Surviving the Apocalypse with the Young Miss - Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Eccentric

“Sizzle, sizzle, sizzle.”

—”This heavy rainfall is expected to last five to seven days. Residents are advised to take appropriate defensive measures and avoid going out as much as possible within the next week…”

“Sizzle—click.” Song Ge used a small knife to cut the waterproof tape, then checked everything one by one, making sure the door seams, windows, and window edges were completely sealed. She casually folded the tactical knife back into her waist, and set down the tape.

Song Ge walked to the table, turned off the boiling electric pot, fished out the noodles with chopsticks, and added a little chili sauce.

With the windows completely sealed, the semi-basement was left with only faint, pale yellow lamplight.

Song Ge was long used to it. With a placid expression, she held the piping hot bowl and slowly ate her noodles alone in the dim, ten-square-meter single room.

The meteorological station said the heavy rain was expected to last about a week.

But once again, it lost its accuracy. The rain stopped after only three days.

Early on the fourth day, the sun was shining brightly.

In the dim semi-basement, the cell phone on the table kept lighting up and going dark.

Song Ge walked out of the washroom. She had just showered, wearing plastic flip-flops. Her short hair was damp, and beneath her faded T-shirt were relatively wide shoulders and a lean waist.

From the back, she looked more like a tall, slender boy.

Song Ge picked up her phone. The class group chat already had 99+ messages.

Scrolling to the top was a notice from the homeroom teacher saying that classes would resume as normal in the afternoon now that the rain had stopped, and everyone needed to be at school by one o’clock.

The content posted by the other students was diverse: showing off luxurious meals, grand houses, and the clear weather outside, discussing where they would go out after school since they’d been cooped up.

Only a few words were spent discussing the brief, fleeting downpour.

Song Ge changed her clothes and tore off the waterproof tape around the windows.

Something washed in by the flood outside completely blocked the light.

Song Ge locked the door and left home.

She walked up the stairs.

Bright, dazzling sunlight immediately shone in her face.

Song Ge raised her hand to shield her eyes. The scorching heat on the back of her hand told her that another period of blazing sun, like a heatwave, was coming.

She was used to it.

Song Ge pulled up her hoodie’s hood, slung her single-shoulder bag, and when she got to the semi-basement’s half-window, she picked up the soggy cardboard box stuck outside the window and threw it into the trash can, which had been washed ten meters away.

Sanitation workers were visible everywhere on the main street.

The blazing sun hung high, without a single cloud. It was impossible to tell that the sky had been pouring rain like a leak just last night.

Ten minutes later, Song Ge arrived at school.

The gate of Kecheng High School was packed with private cars, many of which were luxury cars worth millions. The cars were parked haphazardly, occupying the normal lanes of traffic, causing severe congestion starting several traffic lights away.

Song Ge was accustomed to the sight and ignored it, her hoodie pulled up.

She walked through the high school gate.

Inside Kecheng High School’s vast campus, a quick look revealed a uniform sight of neat and pretty red and white British-style school pants and skirts.

Only Song Ge was wearing a hoodie and long pants.

Strange looks were frequently cast her way, accompanied by pointing and quiet whispering.

Song Ge casually glanced over.

The whispers immediately stopped in fear, and everyone quickly avoided her eyes.

Song Ge retracted her gaze and headed to the academic building. She went up to the third floor, walked into the classroom for Senior Year Class Six, and headed straight for the last seat by the window. The sun was intense, so she pulled the curtain closed with a shwoop, hooked the chair with her foot, and tossed her bag onto the desk.

She sat alone at a desk, with the corner behind her reserved for the class trash can, brooms, and mops.

As soon as Song Ge arrived, she put her head down to sleep.

The first period was taught by the homeroom teacher, who, before flipping through her lesson plan, immediately called out Song Ge’s name, “Song Ge, why aren’t you wearing your school uniform again?!”

Song Ge stood up, her voice lazy with sleepiness, “Washed it, it didn’t dry.”

The teacher sighed in disappointment: “Next time you don’t wear your uniform, you stand in the corridor with your book and listen to the lesson!”

Song Ge replied, “Oh.”

“I’ve truly never seen such a brazen girl.” A sharp, disgusted voice came from the diagonal direction. The person said, “Yuyu, how could our Kecheng High let such a rotten person in?”

After a moment, a soft, gentle voice answered, “Don’t talk, the teacher is looking over.”

Forty minutes passed in a flash, and it was break time.

Song Ge liked class, not recess.

During class, only the teacher spoke. During recess, a group of people talked, buzzing like a swarm of noisy flies. Just like the sharp voice that came from the front-right again: “Yuyu, look at the new bracelet I bought. It’s the limited edition Tulip style that just came out!”

“It’s so beautiful.”

“Right? I’ll get you one too later.”

“Come on, Chu Qiao. Little Yu doesn’t lack your bracelet. All the jewelry she wears is custom-made by the famous Italian jewelry designer, Davis. Every set is unique. Why would she care about your mass-produced stuff?”

Chu Qiao choked, her face flushing red from the remark.

However, the girl called Little Yu said, “Qin Mo, don’t talk nonsense. It takes Davis a long time to design a set of jewelry, and the styles are often exaggerated. I only wear them for important evening parties. Normally, I wear things I buy from the store. Qiaoqiao, thank you, I like it very much.”

“Hmph, you only like Chu Qiao!”

“I like you too. Tell me which perfume or handbag you like, and I’ll get it for you, okay?”

“Then I want the new tiger-print model you carried last week.”

“Okay, I’ll bring it to you tomorrow.”

Boring.

Song Ge pulled her hoodie hood over her head, too lazy to listen.

The day passed uneventfully.

It was 5:00 PM when school ended. Late spring and early summer, the days were getting longer.

No wonder the sun’s intensity hadn’t diminished even in the late afternoon.

Song Ge went to the supermarket and bought a box of instant noodles, a case of water, two lighters, and a box of candles. Her food storage had been slightly depleted over the past three days, and she habitually replenished it promptly. Last month’s electricity bill was excessive, so from now on, she would avoid using electricity unless necessary and use candles instead.

However, if it didn’t rain, she wouldn’t really need the candles.

During the day, sunlight could filter through the window, and at night, the streets were brightly lit with car traffic, so her semi-basement room wouldn’t lack light.

When Song Ge returned home, she saw a beggar sitting at the entrance to their stairwell. The old beggar was dressed in ragged clothes, covered in grime. His fingers were cut and wounded—who knows what he had been digging for. A peculiar smell wafted from him even from a distance.

Song Ge was carrying a box of instant noodles in one hand and a case of water in the other, leaving her no third hand to fish out two yuan.

But she doubted the supermarket would let the beggar in to buy bread even if she gave him the money.

Song Ge went home to drop off her things. When she came out again, she saw the hunched beggar had walked to the roadside. Not far from him was an expensive-looking black private car with high-end colors and lines.

The rear window of the Bentley was half-down, revealing a beautiful, delicate face. Her long, soft black hair was tied into a high ponytail, secured with a shiny, princess-like hair clip. The slightly curly ends brushed against her slender, fair neck. She was gently and quietly instructing the driver who had stepped out: “Uncle Chen, please buy the old man a pair of shoes too.”

“Yes, Miss.”

As Tong Xiangyu spoke, she felt as if someone was watching her, so she looked up toward the narrow, cramped stairwell.

Support Surviving the Apocalypse with the Young Miss