1993: Awakening in the Apocalypse
“Where the hell am I?”
Xiao Yi woke groggily from a deep sleep.
Staring at the scene before him, his mind was a whirlwind of confusion.
This was a lavish bedroom. Purple wallpaper with gold leaf trim adorned the walls. The floor was laid with sturdy, antique-style solid hardwood planks. On the rosewood nightstand sat a luxurious bedside lamp and an ornate bronze clock. A Rolex watch gleamed with brilliant golden light.
Everything about the room screamed wealth—its owner had been filthy rich.
“What the fuck is going on? How did I end up here all of a sudden? Where even is this place?”
Xiao Yi pounded his aching, splitting head, a barrage of questions spilling from his lips. But no one answered. The room was deathly silent, utterly still.
Those questions lingered until his eyes fell on the clock atop the nightstand—and then it hit him like a thunderbolt.
1993!
Xiao Yi bolted upright, staring in horror at the bedside clock. It displayed a string of English letters and a date: 1993-10-3 7:30.
“Is the damn thing broken?”
He snatched up the heavy clock, inspecting it from every angle, then tugged the pull chain on the bedside lamp.
But the opulent antique lamp stayed dark.
“No power?”
Xiao Yi flipped the switch on the other side, confirming the outage. Only then did he rise, cross to the window, and yank back the curtains.
In that instant, his pupils contracted sharply. The sight outside nearly knocked him flat on his ass.
“No! What the hell is this?!”
Trembling, Xiao Yi steadied himself against the wall, peering out at the highway not far off. It crawled with shambling figures—dense clusters of them, wandering aimlessly. His shock was beyond words.
These “people” were missing arms, half their bodies, or legs entirely, dragging themselves across the ground. Every single one was grotesquely mutilated.
Zombies?!
Xiao Yi swallowed hard, fighting down the terror as he forced himself to his feet for a closer look at the walking corpses outside.
Up close, he could make out the nearest one—a woman missing half her neck, peering over a guardrail. Her face was a nightmare of numb decay: rotting flesh, milky-white eyes, jagged teeth slick with foul mucus protruding from a sagging, cavernous maw.
Her remaining features and voluptuous, tall figure marked her as a white woman.
Xiao Yi drew a deep breath, glancing back at the clock—now reading 1993-10-3 7:35.
This time, there was no doubt.
I’ve transmigrated… and not just anywhere, but to a post-apocalyptic hellscape!
In that moment, Xiao Yi felt a wave of despair, tears threatening but finding no release.
Zombies weren’t alien to a 21st-century guy like him. Countless zombie flicks and doomsday novels had drilled the scenario into his brain—he knew exactly what he was up against.
After a long while, Xiao Yi shook off the daze and horror. His iron will kicked in, accepting the brutal reality.
Fine. I’m in the apocalypse? Then I’ll figure out how to thrive here.
At least now he had what he’d always dreamed of in his past life: a sprawling mansion and a life of luxury.
Gazing at the bedroom’s lavish furnishings and that Rolex on the nightstand, Xiao Yi couldn’t help but sigh.
No matter how bad it got, it beat the old days—crammed in a tiny shoebox apartment, crushed under mortgage and car payments, too broke to even dream of a girlfriend.
Here, he had no debts, no chains. He could live wild and free.
Worst case? Get chomped by a zombie.
Back then, he’d swallowed every injustice, his fighting skills useless against the world’s bullshit. Now? The streets teemed with zombies—perfect prey for him to slaughter at will.
If he could adapt, carve out a way to survive…
Xiao Yi chuckled bitterly to himself. “Maybe this thirty-year-old bachelor can finally score here… hell, maybe more than one.”
In the apocalypse, there were no laws, no morals. The strong ruled. Power and resources made you king.
Those women who could demand the stars in peacetime, humiliating and scorning men? Here, they’d be little more than playthings or bargaining chips.
Men could dictate their fates—claim goddesses once untouchable.
Yanking his mind from the fantasies, Xiao Yi focused on priorities.
“First things first: check the house for food and water. Figure out where I am. Ideally, grab some weapons for defense.”
He rummaged in the closet, pulling out a wooden coat hanger as an improvised club. Muttering to himself, he crept to the bedroom door, cracked it open, peered out cautiously. Seeing no threats, he slipped into the hall.
It was a classic American-style home—two stories only. Downstairs opened into a living room, kitchen off to the left.
Gripping the stick tight, Xiao Yi tiptoed through the living room into the kitchen.
The place was messy, but his eyes locked on a massive fridge.
“Holy shit!”
The moment he swung it open, joy surged through him. It was stocked: food, drinks, booze galore.
Looks like the original owner was a fellow shut-in.
This haul would keep him going for a good while.
BAM!
“Ahhh!!!”
“Fuck you! You goddamn bitches! Die, all of you!”
Suddenly, a thunderous crash echoed from outside, followed by a woman’s scream and a man’s furious cursing. The voices were close—right nearby.
The sound of living people sent Xiao Yi’s heart racing with excitement!