In the Apocalypse, My Battle God Plays Pinduoduo, and My Villa Is Piled High with Nine-Yuan Bargains

Qian Longhai might be the least successful rich second-generation heir in the whole country. His parents left him a three-story villa and 1.5 million yuan in cash, yet he somehow turned into Pinduoduo’s unofficial spokesperson: The basement was stacked with 200 boxes of instant noodles, each 9.9 yuan with free shipping, bought during a seller’s clearance sale. The living room was piled high with one-yuan instant porridge, so much that the delivery drivers complained to the property manager. He’d even stockpiled fifty bags of dog food after accidentally grabbing the wrong deal in a livestream and being too embarrassed to return it. When the news reported, “Infected people are attacking passersby,” and experts announced, “The outbreak will be under control in seven days,” his gaming teammates were busy mocking him: “Haizi, with that much stuff hoarded, the zombies will starve to death before you do!” Qian Longhai scoffed and pulled open the curtains. Across the street, a gym trainer waved cans of protein powder at the army, begging for help, before a shadow dragged him into the bushes. Blood splattered across a yoga mat printed with the words “Discipline is freedom.” As the whole building filled with the sound of people pounding on doors, he stumbled into the storeroom. His flashlight swept over stacks of boxes marked “Clearance Sale Special”: 30 boxes of luncheon meat nearing its best-before date, with six months left. 100 bags of vacuum-packed rice. Weevils? Not a chance! 5 huge boxes of vitamin tablets that came free with instant noodles. The rooftop windows exploded with a crash. Clutching a 9.9-yuan tactical knife with free shipping, he suddenly burst out laughing. “Pinduoduo... I’m giving you five stars this time.”