When she froze to death in the snow, she still had half a compressed biscuit in her arms. Three years after the end of the cold wave, she spent all her savings to support her husband and his family. Finally, she was kicked out of the house and collapsed three hundred meters away from the resettlement site. No one looked back.
Open your eyes again and go back to the ninety days before the cold wave came.
In this life, she divorced first and then stocked up. Rice, flour, grain and oil are piled to the ceiling, and there is no shortage of medicines and diesel. The cellar of the old house left by my grandfather, a civil air defense project from 60 years ago, has constant temperature, water, and can hide things.
Her ex-husband's family was still worried about her little savings, so she just opened her accounting book and recorded who took what from her in her previous life, one by one. Interest is calculated from this life onwards.
The day the snow fell, the whole city was scrambling.
The door of her warehouse has long been welded shut.
