Still hoarding supplies in the apocalypse? I'll just go on a killing spree and looting!

Lin You returned to the scenic area.

Looking at the solar photovoltaic panels that had already been laid out, a smile finally appeared on his lips.

Shunzi is an extremely honest and reliable person.

The matter was handled very well; it was confirmed that electricity was now working properly, and Lin You readily paid the money.

She's not short of money now, and has so much she doesn't know where to spend it.

Not buying luxury cars, not buying houses, not buying luxury goods, so much money is only used to buy survival supplies, and it's not easy to spend it all at once.

He instructed Shunzi that a convoy was coming and asked him to pick it up.

Lin You unloaded a table full of pre-packaged dishes that she had bought along the way from the car.

There was also a lot of rice, flour, and cooking oil, which made Shunzi beam with joy.

Then there are aluminum foil rolls, lots of aluminum foil.

These are used to make simple Faraday cages to protect fragile electronic devices, such as the inverters and charge controllers for those solar panels.

The two moved quickly, taking only half an hour.

These valuable electronic devices were packaged very securely, each with at least seven or eight layers of packaging.

It looks like a big, wrapped-up rice dumpling.

Lin You also put those drones in the pressure cooker; these would be essential for survival in the future, so she couldn't be careless.

After finishing all this, Lin You didn't rest and took out the Mantis Twin Blades.

Lin You drove away from the scenic area again.

This time, she was going to buy some medicine and also to "rescue" Mu Xue.

Mu Xue's role will become increasingly important as her abilities grow.

Her importance is absolutely no less than all the preparations Lin You is making, and may even be more important.

It's worth taking the risk, because the end of the world is tonight.

Z City, 19:40 PM.

Lin You found the illegal drug dealer in an alley in a village in the south of the city.

To buy drugs in large quantities, one has no choice but to go through these underground channels. Many drugs are then processed into illegal hallucinogenic agents.

To avoid trouble, Lin You came here.

The alley was narrow, with brick walls covered with little GG stickers on both sides and electrical wires strung haphazardly overhead.

One of the streetlights was broken, and the other flickered on and off, casting a long shadow on the wall before disappearing into the darkness in an instant.

She stood in front of an iron gate at the end of the alley.

There was no sign on the door, only a faded A4 sheet of paper with "Wholesale Medicines" written on it and a phone number.

The paper has been stuck on for a long time, and the edges are already curled up.

She knocked on the iron gate. The sound carried far down the alley.

The peephole on the door dimmed slightly.

Then the door opened.

The man who opened the door was in his early forties, bald, wearing a faded old-fashioned shirt, his belly making the buttons bulge.

The bald man scrutinized Lin You from head to toe.

His gaze lingered on her backpack for a second, then he turned and walked inside. "Come in, close the door."

The door closed behind him.

The corridor was long and filled with cardboard boxes. There were no printed words on the boxes, only handwritten labels such as "Amoxicillin," "Cephalexin," "Levofloxacin," and "Near Expiry Date."

The air was filled with the musty smell of cardboard boxes and the pungent odor of alcohol.

At the end of the corridor was a windowless room, where fluorescent light tubes hummed with electricity, casting a pale, ashen light on the white walls.

There were more than a dozen boxes of medicines without outer packaging piled up against the wall, with a folding table and two plastic chairs in the middle.

He sat down in one of the chairs, tapped a cigarette out of his pack, and lit it. "Who recommended you?"

"Fatty Qiang Ge".

This name is already somewhat well-known in the outside world, and being involved in illegal business is enough to make an underground drug dealer lower his guard.

Sure enough, he exhaled a puff of smoke and didn't ask any further questions.

Lin You sat down opposite him, placing her backpack at her feet.

"I need antibiotics."

Which one?

"Cephalexin, amoxicillin, levofloxacin, metronidazole, azithromycin. Take as much as you can."

He paused his smoking for a moment.

With a cigarette between his fingers and ash falling onto the table, the bald man retorted, "Do you own a clinic?"

"It's in the suburbs. There are no pharmacies nearby, so I'm stocking up." She placed a wad of cash on the table.

It wasn't counted out; it was a whole stack of 100,000 yuan that I took from Sister Song. The large seal had been broken, but the seal on the 100,000 yuan hadn't been broken yet.

He glanced at the stack of money, then at her face.

Lin You's expression remained unchanged.

He reached for the money, a cigarette dangling from his mouth, and mumbled, "Wait."

He stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray, got up, and walked to the cardboard box against the wall.

I squatted down and rummaged through them for half a minute, pulling out several cardboard boxes. They had no manufacturer's name or batch number. Some boxes were crushed, and some packaging had been opened.

He piled the cardboard boxes on the side of the table, took out several boxes of medicine from them, and placed them on the table one by one.

"Cefixime, nearing its expiration date, only six months left. The normal price is forty yuan a box, but I'll give you a discount to fifteen."

"Amoxicillin clavulanate potassium, leaked from the hospital, no box, just aluminum foil."

"Levofloxacin injection, in glass bottles, forty vials per box. Take any you can carry."

As he spoke, he unpacked a box and pushed the aluminum foil sheet in front of her to show her the batch number.

The production date printed on the aluminum foil is two years ago.

She touched it with her finger—it wasn't fake, it was real.

In her past life in the wasteland, she had seen too many fake medicines; the pills had rough surfaces and were grayish in color.

Genuine pills have a smooth cross-section and are pure white in color.

Lin You opened one and licked it with her tongue; it was bitter.

"I want all of these." She pointed to the cardboard boxes.

The bald man narrowed his eyes and lit another cigarette. "Want some painkillers?"

She looked up.

"Tramadol, morphine oral solution, fentanyl patches," he recited like a menu, exhaled a puff of smoke, and squinted at her. "I think... since you run a clinic, you must have patients who need these."

How many?

"Three boxes of morphine, two boxes of tramadol, and only a few patches. This stuff is hard to get."

"I want them all."

He smiled.

It wasn't a polite laugh—it was the kind of laugh that said, "You really don't run a clinic."

But he didn't ask any more questions.

Asking too many questions will ruin the business.

He turned and rummaged through another cardboard box, pulling out several small, unlabeled medicine boxes and placing them on the table. "Not cheap."

She placed the second stack of cash on the table.

He stopped counting.

What followed was the silent loading process.

She took out several opaque plastic bags from her backpack and sorted the medicines by category—antibiotics in one bag, painkillers in another, and injections wrapped in newspaper and placed separately.

While packing, she found several boxes of mifepristone at the bottom of the cardboard box.

Abortion pills.

They wouldn't need them after the apocalypse, but instinct made her put the two boxes in as well.

Are there any targeted therapies?

"It's very expensive."

"I know, don't I?"

He leaned back in his chair, smoking, watching her movements. "Yes, but it's really expensive. I suggest you give up."

Lin You packed her backpack, looked up at the bald man, and said seriously, "Imatinib."

"The domestic ones are 2500 a box, and the imported ones are 15000. This stuff doesn't sell well; we're only making money off your hard work."

I want them all.

Are you sure?

"I am absolutely certain."

The bald man shook his head, turned and went into the inner room, then came out carrying a box.

"Thirty boxes imported, twenty boxes domestic. I'll charge you 50."

Lin You didn't speak, but instead took out five bundles of brand-new banknotes from her backpack and piled them on the table.

The bald man placed the box on the table, looked at Lin You, and said, "This is newly born, not near its expiration date. Keep her alive."

He took the money and went into the inner room, where muffled sounds could be heard.

"Is that knife on your back real or just a bluff?"

She didn't stop what she was doing.

The handle of the mantis knife protruded slightly, the serrated tips gleaming a cold green light under the fluorescent lamp.

"real."

Have you ever killed anyone?

She stuffed the last box of cephalosporin into the bag and zipped it up. "Killed it."

And there were so many, so many that she couldn't quite remember them all.

He didn't ask a third question, nor did he come out of the inner room.

She stood up, carrying the bag. The backpack was bulging and heavy, making the shoulder straps taut.

As she reached the end of the corridor, she heard his final words of advice behind her: "Don't sell this batch of goods at the same clinic; distribute them in multiple locations."

She didn't turn around, but pushed open the iron gate.

Inside the room, the bald man was rubbing a photograph in his hand.

The photo shows a pale-faced, bald child leaning against a bald man with a smile.

The bald man in the photo actually has a very thick head of hair, not bald.

The weary murmurs repeated themselves endlessly, as if chanting a name that could not be spoken, and a drop of murky water fell onto the photograph.

It was then gently wiped away by hand.