Chapter 20

I slept through the next day’s watch, waking to good news.

"No sign of the horde."

"Maybe the military really did divert them."

Hope flickered. If shelters and soldiers still fought, humanity had a chance.

I rolled over, grinning. Nothing beat seeing living, breathing heroes.

Then—snow.

Thick, silent, blanketing the world.

New Year’s was coming.

We huddled around a heater, cracking sunflower seeds.

"Snow’s good for washing clothes," Mom mused. "Shame we forgot to stock up on New Year’s decorations."

I grinned. "I’ve got paint. Dad can write us a couplet."

"Then a deep clean, a hot bath—perfect New Year’s."

Mom’s smile faltered. "Last year, everyone was together. Wonder how many families are left."

I changed the subject. "I call dibs on the menu—fried fish, cured pork, poached chicken."

(Regretted not raising rabbits now.)

Wángzǎi dozed off, swaddled in heated blankets.

On night watch, I chatted with Red Wolf.

"How’d you stockpile so much?"

"Gaming streamer. Already had supplies. Plus, I followed this procrastinating writer—he warned us. Name was…"

My face burned. That was me—my male-pen-name for fantasy novels.

(Dragged my feet updating both genres.)

But knowing I’d saved a life?

Worth every missed deadline.

The peace didn’t last.