05/27/2026
From crying at a funeral home to building a zombie fortress💥
Mistaken for a secret daughter, given $50 million – then the apocalypse actually hit💥
Reborn seven days before the zombie virus outbreak, Pang San had only 28 dollars left and couldn’t even afford the cheapest motel. Soaked in the rain, she crouched outside a funeral home and sobbed. An elderly lady in a black velvet suit mistook her for her late husband’s illegitimate daughter and said, “I’ll give you 50 million dollars. Forget about the rest of the inheritance. Please stop making a scene.”
When Pang San woke up in a hospital bed, the man sitting beside her was Ian Carter—the computer science heartthrob she had crushed on for two years. The old lady was his grandmother. Ignoring her embarrassment, Pang San checked her bank account: 50 million dollars had arrived. She immediately rented the penthouse flat that had been vacant for years after an arson attack—rumored to be haunted and dirt cheap. She hired a renovation team to replace all doors and windows with titanium alloy, add three layers of soundproofing and insulation, install the highest‑rated security doors, and fit every window with security grilles and barbed wire. She also welded shut and chained the fire escape stairs from the 6th to the 8th floor.
Then came the most crucial part: stockpiling supplies. She rented four large box vans, hung a banner reading “Hawaii Volcano Relief Supplies,” and drove to Costco. With a fake charity certificate, she posed as a volunteer and asked for purchasing assistants. She loaded 150 boxes of instant noodles in every flavor, 100 boxes each of self‑heating burgers and self‑heating ramen, 80 boxes each of instant rice and freeze‑dried soup cubes. From the canned goods section: 100 crates each of luncheon meat, tuna, and peaches. Energy bars, nuts, and beef jerky filled half a van. She pointed at bulk mineral water—800 crates. The food alone filled three lorries. She rented a fourth lorry and stacked three years’ worth of toilet paper, toiletries, sanitary towels, 10 silent diesel generators, 500 power banks, three high‑powered binoculars, and two large crates of common medicines. Finally, using the excuse that she kept a dozen cats, she bought 40 bags of the largest size cat litter—to cope with toilet failures.
At checkout, a familiar voice said, “Buying all that?” She turned around—it was Ian Carter. His cart was filled with batteries, first‑aid kits, and compressed biscuits. He stared at her. Stuttering, she claimed to be a relief volunteer. Before fleeing, she mumbled, “Things haven’t been peaceful lately. I suggest you stock up at home too.”
Back at the flat, she moved all supplies to the 8th and top floors, leaving only a small amount of water and instant noodles on the 6th floor as camouflage. After the workers left, she relocked every fire escape. Looking at the mountain of supplies, she finally breathed a sigh of relief. There was only one day left until the apocalypse.
At midnight, screams and howls erupted from the street. A blood‑soaked figure pounced on a passerby, savagely tearing at their throat. The zombie virus had broken out. This time, she had a sturdy safe house and endless provisions. At dawn, candlelight flickered in the 4th‑floor window of the apartment opposite. She grabbed her binoculars—it was Ian Carter, sitting on his sofa cleaning a shotgun. Trembling, she picked up a laser pointer and flashed Morse code: “Is that you?” A few seconds later, the candlelight flickered back three times. She nearly burst into tears.
Early the next morning, Ian lowered a walkie‑talkie onto her balcony. His deep voice came through: “I knew you weren’t ordinary. Before my granddad passed away, he left a letter saying a virus would break out in a week, and that I should move here immediately and stockpile enough supplies for three years. He also said that if I ever met a girl in need, I must do everything in my power to protect her.” Pang San finally let down her guard and told him about her rebirth. Ian smiled: “My grandmother knew all along that you weren’t an illegitimate child. She saw you crying in the rain and was afraid you wouldn’t accept help, so she made up that excuse on purpose.”
The two joined forces to reinforce the sky bridge connecting their buildings, transforming the dozen flats into a self‑sufficient fortress. Three months later, the first official rescue teams arrived in Los Angeles. When the soldiers in protective suits saw their well‑organized safe zone, they were stunned.
Standing on the rooftop terrace, watching the distant city slowly come back to life, Ian gently took her hand. The sunlight fell upon them, warm and dazzling.
