Parallel World – Country A, City A
Time: 2030
"I love you!"
On a quiet path, Zhang Lei, after hesitating for a long time, finally mustered the courage to confess his feelings to the class beauty.
Hearing this, the girl was momentarily stunned. When she regained her composure, her delicate oval face visibly flushed red. She glanced shyly at Zhang Lei, her heart racing.
In truth, as the daughter of a wealthy family, Xia He (the class beauty) could have any man she desired. Yet, against all expectations, the one who captivated her most was the class monitor—whom their classmates privately mocked as a "penniless loser."
The reason was simple: Xia He found Zhang Lei genuinely sincere and uncomplicated, a stark contrast to the arrogant young masters reeking of money. She harbored a considerable fondness for him.
So, when he asked her to stay after school, she agreed without hesitation.
Meanwhile, in another part of the city—
A skinny stray dog wagged its tail at a passing student, hoping to beg for food.
Unexpectedly, the student merely glared at the dog.
Then—
"Woof! Woof! Woof!"
With aggressive barks, he scared the stray dog away.
A moment later, he tossed his lunchbox onto the ground near a trash bin, leaving it open before walking off.
After fifty meters, he suddenly turned back.
What greeted his eyes was the stray dog devouring the leftovers.
Unlike Zhang Lei—the "lotus-like man" adored by Xia He—this boy had a name that reeked of vulgarity.
He was called Huang Jin (Gold), Zhang Lei's classmate, who had skipped school that day.
And here's a trivial piece of information: He is the protagonist of this story.
Time: 2032
"Ring, ring, ring…"
The alarm on his bedside jolted Huang Jin awake.
Blinking, he saw the police-style warning light on his nightstand blaring a harsh noise.
Whenever this alarm sounded, Huang Jin knew—business had come knocking.
Next to the light was a red button. He pressed it, and the noise ceased instantly.
He turned on the charging lamp by his bed, and the room's layout came into view.
A chaotic, disorganized space, as if filtered through a post-apocalyptic lens.
In fact, this was the apocalypse.
Looking back, it had been nearly two years since the zombie outbreak.
This was a shelter in City C of Country A—Huang Jin's refuge after fleeing the catastrophe.
The shelter was run by a group of violent enforcers. They had cordoned off a section of land, surrounding it with concrete walls and scrap materials to create a barricade against the undead.
To stay here, tenants had to pay a monthly "rent" in the form of supplies: food, cigarettes, alcohol, or anything of value—except money.
Thanks to his exceptional scavenging skills, Huang Jin had become the shelter's longest-standing resident.
But constantly risking his life outside wasn't sustainable, especially as urban resources dwindled.
So, he started a side hustle: a private agency within the shelter.
For the right price, he'd do anything.
So far, most clients sought his help scavenging—novices who knew where supplies were hidden but lacked the skills to retrieve them.
Typically, Huang Jin would lead them to the goods, then take a 60% cut as payment.
To build trust in this dog-eat-dog world, he honored his contracts rather than killing clients to hoard loot. Reputation meant repeat business.
The wall clock read 3:00 AM.
A client at this hour likely had an urgent request—probably not scavenging, but something deeply personal.
Last year, Huang Jin handled a dozen such cases: lost heirlooms, sentimental items, or emotional anchors. But as Year 2 of the apocalypse dawned, people prioritized survival over nostalgia.
He threw on his patched, heavy coat and hurried downstairs.
A makeshift wire ran from the stairwell to a button at the back door, linked to his bedside alarm. Pressing it triggered the noise in his room.
The first-floor window lacked glass, only iron bars, letting icy wind slice through.
It was winter, a blizzard raging outside. Snowflakes blew in, dusting the worn floorboards beneath the sill.
Huang Jin approached the door but didn't open it. Peering through the crack, he glimpsed a lanky figure.
"Who's there?" he demanded.
"S-someone sent me… P-please, I need your help…"
The voice trembled, weak from cold. The speaker sounded young, likely Huang Jin's age. A newcomer to the shelter, yet oddly familiar.
"Step back. I'm opening the door," Huang Jin ordered.
The man obeyed, retreating into the snow.
But Huang Jin didn't unlock it yet. Instead, he shone a flashlight through the gap, scrutinizing the stranger for weapons.
Only after confirming the visitor was unarmed did he finally open the door—inward, not outward.