Rebirth Stockpiling: The Little Girl Sweeps Through the Apocalypse

"Please, I beg you... Jing is still so young. He's a good boy, doesn't eat much. Could you raise him for me? I'm begging you."

In the hospital room, a woman in a patient gown clutched a man's hand, pleading desperately.

Zhao Huaimin shook off Ling Yue's hand violently.

His face was twisted with impatience and barely concealed fury.

"Was it you who leaked it to the media? That Ling Jing is my son?"

His voice was accusatory.

Ling Yue shook her head frantically. "No! It wasn't me—I don't know how they found out!"

Her eyes were red-rimmed, her heart aching.

Back in college, her family had been poor. A friend had introduced her to a job as a bartender.

Then one night, while working, her mind had grown hazy.

She remembered nothing of that evening.

When she woke, she found herself naked in bed with a stranger.

Her body throbbed with pain.

Terrified, she'd scrambled away. That stranger was Zhao Huaimin—young then, not yet the mayor.

He'd ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌‍offered her money as compensation.

She refused, fleeing in panic.

After that, she never saw Zhao Huaimin again and quit the bar.

But a month later, she discovered she was pregnant.

Her father had died in a car crash when she was young. After that, her mother became unstable—beating her, screaming at her, until one day she abandoned Ling Yue entirely.

Ling Yue had always wondered: How could a mother leave her child?

If it were her own child, she'd never abandon them.

So when she learned of her pregnancy, she dropped out of school and gave birth.

A boy—tiny, beautiful.

She named him Ling Jing.

From then on, she worked odd jobs to raise him.

Exhausting, but fulfilling.

Then fate twisted the knife again.

The hospital diagnosed her with a terminal illness. One month left, at most.

She wasn't afraid of death—but Jing...

He was so small. Who would care for him?

Her grandparents were gone. No relatives remained.

She reached out to distant cousins. Their polite refusals made it clear: they wanted no part of it.

Desperate, she turned to Jing's biological father—Zhao Huaimin.

Now the mayor of Rong City, his face was all over the news. She'd recognized him instantly.

Before, she'd never wanted him to know about Jing.

She could raise him alone.

But now...

With death looming, she had to secure Jing's future.

Zhao Huaimin played the benevolent mayor on TV. Surely he'd give Jing a better life?

She brought Jing to him.

Zhao Huaimin refused to meet her.

Her backup plan: a decent orphanage.

Then, inexplicably, the media broke the story.

The scandal of the mayor's secret son exploded online.

That was why he stood in her hospital room now.

Zhao Huaimin glared at Ling Yue, his public persona gone, replaced by cold disdain.

Finally, he spoke. "If you want me to acknowledge your son, you'll do exactly as I say."

He laid out his plan.

Ling Yue listened, her blood turning to ice.

"Unwilling?" Zhao Huaimin's voice was sharp.

She snapped back to reality. "I'll do it!"

Soon after, before a crowd of reporters, Ling Yue confessed:

She was a scheming bartender who'd seduced Zhao Huaimin for status. She'd hidden her pregnancy to extort him later. Zhao Huaimin had known nothing.

The news spread like wildfire.

Zhao Huaimin held his own press conference.

Though victimized, he declared, he wouldn't abandon his son—especially not to such a disgraceful mother. He would raise the boy himself.

The public praised him as a model of responsibility.

Ling Yue?

They called her every vile name imaginable.

She didn't care.

If Jing had a future, she'd bear any insult.

Discharged from the hospital, she vanished into solitude.

One month later, beneath a lonely tree, she died.

But her sacrifice was in vain.

Little Ling Jing's life became a nightmare.

Arriving at Zhao Huaimin's home, the boy was nervous but hopeful.

His mother had said this was his father's house.

All his life, he'd longed for a dad. Now, at last...

Yet nothing was as promised.

They called his mother a whore.

Him? A bastard.

His father ignored him. One glance seemed too much to bear.

Perfect grades earned no praise. Minor mistakes brought beatings.

But Zhao Huaimin's other son?

Smiles. Indulgence. No wrongdoing too great for forgiveness.

Then there was her—the woman who claimed to be his mother.

He refused to call her that.

She pretended kindness, doting on him more than his father ever did.

Until the day she summoned him to her room.

The mask slipped.

She spat venom: Bastard. Mongrel. Your slut mother deserved to die.

On and on, her words sharp as knives, prodding his rage.

Finally, he snapped.

And walked straight into her trap.