Chu Yian hadn't had much of an appetite before. But now? She was hungry.
She found the hot pot seasoning that came with all that frozen meat she'd once bought and tossed it into a pan to bring out the fragrance. Within minutes, the spicy, savory aroma of simmering hot pot spread throughout the hallway—hitting the empty stomachs of nearby residents like a bomb.
[Who the hell is eating hot pot right now? Are you serious?]
[Smells so damn good, I swear once this plague is over, I'm eating hot pot every single day for a week.]
[Someone's cooking hot pot?! Can I buy a bowl? I'll pay 200.]
[I'll pay 500!]
[I'll give you 1,000!!]
The group chat devolved into a bidding war over a single bowl of hot pot.
Meanwhile, Chu Yian wasn't really making hot pot. Given her limited ingredients, she'd turned it into mala soup bowls—fragrant, spicy "hot pot without the pot." She didn't even want to spare a handful of vegetables. But she still managed to make two large, mouthwatering bowls.
One of them—the one that people in the group chat had just bid up to two thousand yuan—she delivered to Lu Qingyuan's door.
The chat's hunger-fueled madness slowly died down after lunchtime.
No one got any hot pot.
No one got any replies.
Chu Yian, on the other hand, ate her fill.
After a short rest, she was just about to get up and do a little light exercise when—
A knock on her door.
She moved to open the inner lock—but her phone vibrated.
A WeChat message from Lu Qingyuan:
[Don't open the door. Two infected people.]
Chu Yian froze, then quickly backed away to grab a mask. Once it was on, she cautiously leaned toward the peephole on the second door.
Standing outside was a couple. The man wore long sleeves, a mask, sunglasses—wrapped up like a mummy. The woman only had a mask on and was clearly scanning the door for signs of life.
"Hello? Is someone in there?" the woman called out softly. "Sorry to bother you—we're from downstairs. We wouldn't come if we had any other choice."
A pause. No reply.
She tried again, voice trembling, "Do you have any fever medicine? We'll pay—whatever price. Anything, just a few pills…"
Her voice broke.
"My husband—he… he can't hold on much longer."
Chu Yian lowered her head.
People are selfish in times like these.
And that… is survival.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I don't have any medicine. Try asking someone else."
But the moment she responded, the woman's eyes lit up like she'd seen a lifeline.
"No fever meds? That's okay! Maybe something else? Antibiotics? Cough suppressant? Painkillers? Anything—please, we're not picky!"
So many people had ignored her door knocks. Chu Yian was one of the few who even responded.
"I'm sorry. I really don't have anything," Chu Yian repeated.
She didn't want to be cruel. But opening the door for two infected people?
That was a death sentence.
The woman left crying, her voice trailing into sobs—then curses.
And Chu Yian, while guilty, also felt relief.
As long as they left, it was fine. Her biggest fear was them camping outside, or worse, turning violent.
Once she was sure they were gone, Chu Yian didn't open the door immediately.
Instead, she messaged Lu Qingyuan:
[Don't open your door for now. I'm going to disinfect everything.]
[Okay.]
Seeing his reply, she pulled on full PPE—mask, medical gloves, goggles—grabbed her disinfectant, and stepped out.
She sprayed every inch of her front door, then the hallway, and even Lu Qingyuan's door across the way.
Good thing she had bought a 5L jug of disinfectant.
Still, she knew that wasn't a guarantee.
She sent another message:
[Do you have any masks?]
His answer: No.
Chu Yian wasn't surprised. When she first moved in, she was the only tenant on the floor. Lu Qingyuan had clearly moved in after her.
Just in time for the virus outbreak.
Then the lockdown.
Then no aid deliveries—not a single one for him.
He was obviously completely on his own.
In this mess, running into her was the best thing that could've happened to him.
After so many meals shared (well, delivered), and knowing who he was in the last game, Chu Yian had subconsciously started thinking of him as half an ally.
So when he said he didn't have masks, she didn't hesitate—she packed ten into a bag and brought them over.
This time, he opened the door.
It was the first time they saw each other face to face.
Chu Yian was bundled up in her goggles, gloves, and mask—completely sealed. They locked eyes. She blinked hard behind the goggles.
"These are ten masks," she said, breaking the silence. "For you. And this—"
She held up a little bottle of disinfectant. The kind that usually held glasses cleaner.
It was small—but now, even that was a luxury.
Lu Qingyuan took the bag. Then looked at her with a strange mix of cool detachment and curiosity.
"Why are you helping me?" he asked.
"Because…"
Because in the last game, we survived together. You used your privileges to put me on the evacuation list. I never forgot that.
I owe you one.
That was what she thought. But what she said was:
"Because we're neighbors. It's just the two of us on this floor.
We help each other now, and maybe tomorrow you'll help me."
She smiled behind her gear. "Nice to officially meet you. I'm Chu Yian."
Then realized—oh.
He couldn't see her face at all.
"Lu Qingyuan," he replied.
It really was him.
An NPC working double shifts. Poor guy.
Game: Day Ten.
Even fewer people left the compound today.
Chu Yian opened her Mystery Supply Box again.
After three days of total junk draws, her hopes were… low.
A flash of white light—and something new popped out.
[Ibuprofen Oral Suspension – 1 bottle]
Note: Will be reclaimed at the end of this round.
Item Voice: A sealed bottle of liquid ibuprofen. You won't find this in pharmacies anymore. Catching the virus isn't the end—having no meds is.
Good luck not dying.
Chu Yian stared at the description. Then at the bottle.
Extremely useful.
Fever meds count: 50 boxes + 1 bottle.
Just as she tucked the new medicine into her supply chest—
BOOM.
A distant explosion rocked the floor.
Then: the power went out.
The group chat exploded again:
[What the hell just happened?!]
[Was that an explosion? Why's the power out?]
[The power plant exploded. I have pictures.]
Someone posted photos of a blown-out power facility.
Chu Yian frowned, her thoughts racing.
If the power stayed out, what would happen to all the meat and vegetables in her fridge?