Chapter Four: Rain of Fire

Another day had passed.

The door to Fang Xia’s room had been knocked on several times throughout the day, but he still paid no attention. If people had the leisure to knock on his door, they might as well try their luck with someone else’s; at least then they could stave off hunger for a few more days before succumbing. At this stage, humanity hadn’t entirely lost its conscience—there was always someone willing to open the door and let others in. But soon, they would have to pay the price for their choices.

With no electricity, there was little in the way of entertainment. Fang Xia, having anticipated this, had prepared dozens of fully charged power banks and loaded his phone with over a dozen TV series—enough to last him for quite some time. The day slipped by quickly; whenever he was hungry, he would turn on the gas, heat up some food, and eat. He had a variety of meat sauces too, switching flavors to keep things interesting. Compared to those outside, his life now was nothing short of idyllic.

On the last day of the torrential rain, the water had already risen to the eighteenth floor. Fang Xia peered out of the window—the surface was perilously close. The rain had lessened compared to the previous days, and by around ten o’clock that night, the water would reach the twentieth floor. By then, the rain would taper off and eventually stop. And then, at precisely 11:11 PM, the rain of fire would begin.

If there were still any survivors in the hallway now, by tomorrow, unless they were barricaded in their rooms, they wouldn’t survive the day.

As usual, Fang Xia ate a little, then settled back to his dramas, ignoring everything else. Today would be the last carefree day for him; once the red rain came, even with the insulation of his room, he would have no choice but to soak himself in the bathtub to stay alive.

Before the water was cut off, he had filled the bathtub and every possible container in the room with water—enough, he reckoned, to last at least three days. At nine o’clock that night, Fang Xia busied himself for over an hour, piling up food at the bathroom door. For the next three days, the bathtub would be his refuge.

At ten o’clock, the rain ceased.

The entire White City was submerged. The hallway outside was soon bustling again. Since five in the afternoon, new survivors had been arriving at the twenty-first floor; if the building had more floors, they would surely have climbed higher. Fortunately, it was a five-star hotel with a large floor plan—enough to accommodate the crowd.

No one knew who first noticed the rain had stopped, but soon the entire floor was cheering.

“The rain’s finally over—we’re saved!”

“Thank goodness! It’s finally stopped.”

Most had been starved to the point of exhaustion, but at least they were alive. All they needed was to hold out a little longer for the rescue teams, and survival would be within reach.

What they didn’t realize was that the disaster had only just begun.

At 11:11 PM, more than an hour after the rain had ended, the cheers outside had faded away, replaced by hunger. Fang Xia stood by the window, needing to confirm whether his room could withstand the coming rain of fire before sealing himself in the bathtub. In his previous life, he hadn’t heard of anyone being burned alive indoors, but caution was necessary.

Drip. Drip. Sizzle...

The first drop of fire rain fell, hitting the water outside with a boiling hiss before vanishing. Compared to the vast flood, a single drop was nothing.

But soon, a dense curtain of fire rain fell, and the air temperature soared. It was supposed to be a winter night, but in a blink, it felt like summer—and the temperature kept climbing.

Fang Xia watched for a dozen minutes. Confirming that the fire rain wasn’t destroying the building, he darted into the bathroom without hesitation.

Soaking his entire body in the icy bathtub was bliss. Outside, the temperature had already reached forty degrees Celsius, and by morning, it would peak at a terrifying sixty. In such extreme heat, packed hallways would see more than half the survivors perish within a day.

He couldn’t fathom how he’d survived in his past life.

With a sigh, Fang Xia resumed his dramas.

Two days passed.

He spent more than eighteen hours a day submerged in water, yet the heat was still nearly unbearable. Most of the water in the bathtub had now evaporated, and what remained was warm, but it had kept him alive for two days—more than enough.

Yet, there would always be those with extraordinary adaptability. Out there, surrounded by fresh corpses and crimson rain, if one was ruthless enough, survival was still possible. But those who endured in such a way had long since lost their humanity.

None of this concerned Fang Xia for now. He lounged completely naked, a bottle of cola in hand, taking large gulps every so often.

Tonight, the fire rain would finally stop.

He still had enough supplies to last a long while, but that would not suffice.

From his memories of his previous life, Fang Xia knew that the morning after the fire rain ceased, strange crates would start falling from the sky above the hotel—air drops, which people would later call Heaven’s Gifts. These crates contained all sorts of high-tech items never before seen, including the spatial equipment Fang Xia desperately wanted.

The air drop crates came in various grades, though one couldn’t tell the difference from the outside. Most contained just one or two items, usually weapons or food. The high-tech combat blade was one of Fang Xia’s must-haves. Food, on the other hand, was no longer his most urgent need.

But the food in the crates was extraordinary—not only delicious, but a single serving could sustain a person for days. Over time, this would become the staple food of humanity.

Aside from the standard crates, there were rarer, higher-grade ones, holding three to five items, with a chance of containing spatial equipment. The most coveted were the top-tier crates, which always contained ten items, including spatial gear.

Beyond that, Fang Xia knew little. In his previous life, he had spent six years at the lowest rungs of society and had only ever seen the most basic crate.

But he did know that not far from here, at the Technical University, a top-tier crate would appear. In his past life, Wang Bai—one of Dawn City’s ten greatest experts—had been a student at the University of Economics and, by chance, had opened that very crate. It was how he rose to prominence.

The event had once been the biggest news in Dawn City; for a time, countless people ventured out in search of these top-tier crates, until the harshness of reality forced the craze to fade.

This time, Fang Xia had a unique advantage: his memories. He could arrive before anyone else and wait for that top-tier crate. It was his for the taking.