Four days remained until the apocalypse arrived.
After a full day of labor, Su Jin's fourth-floor apartment had already been transformed into a small warehouse, stacked with supplies of various shapes and sizes.
The morning had been spent scouting locations, the afternoon devoted to a frenzy of procurement at the wholesale market.
He purchased ten large water buckets, dozens of bags of infant formula, twenty sacks of salt, vitamin tablets, essential medicines, rolls of gauze, alcohol, iodine—and, from a grain shop six kilometers away, placed a sizable order for rice and oil, paid a deposit, and scheduled delivery for two nights later.
In addition, he stocked up on plastic bags, toilet paper, and several portable plastic toilets.
Among all the necessities, the toilet was, without a doubt, the most indispensable.
With doomsday looming, the value of clean water was self-evident.
Even if the sewage system remained intact, using water to flush waste would be an unthinkable extravagance.
So he'd have to rely on bag-lined portable toilets instead.
And if zombies really did hunt by scent, perhaps such a setup might even serve as an impromptu biochemical bomb.
Plastic buckets could also suffice, of course, but Su Jin thought—if he might die anyway, better to go with some dignity while he still could...
He'd also bought a large quantity of sanitary pads, prompted by a casual inquiry from Fu Qingdai.
Though originally meant for women's special needs, they were unexpectedly versatile—at the very least, they could be used as insoles.
With two more days of effort, his stockpile would be close to complete.
Su Jin mentally calculated his inventory as he struck through items on his notepad, only to be interrupted by the rumbling protest of his stomach. Lifting his gaze, he glanced toward the door.
He had arranged to dine at Fu Qingdai's place tonight. Though he hadn't yet met her parents, he already possessed a fairly detailed understanding of them.
This encounter was crucial—not merely for establishing a visible relationship with Fu Qingdai, but because earning the trust of her parents would provide valuable support for future operations.
Her father, Fu Hu, was a retired soldier. Though injuries had forced his discharge, his physical discipline likely surpassed that of ordinary men.
Even if years of idleness had dulled his edge, with a bit of training he would still prove formidable.
Her mother, Zhang Wan, was a textile worker—good with needle and thread, a skill that could prove unexpectedly useful.
Su Jin planned to purchase ready-made clothes and thick fabrics the next day, along with aluminum rolls from a hardware store.
By sewing pouches into garments and inserting shaped metal plates, one could create a rudimentary set of armor.
Simple, practical, and absolutely necessary.
Tonight's visit had to succeed—perhaps Fu Hu might even help him procure weapons like bows and arrows.
…
Around six in the evening, the sound of footsteps and conversation echoed down the hallway, followed by the jingling of keys in a lock.
With a loud clatter, the door across the hall shut.
Su Jin straightened his back and stepped toward the mirror to tidy his appearance.
Judging by the sounds, it seemed Fu Hu and his wife had returned together—perfect timing.
Dealing with both at once would be no great difficulty.
After a quick adjustment, Su Jin pocketed his phone, grabbed three movie discs and a notebook, and exited his apartment.
Standing before Fu Qingdai's door, he took a moment to compose himself, then knocked.
Moments later, the door swung open to reveal a dark-skinned, rugged-looking middle-aged man.
Fu Hu's eyes held suspicion at the sight of an unfamiliar face.
"You are...?"
"Fu Hu?" Su Jin raised his brows slightly, then his expression shifted into practiced composure.
"Eh? Who are you? You know me? Do you need something?" Fu Hu widened the door but remained blocking the entrance, eyeing Su Jin with puzzlement.
Su Jin gave a polite smile before replying, "Pardon my intrusion. I'm your new neighbor—my name is Li Haocheng."
"Li Haocheng? How do you know my name? I don't believe we've met. Or did old Li from across the hall mention me?" Fu Hu, clearly a straightforward man, was beginning to show traces of irritation.
This stranger calling him by name without introduction struck him as a breach of etiquette.
"I know you well," Su Jin replied calmly. "Third Battalion, 7th Company, 3rd Platoon, 2nd Squad of the 571st Regiment, 191st Division, 12th Army Group—soldier Fu Hu. Your company commander was Huang Chongwen, nicknamed 'Old Cannon.' And your squadmate—Yang Huai…"
Su Jin listed each detail with ease, and Fu Hu's expression changed at once. He pulled the door shut behind him and stepped into the hallway, eyes narrowing with caution.
"Who the hell are you?"
Su Jin's smile faded into solemnity as he met the man's gaze. "Allow me to properly introduce myself: I am Li Haocheng, Director of the National Critical Risk Intervention Bureau."
"Na…what?" Fu Hu blinked, clearly baffled.
He had never even heard of such a department.
"Commonly called the NCRI Bureau. You wouldn't know it—your previous clearance was too low. Our agency reports directly to the top echelon." Su Jin pulled out his Xiaomi 6 and began tapping.
After a few quick swipes, Fu Hu's personnel file appeared onscreen.
He held it up for him to see.
"I have your records," Su Jin continued. "As for how I know you—it's simple. When the bureau was screening candidates for special training, your name was on the list. I wasn't with the bureau back then, but I've reviewed your file. The internal assessment of your performance was remarkably positive—it stuck with me."
"Uh…uh…you…" Fu Hu stammered.
He couldn't tell if this was real or staged.
He'd never heard of such a bureau before, and instinctively wanted to dismiss it.
But the man knew his service record down to the unit and squad—and then there was that device. Far too sophisticated and precise for civilian use.
No, something wasn't right.
Regardless, best to keep calm and see what this was about. He couldn't recall doing anything wrong…
"Um... Director Haocheng," Fu Hu ventured cautiously, "what brings you here...?"
"It's Director Li."
"Ah, yes, Director Li. What can I do for you?"
Su Jin's stern demeanor melted into a grin. "Old Fu, this is quite the coincidence—we're truly neighbors now."
"A situation came up suddenly. I came by hoping to borrow your TV. Didn't expect to run into you. May I come in?"
"Ah... of course, please come in." Still stunned, Fu Hu stepped aside with a dazed gesture.
Su Jin entered with practiced ease.
The living room connected to the dining area, where Fu Qingdai, clad in pajamas, was sprawled over her homework.
Her eyes lit up at the sight of Su Jin, but she quickly turned away, pretending to study diligently.
"Shoo, Qingdai. We have a guest—go do your homework in your room!" Fu Hu ordered.
"She's my daughter," he added with a brief grin to Su Jin.
"Oh!" Fu Qingdai responded with poorly concealed annoyance, snatched up her books, and scampered off.
Just then, Zhang Wan emerged from the kitchen, hands still damp.
She paused upon seeing the unfamiliar face, glancing at her husband for explanation.
"This is...?"
"A comrade's relative. Nothing for you to worry about. Go finish dinner—I need to have a word with him," Fu Hu said, shooting her a subtle glance.
Zhang Wan pursed her lips but turned back toward the kitchen.
"Director Li, let's sit down and talk," Fu Hu offered, gesturing to the sofa.