Chapter 9
And so, for three whole days, I kept the same game going.
Every time my boyfriend called, I told him, "Soon. I'll be back soon."
But once I hung up, I put my phone down, curled up in my shelter, and continued binging dramas and reading novels. Life wasn't exactly happy, but at least it was peaceful.
Meanwhile, things on his side were steadily falling apart.
Even though the two of them hadn't been discovered by zombies yet, the small stash of supplies they brought with them had long been used up.
His calls started coming more frequently.
Once a day turned into once every half day… then once every hour… then every half hour.
Eventually, I got tired of being harassed and simply turned my phone off.
It had only been three days since the apocalypse began, but people were already starting to crack.
In the community property group chat, some residents were saying they'd run out of food.
Most of them were young professionals, the kind used to living off takeout, who never kept more than a few snacks at home.
When disaster struck, they were the first to go hungry.
One guy even said he hadn't eaten in a whole day, begging others in the group to spare him something—anything.
But no one responded. Not a single person.
In the apocalypse, the saints are always the first to die.
No one knows when this will end. And at a time like this, who would willingly share their food with strangers?
By Day Six, the city still had power. Phone signals were stable. The infrastructure hadn't collapsed—yet.
But the internet was full of people panicking. More and more posts about food shortages. People fighting over supplies. Some even looting small shops and convenience stores.
I turned on the surveillance camera again, just to check in.
My boyfriend and Bai Yueguang were sprawled on the floor—exhausted, weak, visibly starving.
Clearly, they hadn't eaten in days.
I picked up my phone and turned it back on.
The moment the signal returned, I dialed his number.
He answered instantly, eyes lighting up at the sight of my name.
But the next second, his face twisted with rage.
"You bitch! Where the hell have you been?! Why haven't you answered any of my calls?! Get back here and open the door, or I swear I'll kill you!"
I ignored the yelling.
Instead, I spoke calmly, as if I were reading from a script.
"Do you know why your key doesn't work anymore?"
He froze.
"It's because I changed the lock on the blast-proof door."
"So that's why it wouldn't open, no matter how hard I tried…" he muttered, as if the realization had just struck him. Then he exploded again.
"You filthy woman! You dare to mess with me? Just wait! When I find you, I'll make you pay!"
"Then find me first."
With that, I hung up.
In the surveillance feed, I saw him go berserk—throwing the phone, pacing like a madman.
Bai Yueguang, ever the loyal little sidekick, was fanning the flames beside him, whispering poison in his ear.
That was when he stormed over to the blast-proof door and started pounding on it with everything he had.
But that door was no cheap apartment entrance. It could withstand an explosion. Let alone a half-starved man's fists.
No matter how hard he tried, it didn't budge an inch.
Desperate, he called again.
But by then, I had already blocked his number.
No matter how many times he tried, all he'd get was an empty beep.
"What now?" Bai Yueguang asked nervously, glancing at the door. "There are zombies everywhere. We can't go outside. Are we just going to starve to death in here?"
"What the hell do you think I can do?!" he snapped, slumping to the floor.
His voice was hoarse. His face pale. His eyes—hollow.
And for the first time, it looked like reality was finally starting to sink in.