In my last life, my neighbors tore me apart and ate me alive.
Old Wang, who was always borrowing soy sauce, sawed off my leg. The fruit shop owner carved up my abs like pork belly.
The woman I loved most, Lin Wanru, stood behind the crowd and said lightly:
“Save me a rib. I want to make soup.”
When I opened my eyes again, I was back one month before the apocalypse began.
This time, I awakened the ability to stop time, along with a storage space large enough to hold the entire world.
The first thing I did:
Clear out the giant Sam’s Club warehouse in the southwest.
Order five thousand Michelin meals, stock up on four thousand packs of hot pot seasoning, get an armored RV with tank treads, and have guns and ammunition delivered straight to Old Wang next door.
My enemies? Not one of them will get away.
That green-tea goddess? I’ll make her kneel and beg me.
This time, I live for myself alone.
The apocalypse is my personal party.
