[National Emergency Management Bureau & Meteorological Administration]
Reminder:
A dense, unidentified fog has engulfed the entire city as of early this morning.
Visibility is extremely low. Traffic is paralyzed. Accidents are frequent.
If you do not have an urgent reason to leave your home, do not go outside.
Qin Yi glanced at the alert on his phone—and ignored it immediately.
When you're already broke, what's there left to fear from a little fog?
As the undisputed king of takeout deliveries, he'd run through wind and rain more times than he could count. A bit of fog wasn't going to scare him.
As long as someone placed an order, he'd take it.
But the moment he stepped outside, Qin Yi fell silent.
Everything ahead of him was swallowed in blinding white. The mist was so thick it felt solid, and he could barely see a step ahead.
He took a few cautious strides, only to feel as if he were drifting through some illusory space—no direction, no landmarks, nothing but the suffocating haze.
Suddenly, a shriek of tires tore through the distance, followed by terrified screams.
Qin Yi's heart clenched. He turned around and went straight back home.
No matter how badly he needed money, he wasn't about to gamble with his life.
His apartment building was old and cramped.
At this hour, the lobby was jam-packed—office workers stuck in place, all trying to figure out what to do.
Some stared anxiously at their phones. Some cursed under their breath. Others were calling their bosses to explain why they'd be late.
Worried, Qin Yi pulled out his phone and was about to call his girlfriend, Ye Wan'er—
Ding!
A sharp sound rang out.
Not from his phone.
From inside his head.
A mechanical female voice followed:
[Fog detected. Activating God-Tier Match System.]
The instant the voice spoke, Qin Yi's vision blurred. His head buzzed violently.
Clinging to his last shred of consciousness, he staggered upstairs.
Then everything went black.
When he opened his eyes again, two days had passed.
The first thing he felt was hunger—sharp, gut-wrenching hunger.
He hadn't eaten or drunk anything for forty-eight hours. His stomach felt glued to his spine.
He dragged himself up and rummaged through his room. Nothing. Not a crumb.
He'd spent every spare yuan on bags, lipsticks, and little surprises for his girlfriend.
By day he delivered food; by night he drove ride-shares. He barely had time to breathe, much less cook.
His fridge was always empty. Snacks and drinks? Those were luxuries he never allowed himself.
He thought about going out to buy something—but the world outside was still smothered in white.
The fog looked even thicker than before.
Qin Yi frowned. Something about this mist was seriously wrong.
Suppressing his hunger, he turned on the TV.
Every channel was broadcasting updates.
"Latest report: This fog is not a regional incident but a global catastrophe. Every continent has been engulfed by the mysterious haze. Its scale and impact are unprecedented."
"After extensive efforts by experts worldwide, we must accept a harsh truth—the fog cannot be dispersed…"
"At present, the cause is unknown, and its duration cannot be predicted. Citizens are advised to remain calm and stay indoors."
Qin Yi switched off the TV, his heart sinking.
He grabbed his half-drained phone and opened the community group chat.
Before he could type anything, the chat exploded with 99+ messages.
A quick glance told him all he needed to know—everyone was begging for food.
His brows furrowed. He had no solutions either.
A wave of helplessness washed over him.
[God-Tier Match System activated]
[Your world is facing destruction]
[You are critically low on supplies]
[Your current Distress Value has exceeded safe limits]
[Matching resources...]
[Matching...]
Ding!
[Resource match successful. You now possess all living necessities of the current world.]
Qin Yi stared blankly.
What???
A system?
Distress Value?
The world is going to be destroyed?
All the supplies in the world?
Come on. That had to be a joke.
He'd read enough late-night web novels to know what a "system" was, and most of it he could accept.
But this?
All the world's supplies? That was impossible.
How was the system going to give him that? Dump them from the sky?
And where was he supposed to store everything?
[Distress Value: 79]
[Distress Value: 88]
[Distress Value: 100]
While he was still processing, the interface flashed again.
[Distress Value full]
[Matching resources...]
[Matching...]
Ding!
[A Super Storage Space has been matched for you]
[All supplies have been transferred into the space]
In the next instant, Qin Yi's consciousness was pulled into a bizarre dimension.
Mountains of rice, wheat, and fruits stretched farther than he could see—measured in billions of tons.
Endless crates of drinks, instant noodles, canned goods…
Every kind of food imaginable.
High-end delicacies like caviar, white truffle, wagyu beef—
Cheap street snacks like stinky tofu and jianbing—
Everything was here.
And countless daily necessities filled the space in immaculate rows, organized so neatly it was almost beautiful.
Anything Qin Yi could think of—he could find it in this place.
When he withdrew his consciousness, he tested a thought.
A bottle of mineral water appeared in his hand.
Another thought—
It vanished, returning to its exact shelf inside the vast space.
Qin Yi trembled with excitement.
This wasn't a dream.
This was real.
Starving, he didn't hesitate. He pulled out a full McDonald's meal—the kind he'd always craved but never allowed himself to buy.
He devoured half a burger, and warmth spread through his body.
Plugging in his phone charger, he sat on the edge of his bed and focused on the System.
One thought brought up a simple panel:
[God-Tier Match System]
[Distress Value: 0]
Qin Yi frowned slightly.
Distress Value?
How did it increase?
[When you are trapped in a situation you cannot solve on your own, Distress Value will rise]
[When Distress Value reaches 100, the system will match corresponding resources]
Clear and concise. He understood immediately.
Outwardly calm, Qin Yi's hands were shaking with excitement.
The dread he'd felt because of the fog dissolved completely.
Once he'd eaten his fill, a thought struck him—
Ye Wan'er.
How was she doing?
He unplugged his phone and opened WeChat.
No messages from her.
A small ache pricked his chest.
He told himself she was just busy.
He typed:
"Wan'er, I've got one good news and one bad news. Which do you want first?"
Send.
He began typing the next message:
"Bad news is we're in the apocalypse. Good news is I've got tons of supplies, so from now on, the two of us can—"
Whoosh!
Before he could hit send, a message popped up from her first.
"Let's break up."