All things are revived, Yingying becomes more and more active, and turns into a twisting tree again.

When He Xiaobei fed it several mutant plants, except for the trunk which was too thick to twist, every part of it twisted.

Dead branches and some pine needles fell all over the ground, and even the swing on the tree was shaken by it.

After entering the room, He Xiaobei slumped on the sofa, thinking of the brother and sister who had been picked up by Kyoto before, so he took out his smart watch and connected it to the device on the bodyguard to get the signal.

He swiped his fingers across the screen for a long time, but still couldn't hide his disappointment when he found that there was still no news about Lao He.

She felt that the little boy would not lie to her and would definitely help her make a wish, but the time was too short, so she had to wait.

He watched the news for a while before putting his watch away.

Summer has also arrived in the inland, but there is no acid fog, only occasional acid rain.

As can be seen from the picture, in the summer after the soil was polluted by acid rain, there was not even much green on the earth, and the earth even looked a little yellow.

After her observations over this period of time, she found that at the beginning, there were ships landing on this land every few days, either accidentally or intentionally, but now only one can be seen in a month, and the number of people here has also decreased.

Even those who had experience in surviving at sea began to think about leaving.

There was no telling when the long natural disaster would end. Although the situation inland was bad, fortunately the winter was not that unbearable, and even those with some means could seek refuge in the base.

If you don't sail back inland during the summer, you won't be able to leave by autumn.

The fishing teams can bring back less and less food. In the past, those people could occasionally catch a seal, but now they can only bring back a few strange-shaped fish at most.

He Xiaobei had the good fortune to observe once that the mutant fish had grown sharp teeth, and some even had a faint green glow on their bodies. But in the face of hunger, bacteria and parasites were almost unnoticed; just being full was enough.

After the routine observation and patrol of the mountain, there was nothing to do, so I simply took out a bunch of pens, ink, paper and inkstone and planned to practice calligraphy.

However, He Xiaobei gave up after writing just a few strokes. Even though she had plenty of time now, it was still difficult for her to be patient.

Finally, I put these things away and started writing in my diary with a ballpoint pen, but I still hesitated when it came to the date.

Because the dates before the end of the world were no longer used and people no longer had the habit of looking at years, she took out her tablet and did some calculations, and the result left her a little stunned.

It has been 8 years since the end of the world, and the natural disaster has been going on for a full 8 years.

Time is the most abstract of the seven units of measurement. Different people may perceive the same amount of time as a different length.

At the same time, it is also the cruelest one. Just a cold number can record the length of a person's life.

June 27, Year 8 of the Apocalypse: The weather was as bad as ever. It felt like the entire world was covered in volcanic ash, suffocating. One of the survivors at the foot of the mountain had actually cultivated a small plot of land. Didn't he know the land was contaminated? Even if he could plant something, where would he get the seeds? Perhaps he was simply bored, or perhaps he was sowing hope.

On June 28th, the eighth year of the apocalypse, the weather was just like yesterday. I was trading with a monkey, who brought me all sorts of mutant plants. I gave him food and, occasionally, snacks to share my knowledge. Later, I discovered that one monkey actually loved barbecue-flavored potato chips. The white fox was even more amazing: it loved shaqi ma (steamed sachets). And not just shaqi ma (steamed sachets), but anything sweet. How refreshing! A white fox with a sweet tooth. I wonder if eating too much sugar will give it cavities.

On July 3rd, the eighth year of the apocalypse, it was drizzling, still acid rain. I was sitting on the sofa, chewing on the tip of my pen, racking my brains for what to write today, when I heard shouting from down the mountain. Between continuing my diary and watching the fun unfold, I decided to stop here for today.

On July 19, the eighth year of the apocalypse, the last acid rain lasted for three days. I forgot my little pine tree outside. While I was still asleep, it finally couldn't stand it anymore and slammed against the glass frantically.

On September 2, the eighth year of the apocalypse, the temperature dropped. Summer is so short. It seems that I haven’t harvested my chives for a long time.

He Xiaobei wasn't a man of long-term affection, and he only did things for the sake of temporary novelty. He wrote in his diary for two days on a whim. The next day, he would occasionally write a few words when he remembered, and then he would simply forget about it.

The summer in the Arctic is short, lasting at most three months and at least two months, and the temperature reaches 0℃ in early September.