor in the elevator lobby were pulling each other’s hair and clothes, locked in a vicious fight.

On the ground nearby was half a bag of spilled instant noodles and a sallow-faced child wailing at the top of his lungs.

With no hot water to cook the instant noodles, people would crush them up, sprinkle the seasoning on, and eat them dry like a snack.

Compared to the misery she’d suffered in her previous life, what she saw on the surveillance feed was nothing.

Still, Jiang Yan felt heavy-hearted. Not seeing Ma Longbiao and his gang anywhere, she lost interest in watching further.

Suddenly, she found herself wanting to leave this place.

But with water everywhere outside and days of heavy rain ahead, she had nowhere to go.

Or rather, in this whole wide world, there was nowhere for her to go.

All she could do was endure the rainy season and see what came next.

She sat back down by the fireplace, stretching her hands out to the warmth.

She wasn’t really cold—just tired.

Being close to the warmth helped her mood a little.

She sat there, zoning out by the fire for a long while, until she finally noticed her stomach was rumbling. Just as she was about to get up and find something to eat, she felt a sudden tightness in her lower abdomen, followed by a sharp, pulling pain.

Jiang Yan frowned. Damn, her period had come early again this month.

She’d suffered from dysmenorrhea for years.

She’d tried Chinese medicine and even sought out renowned doctors, but nothing had helped.

Now, even after being reborn, this problem had followed her.

She’d spent some time in her space, which had improved her body in many ways, but not this—at most, it shortened the duration of the pain.

Luckily, the worst was always the first day; after that, the pain would gradually subside.

Without thinking much, Jiang Yan stepped into her space.

The progress bar above the little stream had reached 66%, and the water was visibly clearer.

It was a beautiful little creek, with bright green water plants and sparkling pebbles.

But the spiritual spring was still the same as before.

Jiang Yan worried that the two upgrades might not be in sync.

But there was nothing she could do—she could only wait for the miracle to reveal itself.

Sensing with her mind, she found Hua Bao curled up in its den, still devouring food.

She didn’t disturb it and headed straight for the kitchen.

She brewed some motherwort tea, stuck a heating patch on her belly, and decided to make herself a bowl of sweet rice wine with brown sugar and egg.

The recipe was simple, but it always made her feel better.

That night, Jiang Yan went to bed early.

She slept in the safehouse outside.

She didn’t set an alarm, planning to sleep until she woke naturally.

Because of her period, she didn’t schedule much for the next day.

Aside from her usual firearms practice and familiarizing herself with the yacht’s controls, she planned to pick out some fertilized eggs to incubate in the thermostat.

As for fencing off the planting area and planting fruit trees—tasks that required more effort—she decided to leave those for later.

Inspired by Su Dai growing vegetables on the balcony, she also planned to try growing some herself.

Even though she had a planting area in her space and plenty of vegetables in storage, it wouldn’t hurt to try growing some in the harsh outside environment—just in case.

She didn’t have any proper planting pots at home.

But she remembered she had a pile of large foam boxes used for seafood and fruit in her space.

After poking some holes in the bottom for drainage and ventilation, they’d make perfect substitutes for planting pots.

With these thoughts, she drifted off to sleep.

She didn’t know how much time had passed when—BANG!—a loud noise jolted Jiang Yan awake.

Her room was well soundproofed; for her to hear it meant something big was happening outside.

The fire door on the 32nd floor was locked.

A noise like that probably meant Ye Qing and Sun Jingtao were up to something.

Even though she knew them well, Jiang Yan didn’t just rush out.

Instead, she turned to check the surveillance feed for the 32nd floor.

What she saw shocked her.

The fire door, which had always been tightly locked, was now open.

A burly man had walked in, holding something that looked like a police battering ram."