It wasn't just Chu Yian's rice that had gone bad.
What happens when 95% of a city's residents discover their rice has turned moldy overnight?
Panic-buying. Food riots.
That night, crowds flooded into supermarkets across the city, trying to hoard rice.
The news exploded with coverage:
[BREAKING] Massive Citywide Grain Mold Outbreak – Officials Launch Urgent Investigation
[HEADLINE] Rice and Flour Contaminated Nationwide – Suspected Leak of Super Mold from Biolab
[ALERT] Panic Buying Breaks Out Amid Super Mold Crisis
By the time the news went viral, dozens of cars had already sped out of her apartment complex.
Chu Yian, who'd just been planning to eat and rest, bolted upright.
She threw on a coat, grabbed her backpack, and rushed out the door.
The supermarket, spacious in the morning, was now packed to the brim.
Everyone had one goal: stockpile food.
Chu Yian was fast—she snagged a shopping cart and grabbed the last two sealed bags of rice off the shelf.
Then came the instant noodles, emergency biscuits, chocolate—anything dense with calories.
She fought hard, but there was only so much one person could do.
The moment she looked away, someone reached into her cart and took things out.
It happened again and again, and it wasn't like she could start a fight over it.
In this kind of chaos, a bird in the hand beats two in the bush.
Chu Yian chose to check out immediately, pushing her way out of the swelling crowd.
But she'd barely made it past the entrance when chaos erupted behind her.
"F*** your mom! Touch my cart again and I'll kill you!"
"You've already grabbed five bags of chips—now you're trying to take my last two meals?"
"Was it you who pushed my mom? I'll beat you to death—"
Shouts. Screams. Fights breaking out left and right.
Shelves were toppled outside the store. Women were screaming, children were crying.
It wasn't until the police showed up, sirens wailing, that order was forcibly restored.
Chu Yian walked through the cold, wet streets, plastic bags of food heavy in her arms.
A chilly wind swept in with the rain, making her shiver.
The yellow streetlights cast flickering shadows across the wet pavement.
She quickened her pace.
Game: Day 3
By the time Chu Yian got home last night, it was already past midnight.
She hadn't even had time to organize her supplies.
The rice and noodles she'd bought two days ago?
Molded through and through.
Useless now.
Same with the vegetables in the fridge—most were rotting.
With a sigh, Chu Yian dragged out a large trash bag and began clearing out the spoiled food.
Anything that wasn't sealed was covered in greenish-gray fuzz.
Even sealed items had a thin coat of mold on the packaging.
Disgusted, she headed to the kitchen and boiled a huge pot of water.
The steam scalded her hands, but she gritted her teeth and scrubbed every inch of the fridge, inside and out.
The boiling water, she hoped, would kill off the invisible spores.
Every package—even the sealed ones—had to be wiped down and sanitized before being returned to the fridge.
She took inventory:
20 packs of instant noodles
17 compressed biscuits
24 pieces of chocolate
12 Snickers bars
Everything else—rice, noodles, fruits, and vegetables—was trashed.
It filled an entire garbage can, so heavy she nearly pulled a muscle carrying it down.
That small stash? Barely enough to last 30 days.
Anxiety gnawed at her. Her lips even broke out in blisters from the stress.
She had half a biscuit for breakfast, then rushed straight to the supermarket.
The place was already packed.
The line wound outside the building.
Chu Yian stood at the very end, looking at the crowd and knowing it was hopeless.
After a minute of hesitation, she turned and headed for a small grocery store down the block.
The corner shop wasn't empty, but it was way better than the main store.
Shelves were still stocked with instant noodles, biscuits, and ready-to-eat meals.
Chu Yian's eyes lit up green.
Without even checking prices, she grabbed a basket and started loading everything in sight.
Her sudden frenzy startled everyone around her—even the shopkeeper.
"Hey, kiddo, prices have gone up!" the boss quickly called out, stopping her in her tracks.
"Instant noodles are 15 yuan each, self-heating meals are 80, and canned fruit is 40 per jar."
He eyed her overflowing basket and rattled off numbers casually.
Why was his store still stocked? Simple—he'd raised his prices sky-high.
Fewer customers, but better profit.
He just didn't want this girl thinking she was shopping at yesterday's prices.
"That's fine. Just ring it up," Chu Yian replied coolly.
She grabbed three boxes of milk while she was at it.
"You're really going all in, huh?"
The shopkeeper smiled brightly now, pulling out his calculator and tapping away.
"Total comes to 2,365 yuan."
Yesterday, that amount could've bought four times the food.
People nearby looked on with disgust at his price-gouging—
and with pity at Chu Yian's apparent gullibility.
"Boss, I've bought a lot—can I borrow the tricycle outside to move it?"
Chu Yian asked, juggling her bags.
"Sure, sure! Just leave a 200-yuan deposit. Bring it back and you'll get it refunded."
The man grinned, playing the part of a generous merchant while wringing her dry.
"Deal."
Chu Yian handed over the cash without blinking and wheeled her goods to her rented storefront.
The rolling metal door came down with a satisfying clang.
Inside, it was now her private storage bunker.
She loaded all the supplies into her golden loot box, then hopped back on the tricycle—next stop: the pharmacy.
She was there to buy vitamin supplements.
Vitamin deficiencies can lead to fatigue, insomnia, poor appetite, weight loss, and weakness.
With fresh veggies and fruit spoiling so fast, relying on them for nutrients was no longer practical.
And to survive, she needed a healthy body.
Vitamin tablets were a logical substitute.
At this point, no one had figured that out yet—everyone was still frantically hoarding food.
The pharmacy was nearly empty.
Chu Yian ran up to the counter and asked the white-coated pharmacist:
"Where do you keep your vitamins?"
"Which kind do you need?" the doctor asked.
"Uh…" Chu Yian blinked, then casually made something up.
"My kid hates vegetables and fruit, so I wanted to get some vitamins for him."