Final Preparations

Today's focus is on securing essential supplies and preparing for potential challenges. The epidemic has subsided, allowing for the purchase of medicines, a task delegated to my dad due to my lack of expertise. Meanwhile, my mother indulges in buying electronic products and entertainment content.

Capitalizing on our financial advantage, solar panels are swiftly installed at home. Despite never considering myself sensitive to bug sounds, I take precautions and mute the surroundings during the gap-checking process, a task reminiscent of home renovation.

Grocery shopping becomes an exhaustive endeavor. A thousand Chinese cabbages, five large bags of potatoes, two hefty bags of onions, a box of fifteen apples, ten boxes of pears, and fifteen boxes of oranges fill our cart. Uncertain about meat storage, I leave it to my mother, while also purchasing an abundance of seeds, nutrient soil, and foam boxes.

A sudden realization prompts a detour to the supermarket for self-heating rice, acquiring 150 boxes of various flavors, and a hundred boxes each of self-heating hot pot in different brands and flavors. Adding cigarettes and alcohol to the cart, I justify the indulgence by the comfort of financial security.

Returning home, a special show unfolds for my parents, especially my apocalyptic literature-savvy mother, skilled in hoarding. Her task extends beyond supplies – weapon preparation. Uncertain about the efficacy against bugs, she stockpiles cat litter.

Through relentless efforts, the house, excluding the sleeping area, transforms into a storage haven. As TV experts predict a once-in-a-century meteor shower, the family, momentarily silent, prompts me to suggest staying indoors from that day on, acknowledging the severity of the impending events.