Frozen Rebirth: My Infinite Storage in the Apocalypse

Chapter 5: Making a Plan

"Sir, I'm telling the truth!"

Ethan still wanted to persuade him. "It's better to be safe than sorry; there's no harm in stocking up on more food."

The old man shook his head, sighed heavily, and looked at Ethan as if he were a hopeless fool: "Young man, you look like a decent person, so why are you spouting nonsense? What a pity."

After saying this, he clasped his hands behind his back and walked away without looking back, his footsteps filled with a sense of "lamenting his misfortune and being angry at his lack of resolve."

Ethan stood there, feeling a mix of amusement and frustration.

He had offered heartfelt warnings, only to be treated like a fool; this was probably the helplessness of the time before the Apocalypse.

Those who are clear-headed instead become the outliers.

"See? I knew it would be like this," he muttered to himself. "Even if I told them the details of the Apocalypse, they would just think I've read too many novels, and might even send me to a mental hospital."

The nearby shoppers had overheard the conversation.

They subconsciously moved away, keeping their distance from Ethan, their eyes filled with wariness as if afraid he might suddenly have an "episode."

Ethan ignored these strange looks, pushed three fully loaded shopping carts, and headed straight for the checkout counter.

July in New York was sweltering. Even though the supermarket had air conditioning, it couldn't handle the crowd, making it very stuffy inside.

Pushing the heavy shopping carts, beads of sweat soon appeared on his forehead, and the back of his T-shirt was soaked.

"That's a total of $3,240, sir."

The cashier finished scanning the last item and announced the amount.

As Ethan tapped his card to pay, he couldn't help but sigh inwardly.

The cost of living in New York is truly high; just this little bit of stuff cost over three thousand dollars.

Adding the $2,340 spent at the restaurant this morning, he had already spent nearly $6,000 today.

He touched the card in his pocket. Although he knew money would become worthless paper in the Apocalypse, seeing the numbers decrease still pained him.

"If there were some way to get supplies for free, I'd be tempted."

He laughed at himself, then immediately remembered the enormous amount of supplies he had quietly collected into his Storage Space, and instantly felt balanced.

"Calculating it this way, my cost per item is probably the lowest in the country; it's a one-of-a-kind deal."

After paying, a new problem arose, how to transport all these things back?

The supermarket was packed; residents from five or six nearby buildings were all here shopping, and the queue at the checkout counter circled three times.

If he were to make the items disappear into his Storage Space in front of everyone, he would be labeled a "freak" within three minutes.

Perhaps before the Apocalypse even arrived, he would be taken away for study.

"I'll have to move them in trips."

Ethan had no choice but to leave two shopping carts by the checkout counter, greet the staff, and push the first one home.

By the time he pushed the last shopping cart back to the residential complex, he had indeed become a center of attention.

In the building lobby and courtyard, the old men playing chess, the middle-aged women doing their afternoon exercise, and the young mothers with their children all stopped what they were doing, their eyes fixed squarely on him.

Several middle-aged women sitting on a bench gossiping saw him pushing a cart full of snacks and immediately lowered their voices to discuss him, their smiles tinged with mockery.

Ethan didn't need to listen to know they weren't saying anything nice.

Spreading rumors was their daily hobby.

"A bunch of clowns."

Ethan shook his head, too lazy to bother.

A month later, when the extreme cold arrives and food is scarce, these people will have no time to cry.

Ethan had stockpiled so many supplies, and many people had seen it; with word of mouth, many people in the building would know he had hoarded a lot of food.

After the Apocalypse, Ethan's supplies would definitely be targeted by these people.

He could even imagine that when that time came, these people would be like mad dogs, trying to rush into his home to rob him.

However, he wasn't worried.

He would reinforce his current home into a sturdy Shelter, and these people would only be able to watch him enjoy his supplies, helpless to do anything about it.

If he could get weapons, he would show no mercy to anyone who dared to rob him.

The path through the courtyard was uneven, and with so many snacks in the shopping cart, every few steps, a few bags of chips or cookies would fall to the ground.

Ethan could only bend down to pick them up again and again, feeling extremely irritated.

"Bang!"

The shopping cart suddenly hit a protruding paving stone, and the snacks on the cart spilled all over the ground, including a bag of imported potato chips and a bar of dark chocolate.

Ethan bent down to pick things up.

Just then, a child walked over and picked up the chips and chocolate.

"Kids nowadays are so well-mannered, knowing to help others pick things up."

Ethan initially thought the little boy was kind and was about to thank him, but he saw the little boy hide the snacks behind his back, head tilted up, looking smug.

Ethan recognized this grandmother and grandson.

The old woman was the famous troublemaker in the building, Mrs. Henderson.

Her son was a professor at a nearby university; she had come to help her son raise the child but treated the residential complex as her own backyard.

She often let her grandson relieve himself in the garden, not just her grandson, but she herself did it too, just to save a little water at home.

When the building management came to negotiate, not only did she refuse to admit any wrongdoing, but she also threw a tantrum, claiming the management was "bullying the elderly," and even threatened to sue them in court.

Ethan took out his phone, turned on the camera function, and placed it on the shopping cart.

"Mrs. Henderson, your grandson took my chips and chocolate; please return them to me."

Before Mrs. Henderson could speak, her grandson shamelessly said, "I picked it up off the ground, so it's mine."

He hugged the chips and chocolate tightly with both hands, refusing to let go.

Ethan was so angry he laughed; such a little rascal at such a young age, wouldn't he end up in serious trouble when he grew up?

Mrs. Henderson also looked up, glanced at Ethan, and said in a matter-of-fact tone, "Ethan, you bought so many snacks; eating too much is bad for your health, so just give them to our little Jake. You aren't short of that little bit of money anyway."

Ethan frowned and said patiently, "Mrs. Henderson, this bag of chips and chocolate aren't cheap; they cost over thirty dollars together. How about this, I'll give Jake a pack of crackers instead, does that work for you?"

He still had to go back to the supermarket to return the shopping cart and didn't want to waste time here.

"Crackers?" Mrs. Henderson immediately raised her voice, as if she had heard a joke. "Is that kind of plain food fit for our Jake? You're an adult, why are you so stingy? It's just a bag of snacks, isn't it? Is it worth being so petty?"

"I paid for this with my own money, why should I give it to you?"

Since Mrs. Henderson had no shame, Ethan wouldn't give her any face either.

Ethan's patience was exhausted; he walked straight over and snatched the snacks back from little Jake's hands.

"Waaaah!" Jake immediately burst into tears, snot and tears streaming down his face, reaching out to grab them back.

Seeing this, Mrs. Henderson suddenly reached out and shoved Ethan, cursing, "What's wrong with you? Bullying a child is one thing, but you're talking back to an old person too!"

Ethan was prepared and gave a light counter-push.

Mrs. Henderson let out an "Ouch," and took the opportunity to drop to the ground, kicking her arms and legs, and started throwing a tantrum: "Help! A young person is assaulting an elderly woman! My back is broken, and my legs can't move!"

Her voice was sharp and loud, quickly attracting a large crowd of onlookers.

Residents in nearby units also opened their windows and leaned out to watch, and some even took out their phones to take pictures and record videos.

Ethan stood there, angry to the point of laughter.

What era is this, and she's still pulling this act? It's practically a lost art.

Ethan watched Mrs. Henderson's performance on the ground quietly, not afraid in the slightest.

If this were the Apocalypse, and this old woman and child dared to act so shamelessly, he would have no patience for it whatsoever.

He wasn't panicked at all and pointed to the phone on the shopping cart: "Mrs. Henderson, I've been recording the whole thing. If you want to keep acting, I don't mind waiting it out with you."

Mrs. Henderson's heart skipped a beat; she didn't expect Ethan to be so prepared as to record such a small matter.

But with so many people watching, if she got up now, she would lose face, so she could only bite the bullet and keep lying there: "I don't care! If you don't pay my medical expenses today, I'm not getting up!"

Among the onlookers, many knew Mrs. Henderson's character and whispered, "It must have been her who started the trouble." "That old lady just loves to cause scenes."

But no one dared to stand up and speak for Ethan.

They just wanted to watch and didn't want to get involved.

Everyone was afraid of getting entangled with Mrs. Henderson and not being able to shake her off.

The building management didn't come either, probably because they had been worn down by Mrs. Henderson's previous outbursts and simply pretended not to see.

Ethan took out his phone, found the contact information for Professor Henderson he had just looked up on the university's official website, and dialed it directly.

The call connected quickly, and a calm, refined voice came through: "Hello, who is this?"

"Professor Henderson, I am your neighbor at Riverside Heights, Ethan Cole."

Ethan got straight to the point. "Your son just took my snacks. After I took them back, your mother shoved me, and I gave a counter-push. She is now lying on the ground making a scene. I have a recording of the whole thing and have already sent it to you. If your mother continues like this, I will have to call the police."

After saying this, he hung up and sent the recording.

Within two minutes, Mrs. Henderson's phone rang.

She answered the phone, listened to her son's reprimand, her face turning red and white, constantly saying "I know" and "I'll get up right away."

After hanging up, Mrs. Henderson scrambled up from the ground, dusted herself off, and dragged little Jake away, looking dejected.

Before leaving, she glared fiercely at Ethan, her eyes filled with resentment.

"This grudge has been formed."

Ethan watched their retreating backs and smiled indifferently.

He had already given them a chance, but they didn't cherish it; their greed was insatiable, so he wouldn't be polite anymore.

By the time Ethan moved all three carts of supplies home, it was already past two in the afternoon.

He collapsed on the sofa, exhausted, not physically, but drained of energy from the confrontation with Mrs. Henderson.

Closing the door, he sorted the supplies: processed food in one category, fresh meat in another, rice, flour, oil, and salt in another, then with a thought, he stored them all into his Storage Space.

After resting for ten minutes, Ethan took out paper and pen and began to make a plan for the next month.

He knew that to survive in the Apocalypse, he needed detailed arrangements and couldn't be as lazy as before.

In the past, his apartment was as messy as a pigsty, and every day, besides working, he would just play games or scroll through social media looking at pretty girls.

Ethan wasn't a creep either.

The flowers were in full bloom; if he didn't appreciate them, wouldn't that make him seem unromantic?

He followed, liked, and saved those beautiful women not for himself, but to contribute to society.

Now that the economy of the entire country is in a downturn, many people have lost their jobs.

Them posting videos and livestreaming online is a type of freelance work; Ethan watching them was to support their careers and boost employment rates.

Using his precious time to make whatever contribution he could to others and society.

But now, he had erupted with unprecedented focus.

This work state was very similar to a writer who doesn't like to write but has to force themselves to sit down every day for a living.

Working hard, only to have a handful of readers, making it hard to even earn enough to cover expenses in a month.

"First is food, drink, and clothing."

He wrote the first point on the paper. "Money is still enough, so buy normally first, while finding opportunities for zero-yuan purchases. I need to sweep all supermarkets within a twenty-mile radius; I can't just target one, or it will be easy to get caught. Wait until the day before the Apocalypse to completely empty out a few big supermarkets, striving to stock up enough to last a lifetime."

"Clothing is the same; buy a batch on the surface, and secretly take several times more. Stock up on clothes for all four seasons, especially warm down jackets and windbreakers; the more, the better."

"Then there is the safety issue."