After hanging up on Zeki, Miles dialed Ryan.
"Ryan, there's food stored in the hidden compartment under the storeroom floor. If you decide to leave, you'll find a key behind the wall painting."
Miles got straight to the point, leaving Ryan momentarily stunned. After a pause, Ryan asked, "Miles… did you know this disaster was coming all along?"
"Yes."
Miles' frank response took Ryan by surprise. "And the warehouses… was that you?"
"What do you think?" Miles countered, curious about Ryan's reaction.
Ryan held the phone, glancing through the glass at Miles. "I think it was… but to empty that many warehouses overnight—no one could do that alone."
Miles remained silent.
After a moment's pause, Ryan spoke quietly, "Do you have some kind of… secret ability? Because there's no way you could have done all that otherwise."
"Ryan," Miles replied, more serious than ever, "since you're asking, I won't hide it anymore. Listen closely, and choose whatever path you think is best."
By now, there was no reason to keep secrets.
Even if Ryan exposed what he knew, without weapons of mass destruction at their disposal, no one could touch Miles. Besides, everyone was likely busy fleeing and hoarding supplies to even notice him.
And when they eventually did remember, who knew how many would even still be around?
Miles collected his thoughts. "Ryan, this disaster isn't going to end. In the future, the world as we know it may cease to exist, and I intend to do everything I can to ensure my survival."
"The only reason I brought you here was as compensation for using you back then."
Before Ryan could respond, Miles continued, "As you can see, this place has been fortified as a shelter. I doubt there's a safer place in all of Chicago."
Ryan was silent on the other end.
He ran a hand along the cold, solid walls. As a former soldier, he recognized the durability of this material, and the extensive power systems meant it wasn't built from ordinary resources.
Ryan's initial reaction had been anger.
He'd felt tricked by Miles, unwittingly drawn into a heist.
But now, he felt grateful for it.
Without Miles' foresight, he would have been trapped in the freezing cold of the logistics park, where no amount of supplies could shield him from death.
"Ryan," Miles said earnestly over the phone, "if you trust me, stay here for now. A world with just one person in it is lonely… and I know you well enough to want you here."
There was something profoundly moving about those words.
If he'd said them to a woman, she would likely have thrown herself into his arms.
…
Three days passed in the blink of an eye.
The snow showed no sign of stopping or even slowing. Many poorly built structures had collapsed under the weight, leaving countless dead in the wreckage.
They hadn't fallen to nature but to the greed of their fellow man.
On the public broadcast channel, a reporter in a thick winter coat shivered in the studio, still delivering reassuring messages that had long lost their power.
By now, no one was comforted by such platitudes.
The public had realized this deadly storm wasn't stopping anytime soon. Their only options were to wait for death or fight to survive.
Some, disregarding the risk, ventured outside to scavenge from nearby stores, though only if they managed to make it back.
Others, too fearful, sought help from officials, hoping for supplies and assistance.
Zeki was one of them.
Wrapped in layers of blankets, she lay huddled on her bed.
Though her heater had been on nonstop, it failed to produce any warmth, blowing only cold air.
Yet her mind was fixed on her phone screen, oblivious to the cold.
In the Cloud Heights residents' group chat, everyone was discussing supplies.
"Are you kidding me? Property management used to keep emergency supplies. Where are they now? Why aren't they being distributed?"
After an onslaught of demands, the property manager finally replied:
"We ran out of supplies last time and haven't restocked yet."
"Lies!" Ms. Niu, the brash woman, interjected furiously, "I saw you bring in two truckloads of milk and biscuits just last week. You're telling me there's nothing left?"
"Check for yourself if you don't believe me."
"Check? You probably already moved everything. Don't think you can keep it all for yourselves. Hand it over!"
"Yeah, hand it over!"
"Hand it over…"
Even Zeki, the recent tenant, added her voice to the chorus.
She was starving; her own supplies were running dangerously low. If she didn't get more soon, she felt she'd die within three days.
"Wait…" someone voiced over the chat. "Did any of you hear that story about a guy who spent two million in a single day, emptying the Weidu supermarket of everything?"
"What? Really?"
"That guy must have had some insider information. He's stocked up for sure."
"Who is he? We could all survive a year if he shared just a fraction of that."
"Right. Who is he? Can we find out?"
Among the commotion, an employee from Weidu Commercial chimed in, "His name's Miles. I'm just not sure where he lives."
With Miles being so discreet and Cloud Heights housing thousands, most residents didn't know much about him.
Miles?
Zeki's eyes locked on the screen, her expression shifting swiftly.
Without hesitation, she dialed his number.
"Enough with the calls," Miles answered, annoyed. "Can you stop being so damn clingy?"
On the other end, Zeki's face was icy, but her voice dripped with honey, "Miles, I miss you… How about I come over?"
"No."
Zeki swallowed her frustration and exhaled before trying again, "I bought a lace dress the other day. Want to come over? I'll wear it just for you."
A moment later, a photo of a black lace dress appeared on WeChat.
Zeki's enticing figure filled the frame, an image designed to stir temptation.
There's truth in the old saying—idle hands are the devil's workshop. Miles was, after all, alone in a warm villa with little to do. Thoughts inevitably wandered.
But he typed a single word: "Leave."
He was no longer the gullible man he'd been in his past life, especially around a high-level manipulator like Zeki. With her, his guard was firmly in place.
This was no time to let his impulses lead; otherwise, his past fate could repeat itself.