The zombie apocalypse was upon us, and my neighbor Zoe Bennett was using her mysterious spatial ability to loot everything in sight. She swept away all the nearby supplies and even stole the relief materials the government had sent to our apartment complex. When we begged her to leave us something, Zoe sneered coldly: “In the apocalypse, kindness gets you killed. I gathered these supplies with my own ability. Why should I give anything to useless people like you?” In the end, we starved to death. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day before the apocalypse. As I was thinking about how to lead everyone against this locust-like woman, I turned to see my parents and neighbors glaring at her hatefully. It turns out, I wasn’t the only one who had been reborn. Bang bang bang— “Uncle, Auntie, open up! It’s Zoe. I’m a bit short on cash and need money for something important. Give me some quickly!” I was startled awake by a familiar female voice. Suppressing my shock, I rushed to the window to look outside. The landscaping below was still the same, with neighbors taking their children to play in the community park. There were no rivers of blood, no zombies roaming about – just a peaceful, harmonious scene. With trembling hands, I picked up my phone to check the date. Sure enough, I had been reborn. Reborn to the day before the zombie outbreak. And that parasitic voice at the door belonged to the culprit who had caused the death of my entire family – our next-door neighbor, Zoe Bennett. In my previous life, it was also at this time that Zoe suddenly knocked on our door, brazenly asking to borrow money from my parents. My parents ran a small supermarket on the ground floor of our building. Though modest in size, it was well-stocked and provided great convenience for the neighbors. Recently, the supermarket shelves had been emptied out, and a new shipment of goods was being delivered. So my parents had gone down early to help unload the supplies. I had never liked Zoe, and hearing that she had come to ask for money, I was in no mood to be polite and directly refused her. After being rejected, Zoe’s face twisted in anger as she said: “Emma, I’m asking your parents for money. What does it have to do with you? I need the money for something important! You’ll regret treating me this way!” With that, she turned and stormed off down the stairs. Soon after, I heard her voice again as she went around asking other neighbors to borrow money. At the time, I had no idea that she was desperately trying to gather funds to stockpile supplies. Because the zombie apocalypse was coming.
I had been working in another city and only came back to visit my parents during holidays. Zoe had moved in a year ago. Our building had two units per floor, so she became neighbors with my parents. She was around my age and had a sweet tongue, always calling my parents “Uncle” and “Auntie”. She quickly grew close to them. She even wanted my parents to become her godparents at one point. If I hadn’t gotten jealous and intervened when I found out, my parents might have agreed. After failing to become their goddaughter, Zoe didn’t give up. She still came over for meals every day and would casually take things from my parents’ supermarket. My parents felt awkward charging her money, and over time this Coopered her habit of taking things freely. She acted more like my parents’ daughter than I did. Except this “daughter” only took and never gave back. After borrowing money from other neighbors, Zoe began buying supplies in bulk. Until 8 AM the next morning, when the zombie virus broke out. I was in the supermarket helping my parents organize the shelves when suddenly all hell broke loose outside, filled with the moans of zombies and people’s screams. My parents’ first reaction was to lock the supermarket doors. Their second reaction was to immediately take stock of the supplies, planning to use these goods to help the neighbors survive the apocalypse until rescue arrived. But the next second, someone began pounding frantically on the supermarket door. Zoe’s voice called out for help. She said she was being chased by zombies and begged us to let her in and save her. My soft-hearted parents carefully opened the door. But the first thing Zoe did after entering was wave her hand, causing all the supermarket goods to mysteriously vanish before our eyes. When my parents pleaded with her to leave some supplies for everyone, Zoe’s sweet demeanor vanished. She coldly laughed as she pushed them aside: “In the apocalypse, kindness gets you killed. I gathered these supplies with my own ability. Why should I give them back? Let me tell you the truth – I’m the protagonist of this world. You rejected me as your goddaughter and chose that useless daughter of yours instead. You even refused to give me money to stockpile supplies. People who offend the protagonist never end well.”
In my past life, there was something very strange about Zoe. She seemed to have plot armor like the female lead in an apocalyptic novel. Even though her apartment hadn’t been renovated, it was somehow impenetrable. Even if we broke through the walls of my home next door, we still couldn’t enter her place. Later on, she also started appearing and disappearing mysteriously, able to vanish instantly and reappear somewhere else. This made it even easier for her to hoard supplies. We had no way of catching her, let alone taking back our supplies. Zoe was like a plague of locusts, always managing to sweep up all the nearby resources before we ordinary people could get to them, then escaping unscathed. Much later in the apocalypse, we finally received an airdrop of relief supplies on the rooftop, only for Zoe to wave her hand and steal it all away. Downstairs, one of our neighbors had a newborn baby. The infant’s parents had turned into zombies, leaving the child with no milk to drink. The grandparents knelt outside Zoe’s door with the baby, kowtowing and crying, saying they would do anything if she would just give the child some food. But from inside, Zoe could be heard cooing softly to her two large black dogs: “Buddy, Max, drink up! This milk is the good stuff. Mommy has stockpiled enough for you to drink for ten lifetimes.” Inside the door were her plump, well-fed dogs. Outside were the dying residents of our community. Separated by the door, we angrily asked her why she had to be so ruthless. Zoe coldly replied: “My dogs are far more precious than humans, and more reliable too. You ordinary people are just suffering by staying alive in this apocalypse. Dying sooner would actually be a mercy. I’m doing you all a favor.” That night, the neighbor’s infant starved to death. The grandparents, heartbroken and hopeless, opened a window and jumped from the 11th floor. Later on, even though our community banded together to resist the zombies and tried our best to survive, we still ended up either eaten by zombies or starving to death.
“Uncle, Auntie, are you home? You’re not answering your phones either. What’s going on? I really need money for something important!” Zoe’s impatient voice interrupted my recollections. I took a deep breath, grabbed the fruit knife on the table, and quickly opened the door while she wasn’t paying attention. In my past life, when Zoe came to borrow money from my parents, I had simply rejected her coldly. She held a grudge over that, forgetting all the kindness my parents had shown her before. But quite a few neighbors had lent her money.
The useless people, now without relief supplies, came begging at my door. They even tried to guilt-trip me, saying I had taken everything and their children had nothing to eat, that they were starving to death. They hoped I could give them some baby formula. Wait, what? Having children in the apocalypse? Oh, they were born before the apocalypse? Still, children are just burdens in this world. They’d be better off dead. Anyway, I wasn’t going to save them. While Buddy and Max feasted on gourmet food with me, the sound of kowtowing outside was so annoying. Thankfully, that child finally died, and the two old fools jumped to their deaths. That’s how it should be. The weak don’t deserve to live in the apocalypse. Later, these neighbors tried many methods to enter my home. But the spatial defense was too good, protecting my house completely. After some time, there was no more noise from those useless neighbors. They seemed close to starving to death. So, they opened their doors, deciding to venture out. But our community was now surrounded by zombies, and without vehicles, going out was suicide. They hesitated. My life had become comfortable but boring, so I decided to toy with them. I pulled out a broken-down car from my spatial pocket and casually tossed it at the entrance of the building. As expected, those fools took the bait, deciding to use this junk car to search for supplies, claiming they would save their families. But they didn’t know that I had drained all the fuel from the car. The remaining fuel would only get them about half a mile from the community.
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