Side Job, Earn a Hundred Kuai

Life was nothing more than a collection of ordinary, trivial routines.

After finishing his meal, he washed the bowls, scrubbed the plates until they were spotless—duties befitting any housekeeper of a man. Then came the afternoon nap. He set his alarm, lay in bed staring blankly at the ceiling, and slowly drifted off to sleep.

Ding ding ding...

The alarm clock rang.

Lam Pham got out of bed, neatly folded his blanket, poured himself a glass of water to rehydrate, then picked up a mop and diligently began scrubbing the floor until every inch gleamed.

Life didn't need to be filled with world-shaking events. It was often wrapped in simplicity. And though that simplicity might seem unremarkable, it was the true rhythm and backdrop of life.

He headed downstairs.

Like always, he strolled through the apartment complex. Spotting some litter on the ground, he picked it up and tossed it into the trash. With no sanitation aunties around now, even if they were, this was just something one did out of habit.

This was everyone's community—it was also his.

He recalled the old slogan:"This community is our home; management depends on us all."

He made his way to the garden patch. In just half a day, the previously barren land had taken on a vibrant new look. The difference was obvious.

With one glance, he could tell what Ly jie and Tu nai nai had been doing: weeding and tilling.

Turning the soil was hard labor. The ground had to be evenly churned—not too deep, roughly the depth of a hoe. Afterward, the clumps had to be broken down into fine soil to make planting easier.

And finally, it needed to be leveled.

It was like watching a piece of art unfold—joyful and pleasant. Ly jie and Tu nai nai had some real skill when it came to gardening.

With their help, the neighborhood was bound to get better and better.

Arriving at a small gated community, he found the old folks weren't home, and the iron gate was locked. If he opened it, it'd be difficult to lock again. Without overthinking it, he jumped—leaped high—and actually cleared the gate, landing lightly on the ground.

Something he never would have imagined possible before.

"Killing zombies gives you points, increases your stats, and makes you stronger. It's like doing good deeds and getting praise or a nice little certificate from the community. Hmm… makes sense."

Lam Pham remained calm about the situation. Inner strength, he believed, was reflected in physical endurance. He just had to keep improving.

As for the so-called "system assistant"... what assistant? All fake.

No bad habits.

"I don't have a job right now. Time to find something to support myself," he muttered.

Even though he had three blank checks in his possession, that money didn't belong to him. In times like these, when everyone was struggling, he couldn't take advantage of others. He had to earn his own way.

The Convenience Store.

He walked into the disordered shop.

"Xiao Thanh, I'm out of work recently and looking for some side jobs. You know how seriously I take my work. I see your shop's in a mess—how about I clean it up for you? Hmm... just give me a hundred kuai. Sound good?"

Lam Pham smiled and spoke toward the quiet store.

Xiao Thanh, lying there, didn't respond.

"Great, since you agree, I'll get to work. No need to pay me cash—I'll just take some goods from your store in exchange."

You had to seek out your own survival. If the other party hadn't agreed, then he wouldn't have forced it.

Xiao Thanh's silence was agreement enough.

Don't let the store's size fool you—it was small, but well-stocked with cleaning supplies.

He filled a bucket, grabbed a rag, and began outside with the windows—the face of the shop, the first impression. If they were dirty, they'd drive customers away.

Out on the street, his lone figure stood out in the silence. Strange, in a way that was hard to describe.

Lam Pham didn't work quickly. He wasn't after speed; rushing would only hurt the quality.

After a while.

He returned to the shop and neatly arranged the goods scattered across the floor back onto the shelves.

It was a fresh start. The storefronts on the street were in disarray, wild and abandoned. Starting with this one small shop, he felt confident he could clean them all.

The pay would surely be decent too.

He wouldn't become rich, but at least he wouldn't have to worry about food.

Inside the tiny store, Lam Pham worked hard and tirelessly, moving from task to task without the slightest laziness.

Hours passed.

Standing at the entrance, he looked at the now-gleaming shop, satisfied. This was the result of his whole afternoon's labor. The dusty counters now reflected light.

The scattered goods were now orderly and properly placed.

"Nice. Finally done."

He smiled, then looked toward the three corpses—those of Xiao Thanh, Xiao Phuong, and an unknown customer.

"Xiao Thanh, Xiao Phuong, you've passed on. Let me take you to the other side. It's free, I won't charge. We were familiar before, and helping you move on—it's the least I can do."

He knew they were dead. His murmuring wasn't madness—it was just memory. Like the old days, buying things and chatting casually with familiar faces.

Buying goods, discussing work, not needing to speak—sometimes just gestures and expressions were enough.

He walked over to the trash bins. Initially, he thought he'd just grab one, but they were all full, left untouched for so long they now reeked.

What could he do? He'd always been the meddlesome type.

Just like before, he lined the bins up and wheeled them to the shop. He placed Xiao Thanh, Xiao Phuong, and the unknown customer's body inside, and pushed the cart to the dump.

Today, he was like the last sanitation worker in this block, the last hired hand, the last person who still believed Hoang City would come back.

No matter what happened.

He never stopped believing.

On a Balcony.

Old man Vuong watched Lam Pham walk the street, pushing the bin. He didn't make a sound—any noise might draw zombies.

He stared at that figure, as if suddenly understanding something.

Tiểu Pham had always lived exactly the same as before the apocalypse. He hadn't changed, hadn't surrendered to the end. He lived as he always had. From the first time he invited him over for dinner, Vuong had already seen it.

In the apocalypse, survivors usually lived communally—sharing resources, dividing tasks clearly.

But here, the old man saw something different.

Tiểu Pham took them in, helped them rent rooms, ran errands, and when he returned, he always showed receipts—proof he paid for everything himself.

To anyone else, this would seem bizarre.

But he understood.

To Tiểu Pham, this residential block was a strange blend of community and individuality.

When help was needed, they helped. That was community.

But they didn't interfere with each other's lives. They lived in their own circles. That was individuality. Just like before the world fell apart.

He paid for groceries, paid for housing, never bothered anyone. Always polite. Always kind. He found his own things to do.

All these used to be normal.

But now, in the apocalypse, such behavior shocked people who'd become numb to it.

"What has Tiểu Pham gone through... to keep thinking this way from beginning to end?"

Old man Vuong half-understood. He could relate, but still couldn't fully grasp it.

It felt like he had caught something... and yet hadn't.

Nightfall.

Back home, Lam Pham bought some snacks and drinks from the small shop.

He sat down to play on his computer, planning to continue watching a movie.

But then—no internet.

He frowned. Did I forget to pay the bill?

No, there was still a year left on his subscription. He checked the cables, restarted the router and his computer.

Still nothing.

"Ai... how annoying. I've still got a year of internet left..." Lam Pham sighed. As if complaining would help. What, was he going to ask for a refund?

Yeah right.

He went out to the balcony, leaned on the railing, and looked into the distance. The mountains were pitch black. Not a single light to be seen. It was as if darkness had swallowed the city whole.

But still...

He turned back to his brightly lit room. He was willing to be the last flickering light in Hoang City, to let it shine, to grow, to eventually bring light to the whole city.

He enjoyed the night breeze, and almost shouted, like he used to:

"Hey everyone, hope you're doing well!"

But it was too late. The old folks and Ly jie were probably already asleep.

Better not shout.

At That Moment.

Two old couples were quietly chatting. At their age, even their conversations were warm and gentle.

The well-spoken old man Vuong simply said:

"My dear, thank you for everything.""Having you by my side... is more than enough."

But the well-read old man Chu hugged his wife, Luong nai nai, and gently whispered:

"As long as you're still here, there's always hope.""If you're here, I'm here. That's all I need."

No flowery words.

Just two people holding on.

....

Ly ty's Room

Ly Mai held the photo album, gently caressing the pictures. It was her husband. During the day, she tried to stay strong, but come nighttime, the endless longing overwhelmed her, and she washed her face with tears.

"Khanh Duong, I miss you so much."

"Phi Phi and I are doing well now. We met a good person, he brought us to a new home. Phi Phi is also working hard in school. If you were here, the three of us could be reunited, living a good life together."

"If you saw how Tiểu Phàm helped mother and daughter like us, you would definitely like him a lot—drink with him, call him brother, and drag him into your games you never wanted to stop playing."

Ly Mai mumbled softly, telling him all her recent thoughts and longing.

The Room Next Door

In her sleep, Phi Phi was dreaming, muttering nonsensical things.

"Grandma Luong, this question is really hard, I don't know the answer."

"Ah… so many test papers. Uncle, please don't buy any more, I can't finish them all."

"So scary, so scary…"

Perhaps for Phi Phi, the apocalypse wasn't the scariest thing. What truly terrified her was the fact that even after the world had ended, she still had to study, still had to write endless assignments. And worst of all, there was still an uncle who could show up at any moment with even more practice tests.

Truly terrifying.

Room 704

Lam Pham lay on the bed. He seemed to be staring at the ceiling, but in fact, he was looking at his interface.

"Time to add points. Adding points before sleeping should help with sleep."

[Name]: Lam Pham.[Strength]: 125. (Superhuman)[Stamina]: 65. (Exceptional)[Speed]: 62. (Exceptional)[Points]: 0.

Points distributed, he looked at the interface again.

"That's a lot of points. Back at that building, I was cutting down zombies from the rooftop down three whole floors. Did I really kill that many?"

He couldn't remember.

Oh well.

Better not to think about it too much.

Got some points, just add them. Whichever stat feels right, just go with that.

Sleep time.

Pulling up the quilt, suddenly, his arm reached out and pulled the little teddy bear into the blanket with him.

The night was peaceful and beautiful.

Everyone gradually drifted off to sleep.