7: Chapter 7 The Neighbors' Questions

After the last truck left, Song Yang walked into the warehouse.

The previously empty area was now filled with pallets stacked neatly like small mountains.

Meat, fruit, vegetables, rice, flour, and oil—supplies that would trigger a frenzied scramble in the apocalypse—awaited their final destination.

Song Yang raised his hand and gave a casual wave forward.

As if swallowed by an invisible, giant mouth, the pallets occupying a vast space, along with the tightly wrapped cardboard boxes atop them, vanished instantly.

Starting with the nearest row and moving further back, vast swaths of supplies evaporated into thin air, looking like a movie scene on fast-forward.

The tire tracks left by the forklifts were still clearly visible on the concrete floor, but the areas they surrounded were now empty.

In just a few minutes, a large section near the center of the warehouse was cleared, revealing the original floor.

He didn't intend to fill the system space to its limit.

While food and water were the foundations of survival, there would be no shortage of 'trash' to handle; he needed to reserve enough room in the system space for that.

Returning to the city, Song Yang arrived at a fairly large pharmacy.

The pharmacy owner was a slightly chubby middle-aged man in his forties, sitting behind the counter watching videos of beautiful women shaking their hips on his phone.

Song Yang walked to the counter, pulled a bulging red envelope from his pocket, and stuffed it toward the owner.

"I'm here for my goods."

The owner weighed the red envelope in his hand, and the smile on his face grew even wider.

"Oh, Brother Song, please sit, please sit."

"Are you planning to open a small clinic? Why so much medicine?"

"Something like that. A friend wants to set up a medical room, and I'm just helping him with the legwork," Song Yang replied vaguely.

The owner smiled meaningfully and didn't press further, instead ordering the clerk to prepare the medicine according to the list.

Before long, cardboard boxes of various sizes piled up on the counter.

"Brother Song, I see you're a straightforward man, so I'll tell you something else."

The owner pulled out a small box from under the counter and said with a suggestive wink:

"Men always have their moments of need. I have a few types of special medicine here that have always sold very well. They're guaranteed to restore your vigor and keep your 'golden spear' from falling!"

"How about it? Want two cases?"

Song Yang froze for a moment, then immediately understood what he meant.

However, he was still young and truly had no use for them.

Leaving the pharmacy, Song Yang drove back to his residential compound.

Before he even got close, he saw a crowd gathered at the entrance.

Several engineering trucks with 'Hongtu Construction' printed on them were parked by the roadside. A few workers in hard hats leaned against the vehicles smoking, while a middle-aged man who looked like the foreman stood nearby holding blueprints.

Many Neighbors were gathered near the gate, craning their necks to look, pointing at the construction vehicles and workers while whispering among themselves.

"What is that kid Song Yang up to? Not only is he taking out loans everywhere, but he's also hiring people to renovate his house?"

"Exactly! I heard that yesterday he bought out half a supermarket. Who knows what he's doing with all that stuff?"

"The boy must have lost his mind! Why can't he just live a normal life instead of causing all this trouble?"

"Who knows? Young people have active minds. Maybe he's trying to do some kind of guesthouse renovation?"

In the crowd, a white-haired old man who still looked quite energetic leaned on his cane. He squinted for a long time before suddenly speaking in a low, eerie voice:

"Do you think it's possible he knows something?"

As soon as these words were spoken, the surrounding chatter instantly went silent.

The old man tapped his cane and continued:

"I saw the news a couple of days ago. Didn't some foreign observatory say solar activity is abnormal?"

"And with all those frequent geological disasters, this kid is hoarding food and reinforcing his house... could it be he knows in advance that the end of the world is coming?"

After a brief silence, the crowd erupted into boisterous laughter.

"Hahahaha! Old Man Zhang, what are you talking about!"

A man wearing a tank top that exposed his beer belly laughed so hard he doubled over.

"The end of the world? You've watched too many sci-fi movies!"

"Exactly! What era is this? You still believe in that? That Song Yang kid is crazy, but you shouldn't get confused along with him, Old Man!"

"Abnormal solar activity happens every year. Don't worry about the sky falling!"

Mockery and laughter rose and fell.

The expressions of a middle-aged couple standing next to the old man turned extremely ugly.

The woman stepped forward quickly and pulled hard on the old man's arm, her tone filled with obvious complaint and impatience:

"Dad! What nonsense are you talking about! End of the world? Don't say such ridiculous things!"

The man beside her also frowned deeply and scolded in a low voice:

"Dad! Can you say a little less? You're only seventy; did you forget you still have five years until retirement?"

"If this gets back to your workplace and your superiors hear it, who knows what they'll think! Do you still want your job?"

Seeing this, the people around laughed even harder.

"Look at that, Old Man Zhang really has an imagination. He could almost be a screenwriter!"

"If the world really ends, I'll eat this car on the spot."

"Alright, alright, break it up. What's so interesting about watching someone fix their house?"

At the same time, a police car quietly entered the compound and stopped not far away.

The doors opened, and two police officers, a man and a woman, stepped out.

The man was around forty with a square face, while the woman was much younger, looking to be in her early twenties. She had delicate features and a tall, well-proportioned figure—a real beauty.

Looking at her, Song Yang felt a strange sense of familiarity, as if he had seen her somewhere before.

The male officer walked straight up to Song Yang, his gaze scanning between him and the nearby construction vehicles, then pulled his ID from his pocket and flashed it before his eyes:

"Song Yang?"

"That's me," Song Yang nodded.

"We're from the Riverside Street Police Station."

The male officer put away his ID. "Big data has detected unconventional large-scale fund movements in your personal accounts over the past two days, involving loans from multiple banks and platforms."

"At the same time, the system monitored a large number of supply purchase records under your name. Specifically, items like white sugar—the quantity and categories are quite abnormal. Can you explain?"

Song Yang explained:

"Officer, it's like this: I've got my eye on a storefront and plan to open a large-scale supermarket. I wanted to stock up in advance and get a full variety of goods so I won't be scrambling when the time comes. I just moved some funds around and took out a few more loans."

He had thought of this excuse long ago; it sounded reasonable enough, as opening a supermarket required significant startup capital and inventory.

The male officer stared at him for a few seconds, seemingly judging the truth of his words, then nodded:

"Opening a supermarket is a normal business activity, we understand that. But you can't let your hoarding cause other residents to have nothing to buy at the supermarket. Pay attention next time."

"Yes, yes, I'll be more careful next time."

The male officer gave a grunt of affirmation, said nothing more, and just glanced at the construction vehicles and workers again.

"Alright, we've noted the situation. Contact us promptly if there are any issues in the future."

After a final instruction, the male officer turned and signaled for the female officer to get in the car.

As the police car drove out of the compound, Song Yang received a message from Zhang Xinmei.

She invited him to have dinner at her home that evening.