Chapter 2#

Meteor Shower#

However, there was no time to say much more. The three found the surveillance room, and after making a broadcast announcement that the store would be closing soon, they hid themselves properly. When the lights dimmed and everything went dark, they entered the surveillance room, knocked out the guard on duty, and then began to browse the massive supermarket.

First, they looked for clothes. Their current attire was hardly suitable for the present situation. Fortunately, they could wear modern clothes as outer garments without affecting their stat-boosting equipment. Gu Cheng and Zhao Yanzhi cut their hair short. When they arrived, they had actually had in-game blonde hair, which they changed to black to avoid standing out. Now that it was cut short, only this hairstyle changed.

Compared to Zhao Wanzhi, who only cared about equipment and not appearance, Gu Cheng and Zhao Yanzhi had quite a few cosmetic hairstyles.

“See if these pants work?” Zhao Wanzhi, who had already changed, picked a smaller size and tossed it over, thinking these two men were really troublesome.

There was no helping it. Women’s clothing was fine, but for men’s clothing, either the length was right and the waist was so loose it fell straight down, or the waist fit but the pants ended up being capri-length.

They didn’t look particularly thin, with well-defined muscles and nice body lines, but their long legs and slender waists made it hard to find suitable pants in the real world.

The person in the mirror looked a hundred times more refined than in the game. Data-generated bodies were supposed to be perfect, but the game also had a precision issue. When they stepped into the real world, this precision naturally rose to an extremely high level. No matter how you looked, you couldn’t find a single flaw.

Data was the most objective; what it created was naturally the most perfect physique.

“Forget it, I’ll take these.” Even if they were a bit short, Gu Cheng thought about it and went to find two belts, tossing one to Zhao Yanzhi.

Out of necessity, he ended up packing a bunch of belts and regretfully let them take up one slot in his backpack.

Zhao Wanzhi stood in front of a shelf. “Besides food and water, what daily necessities do we need?”

“Plastic wrap, knives, pots, lighters… There probably isn’t any fabric here, so we’ll need to bring more clothes.”

When the weather changed drastically, this world would become uninhabitable for humans—both in temperature and climate.

Gu Cheng turned around and saw Zhao Yanzhi standing on the other side. Walking over, he found him staring at a bathtub. “…Don’t tell me you want to bring that too.”

Imagining a desolate post-apocalyptic wasteland with a pristine white bathtub and a handsome man bathing in it—the image was too bizarre to contemplate.

But Gu Cheng knew that Zhao Yanzhi was slightly germophobic, and that would be the hardest thing for him to endure in the apocalypse.

“Will water become that scarce in the future?” Zhao Yanzhi looked at him.

Gu Cheng nodded. “Yes, even the oceans will shrink.”

Zhao Yanzhi frowned, looking very displeased, as if just thinking about not being able to bathe was unbearable.

Gu Cheng recalled a time when Zhao Yanzhi was trapped underground with him. It was a trap specifically set for them—a narrow, nailed-shut metal coffin where they couldn’t stand up, and they couldn’t even use the teleport skill. Zhao Yanzhi gave him the last sip of water. At that moment, the man who always appeared elegant and ethereal, like an immortal, had likely experienced the most wretched and filthy moment of his life.

Gu Cheng knew all about Zhao Yanzhi’s germophobia, but at that point, he was willing to give up everything.

Gu Cheng knew that Zhao Yanzhi truly loved him, which was why he could tolerate being treated this way.

Only for a moment did Gu Cheng’s heart soften. He sighed and said, “If you want to bring it, bring it.”

As he turned to look at the shelves, he didn’t see Zhao Yanzhi staring intently at him, then quietly curling the corners of his mouth.

Gu Cheng, if you treat me this well, I’ll take advantage of it, you know.

But then he recalled the lost look in Gu Cheng’s eyes just now—as if he was looking through him, missing someone else.

The smile at the corner of Zhao Yanzhi’s lips faded. His dark eyes were deep, suppressing his displeasure.

The one he liked wasn’t the current him.

Just thinking about it made Zhao Yanzhi unhappy.

Zhao Wanzhi walked over, raised an eyebrow at her cousin, and slapped his back. “Don’t start with your nonsense now. Hurry up and think about what else we need to take.”

In terms of understanding, Zhao Wanzhi had grown up with Zhao Yanzhi and knew his personality inside out.

On the surface, he appeared cold and aloof, unapproachable, but in reality, he had an extremely strong possessive streak and was quite stubborn.

She knew that Zhao Yanzhi liked Gu Cheng and was also well aware of her cousin’s sexual orientation. She had been the one to advise him to give up. Now, seeing Zhao Yanzhi staring at Gu Cheng like that, she knew it was trouble.

“Wanwan, you don’t know this,” Zhao Yanzhi said with a light laugh. “He admitted it. Before the rebirth, he and I were already together.”

Zhao Wanzhi was surprised. “Wasn’t he straight?”

Zhao Yanzhi didn’t mention the “Wild Geese Descending on the Sandbar” incident. He said casually, “It’s the apocalypse now; who cares about orientation? The result is that he fell in love with me.”

He glanced at Gu Cheng, who had moved to another shelf. Zhao Wanzhi frowned, thinking that Gu Cheng seemed gentle and might actually fall for Zhao Yanzhi over time, so she didn’t say anything more.

She tossed a large bag she was holding at Zhao Yanzhi’s feet. “Put this in your backpack.”

“Mm.”

They thoroughly looted the supermarket. The three of them had plenty of backpack slots. They stuffed the storage containers and cabinets they found in the supermarket to the brim, and even used plastic tape and large plastic wrap to bundle up large quantities of supplies. They left out some easily accessible everyday items and packed the rest into large bundles to stuff into their backpacks.

Fortunately, their current system bodies could be described as “possessing immense strength”—after all, they had internal energy. Carrying a cabinet was as light as a feather, effortless.

“When the food runs out later, this cabinet can be chopped up for firewood,” Zhao Wanzhi said, patting the tall wooden cabinet.

Zhao Yanzhi thought for a moment. “Do we need to grab some solar-powered stuff?”

Even if electricity became unusable, solar power should be unaffected, right?

“It’s useless,” Gu Cheng said calmly. “This kind of ordinary supermarket won’t have solar batteries or solar slow cookers. The only solar thing is water heaters, which are very impractical.” Useful solar items would be better found in specialty extreme sports stores.

Abandoning that plan, Zhao Yanzhi grabbed some flower and plant seeds from the gardening section, though he wasn’t sure if they’d be useful.

“Time’s up.” Gu Cheng lifted his head.

They had made the most of their time. The store closed at nine, and it was now 11:07 PM. Gu Cheng remembered the time. In just two hours, they had done their best to grab everything they could think of, including the supermarket warehouse that Zhao Wanzhi had discovered in the back. The main priority was food and water, enough to ensure their safety for a considerable period of time.

Even though Gu Cheng had told them, Zhao Yanzhi and Zhao Wanzhi still found the idea of the so-called imminent apocalypse somewhat absurd.

If they hadn’t transmigrated into this world with game systems on their bodies, no matter how much Gu Cheng talked, they probably wouldn’t have believed him.

With transmigration as a foundation, other unbelievable things immediately became much more credible. Besides, they had known Gu Cheng in the game for several years, and he wasn’t the type to joke about something like this.

Regardless, the game system was real, their perfectly data-generated bodies were real, and their ability to use in-game skills was also real.

They took the stairs to the rooftop door. Gu Cheng directly broke the lock, pushed the door open, and stepped out.

Heavenly fire and shooting stars. The dark night sky was illuminated. This sleepless city of lights was so dazzling it seemed like a scene from a dream.

In the distance, there seemed to be noise and commotion. Modern people lived in comfort; at this hour, many were still awake, filled with delight as they watched the romantic and beautiful meteor shower.

But why had there been no official forecast for a meteor shower of this scale?

Many people began calling friends and family, screaming and laughing, pointing all sorts of recording devices at the sky.

It was so beautiful. Countless meteors, trailing long tails, began to fall.

Gu Cheng watched silently. At this moment, he was the only one in the world who knew what was about to happen.

Everyone knew what a meteor shower was—after all, this was a world that valued science. To put it bluntly, it was just a bunch of meteorites.

Yes, what was happening now was merely a “meteorite shower.” But it would bring unimaginable disaster to the Earth.

Even if the meteorites were dense, they wouldn’t destroy the planet. With the current level of technology, humanity could handle such an event.

Yet no one expected that these meteorites, scattered across the globe, carried intense radiation. Before anyone could react, they had already irradiated all of humanity, animals, and plants.

Before dawn even arrived, half of the world’s population would fall ill and die. Forty percent would have their genes mutated by the radiation. Only ten percent would be able to resist the radiation and remain ordinary humans.

The most terrifying part was that among that forty percent who were irradiated, only a very small number would retain their consciousness and become so-called “New Humans.” The rest would become mindless beings who retained only basic survival instincts—“walking corpses.” This group was called the “Devourers.”

They weren’t zombies. They still looked human, with stiff expressions and dull eyes, able to easily blend into human crowds. As long as they weren’t hungry, they weren’t particularly aggressive.

But if they were harmed, they would erupt with strength comparable to New Humans. When hungry, they would eat anything—including their own kind, all animals, plants, and even plastic, metal, and synthetic fibers.

Gu Cheng recalled the sight of Devourers swarming like locusts, devouring an entire city in moments, and he couldn’t help but shiver.

When he was reborn, there were still ten hours until the disaster struck. But he knew there was nothing he could do to change it.

Even ten years after the apocalypse, they still hadn’t found a way to block this radiation.

By then, almost no new babies were born in the world. New Humans had extremely low reproductive capabilities and could hardly produce offspring.

Among ordinary humans, children were occasionally born. Perhaps because their parents had already been irradiated, their survival rate was slightly higher than that of current humans, but there was still a staggering 30% mortality rate. Not to mention that some were born as Devourers from the start.

Plus, the apocalyptic conditions made it completely unsuitable for children to survive.

Down below, the crowd was still in a frenzy, cheering and shouting, their faces illuminated by the brilliant lights and beautiful meteors.

A trace of sorrow appeared on Gu Cheng’s face. In a daze, he saw the desolate world years later—how ironic a contrast to the scene before him now.

A slightly cool hand grasped his.

In the flickering light, Zhao Yanzhi’s expression was very gentle.

Gu Cheng felt calm inside. It was just another cycle; what was there to fear?

The apocalypse was coming, after all.