Sneaking Into Someone Else's Home

The area near the water was hotter, but still noticeably cooler than anywhere else.

Despite stepping out of the cold and straight into this scorching hell, Song Weishi felt genuinely pleased. At least she no longer had to worry about firewood, and food was somewhat guaranteed.

She figured this place was far better than the freezing wasteland. Over there, nothing grew—plants couldn't even break through the soil. Eventually, when food and fuel ran out, it would become a frozen graveyard. It was arguably the worst region for survival. Though things weren't exactly great here either, Song Weishi could slowly accumulate what she needed.

The hundred energy points for killing that man hit her account instantly. Only then did the System lazily deliver its notification.

Its temper flared quickly but faded slowly—it was still brooding over that energy card incident. Song Weishi had no idea how much energy that had cost it, and she felt not a shred of guilt. Everything she got, she deserved!

Even as she thought this, a twinge of doubt crept in. Had she really asked for too much?

But with the System being so stingy, she'd feel uncomfortable too.

She mulled it over, then said, "If you keep this up, give me another one. You don't look like you're in a position to refuse."

The System had no choice. Weakly, it replied, "Host, you're really going too far Q~Q."

Song Weishi: "No way around it. Behave yourself, and don't make me unhappy."

Sure enough, she received another electricity card. Honestly, she suspected her System might have developed a self-awareness of its own, which would explain its rebellious streak.

But that didn't matter. What mattered was that she was happy.

Feeling her way forward, Song Weishi emerged from the dense thicket. Outside, the trees grew extraordinarily tall, blocking every signpost in the area.

This appeared to be a hiking trail. The stone steps, now buried under grass, were barely recognizable, with a row of black iron railings peeking out just above the ground.

Maybe she'd taken a wrong turn and missed the exit—the weeds here were so overgrown it didn't look like anyone had passed through in ages.

Song Weishi pulled out her phone to check. She unlocked it and blinked in surprise. The map now clearly displayed specific streets that hadn't shown up before.

There was signal here!

If she hadn't taken out her phone, she'd never have noticed!

Delighted, Song Weishi quickly updated the map. She saw her location was indeed on a hiking route—she hadn't gone the wrong way. About eight hundred meters ahead, she'd walk out of the mountains and reach the road by the reservoir.

She stared at the thick grass ahead, puzzled, then understood. The trees here were enormous—this wasn't some deep forest far from civilization, so there was no reason for trees this size. They must have grown after the apocalypse, as plants, too, had undergone changes. Perhaps this overgrown path wasn't abandoned because no one walked it, but because the grass grew too fast.

After checking around to make sure no one was watching, Song Weishi pulled tools from her space.

With network coverage, she had to be more careful—she couldn't just whip things out of thin air like before.

She started by cutting through the grass ahead, but after a couple of steps, she found the blades soft enough to trample. Swapping to the boots she'd grabbed from the Garden of a Hundred Herbs, she strode quickly.

The vegetation was thick and crawling with large bugs, but thankfully no pesky mosquitoes. She made good time and soon reached the road along the map.

As she neared the asphalt, a wave of searing heat hit her. Song Weishi quickly stepped back two paces, put on her hat and sun-protective jacket, then pulled out the car she'd gotten near the zoo and started riding.

This area felt like a steamer. The heat was like rolling around in a sauna, scorching and dizzying.

Song Weishi could barely breathe. She took a moment to adjust, then slowly began cycling. Even the shade from the roadside trees did little to help.

Before she'd transmigrated, she'd never experienced summers like this. But perhaps she'd adapted in the snow—hot as it was, after a while, her body seemed to manage without much discomfort.

All along the way, she barely saw a soul. Through the car window, she could see the air above the sun-baked road shimmering and distorting.

A heat more terrifying than cold rolled over her. Without protection, a person's body moisture would evaporate quickly, and their organs would cook. She recalled hearing about such heatstroke cases back in her original world—heat stroke, they called it. By the time victims reached the hospital, they were usually beyond saving.

This affliction, common among outdoor workers, now hung over every resident here.

The June sun was like an oven. Counting the time since she'd left, the world had already reached July—the hottest month of the year.

Song Weishi rode out of the lakeside loop road. The reservoir had dried up, leaving only murky mud. Dead fish littered the lakebed, and the stench was unbearable along the entire stretch.

She considered rolling down the window to let the air circulate, but one crack and a foul odor rushed in, nearly knocking her out. In the snow, at least there was no such smell to ruin her appetite.

She cycled while observing her surroundings. The phone signal dropped here—so only the riverside had decent reception.

She was still a few dozen kilometers from the home marked on the original owner's map. Barring any accidents, she'd arrive by today.

It was already afternoon. Sweating profusely and constantly rehydrating, she felt she was nearing her limit.

Traveling by day wasn't wise. The plants were unaffected, but she was suffering. Song Weishi decided to find a place to rest and set out again at night. She'd come this far; reaching home wouldn't be hard.

Leaving the lakeside road, she spotted a villa near a cemetery on a hillside and snuck in through the garage. It was unoccupied.

This was the outskirts. The cemetery sat atop a tea plantation, where the waist-high bushes had now grown taller than a person. Indeed, plants had transformed during this apocalypse.

The villa, perched halfway up the hill, looked grand. In past years, people would've come here to escape the summer heat, but this year it sat empty for some reason. Song Weishi flipped the "No Entry" sign at the entrance.

The doors and windows were all sealed shut, with only the garage accessible.

She didn't mind. The garage was cooler than the floors above anyway.

She dragged a chair over, collapsed into it in the garage, and took out an ice-cold bottle of water from her space. "Ice cold" was relative—it was just room-temperature water, but to her, it felt refreshingly cool.

She downed a bottle of juice in one go, fanned herself with a folding fan, and was about to wait for nightfall when she heard rustling sounds and a commotion outside.

"Hey, Boss Wang, come take a look. This is the closest house to Qianli Lake Reservoir. We have connections with Brother Liu from the Water Storage Association. If you decide to stay here, we guarantee we can get you hooked up to water. It's just that the price... well, it'll exceed your budget."

Song Weishi tensed immediately. She really had rotten luck—someone was coming here.