Ch 187: Apocalypse Star House Hoarding

The next day, the city saw its fourth “Red Lotus.”

By the third day, the number of “Red Lotuses” in the city increased to six.

On the fourth day, a previously safe area experienced a new ground fissure. Fortunately, no “Red Lotus” appeared simultaneously, giving people some time to catch their breath and evacuate. However, the collapse of buildings caused numerous injuries and deaths, further straining the already overburdened medical and rescue systems.

Schools, businesses, and public places shut down entirely. News outlets urged everyone to stay home and avoid going out. But in this situation, many parts of the city turned into death zones, forcing those in relatively safe areas to live in overcrowded conditions.

When people crowd together, chaos and disputes often arise. This is especially true among evacuees, where a division existed between natural humans and Subordinates.

Many families owned one or two Subordinates—mostly caretakers or companions. During times of peace, Subordinates were seen as a luxurious addition to households. But now, with homes in high-risk zones uninsurable and unrecoverable, evacuees had to settle into new, often substandard living conditions. Authorities designated these areas but couldn’t provide the same quality of life as before.

Some people were placed in unsuitable non-residential buildings, while others were packed into shared accommodations. With limited resources, tensions flared.

One resident found their roommate’s Subordinate too unsightly and unworthy of food, suggesting it should be discarded. The other party, having grown emotionally attached to their Subordinate and treating them as family, retaliated, claiming the other’s Subordinate was too scrawny to be useful. They argued that instead of keeping a caretaker Subordinate, they should make space for their own elderly parents to sleep.

Arguments escalated into physical fights—over bedroom space, ambulances, or even looted goods from nearby stores. The city descended into chaos.

In contrast, the apartment building where Yu Xi lived, a so-called diamond-class luxury residence, remained a stark anomaly. Located in a prime area, the building boasted unparalleled structural integrity, massive apartments with few residents, and a self-sufficient power supply using fuel, wind, and solar energy. Its independent gas and water systems were unaffected by nearby ground fissures or Red Lotuses.

The building housed multiple small supermarkets, a few entertainment clubs, restaurants, cafes, and a multi-level hanging garden. Moreover, its proximity to a death zone meant the likelihood of another Red Lotus appearing nearby was low, making it an attractive target for the displaced.

However, the residents of this building were all wealthy or influential, with tight security, private bodyguards, and government acknowledgment of the building’s status. Authorities deemed it unsuitable to accommodate refugees and even delivered supplies via low-altitude hovercraft to the building’s rooftop as emergency provisions.

While many eyed the building enviously, they couldn’t gain access. Yet, they didn’t give up on the idea of moving in. Meanwhile, the residents were largely oblivious to this growing external animosity.

Inside, frustrations mounted among the affluent tenants. With the situation outside worsening, their usual routines of shopping, beauty treatments, and leisure activities were disrupted. Most stayed indoors, relying on stocked supplies and periodic deliveries.

Entertainment venues within the building were closed, leaving only supermarkets operational. Bored and isolated, these wealthy residents began visiting one another, hosting elaborate dinner parties, and indulging in excess.

At night, the building glowed brightly amidst the surrounding darkness caused by rolling blackouts, like a shining beacon in the void—drawing attention and, eventually, resentment.

In other buildings nearby, evacuees crammed into shared apartments, eating bland boxed meals provided by authorities. Through the gleaming glass windows of Yu Xi’s building, they could see extravagant banquets: long tables adorned with white tablecloths, gourmet dishes like wagyu beef, sea urchins, foie gras, and lobster; mountains of oysters and abalone; roasted pigeons and whole lambs; chocolate fountains and sparkling champagne in crystal flutes.

Some evacuees watched these scenes with binoculars before glancing at their own meager meals—stir-fried cabbage with slivers of meat and dry fish. They felt insulted, losing their appetite entirely.

For most, their prior lives were modest but content. A few simple dishes sufficed. But now, the stark contrast with the feasts across the street kindled feelings of injustice and humiliation.

Why did the ground fissures target their homes and not this building? Why should they lose everything while others lived in luxury?

Anger and envy festered, leading to private gatherings where people vented frustrations and stirred unrest. Some left unimpressed by these grievances, but others had their discontent ignited.

In times of natural disaster, the seeds of human strife take root in myriad ways.

**

Yu Xi refused yet another dinner invitation from a celebrity neighbor across the hall.

It was the apocalypse. Who thought throwing lavish banquets was appropriate? Were their brains broken, or had their long-standing privilege blinded them to the meaning of “apocalypse”?

With stocked supplies, why not conserve and eat sensibly? Even if one or two households hosted guests initially, did the entire building need to follow suit? Now, her trips to the 13th and 14th-floor hanging garden for a run felt like a public spectacle.

Having declined nearly 20 invitations over the past few days, she mostly stayed in her apartment. The building’s grapevine buzzed with gossip:

“President Yu spends every evening in seclusion, clinging to her two newly purchased Subordinates. She refuses to let anyone see them.”

The rumors spread, fueled by her other two male Subordinates. A household with four strikingly handsome men raised eyebrows, prompting whispers about her “impressive” appetite.

While some marveled at her tastes, others mused: had they always underestimated her proclivities?

Yu Xi: … Hearing too well can also be a disadvantage, as it lets you catch every ear-piercing conversation.

Even the rich gossip, speculating whether she preferred one Subordinate a night or two or three at once, and which one made her the “happiest.”

“Tell your employer there’s no need to send me invitations anymore. I won’t be attending any dinners. The situation outside terrifies me, and I’d rather stay home,” she casually brushed off the messenger with an excuse before shutting the door.

Inside the apartment, Yan Shang, drawn by the commotion outside, glanced from the kitchen doorway. Seeing Yu Xi come back inside, he returned to the cold storage to assist Jian Shou in inventorying the remaining supplies.

In the kitchen, Hei Mu was diligently preparing dinner, while Xi Yuan stood by the sink washing vegetables.

Having never done such tasks before, Xi Yuan had initially been idle in the apartment. After seeing Yan Shang frequently helping in the kitchen, he offered to pitch in, albeit cluelessly—he didn’t even know vegetables needed washing. Fortunately, Hei Mu was patient and organized, guiding him step-by-step through the dinner prep.

Yu Xi inspected the cold storage and the kitchen, feeling satisfied before settling into a lounge chair in the living room. She leisurely snacked on fruit while watching the latest news updates.

The disturbance came around midnight. Faint cries for help stirred her from sleep.

The apartment’s soundproofing was excellent, but her keen hearing wasn’t fooled—the cries came not from outside the building but from within.

---

On the seventh floor, the doors to a luxurious apartment had been left open for a dinner party earlier that evening. The event began at 8 p.m., and by midnight, after seeing off some guests, the remaining attendees were indulging in red wine and casual chatter.

They might have been discussing the latest news of ground fissures and “Red Lotus” appearances.

In their view, though alarming, these disasters were likely being handled by the authorities. Leaked online videos and information about the “Red Lotus” characteristics seemed too conveniently detailed to be anything but an insider’s release.

Surely, someone had filmed those giant “Red Lotuses” and returned alive with foreknowledge to document their traits.

Thus, while acknowledging the seriousness of the situation, they trusted that solutions were already underway. All they had to do was wait for normalcy to return.

But their assumptions crumbled when a group of strangers with grim faces stormed in, wielding sticks and knives. The well-dressed elite, still clad in their evening gowns and suits, froze in shock.

Before they could react, the intruders had clashed with their bodyguard Subordinates. Though trained, the Subordinates were quickly overwhelmed by sheer numbers, succumbing one by one.

“Are you insane? Do you know where you are? Do you think you can just do this without spending the rest of your lives in prison?” one man, accustomed to commanding authority, yelled sternly.

He barely finished his sentence before being struck unconscious by a club.

The intruders tied him up, gagged him, and tossed him aside.

“We’re not stupid,” said the leader, grinning. “Those are just Subordinates—dead or alive, who cares? As for you rich folks, we’re only here to negotiate.”

Turning to the terrified partygoers, he gestured at their lavish spread. “Our homes have no water; we can’t even shower. And the food they give us? Tasteless trash. But you—living it up every night, wasting food you can’t finish. We’re here to help you make better use of it.”

At his signal, the others began tying up the residents, dragging them into a side room. From tonight on, this safe building and its abundant supplies belonged to them.

Similar incidents played out on different floors.

Some residents managed to barricade themselves, but the intruders hacked, banged, and kicked at the doors relentlessly. A few people hastily gathered belongings and escaped using their low-altitude hovercars from the balconies.

But many others, without such vehicles, were trapped. Desperate, they fortified their doors with cabinets and tables. Yet, they knew the intruders would eventually break through, taking everything.

They tried calling the police, only to find the lines busy. Across the city, rescue efforts were already stretched thin due to a new “Red Lotus” appearing alongside another fissure.

The building’s exceptional security had lulled its residents into complacency. They never imagined being targeted, let alone betrayed. But in times of upheaval, even well-trained guards have families and priorities of their own.

In peace, everything seemed fine. But in crisis, human nature was tested—and often failed.

---

Awakened, Yu Xi quickly reached her apartment door, spotting two hovercars fleeing from balconies as she moved through the living room.

Peering through the peephole, she saw chaos across the hall. The double doors to a neighboring apartment were wide open, the once pristine white carpets stained and littered with overturned furniture. Amidst the mess, red stains mingled—whether wine or blood, she couldn’t tell.

A burly stranger emerged, gripping a club, whispering to another armed man in the hallway. They gestured toward her apartment door.

Clearly, the celebrity neighbor had spilled the beans: the owner of this unit wasn’t just rich but a corporate president with abundant resources—far more than their own.

Yu Xi’s brows furrowed. Before the intruders could act, she calmly retrieved an AK-47, flicked off the safety, and opened the door, leveling the barrel at them.