Reborn as the Doomsday Tycoon: My Zombie Apocalypse Harem

Mu Wanqing retreated into the villa, her mind reeling as if trapped in an absurd dream. The world outside had transformed into a frozen wasteland overnight, while the glowing countdown on her arm pulsed like a cryptic curse. Why this sudden plunge into Arctic cold? What do these numbers mean? She stared at the frost-rimmed windows, struggling to reconcile reality.

Her gaze drifted to Xiao Yang, who sat cross-legged by the fireplace feeding freeze-dried crickets to Coal Ball. The raven fledgling chirped greedily, oblivious to the apocalypse beyond the triple-paned glass. Memories flashed—his frantic bunker renovations, the warehouses of survival gear, the cold precision with which he'd shot Xiao Ren.

"You knew," she accused, storming toward him. "Weeks before this frost, you knew."

Xiao Yang didn't look up as the raven nipped his fingers. "Let's say I had... prophetic dreams."

Apocalyptic Revelation

He rose, brushing insect husks from his tactical pants. Firelight carved his face into sharp angles. "This cold snap? Merely the overture. Half the planet will freeze or starve within weeks. Then earthquakes will shatter cities, the dead will rise as walkers, animals mutate into horrors..."

Mu Wanqing's scoff died as he continued in a coroner's monotone: "When the thaw comes, tsunamis will drown continents. Volcanoes will spew enough ash to choke the sky. The lucky will die quickly."

She staggered back. "You're mad."

"Am I?" He tapped his forearm where 01-364-23:59:59 glowed. "This timer proves it."

Frantic Concerns

Panic surged as she remembered Mu Guang. "My brother—!"

Xiao Yang tossed her a satellite phone. Static crackled through Mu Guang's voicemail.

"Probably snoring under three quilts," he lied smoothly. "Phone died during his beauty sleep."

"Liar!" She hurled the device against EMP-shielded walls. "He texted about renovating a CEO's private bathhouse tonight!"

Xiao Yang's eyebrow twitched. That bastard took my armored RV contract and didn't invite me to the spa afterparty?

Survival Preparations

"Relax," he grunted, hauling anthracite to the basement furnace. "Saunas have geothermal heating. Your brother's warmer than we are."

While Mu Wanqing showered, he stocked the kitchen from his spatial storage—crates of spicy crayfish, vacuum-sealed Peking duck, and six cases of Moutai. The dining table groaned under tropical fruits incongruous with the icebound world outside.

Coal Ball squawked indignantly from his cage. "Patience, featherball," Xiao Yang chuckled, dangling a mealworm. The raven's dependency mirrored his own twisted affection for this new reality.

Intimate Tensions

Steam curled from the bathroom as Mu Wanqing emerged. Damp hair cascaded over a black lacepajamas that clung like liquid shadow. Xiao Yang's throat went dry—she resembled some ice nymph sculpted by a drunken deity.

"Problems?" She adjusted the plunging neckline, mistaking his stare for criticism.

"None," he rasped. "You're... adequately dressed for frostbite prevention."

Her eyes narrowed at the loaded dining table. "You prepared my favorite chili cashews?"

"Coincidence," he lied, suddenly fascinated by a mango's symmetry. "Hungry?"

As she reached for snacks, bloodstains on his sleeve caught her eye. "You should shower."

His grin turned wolfish. "Care to join?"

"To inspect your plumbing," she retorted, cheeks flushing. "Nothing more."