Chapter 7: The Apocalypse? What on Earth Is That?

A moment later, Qin Xiaoyu released her grip and pitifully said, "Mom, I’m so hungry—I feel like I could eat a whole iron pot of braised goose."

The goose, having just sneaked out, immediately ran off upon hearing this, hiding in the utility room and watching warily.

“Look at how you scared the poor goose away from the iron pot,” An Xian said, half annoyed, half amused.

The goose had been given a name that morning—Iron Pot—by Daxia, and everyone had accepted it without question.

She glanced up at the sky before turning to the kitchen.

While cooking noodles, she scrolled through her phone. Online discussions about the apocalypse were going wild; many were frantically hoarding supplies, and some places had even erupted into chaos.

Fortunately, the government acted swiftly and suppressed the unrest.

Half an hour later, Qin Xiaoyu sat down to a big bowl of noodles but still felt unsatisfied. At times like this, she couldn’t help but long for exotic foods.

“By the way, Mom, did you buy any weapons?” Qin Xiaoyu suddenly asked.

“A hoe, a shovel, a pitchfork, and a long-handled curved blade—do those count?” An Xian glanced at the online order list, expecting the items to arrive tomorrow.

Qin Xiaoyu thought for a moment and nodded. “Yeah, that counts.”

Plants aren’t animals; with so many branches and leaves, short weapons risk injury easily, so long-handled weapons are better.

Take the bitter wheat greens from the vegetable garden, for example. When they first mutated, their attack radius was about a meter, and a 1.5-meter-long weapon could easily handle them without a scratch.

“I want a heavy guandao, the kind weighing over a hundred pounds,” Qin Xiaoyu said, pausing before adding, “Or a two-meter-long machete would do.”

“If possible, also get a few sets of helmets, leather armor, and boots.”

“We’ll be eating more firewood-cooked meals from now on, so bring a few more large, sturdy iron pots—preferably ones that can easily braise an ostrich.”

“Stock up on firearms, kerosene, alcohol, and such. Fight if you can, burn if you can’t—no need for chivalry…”

Qin Xiaoyu grew more animated as she spoke, jotting down each item like a pencil tip.

An Xian opened her mouth, wanting to add something—after all, she had read plenty of apocalypse novels and wasn’t about to lose to an eight-year-old.

But glancing at their bank balance, she swallowed her words silently.

Ordinary families don’t have much savings.

“Just add a hundred entrenching tools. That’s it. Don’t go overboard; illegal stuff is tricky.”

The future order hadn’t collapsed yet—it was best to stay honest.

After finishing her noodles, Qin Xiaoyu went back to pulling up trees. After half an hour of struggling, she failed to uproot any, then went to lift a stone bench. It had felt heavy before, but now she could carry it for a short while. The troubling part was how quickly the food in her stomach seemed to be digesting.

Looking up at the large, round "black moon," she yawned involuntarily.

“Forget it. I’ll wash up and go to sleep.”

---

The dream was still restless. She fought fiercely with a humanoid, plump radish—first exchanging punches and kicks, then tearing and biting, consuming each other until dawn, when she woke up clawing at the air.

Opening her eyes, she met her mother’s complex gaze and the same dark circles under her eyes as the day before—no doubt another sleepless night.

“Did you dream you were infected with the zombie virus?” An Xian asked.

“Nonsense, there are no zombies in the apocalypse,” Qin Xiaoyu wiped her face. The air conditioner was set to 20 degrees, yet she was sweating.

An Xian thought to herself: the newbie village isn’t even cleared yet—how can she be so sure there are no zombies?

Well, hopefully not!

Though only thirty-two and in her prime, An Xian’s back wasn’t strong enough for too much strain.

“I’m going to the city. Are you coming with me, or staying home to play with your brother?” An Xian asked.

Daxia squatted by the door, holding on: “Xiaoyu, play with me!”

A head popped up over his shoulder: “Gak?”

Daxia pushed the head away: “You glutton, stay away from me.”

An Xian glanced over—people raised the kind of goose they matched: big appetite, fast digestion.

Apparently, the goose had been starving last night; it sneaked out at midnight, ate the two large papayas in the storage room, and was still fighting over food with the chickens and dogs early that morning.

Qin Xiaoyu shook her head. “I’m not going to the city. Just remember to clear the shopping list.”

Time flew too fast; it felt like she hadn’t done anything before two days passed. Tomorrow at six sharp, the Earth would cross over. She still had to do something.

Once An Xian left, Daxia immediately tugged at her sleeve. “Xiaoyu, let’s go to the mountain. I heard there are fat rabbits; let’s have Shaobing catch them.”

Qin Xiaoyu glanced at Shaobing, who was crouched with its front half pressed to the ground, occasionally hopping—whatever it was playing at.

“Gak?” Iron Pot the goose poked its head out eagerly.

It liked staying close to Qin Xiaoyu, feeling that the closer and longer it stayed by her side, the clearer its mind became.

“All right,” Qin Xiaoyu said.

She had a hunch she wanted to test and didn’t mind spending some time hiking to the back mountain.

She rummaged through the tool shed, grabbed a machete, slung a hoe over her shoulder, and stepped outside.

Daxia led the way, dragging Shaobing along, while Iron Pot the goose waddled proudly behind her.

It was a weekend, and many villagers were out and about—some had just finished breakfast and were idly chatting, playing chess and cards in the pavilion. They were quite surprised to see Qin Xiaoyu passing by with a big fat goose in tow.

---

“Isn’t that the goose from the Guo family? The day before yesterday, it chased little fatty Xiaoyu from the Qin family, almost drove her into the ditch!”

“That’s the one. An Xian said everything was already bought to make iron-pot braised goose, but then little fatty Xiaoyu regretted not eating it, so she saved the big fat goose’s life. Now the goose listens to her.”

“Not gonna lie, that goose is pretty plump. I was thinking even a family as big as Qin’s couldn’t finish it all, maybe I could get ten pounds.”

“Ten pounds is quite a bit of money. An Xian said she spent three thousand yuan on that goose.”

“Wow, that’s expensive!”

“An Xian really spares no expense—that’s why she’s raised the girl so plump.”

“At this rate, she’ll be as fat as a pig soon.”

...

Qin Xiaoyu’s sharp ears caught all this. She stopped walking, wondering if these folks had seen any posts about the apocalypse. She didn’t mind speaking up.

“Uncles, aunties, you’re really idle. The apocalypse is coming, and none of you are preparing?”

She paused, then added, “But uncles are uncles, aunties are aunties. You’ve eaten more salt than I’ve eaten rice—you must have ways to cope, so you’re not in a hurry, right?”

The uncles and aunties were speechless.

Apocalypse? What’s that?

Children on holiday immediately flipped through their phones and found many platforms discussing the black moon, with most saying it signaled the arrival of the apocalypse.

Many were sharing experienced advice on what to prepare and watch out for.

Seeing the uncles and aunties no longer paying attention to her, Qin Xiaoyu was satisfied and continued walking.

“Where’s Daxia?”

Just as she wondered, a heart-wrenching scream came from the direction of the back mountain:

“Shaobing, wait for me!”

Qin Xiaoyu sighed inwardly.

“Forget it, I won’t bother with him.”

Several ancient trees stood in the back mountain, said to be over a hundred years old. One of them was a mango tree, right at the foot of the mountain.