Chapter 3 - Chapter 3: Tread Softly, Drive Fast

📘 Chapter 3: Tread Softly, Drive Fast

Two hundred cubic meters.

At first glance, it sounded like a lot. In fact, it sounded like a ridiculous number—until Lu Yan really thought about it.

He was lying on the couch in his room, the curtains half-drawn, the sky outside a muted gray-blue. His eyes were fixed on the system interface floating lazily in front of him. Specifically, on that single line that read:

[Spatial Storage: 200 cubic meters]

Two hundred cubic meters… he mused. That's 200,000 liters. Enough to hold about 200 tons of water.

Not bad. For an ordinary survivor, that would've been a godsend.

But he wasn't planning to live like an ordinary survivor. And more importantly, he wasn't alone.

I have parents now, he thought quietly. Even if I only prepare for three people, it still won't be enough—not for long.

Rations, medicine, weapons, clothing, fuel—each took up space. The more you had, the longer you lasted. But space wasn't infinite. Even now, he was feeling the weight of that invisible limit.

He tapped the air with a thought, and the space interface opened up again.

The inner view of the spatial dimension unfolded in his mind. It looked like an empty white void, stretching into perfect corners. Clean. Cold. Unused.

Lu Yan narrowed his eyes.

Let's see how flexible this thing really is.

He focused on a section of the space, visualized it being split. A dividing line formed instantly, like slicing jello with a laser.

One section. Then another. Then another.

A subtle click sounded in his head each time he split the internal space—and each compartment held its own perfect boundary. Nothing touched, nothing spilled. Like perfectly arranged drawers in a custom-built cabinet.

"Nice," he said aloud.

It wasn't flashy, but it was neat. He assigned labels to the compartments as they formed—food, water, medicine, hardware, winter gear, batteries. With just a thought, he could open one section without disturbing the rest. It was intuitive. Clean. Like the interface had been designed for someone like him.

And there was more.

He picked up a warm can of cola from the table and placed it into the food section.

He closed the interface. Waited five minutes. Then re-opened the storage and pulled it back out.

Still warm. No change. No condensation. The exact same temperature, texture, and even fizz strength.

"…Time stops in there."

A slow grin spread across his face.

That, right there, was the real cheat.

Forget infinite inventory. Preservation was the gold mine. In a world where winter would eat the world alive and food would rot in powerless supermarkets, having a space that froze time was like owning a vault of eternal survival.

He leaned back on the couch, feeling that rare flicker of satisfaction rise in his chest.

But even so… he couldn't afford to get arrogant. The space was large, yes—but not limitless. He needed to ration the use carefully. Plan with precision. There was no do-over once the snow fell.

Besides, he still needed to expand it.

His eyes drifted back to the flickering interface.

200 cubic meters… It's a strong start. But if I want to build a real fortress in this apocalypse, I'm going to need more than just space.

He stared at the ceiling and muttered, "Now if only I could upgrade you without involving love points…"

The system, predictably, remained silent.

Lu Yan smirked faintly. "Yeah, didn't think so."

He stood, stretching out his arms. His limbs were loose, relaxed, but his eyes were already sharper.

The countdown to winter was ticking. But he was getting ready.

And he wouldn't waste a single meter.

Next day.

Lu Yan stepped into the elevator that led down to the private garage. He leaned against the mirrored wall, arms crossed, head tilted back, watching the floor numbers count down. His reflection looked calm. Too calm. Like he'd woken up this way—rich, bored, slightly amused at the world.

University, huh.

He'd never gone in his last life.

Didn't have the money. Didn't have the backing. Didn't even dare to dream of it back then. He'd been too busy counting coins to eat, let alone write essays. When other people his age were submitting scholarship applications, he was delivering takeout in the rain.

But this body had made it in. Good grades. Top 10 percentile. His past self hadn't been completely useless—just tragically naive.

The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime.

He stepped into the garage and paused.

Even after two days in this world, the sight still made him feel like he was walking through a dream. Sleek sports cars lined up like a private exhibition. McLarens. Lamborghinis. A Bugatti sitting in the corner like it owned the place. It was the kind of lineup most people only saw on magazine covers or Weibo reels.

But he wasn't here to admire the whole fleet.

He walked straight to the one car he'd always dreamed of driving.

LaFerrari.

Scarlet. Sinister. Completely unnecessary.

He clicked the fob. The lights blinked twice. The door swung up with a hiss.

"Don't worry," Lu Yan muttered as he slid into the seat, "I won't waste you on picking up some shallow idiot this time."

He wasn't pretending anymore. He didn't owe anyone modesty.

His original person had driven some dull little hybrid because Meng Qingqing said she liked "low-key men." Said flashy cars were "too much."

But that wasn't really what she meant.

What she meant was: Don't outshine me unless it benefits me.

He gripped the wheel, fired up the engine, and let it growl.

This time, he wasn't going to hide who he was.

---

The LaFerrari pulled into the university campus like a red comet, the exhaust roaring through the air like it was challenging someone to complain.

Students froze. Conversations stopped mid-sentence. The courtyard practically stopped breathing.

"Holy—was that a Ferrari?!"

"Not just a Ferrari, bro. That's a LaFerrari. I've never seen one outside of Douyin."

"No way a student's driving that. Must be a sponsor or some company exec."

Lu Yan killed the engine and stepped out like it was the most ordinary thing in the world.

He wore black jeans, a plain white tee, and a gray jacket tossed over one shoulder. Nothing too flashy. But on him, everything looked expensive.

He didn't glance at the crowd. Didn't smile. Didn't explain.

Let them guess.

He walked up the stairs of the main building, his phone in one hand, eyes half-lidded. The Ferrari's engine was still cooling behind him, clicking softly in the warm morning air.

Inside the hall, footsteps echoed as people turned to look. Some stared openly. Others pretended not to. The girls whispered. The guys frowned.

Lu Yan didn't care.

He followed the room numbers until he reached the lecture hall. He stepped inside, scanned the rows for a seat—

And froze for the briefest second.

There she was.

Meng Qingqing.

Sitting in the fourth row. Long hair. Subtle makeup. Pretending to be caught off guard by his entrance.

She saw him.

She stood a little. "Lu—"

He walked past her without a glance.

Not cold. Not rude.

Just indifferent. Like she didn't exist.

The back row was empty. He took the seat by the window and leaned back, one arm slung lazily over the chair beside him.

His silence was louder than a thousand insults.

From the front of the room, the professor was adjusting the mic. Somewhere in the room, someone was still whispering about the Ferrari.

And Meng Qingqing?

She sat frozen in place, still half-standing, like she didn't know whether to call his name again—or sit the hell down.

...….

By the second class, Lu Yan was already bored.

The lecture hall buzzed with soft discussion. Some students actually listened. Others scrolled their phones. A few kept throwing glances his way, still whispering about the red beast parked outside.

He'd barely touched his notes.

The professor's voice blurred into background noise. Something about global finance. Or economic policy. He didn't care.

He sat there, one leg crossed over the other, tapping his pen on the desk like a metronome. His thoughts had wandered long ago—back into his system panel.

With a blink, the interface opened in his mind.

[Spatial Storage: 200m³]

Still the same. Still limited.

He leaned back, eyes half-lidded.

"How do I upgrade the space?" he asked quietly, in thought.

A second later, a line of text scrolled across his vision:

[Storage upgrades require emotional bonding with a target. Progress is gained through sustained romantic development and physical intimacy.]

Lu Yan scoffed under his breath.

"Figures."

Of course it was romance-based. Of course the system was tying his survival capacity to some abstract idea of love. It wasn't enough to gather food, or train his body, or build networks. No. He had to play out some emotional subplot with a 'bonded partner.'

He rubbed the space between his eyebrows and sighed.

"Okay, fine. Then where do I find this so-called target?"

Silence.

"…System?"

Nothing.

"Hello?" he asked again, mentally. "You're the one who wants me to find a love interest. How about helping out a little?"

Still nothing.

Lu Yan's eye twitched. "You're really not going to answer?"

No reply.

He looked down at his phone, staring blankly at his own reflection in the black screen.

"I'm not asking for a harem. Just one person. A lead. A direction. Anything."

The system stayed mute.

Lu Yan clicked his tongue.

"So let me get this straight: I can't expand my storage unless I fall in love. I can't fall in love unless I find someone. And I can't find someone unless I get lucky. And you, the magical apocalypse survival system, are just going to stand there with your arms crossed like a ghostly supervisor?"

Still no reply.

"...Goddamn freeloading interface."

He closed the system window with a flick of annoyance and slumped slightly in his chair.

Outside, a breeze moved through the sycamore trees along the edge of campus. The classroom was still full, but Lu Yan's mind had already checked out.

He thought about going out and hitting the gym. Maybe checking the market for emergency heating tech. Maybe—

A giggle interrupted his thoughts.

It came from the next row, where two girls were clearly looking at him, whispering behind their phones.

He pretended not to see them.

This world was full of faces. Soft smiles. Pretended innocence. Polished masks.

Finding someone real—genuine—inside that mess?

That was the real challenge.

And he didn't have time to waste on illusions.

...…

The call came in just as Lu Yan was leaving the lecture hall.

His smartwatch buzzed once—discreet, but urgent. He glanced down at the name.

[Secretary Qin – Incoming Call]

He answered instantly.

"Speak."

Her voice was strained. "Young Master Lu—Madam fainted this morning during her check-up. She's been admitted to Beijing Central Hospital."

Lu Yan stopped walking. The hallway noise dropped away.

"She what?"

"She collapsed in the clinic's hallway. The doctors say it's fatigue or weakness from her long-term illness, but they're monitoring her closely. I thought you should know—"

He didn't wait for the rest.

He turned on his heel and started running.

---

By the time he reached the parking lot, the sun was high and the air was thick with heat—but his chest felt cold.

He threw open the door of the LaFerrari, dropped into the seat, and started the engine in one motion. The twin-turbocharged V12 answered with a roar that startled half the courtyard.

Please just be a scare, he thought. Don't be serious. Don't be—

The tires screeched as he tore out of the university gate, cutting across lanes like a red flash, his eyes locked dead ahead.

---

Traffic in Beijing wasn't built for this kind of speed.

But Lu Yan didn't care.

He weaved through sedans, honked without warning, ran two red lights within the first five minutes. The car handled like a dream—but at 200 kilometers per hour, even dreams become dangerous.

A traffic camera flashed behind him. Then another.

Somewhere behind him, sirens lit up. Police.

He didn't slow.

The city blurred around him—gray buildings, blurred street signs, angry honking. A delivery bike nearly clipped his mirror. A bus swerved.

His mind was moving faster than the car.

What if it's her heart? What if it's organ failure? What if it's something they missed?

He'd just seen her that morning. She'd smiled. Told him to come home for dinner.

Now she was in a hospital bed?

He hit the accelerator harder.

---

He skidded into the hospital's underground parking garage and parked wherever the hell the car fit. Doors still warm, engine still humming, tires smoking. He didn't even lock it.

He ran through the entrance, ignored the reception desk, and slammed the elevator button for the 7th floor.

The doors opened.

He sprinted down the hallway, ignoring nurses, dodging a cart of IV drips, until—

Room 708.

He shoved the door open.

And froze.

There she was.

Lying back against the pillows, IV in her arm, pale but conscious.

Her eyes fluttered open at the sound.

"Xiao Yan?" Her voice was soft, tired.

He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and rushed to her side.

"Mom," he said, voice low and tense. "What happened? Are you okay? Why didn't anyone call me earlier?"

She smiled faintly. "It's nothing. I just stood up too fast after the blood test. Your dad made a scene, but the doctors say I just need rest."

Lu Yan took her hand, cold and thin under his palm.

"You scared me," he muttered. "Don't ever do that again."

She looked at him with a mixture of fondness and confusion. "You rushed here so fast…"

Before he could answer, the door swung open again.

This time, it wasn't a nurse.

Two uniformed officers entered.

"Lu Yan?"

He turned sharply. "Yes?"

One officer stepped forward, holding a tablet. "This morning, a red Ferrari with your license number was recorded breaking twelve traffic laws between Chaoyang District and Xicheng."

Lu Yan blinked. "...Okay. And?"

"Three red lights. Speeding over 200 km/h. Nearly struck a pedestrian. Evaded police pursuit."

He straightened slightly. "I was driving. What of it?"

The officer raised an eyebrow. "Sir, you're under detention for reckless driving and endangerment."

Behind him, his mother sat up in alarm.

"What's going on?" she asked. "What has he done?"

The second officer answered politely but firmly. "Madam, we're sorry. Your son broke multiple traffic laws. We have to take him in for formal questioning."

Lu Yan didn't resist as they took his arms.

His mother stood halfway up from the bed, face pale with worry. "No! Wait! He was coming to see me—he's my son!"

"I'll be fine, Mom," Lu Yan said, giving her a small smile as the cuffs clicked onto his wrists. "Just get some rest."

The last thing he saw before the door closed was her reaching out with her free hand—frail, trembling.

And then the corridor swallowed him.

---

[End of Chapter 3]