Jiang Ning never expected that not only had Apartment 1801 gained a new resident, but that it was the same young man who had helped her at the delivery point.
The man was slightly surprised, but after nodding at her, he continued his work.
He had sharp, chiseled features, and his tall, lean frame hinted at explosive strength beneath his clothes.
Jiang Ning felt a chill run down her spine. After greeting him briefly, she quickly retreated into her apartment.
Things were different in this life. Not only had the typhoon arrived earlier, but now she also had a new neighbor.
What kind of normal person installs three stainless steel doors in their home?
It would be best if they could coexist peacefully, but she wouldn't let down her guard.
The man had indeed acted bravely before, but in a world where natural disasters triggered moral decay, who could guarantee he would stay the same?
Locking her door securely, Jiang Ning went about her morning routine—brushing her teeth, washing up, and finishing breakfast. Though the sky had lightened slightly, it remained ominously dark.
Standing on her balcony, she watched the typhoon's violent winds howl like ghosts, slamming against buildings while torrential rain battered her reinforced windows.
In just one night, the streets had flooded, submerging vehicles and sweeping away those parked in low-lying areas.
The rain obscured visibility. The city in the distance was cloaked in heavy gray, the sky pressing downward like two giant, unseen hands, squeezing and crushing everything beneath them.
Jiang Ning gripped her binoculars and looked out over the cityscape. The roads had turned into vast, churning rivers. The clouds grew lower, and then—she saw it.
A swirling vortex connected the sky and earth, rotating at terrifying speed, swallowing trees, cars, and even entire buildings into its raging core.
A tornado.
Jiang Ning was stunned. She watched in horror as the tornado sliced through an overpass, snapping it like a twig. Lightning struck a tree, igniting a fire, but the relentless downpour quickly doused the flames.
Had there been a tornado in her past life?
She couldn't recall. Everything felt different, as if the world was spiraling toward an even worse catastrophe.
Her phone vibrated endlessly with messages, but she found the noise annoying and turned off her internet connection. Instead, she headed to the kitchen and got to work.
She blanched frozen chicken feet and duck claws to remove impurities, then gathered various spices to prepare braised dishes. Handling beef and pork offal took even more effort.
The thick scent of cooking oil made her lose her appetite, so for lunch, she simply prepared a bowl of tomato and egg noodles.
As she turned off the range hood, she faintly heard a child crying.
She dismissed it at first, packing up her kitchen waste to take outside. But just as she stepped out, the cries grew clearer—they were coming from next door.
She had only studied medicine for a year, not even enough to be considered a novice, but she still knew more than most. The child's cries sounded off.
After hesitating for a moment, she knocked on Apartment 1801's door. "Dou Dou?"
The three heavy stainless steel doors blocked out most sound. She knocked for a long time without any response and was about to leave when she heard a faint clicking noise.
After some fumbling from inside, the door finally cracked open, revealing a tear-streaked face. The child's lips trembled, and traces of vomit lingered at the corner of her mouth. Her flushed face glistened with sweat, and a stream of clear mucus dripped from her nose.
She had a fever.
Jiang Ning reached out and gently touched her forehead—it was burning hot.
"Where's your dad?" she asked.
"Brother's gone," the little girl croaked, her voice hoarse from crying. She wiped her eyes with tiny fists. "Brother doesn't want Dou Dou anymore."
Jiang Ning frowned. "Brother?" It seemed the girl had been abandoned before.
She glanced at the fortress-like setup of the apartment and then back at the sick child. "He probably just went out for something and will be back soon. Do you want to wait in my apartment for now?"
A five-year-old, sick and alone, would naturally fear an unfamiliar environment. But after hesitating for a moment, she nodded.
Jiang Ning brought Dou Dou inside and took her temperature—39 degrees Celsius. She found a child-safe cold medicine with a fever-reducing component and helped her take it.
Before leaving, she scribbled a note and stuck it to Apartment 1801's door to inform the guardian where the child was.
Listening to the howling storm outside, Jiang Ning couldn't help but wonder—where had the man gone in such dangerous weather?
The typhoon occasionally brought thunder and lightning. Her television signal had already cut out. On the couch, Dou Dou curled up tightly, visibly shaken by the storm.
Jiang Ning recalled her own childhood—watching other kids receive love and care while she, sick and alone, could only clutch her pillow and cry, feeling abandoned by the world.
She wasn't great with kids, so she took out a tablet and played a pre-downloaded cartoon for Dou Dou.
The effect was immediate. The little girl, previously weak and listless, perked up slightly.
Jiang Ning sat beside her, scrolling through her phone. Several unread messages flashed, including one from Yang Weicong.
"Ah Ning, I was too harsh yesterday. Please don't be mad."
"I was really looking forward to celebrating with you. When you didn't come, I was just… disappointed."
How shameless. He looked proper on the outside, but he was just spineless. He couldn't even hold out for a day before caving in.
Of course—his birthday gathering had plenty of guests, but with no one cooking and no stored food, their supplies must be running low.
Instant noodles and biscuits wouldn't last long when shared among so many people.
Jiang Ning checked the timestamp—it had been sent an hour ago. As expected, they were already feeling the hunger.
Several other friend requests had come in after Yang Weicong's message. She ignored them all.
Two parents from her tutoring jobs had also sent messages, thanking her for advising them to stock up on food in time. One even sent her a cash gift as gratitude.
She didn't accept it. There wouldn't be any opportunities to spend money soon anyway.
In the chat groups, people flaunted their feasts—seafood banquets, hotpot with red wine, even massive refrigerators filled with stockpiled goods.
They turned it into a competition, blissfully unaware of the price they would soon pay.
Two weeks of typhoon and flooding. Even if the government wanted to send aid, the harsh conditions wouldn't allow it. Once food shortages began threatening lives, these show-offs would become the first targets for looting.
For every braggart, there were also desperate pleas for help.
Mostly from young people who relied on takeout, had never cooked, and had no food stocked at home.
"I went to the supermarket yesterday, but all the instant noodles were gone. Can someone spare me a pack?"
"I bought two bags of flour, but I don't have a pot. What should I do?"
Some people started offering trades—five luxury face masks for a pack of instant noodles. The offer was quickly accepted.
Jiang Ning scrolled past these until she found a forwarded video—a car being swallowed by floodwaters, firefighters braving the storm to rescue the occupants, only to be swept away themselves as a dam upstream broke.
There were many such clips—some showing successful rescues, others ending in tragedy.
A sense of suffocation gripped her.
Just as she was about to exit the chat, another message from Yang Weicong popped up…