[Doomsday + small space + stocking up + ease]
In the early stage, there will be a lot of stocking up and renovation, slow pace, not very exciting.
Su Wan, a 27-year-old illustrator, received ten cubic meters of static space and a natural disaster diary from 1963 when he inherited an old house in the countryside. During the rush hour on Friday evening, she witnessed a series of rear-end collisions between seven vehicles on the elevated highway. A green aurora suddenly appeared in the sky. Her mobile phone was disabled and her navigation failed.
The countdown to doomsday in my grandmother's diary only has thirty-nine days left.
She mortgaged gold bars, took out online loans, and escaped into the shadows of the city with 620,000 yuan: buying grains and oil wholesale markets by the ton, visiting thirty pharmacies to sweep away antibiotics, custom-made explosion-proof glass falsely claiming to be "typhoon-proof," and second-hand bank vault doors welded to old houses.
The basement was converted into constant-temperature storage, the roof was paved to disguise solar energy, a "landscape fish pond" was dug in the yard to serve as a water reservoir, and the greenhouse was filled with autumn vegetables.
The doomsday chain was coming, and the temperature was extremely hot at 45 degrees Celsius. She stayed in the insulated fortress and drank ice-cold mung bean soup.
The flood was raging, so she started the water pump and looked at the vast ocean below the mountain.
The epidemic is rampant, so she relies on mosquito killer lamps and orange cat rice cakes to keep the pure land. In the extremely cold weather of minus 30 degrees, she burned bread in the wood-burning fireplace and made soy sauce.
