Chapter 74 Chapter 74 [VIP]
The wooden door groaned under the weight of the raging wind. Bai He pressed his back against the door, feeling each impact like a hammer hitting his spine. Sweat mixed with dust trickled down his forehead, leaving streaks of mud on his face.
"Hurry! Push that cabinet over here!" Bai He roared, his voice almost drowned out by the wind.
Ning Zelan and Bai Yu worked together to push a heavy wooden cabinet, the legs of which scraped harshly on the ground. Uncle Bai Changqing dragged his injured leg and piled all the heavy objects he could find in front of the door - rice jars, farm tools, and even accumulated firewood.
Su Xing also slumped against the wall, his right hand still tightly gripping the life-saving climbing rope. His chest heaved violently, and his throat tasted of blood. The image of himself drifting in the wind flashed back in his mind—at that moment, he truly thought he was going to die.
"Hurry into the basement!" Bai He shouted at everyone. The temporary barrier slightly reduced the vibration of the wooden door and temporarily withstood the attack of the strong wind. The dust from the ceiling above their heads fell down, like stones hitting each other's hearts.
Bai He pulled Su Xingye up with one hand and grabbed his uncle's arm with his other hand. "The door won't hold for much longer!"
The group of people and the dog stumbled towards the basement entrance. "Tangyuan!" The uncle suddenly broke free from Bai He's hand and turned to run back.
"Uncle!" Bai He's heart skipped a beat.
The uncle rushed to a corner and stumbled to pick up a woven bag. "This is the new crop this year. We can't throw it away."
Bai He glanced back at the rickety wooden door, its frame already cracked like a spiderweb. He snatched the bag from his uncle's hand and slung it over his shoulder, holding his arm with one hand. Su Xing grabbed his uncle with the other, and they ran as fast as they could.
The surge of adrenaline made Bai He unable to feel the weight of the items on his shoulders for a moment.
Several people desperately ran towards the basement entrance. Behind them, they heard the loud sound of the wooden door completely collapsing. The strong wind swept into the house, carrying debris and branches into the air.
At the basement entrance, Ning's father stood anxiously, his face pale. "Come in!" He held out his hand, his voice trembling.
Su Xing practically half-dragged his uncle into the basement, and Bai He was the last one to rush in. Without even taking a breath, he grabbed the iron chain he had prepared and quickly tied the iron door to the iron ring next to it.
"It's not enough!" Su Xing said in a hoarse voice. He took down the spare iron chain from the wall, and the two of them worked together to reinforce the door lock.
The Bai family's basement had been built before the disaster, using solid materials. Its walls were cast in reinforced concrete, making it incredibly sturdy. Bai He had even reinforced one of the rooms—it had earthquake-proof supports installed, emergency supplies piled in the corners, and even the vents had been designed to prevent backflow, specifically for use as a refuge.
Everyone was gathered in this room. The basement was dark, lit only by a single emergency light, which cast an unhealthy bluish-gray hue on everyone's face. Everyone slumped to the floor, heavy gasps echoing. Heidou slumped in the corner, his tongue lolling out.
"Are...all of them in?" Grandpa asked tremblingly, his cloudy eyes trying to make out each person's outline in the darkness.
"Here." Bai Yu and Su Xing also responded.
"Here it is." Bai Yu pulled Ning Zelan and raised his hand.
"We're fine."
Everyone responded one by one. The tension in the old man's heart loosened a little. No matter what the outside world became, as long as the family was together, there was still hope.
Su Xing also sat beside Bai He, who held his hand tightly. Both of their hands were soaked in sweat, yet they entwined like a drowning man grasping at a piece of driftwood. Su Xing could clearly feel the other's hand trembling slightly, the trembling transmitting through his skin, striking his heart like an electric current.
The aftermath of the previous scene surged fiercely through Bai He's mind. The sound of wind, the crackling of something, the feeling of weightlessness—shards of memory churned through his consciousness like shards of glass. He looked down at their clasped hands. Su Xingye's knuckles were still bleeding from the scrapes, mixing with mud and rainwater, leaving a grimy mark on his skin. The blood, meandering like a tiny river, dried into a dark red scab in the lines of Bai He's palm.
He had little in life. Ever since he fell ill, his life and his family's have been shrouded in a shadow. Years of medical treatment felt like an endless trek, the hospital corridors forever filled with the mingled scent of disinfectant and despair. He had witnessed countless similar mental patients, eyes longing for too much, their light ultimately extinguished—some hunched over windowsills day after day, waiting for visitors who never came; others rubbed faded family photos until the edges curled; others, countless times letting down their guard to make friends, ultimately suffered utter devastation under the world's gaze.
They are monsters in the secular world, beings more shunned than even physical disabilities. People may sympathize with a disabled person on crutches, but they will steer clear of a mentally ill person mumbling to himself. This shunning gaze is more hurtful than any illness.
Every time he went for a follow-up visit, the numb and painful faces in the waiting room silently taught him a lesson.
Bai He still remembers his mother taking him to visit a friend's house when he was twelve. His mother's face paled as her friend, with a look of disgust and fear, avoided the tattered, grinning "madman" from the village. At that moment, he clearly saw the fear that flashed in his mother's eyes—not fear of the madman, but fear that her own son might become like that.
From that day on, he learned to become indifferent, pruning away all superfluous desires like a potted plant. He pruned away his longing for friendship, his youthful fervor, and any possibility of becoming "abnormal." He trimmed himself into a neat, tidy green plant, quietly settling into a corner, even breathing cautiously.
When people lamented, "Why hasn't this child lost his youthful spirit?" and his parents cast sad glances at him, he could immediately respond with a perfectly balanced smile, like a perfectly ordinary person. He had practiced that smile countless times in front of the mirror, the arc just right, no teeth showing, eyes slightly curved, but without any trace of laughter.
During countless sleepless nights, he fell in love with reading the Heart Sutra and philosophy, learning to accept the fleeting nature of all things and the myriad changes of time. He immersed himself in these words until his skin was soaked in the principle of "the emptiness of all phenomena." He knew by heart that suffering stems from attachment, that happiness will eventually fade, and that it's better not to expect anything from the start.
He had thought his mind had long been cultivated to be as calm as an ancient well, unruffled. He knew by heart the Buddhist verses, "Being free from attachment, there is no fear," and the philosophical texts, "Live towards death." He pondered these words over and over again during countless sleepless nights, until he was convinced he had truly comprehended the emptiness of life. Even his doctors said he was a very cooperative patient, never needing to be urged to take his medicine and always on time for his checkups.
In the white corridor of the hospital, he watched other patients' hysterics and always calmly swallowed the bitter pill.
In the most painful moments, he learned to accept his father's departure and his mother's unrequited love. Death, abandonment, and so on, were merely inevitable processes of life, he told himself.
But at this moment, Su Xingye's muddy eyelashes trembled slightly, and the wound on his hand from the rope was still bleeding. These insignificant details pierced his carefully constructed defenses like a sharp blade. He suddenly realized that the desires he had erased had never disappeared—they were awakening with the warmth of Su Xingye's palm.
Bai He's fingers unconsciously tightened, his nails almost digging into the other person's skin. He was so afraid of losing this person who had always stood firmly by his side, who always faced difficulties head-on and remained steadfast.
Every cell in my body is telling me of fear.
Su Xing also noticed his strangeness and turned around. The emergency light hit his face from the side, casting a shadow under his eyelashes. He didn't ask anything, but simply tightened his grip a little more, with a force that was almost painful.
"I'm here," Su Xing whispered, his voice hoarse as sandpaper. Those two simple words twisted Bai He's heart into a knot. How could anyone have such strange feelings? A mixture of bitterness, fear, and joy, his body trembling as if bombarded by various bombs.
"Let me help you clean the wound." Bai He took Su Xingye's hand. He always had the habit of carrying medical supplies with him.
"It's okay, it's just a simple scrape." Su Xing also looked at the iodine swab in Bai He's hand and subconsciously shrank back. Medicine was more precious than gold, and he was reluctant to use it on such a minor injury.
But Bai He stubbornly held his wrist with surprising strength, and carefully wiped the wound with a cotton swab dipped in iodine.
The person most seriously injured in the family was Uncle Bai, who was hit on the leg by a heavy object, leaving a big cut and a large area of his right trouser leg soaked in blood.
"We need to clean and suture the wound," Su Xing said after examining his wound. Without anesthesia, he could only endure it. The sharp needle and thread pierced his flesh, leaving a bloody mess. To avoid worrying his parents and family, Uncle Bai bit the cork tightly in his mouth and remained silent. Only the bulging veins on his forehead and the large beads of sweat betrayed the pain.
Aside from the wounded, no one else rested. The Ning family members were counting supplies, their flashlights sweeping across the boxes and bags stacked in a corner—rice, potatoes, sweet potatoes, piles of dried vegetables, and several large bottles of water.
The Bai family's basement wasn't just for sheltering from the heat; it also served as a storage space. Now, all that cured meat and dried vegetables had become life-saving rations, not to mention the chickens they'd snatched from the backyard when they'd escaped. While food wasn't a concern for the time being, Bai He knew the loss was devastating—the two precious oxen and two large pigs in the cowshed, the newly-born ewes in the sheep pen, and the dozen or so rabbits the family had carefully tended—all were now in grave danger.
Bai Yu and her mother were spreading the bedding from the basement floor, while Xiao Sui helped fold the scattered clothes. Grandpa and grandma watched over the three frightened hens, making a makeshift nest out of bamboo baskets.
"boom--"
A deafening roar suddenly came from above, and the entire basement shook violently.
Everyone heard the roar of the roof collapsing, dust and rubble poured down like a rainstorm, and instinctively crouched in the corner to hide.
Grandma Bai's stooped form was bent like a bow under the flickering light. She swaddled her great-grandson, who was terrified and tearful but stubbornly held his tongue, in three layers of quilts. As her bony fingers tucked the corners in, the child suddenly grabbed her calloused little finger. Without hesitation, the old woman leaned over the quilt, covering it like a century-old tree protecting a newborn seedling with its twisted roots.
Emergency lights flickered continuously, and the roar of the wind crashing against the ground was like the roar of a giant beast, jarring the eardrums. Bai He hugged Su Xing tightly, huddled against the wall. No matter how strong he was, he was as weak as an ant before the might of nature.
Bai Yu half-lay on top of her son and grandmother, with Ning Zelan and her mother draped over her. She could clearly hear the wooden beams above her groaning under the weight, and tiny pieces of cement shards pattered against the back of her neck. Every tremor made this "human fortress" sway slightly, as if it would collapse at any moment.
"Can we survive?" she asked tremblingly, her voice filled with tears and deep powerlessness.
Is the world really determined to wipe them out? Bai Yu vaguely recalled the innocent, carefree days of his childhood, the golden rice drying in the fields, and the old village chief who always loved to give the children popcorn. Even if they managed to survive, how many of those familiar voices, smiles, and vibrant lives would remain?
A sudden surge of despair surged into her heart, like an icy tide flooding over her mouth and nose, almost suffocating her.
"Shh...it's okay...we're all here." Ning Zelan's voice rang out in his ears, with forced calmness. His arms held his wife tightly, tightly, with a strength that almost hurt her, but strangely enough, it dispelled the chill.
"The basement is made of concrete and can withstand an 8-magnitude earthquake... Don't worry." Bai He's voice was heard amid the panic of the crowd.
In the darkness, Heidou suddenly squeezed in between Baihe and Su Xingye. Its slightly warm tongue licked the hands of Baihe and Su Xingye, leaving a trail of cold water marks.
Bai He held it tightly in his arms and comforted its trembling body.
…
"Everyone, please eat something first." Grandma Bai greeted everyone.
Four or five hours had passed, and the noise outside hadn't died down. All they could do was wait in this dark basement, praying that this disaster would pass quickly, that they would live to see the next day's sunrise.
The table was rarely filled with various treasures - sausages cut into slices as thin as cicada wings, dried fruits wrapped in white icing, and carefully stored cans with the iron sheets pried open.
"Today is Zhenzhen's birthday. What a shame." Grandma Bai gently grasped her daughter-in-law's cold hand, her thumb rubbing the polished silver ring. She remembered clearly the day, decades ago, when she first met Chen Zhen. It was a spring morning, birds chirping incessantly, and the flowers along the fence were blooming. She was sweeping the yard when she heard the creaking of a bicycle. Looking up, she saw her son leading a girl in a pink coat into the yard, carefully guiding them like a sprig of early spring apricot blossoms.
Seeing her, the girl's face instantly turned red, but she still forced herself to stand up straight and stammered, "Auntie, hello, I brought you... a cake."
How come she has become old all of a sudden? Grandma Bai touched her daughter-in-law's hair mixed with white silk and rough hands lovingly.
Chen Zhen's eyes suddenly turned red. She turned her face away and pretended to sort the cans. The sound of the iron sheets colliding covered up her sobs.
"What a shame for all the delicious food on the table today." Grandma Bai broke open the multi-grain pancake, letting the crumbs fall onto her faded blue apron. She thought of the chicken soup she'd made before dawn, the golden oil still swirling in the casserole.
Grandpa Bai suddenly slapped his forehead, a childlike triumph radiating from his wrinkles. "I was just saying I'd forgotten something!" He pulled an oil-paper package from his pocket. As he peeled back the layers, the brown skin of the pork elbow trembled, its frozen gravy glistening like amber. "I brought down both the pork elbow and the chicken from the table."
"Old bastard!" Grandma Bai scolded him and hit him, tears glistening in her eyes. "Finally, you can see things clearly."
Although the pork elbow was already cold, it had been simmered for a long time with spices, and the skin and flesh had already become tender and juicy. Su Xing took a piece and found that the fat had solidified into a translucent jelly, glistening like agate under the light. He carefully broke it open, and the shredded meat opened like petals, revealing the texture of the sauce-soaked meat.
Xiao Sui smelled the fragrance and half-peeked out of bed. Grandpa Bai tore off a piece of pork elbow with skin, stuffed it into the pancake, and fed it to his great-grandson. The sight of the child chewing with puffed cheeks made everyone smile.
At first, the chickens huddled in their bamboo baskets, their feathers ruffled and their large eyes filled with fear. Gradually, they began to tentatively peck at the scattered rice on the ground, raising their heads alertly after every few pecks, their combs trembling with the muffled sounds coming from the roof.
The rustling of chicken claws scraping the ground, the clacking of beaks against the wood, and the occasional low clucking—like an invisible balm, slowly soothing the tense atmosphere in the basement. Bai Yu unconsciously patted the child in her arms, following the pecking rhythm of the chickens. Mother Ning counted the number of times the hen nodded as she dozed off, her lips curled slightly...
Heidou lay beside Baihe, his tail occasionally slapping the ground. He would look up at the chicken, then back at his owner, his wet black nose sniffing the air, as if checking every breath in this temporary shelter.
The next day, the wind outside finally stopped.
At that moment, the basement was eerily quiet. There was no howling of the wind, no sound of falling debris, only the heavy breathing of the family, the occasional whimper of the dog, and the faint clucking of the surviving hen in the corner.
"The wind has stopped." Father Ning whispered in a hoarse voice.
Everyone was stunned for a moment, then looked at each other, their eyes flickering with relief at having survived the ordeal and a hint of unease. Su Xing also raised his hand to signal for everyone to calm down, lowering his voice and saying, "Don't rush out. There might still be danger outside."
He had everyone wear masks—a habit formed after the disaster, as the air outside might be mixed with toxic dust or germs. He also had everyone wrap their sleeves and trouser legs tightly with cloth strips to prevent being scratched by sharp objects in the ruins and sunburn.
The aunt dug out a few pairs of worn gloves from the corner and distributed them to everyone. Xiao Sui hid behind Bai Yu, his little hands tightly clutching the corner of her clothes, his eyes filled with fear and curiosity.
"Be careful, don't make too much noise." Bai He whispered, his eyes scanning everyone's faces. "Out there... may not be the same as before."
Those nightmare scenes kept spinning in his mind.
They cautiously came to the basement entrance. With the dim light coming through the gap, they found that the iron door at the entrance was motionless - obviously blocked by collapsed debris.
"We have to find a way to get out." Bai He frowned and looked back at everyone.
Grandpa handed over a shovel, and Grandma dug a crowbar from the pile of debris. The group began to clear the obstruction blocking the entrance, piece by piece. Each time they pried open a brick, there was a dull grinding sound and a rustling of dust. Sweat quickly soaked their backs, but the obstruction at the entrance seemed unmovable.
"That won't work, it's too slow." Su Xing also muttered, his eyes searching the surroundings. Suddenly, his eyes lit up and he pointed to the corner of the wall: "Try this way! There are a few loose bricks there."
The men worked together to pry open a few bricks, finally creating a gap barely wide enough for someone to pass through. Bai He took a deep breath and was the first to get out.
——The scene before him took his breath away.
In the morning light, the entire world seemed crushed to pieces by some irresistible force. Only a few broken walls remained of the Bai family mansion, bricks and tiles shattered to dust, scattered across the ground along with broken beams. The tree in the yard, planted since they settled there, had been uprooted, its thick trunk sprawled across the rubble. The cowshed and sheep pen had long since vanished, leaving only a few twisted wooden beams stuck diagonally in the earth, sharp splinters visible at the broken ends.
In the distance, the scene across the village was even more horrifying. Most of the houses had collapsed, their adobe walls reduced to piles of mud. Thatched roofs had been torn to shreds, scattered across the ruins like withered hair. The crops in the fields had been flattened, their ears of rice crushed into the mud, creating eerie green stains. The air was filled with the stench of earth, the musty odor of damp wood, and the thick smell of blood, a sickening blend of disaster.
Occasionally, a few faint cries for help were heard in the distance, which seemed particularly desolate in the silence of the early morning.
"Oh my God..." Uncle crawled out and stood beside him, his voice trembling.
Bai Changqing felt dizzy. He clung to the broken wall beside him when he suddenly noticed several figures in the distance moving through the rubble. They were surviving villagers, dressed in rags. Some carried injured family members, while others rummaged through the rubble. A woman sang, cradling something. As he drew closer, he saw it was a baby's swaddling clothes, its bare straps swaying in the wind.
A muffled "bang" interrupted his trembling. Not far away, two men were writhing in the mud. The younger man's eye socket was bloodied, yet he continued to tear at the grain bag frantically: "This is my family's! I saw it!" The older man bit his wrist, spit mixed with blood escaping from the corner of his mouth: "Bullshit! This is clearly coming from my cellar!" In the torn cloth bag, moldy cornmeal mixed with rainwater turned into gray-yellow mud.
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