RHWHEG – Chapter 3 Moth to Flame

He opened the renovation interface.

Housekeeper Mediterranean Match had a moderate level of freedom. Players could choose between three different styles for the same type of furniture, creating a unique home of their own. Most furniture, however, was immovable.

It also had a small amount of storyline, enforcing the renovation order. Only after finishing one area would the next be unlocked.

Yu Qunqing clicked on “Next Renovation Task.”

The game screen shifted from the living room to the elevator outside, and a text bubble popped up: It’s pitch dark everywhere!

“Use a Hexagram to repair the underground parking lot’s generator and power the entire building!”

There really was a backup generator in the underground parking lot, though in reality its output was only enough for the parking area. But under the game’s influence, Yu Qunqing believed it could indeed power the entire building.

This time it required 2 Hexagrams.

As the Hexagrams on-screen disintegrated, a rumbling generator appeared out of the darkness. After a series of crackling noises, the chandelier above Yu Qunqing’s head lit up.

Only then did Yu Qunqing notice that it was already night. He was so used to working in the dark that he hadn’t paid attention to the time.

“The fridge works now… charging sockets too…” Yu Qunqing walked around the apartment. Electricity had driven the progress of human industry, bringing immense convenience to daily life. Yet, ever since the apocalypse, Yu Qunqing hadn’t lived with the comforts of modern civilization. Ever since his rebirth, he had been drifting along aimlessly. Now, with light above and solid ground beneath his feet, the thought finally stirred in him: This time, I really want to live well.

Yu Qunqing: “Let’s continue with the next task.”

The next renovation area was the kitchen. The game prompted him to turn the faucet, but no water came out.

It turned out the water tank was damaged—repair cost: 2 Hexagrams.

Still no water? After checking again, he found the water pipes were clogged. Cleaning out the seaweed inside would cost 1 Hexagram.

The faucet finally produced water, but it was filthy. Installing a water filter seemed like a good idea—2 Hexagrams.

But wait, this bare sink looked too ugly. “Let’s decorate it a little!”—1 Hexagram.

Three styles appeared on-screen for him to choose from. He picked the most extravagant one: the entire sink turned into glossy black marble, the center carved with hollow patterns, underlit so that the basin resembled a glowing iceberg. The faucet also upgraded into a motion-sensing spout with hot and cold adjustment.

Just fixing the faucet alone had cost 6 Hexagrams.

The game continued: The cupboard doesn’t match the sink’s style, let’s replace it! — 1 Hexagram.

Oh my God, the stove and exhaust hood are covered in dust and grease. Spend 2 Hexagrams to clean them!

Yu Qunqing complied, and in an instant, the stove and exhaust hood gleamed like brand new.

System: “Now, try turning on the gas.”

Yu Qunqing: “Of course not. What if it explodes?”

The city center after the apocalypse was the hardest place to explore. A single breakdown in its overly complex piping system could set off chain reactions, and even a small mistake might trigger an explosion.

System: “Turns out the natural gas pipeline is the problem. This is a big one—repair part of the pipe with 2 Hexagrams.”

The repair prompt repeated three times, meaning it cost 6 Hexagrams in total to fix the stove area.

That left 26 Hexagrams.

In the blink of an eye, a third of Yu Qunqing’s Hexagrams were gone. But in exchange for reliable water, electricity, and gas, he considered it worth the price.

“A kitchen isn’t complete without utensils. Let’s buy some basic cookware! — Spend 1 Hexagram.”

At the same time, the system prompted that this was a free-decoration area, and movable furniture could be bought from the Coin Shop.

The shop was divided into the Coin Shop and the Diamond Shop. The Coin Shop only offered small appliances—like air fryers, microwaves, or phone stands. Large furniture was in the Diamond Shop. But the one thing they had in common was their beautifully steep price: just one air fryer cost 20,000 coins.

Yu Qunqing consoled himself—he wasn’t much of a cook anyway, so there was no need for such extra expenses.

Out of curiosity, he opened the Diamond Shop for a peek—after all, he had no money. To his surprise, there was even a newcomer’s limited-time sale. Phrases like Huge Discount! New Player Only! Three-Day Offer! flashed all over, tugging at his heartstrings.

Luckily, he really had no money.

After so many renovation tasks, Yu Qunqing had gotten the hang of the process. With a sweep of his left hand, the basic knives, pots, and bowls flew neatly into the cupboards. Wallpaper switched to blue-and-white stripes, flooring to polished black stone. Transparent acrylic was fitted in between the wall cabinets to block dust and pests, eliminating hygiene blind spots and cockroaches.

In the end, the kitchen sparkled anew, as if Elsa herself had built it in Frozen.

“Kitchen renovation complete. Reward: 2000 coins, plus one random item.

Now unlocking the Grand Living Room area.”

Yu Qunqing’s apartment totaled 200 square meters, with two living rooms and three bedrooms. The study and the grand living room connected to a balcony, boasting a 180-degree river view.

From the floor-to-ceiling windows, however, all he saw outside was darkness, no trace of life. It stood in stark contrast to his bright, well-powered home—making it feel as though he alone was the last modern human left in the world.

“System.” For once, Yu Qunqing took the initiative to call it. “There has to be a renovation task for fixing up the window sills, right?”

“Ding-dong. Query result: yes.”

Yu Qunqing: “Skip me straight to that task. For any skipped renovation choices, just default to the first option.”

System: “Ding-dong. Player, doing it this way means you’ll completely miss out on the charms of a renovation game.”

Yu Qunqing made the system a promise on credit: “I’ll replay it later and really take the time to savor the fun of the game. Just let me skip this round.”

System: “Processing request—”

Yu Qunqing shut all the windows tight, turned off the lights, and even pulled out a black coat to drape over the glowing screen. In an instant, the entire house blended into the pitch-black city outside.

The wind howled outside.

System: “Request accepted. Progress accelerated, completed. Player Yu Qunqing’s remaining hexagram stars: 3. Enjoy your game!”

No sooner had the words fallen, the floor-to-ceiling windows—stained with limescale and mildew before—turned spotless, and visibly thickened by a few centimeters. Behind him, the spacious living room transformed into one with Instagram-style wallpaper, a retro coffee table, a pop-art chandelier, and a cyberpunk sofa. Most eye-catching of all was a beach lounger complete with a sunshade umbrella.

Then came the crash of metal slamming against glass!

A wing patterned with intricate glowing lines smashed against the window!

It slid down, revealing short, wriggling antennae and a fuzzy little head. “Little” only in contrast to its one-meter-long wings—its face was so thickly covered with bristles it made one’s scalp crawl.

The intruder was an F-rank calamity: the Flame-Seeking Moth. They usually appeared at night in vast swarms, their density so great people sometimes mistook them for auroras. Drawn to light, frenzied upon seeing it.

More moths hurled themselves at the glass, their wings slicing against it like blades, producing an ear-piercing screech.

The first moth had already been trampled underfoot by its kind. Once they reached a certain density, the friction of their glowing wings struck sparks—igniting a sea of fire!

Yu Qunqing walked into the study. From the balcony there, he could also see the blaze outside. A few moths were squeezing at the window, leaving deep gouges across the glass.

He gripped a steel pipe he’d ripped out from the bedroom, arcs of current dancing faintly along it.

Elemental-type calamity powers weren’t the rarest, but they were the most convenient—able to be shaped like dough into all kinds of forms. Among them, lightning was the hardest to control. Yu Qunqing had never practiced this ability, so in the emergency he could only use something conductive to test his feel for it.

He held his breath, focused…

Awakened the calamity power in his right hand!

Pop!

A tiny sphere of ball lightning floated from the tip of the pipe, brushing lightly against a moth that had nosed its way in through a crack.

The moth froze, as if unsure whether it had been shocked.

Then the steel pipe rammed straight down on its head.

Yu Qunqing: “This time I should be able to control the strength, right?”

Zzzzzzt!

A flash of electricity flared, casting Yu Qunqing’s stark shadow across the wall. Moments later, the moth was fried to a crisp.

The others outside, crazed at the sight of light, hurled themselves at the balcony glass, burning as they forced their way in.

Yu Qunqing: “Good thing the study and balcony weren’t renovated yet…”

He swung the pipe, striking at the moths forcing their way through. Thunder crackled again and again, the pipe glowing all over in his hands, drawing the “saints of the dark” to their pilgrimage.

Then he hurled the charged pipe out through a gap in the window. Instantly, the swarm of “auroras” chased after it. A sight that should have been breathtakingly beautiful became instead terrifying, as the countless glowing wings dwarfed the lone steel pipe.

Feeling he’d gotten the hang of controlling his power, Yu Qunqing braved the discomfort and laid a hand on one moth’s wing—cool to the touch. He clenched his right hand. Subtle threads of lightning pierced through the moth, spreading to the others cramming against it, frying them all together.

The moths outside the balcony burned out quickly. Soon, calm returned. The night was silent again, save for the brittle crackling of charred wings snapping from the heat. The stench of scorched corpses wafted in.

Yu Qunqing stepped onto the balcony and rummaged among the remains.

At last he pried a hard wing loose. Picking at the edge, he split off a thin, dark-red, wing-shaped calamity stone.

Repeating the process, he harvested over a dozen calamity stones. Then the night breeze scattered the feather-light corpses away like autumn leaves.

Yu Qunqing found a fruit basket, placed the stones inside, and, his right hand drained of strength, collapsed onto the beach lounger in thought.

Was he going to walk the same path as in his last life?

Back then, his strength had soared. Once he entered the shelter, he’d been propped up high. Everyone trusted him, and he was willing to respond to that trust. To grow stronger faster, he carried the rare calamity stones with him, hoping to raise his mutation level—higher, always higher.

Eventually, he became the famed Lv5 ability user. By then, the stones he carried had been replaced with heavy doses of tranquilizers. He’d walked the razor’s edge between humanity and calamity. People needed him. People feared him.

He had advised lower-level ability users not to carry calamity stones, but desire for strength outweighed caution. People feared him, yet still rushed to become like him.

His memories of death were hazy—maybe because of that. There had been fire, explosions, and a stabbing ache in his solar plexus.

“Sigh…”

Yu Qunqing set the basket down on the coffee table and murmured, “Better off using you to grow vegetables.”

Once the floodgates of memory opened, it was hard to close them. He recalled the action squad he’d formed after reaching Lv5. That was when people started calling him “Captain Yu.”

On this day in his past life, they hadn’t even met yet. What were those teammates doing now?

His vice-captain, “Snake-Egret-Wolf,” She Lulang, should just be arriving at the shelter…

The sniper was probably sharpening her knife, ready to cut down anyone who bullied her.

Li Yuebai was likely still a dutiful doctor, working three days straight without sleep.

Lin Luyi had just been taken to a lab for his strange constitution?

Tang Qianjiang hadn’t yet faced the deaths of his family…

Faces came one after another, vivid memories of their time together crowding his mind.

There was another—some Han-something-Shu. Always present in his recollection, yet without any concrete memory.

Yu Qunqing looked at the battle-stained balcony, then at the spotless living room floor. He resolved that he would bring his teammates here to live.

This time, everything could still be changed. They had to survive.

“Wait!”

He suddenly sprang up from the lounger. “My stamina should be restored by now. If I don’t play, I’ll be wasting it!”

Pulling the black coat off the TV, he dove back into level 40.

Outside, the red sun rose, warm light spilling across the skyscrapers.