Chapter 77 Chapter 77 [VIP]
During the epidemic before the disaster, Wang Fuye's children had gone to work in other places and had lost contact. He knew clearly that most of them were gone. For the past few years, he and his wife had worked on their meager farmland and done some minor carpentry work to make ends meet. Their lives were hard, but they had hope: a light at night when they returned home, someone to chat with during meals, and mutual warmth in the winter. But now, his wife was gone. He sat at the base of a broken wall, his withered hands clutching the clothes his wife had sewed. He couldn't even cry, and could only mutter over and over, "What's the point of living..."
No one dared to dissuade him. As Bai Changqing and his companions moved forward, they were soon pinned to their spot by the scene at the village entrance. The open space outside the village, where outsiders lived, had been shattered by the strong wind, leaving wooden and thatched huts reduced to shattered wood, some even to their foundations. Muddy water, laced with dark red blood, formed a winding stream on the ground. Broken limbs, rotten luggage, and dead chickens and ducks floated on the surface. The stench of blood and decay, like an impenetrable net, penetrated their nostrils. Uncle Bai leaned against the broken wall and retched, nearly vomiting bile.
A man, emaciated to mere skin and bones, sat in the mud, cradling a child. Half the child's face was smashed, its brains smeared with mud and water. The man, seemingly oblivious, patted the child's back, his voice hoarse, repeating, "Let's go home, go home to Mom..." Not far away, a woman in a floral jacket frantically dug through the rubble, her fingernails bloody. She clutched a bloodstained sleeve of a child's clothing, looking closely at each scrap of cloth she touched. Her tears fell silently into the mud. The horrific scene, where only one in ten remained, made the air pierce with a chill.
Bai He turned his face away, his brow furrowed so tightly that it could crush pebbles, but his fingertips clenched involuntarily. He remembered his childhood, when this place was covered in lush green grass and dotted with small, unknown purple flowers. He and his classmates had played games and flown kites here. But now, nothing remained of the past. In the face of natural disasters, humans were no longer the most intelligent creatures in the world, but mere grass blowing in the wind, ants crawling in the rain. Even the thought of living a good life had become a luxury.
"What are you all standing there for? Help!" a hoarse voice shouted from the distance. Looking up, several people saw the village chief being carried by his youngest son, his left leg twisted awkwardly, his trouser leg soaked in blood. His face was a frightening shade of blue, sweat and mud dripping down his forehead, but he gritted his teeth and gave the order: "First, carry the survivors to the village office building! Send two quick men to the district office to report the incident and ask for medicine and food!"
The twenty or so villagers who arrived with the village chief formed a sort of "rescue team"—some carried door panels as stretchers, others carried worn-out medical kits, and still others clutched shovels. But the scene was completely chaotic: a frail woman took advantage of the chaos to stuff someone else's cloth bag into her arms, then, when caught, rolled on the ground, yelling, "Whoever grabs it gets it!"; two men wrestled in the mud over a working bicycle, punching each other in the face, oblivious to the faint cries of "Help!" from an old man in the nearby rubble.
"Stop it!" the village chief roared, his voice cracking like a leaky bellows. "It's already late and you're still grabbing! If you continue to cause trouble, I'll deal with you according to the village rules!"
No one listened. The two men fought even more fiercely, and it looked like someone was about to die when two village guards in dark blue uniforms suddenly pulled out their guns—bang! Bullets flew over everyone's heads, lodged in the broken wall, and sent up a cloud of dust.
"Anyone who takes advantage of the situation and refuses to help will be shot!" The guard raised his gun, his face livid. "The village chief said to save the seriously injured first. All supplies will be sent to the office building. Anyone who dares to hide will be sent directly to dig rocks in the mountains!"
The sound of gunfire finally calmed the chaos. The woman who had grabbed the cloth bag quickly stuffed it behind her, and the men who were fighting lowered their heads and dared not say a word. Just as order was restored, several people in camouflage uniforms ran towards this side, led by Bai He's cousin Bai Duan. His face was stained with blood, his military uniform was torn in several holes, and his trouser legs were still dripping. He ran up to the front, holding his knees and gasping for breath, his voice trembling: "The district has issued an emergency notice - the satellite cloud map says that there will be heavy rainstorms in the future, which will also trigger mountain torrents. All villages are asked to evacuate to higher ground!"
"What?" Bai Changqing's face turned pale instantly. "The house has collapsed, and there are people buried underneath. If it rains again, they will be dead!"
"The worse is yet to come!" Bai Duan swallowed hard, his tone becoming even more urgent. "One of the two hospitals in the district collapsed, and the remaining one is completely overcrowded. The resettlement area is too crowded, and the wind has knocked down several buildings. The higher-ups are overwhelmed and can't even send in reinforcements!"
When everyone looked up, they realized that the "darkness" just now was not an illusion - the dark clouds above their heads were like torn cotton wool soaked in ink, rolling and pressing down. The wind was wrapped in a damp and cold breath, blowing on their faces painfully, as if it would swallow up the entire Sheshui Village in the next second.
"No way! Our city has such good drainage systems, how could it flood so easily..." someone muttered, hoping for a lucky break. Over the years, seeing outsiders sacrifice their dignity for a bite to eat, no one wanted to give up their own little wealth, let alone leave their lives to fate.
"It's ten times more serious than I said!" Bai Duan said with a sullen face. "There's no time! Tell the villagers to take as much supplies as they can. Gather at the village square in half an hour and move north to Yuntai Mountain! The people buried below... We don't have time to dig. If we don't leave now, everyone will be swept away by the flood!"
Half an hour passed like sand slipping through fingers, impossible to grasp. The villagers, weeping, ignored the blood-stained ruins, shouting to each other, "Pack your things! There's a flood coming! Go to Yuntaishan!" The village was filled with cries and footsteps. Some people ran to the gathering point carrying luggage taller than themselves, while others pushed tricycles filled with elderly people and children. Some, reluctant to leave their jars and pots, ran back to the collapsed houses to search, shouting, "Wait a little longer, wait a little longer." A few elderly people sat in front of the broken wall, refusing to leave no matter what - "I've lived my whole life, and I'll die here so I won't be a burden to you."
When Bai He returned home, his grandfather was sitting on the threshold, clutching an old photo frame containing a family portrait from long ago, when his father was still alive. Grandma Bai was packing up the household items, stuffing bags with dried vegetables and freshly prepared meat, and repeatedly admonishing him, "From now on, you brothers and sisters, help each other and don't act rashly..." Her words sounded like a final will.
"Grandpa! Grandma! Come with us!" Bai Yu stamped his feet anxiously, and his son hugged his great-grandfather's legs and refused to let go.
Grandpa Bai looked at his descendants reluctantly, shook his head, and put the photo frame in his arms: "I built this house brick by brick. Your grandmother and I have lived here for most of our lives. We won't leave."
"I won't leave either." Grandma handed the cloth bag to Bai He, "We are old and can't walk anymore, and we don't want to be a burden to you. You young people, just live your life well."
"No! We must go!" Bai Yu's eyes turned red. She pulled her husband to help the old man, but was stopped by Grandpa Bai.
"Xiaoyu, be obedient." Grandpa Bai's voice was filled with unquestionable firmness. "We are grateful for your hard work in taking care of us over the years."
Bai He saw the old man's resolute eyes, and his heart hardened. Seizing the moment Grandpa turned to touch the photo frame, he suddenly raised his hand and struck him on the back of the neck with all his might. Grandpa groaned and collapsed into his arms. Just as Grandma was about to scream, Bai He struck her on the back of the neck again, catching her limp body firmly.
Under everyone's stunned gaze, he quickly lifted the old man onto the donkey cart and urged everyone to quickly pack up their supplies. Fortunately, his family had always kept their belongings together, and his uncle had already sorted them out. In a short while, the donkey cart and ox cart were filled and wrapped tightly with rain cloth.
Bai He had a lot of supplies in his store, so he found Bai Duan and said, gritted his teeth, "I'll use half of the supplies and let the troops transport the rest to Yuntaishan." Bai Duan didn't say much, just patted him on the shoulder and asked him to remember the location of the supplies.
The gathering point was packed, but many villagers hadn't arrived yet. The village chief left two guards behind to liaise with village officials, while the others followed the main group toward Yuntai Mountain. Half an hour into their journey, a sudden thunderclap erupted from the sky, a "boom" that shook the ground. The dark sky suddenly darkened, and heavy raindrops pounded down, painfully hitting people. Soon, the downpour deepened into a torrential downpour.
My vision was terribly blurred, the ruins in the distance shimmering like dormant monsters in the rain. The dirt road was soaked to a pulp, and every step sank me half a finger deep into the mud. When I pulled away, there was a squelching sound, and my trouser legs, stained with mud, felt heavy as if they were filled with lead.
"Hurry! Don't stop!" the village chief and the guards shouted in front. "The longer you stop, the slower you'll move! Hurry to the foot of Yuntai Mountain!"
The adults didn't care about their wet clothes and walked with one foot deep and one foot shallow: some carried the elderly on their backs, some pushed supplies; the injured gritted their teeth and grabbed the corners of the clothes of the people in front of them, and they didn't dare to stop even though their wounds were painful from the rain; the children cried, but their parents held their hands tightly, not daring to fall behind - everyone knew that this was a life-and-death situation, and falling behind meant death.
From time to time, people in the team fell down: an old lady fell into the mud due to exhaustion. Her son wanted to carry her, but she pushed him and shouted, "Go quickly"; a young daughter-in-law slipped while holding her child and almost fell into the ditch. Fortunately, someone next to her pulled her up, and the child was so scared that he couldn't cry.
Bai He led the donkey cart in front, occasionally feeding it carrots—a rare treat for a donkey after the apocalypse. Unafraid of the thunder and lightning, it followed obediently. Rainwater reached his calves. The black bucket he had placed under the tarpaulin stared at his back through the transparent sheet, making a soft chirping sound. Da Hu, having been given sleeping pills, was still asleep in his cloth bag. Su Xing had also been assigned to the first batch of pickup trucks to assist with the injured.
Rainwater trickled down his hair and into his eyes, and Bai He could only rely on the sound of footsteps to determine his direction. He would stop every now and then, turning back and shouting, "Uncle! Ning Weilan! Follow us!" He would then shout to the donkey cart, "Hold on a little longer, we'll be safe when we reach the top of the mountain."
These words were spoken to their family, but also to themselves. In this rainy sky, in this hopeless end of the world, the only ones they could rely on were each other.
The rain continued to fall, the water growing deeper, and in the distance, faint sounds of landslides could be heard. But the people of Sheshui Village continued to work—some carrying the elderly, some holding children, some carrying supplies. Through the torrential rain and mud, they moved forward, step by step, with difficulty, toward Yuntai Mountain, toward that glimmer of hope.
Yuntaishan: Life, Death, and Glimmer of Light on a Rainy Night
The rain continued to fall, the water rising higher and higher. In the distance, the muffled sound of a mountain collapsing could be heard, like the roar of a giant beast. But the people of Sheshui Village didn't stop—the man carrying the elderly on his back bent his back, the woman holding a child, cradling it to her chest, the young men carrying supplies, their steps unsteady, yet they all trudged through the pouring rain and mud, toward Yuntai Mountain, toward that glimmer of hope, step by step, arduously moving forward. Mud and water filled their trouser legs, and every step felt like dragging lead. Some people developed blisters on their feet, the blood and mud clinging to their socks, but they didn't even have the courage to stop and rub them.
After struggling through the torrential rain for five or six hours, the group finally reached the halfway point of Yuntai Mountain. There was a relatively flat platform, where half-human-high weeds had been pressed flat to the ground by the rain, barely enough for everyone to rest. People slumped down on the damp, cold ground, covered in mud, unable to even lift their hands—their shoes had long been sunk in the mud at the foot of the mountain, their soles scratched and bloodied by the gravel, the mud and water seeping in, the pain piercing their hearts. Some moved their toes and gasped, but they couldn't even muster the energy to curse. They could only lean against broken tree trunks, gasping for air.
Less than a quarter of an hour after resting, Bai He and Bai Duan took the lead in setting up the tent. It was awful weather, having been in the rain for most of the day. If they didn't quickly shelter themselves from the rain and warm themselves, they would definitely get sick. They went into the woods and found some half-dried branches. They used their lighters seven or eight times before a spark flew. The flame, shrouded in thick smoke, flickered, but it was like a life-saving straw. People gathered around, their frozen hands reaching towards the fire. Even if they could only get a little warmth, they couldn't help but squint, greedily absorbing the weak warmth, unwilling to move away even when the thick smoke made them cough.
"Look! Down there!" Someone suddenly screamed, and the fear in the voice pierced into people's hearts like an icicle.
Everyone looked up suddenly, following the man's direction. Amidst the rain, the direction of Sheshui Village had already become a vast, muddy ocean. Like a raging beast, the flood, engulfing broken beams, shattered roofs, and the bloated carcasses of poultry, raged furiously through the once-strewn streets. Even the signal tower, dozens of meters tall at the village entrance, teetered in the floodwaters, its structure tilted and tilted, seemingly on the verge of breaking in half.
"My home! My grain is still in the cellar!" A woman in a gray cloth shirt suddenly collapsed and struggled to rush down the mountain, but the man next to her grabbed her arm tightly. She beat the man's back like crazy, tears mixed with mud and water streaming down her face: "Let me go! That's the corn I've saved for three years! My son is still waiting to eat it! I want to go back and get it!"
"Going back means death!" The man's eyes were red, and his voice was hoarse as if it had been rubbed by sandpaper. "Didn't you see how fast the water was flowing? That old locust tree was just washed away, and there wasn't even a sound when you went down there!"
The woman was stunned for a moment, looking at the flood rolling down the mountain, and suddenly collapsed in the mud, covering her face and crying loudly. Her crying mixed with the sound of rain made people feel nervous.
The rain showed no sign of stopping. The sky was a ripped hole, and the rain poured down in torrents, crackling against the plastic sheeting. Lightning flickered in the sky, bright enough to illuminate the mud and tears on everyone's face. Occasionally, a bolt of lightning struck the distant cliffs, a booming thunder that shook the weeds on the terrace. Frightened children burrowed into their mothers' arms, their cries soft but clear.
The village chief, limping along, leaned on a broken branch as he directed the reinforcement of the tents. They tied the plastic sheeting they had brought to tree trunks, erecting a series of rickety shelters that barely managed to keep out the slanting rain. The troops set up a rusty iron pot and brewed a pot of ginger soup, adding a few precious cold medicine tablets. Everyone sipped from chipped porcelain bowls, chewing and swallowing the shredded ginger at the bottom. No one knew how long the rain would last, so they had to conserve their food to hold out for a few more days.
Grandpa and Grandma Bai were awakened by the steam of ginger soup. They opened their eyes, looked around at the plastic tents, the mud-covered people, and then gazed toward the darkness below. Suddenly, they understood. Grandma Bai clutched her son and daughter-in-law's hands, her knuckles white, her voice trembling, "Ah Zhen... our home is gone?"
The two nodded, their throats seemed to be blocked by mud, and they couldn't utter a word for a long time. They could only reach out and pat the back of their mother's hand, but their eyes were red.
Grandpa Bai sat up silently, slowly moving to the edge of the rock, and gazed down the mountain. Rain soaked his white hair, trickling down his cheeks, but he seemed oblivious. After a long moment, he sighed, his voice filled with fatigue yet a tenacity: "It's gone, so be it... As long as I'm still here, there's still hope."
Bai Yu held Sui Sui in her arms, the child huddled obediently in her arms, his tiny hands clutching the corner of her clothes tightly. She looked at the people huddled around her—children crying in fear, elderly people coughing and gasping for breath, young people with bewilderment in their eyes—and suddenly regretted giving birth to Sui Sui. He had to suffer in this apocalyptic world, deprived of even a full meal or a good night's sleep.
"Everyone, cheer up!" The village chief suddenly stood up, leaning on a branch. The wound on his left leg was still bleeding, but he was determined and unquestionable. "The flood will eventually recede! As the saying goes, no one dies from holding their urine! Tomorrow morning, at dawn, we will split up and look for water sources, dig wild vegetables, and build sturdy shelters! As long as we work together, we will definitely survive!"
People slowly raised their heads and looked at the village chief's bloodshot eyes. A glimmer of light gradually appeared in his originally dim eyes.
Some people slowly stood up and helped to pick up the scattered plastic sheets; some people started a fire and began to deal with the chickens that were brought out from the village and were killed by the impact; even the woman who had just broken down and cried wiped her tears and reached out to help pick up branches, her movements slow but serious.
The flood buried their roots and their lifelong memories. When the flood recedes, they will definitely go back, rebuild the collapsed houses, and replant the crops in the fields.
The rain was still falling, the flood was still roaring below, but on the platform of Yuntaishan, people huddled together around a weak fire, listening to each other's breathing. They waited for dawn, for the flood to recede, and for them to be able to step on the land of Sheshui Village again and live a good life again.
At nine o'clock the next day, the sky remained dark, the rain showing no sign of abating. But intermittent coughs could be heard from the platform. After being drenched for most of the day, most people had caught a cold. Some shivered, hugging their arms, while others collapsed unconscious onto the plastic sheeting—their faces flushed red, their lips chapped and peeling, and even their breathing came in heavy gasps.
The village chief stamped his feet anxiously and dug out a small cloth bag from his bag of supplies. Inside was a few cold medicine tablets that he had saved because he had been reluctant to take them. But this little medicine was not even enough to fill the gaps between his teeth. Looking at the people lying on the ground, he sighed anxiously.
Then he turned his expectant gaze to Su Xingye. Su Xingye opened the medicine box he brought with him. There were very few things inside. In fact, as everyone knows, there are no conditions for producing medicines now. Every medicine is very precious. Even for medical workers, the medicines they can use are limited. In recent years, Su Xingye has mostly used herbal medicines to treat everyone.
He spoke with difficulty, "I only brought some healing herbs, but they are not enough."
At this time, Bai He took out a bag from the donkey cart and said, "I brought you all the herbs you had at home. See if there's anything useful for you."
The people gathered around instantly, their eyes filled with gratitude. As the aroma of the boiling herbs wafted through the air, the old woman, delirious with fever, began breathing more steadily soon after drinking the medicine. The crying child also gradually fell asleep after taking the medicine. The village chief held Su Xingye's hand, his voice trembling, "I'm glad you're here, Doctor Su!"
"Baihe, you are a good kid too."
After everyone recovered, the village chief immediately divided the work: the young and strong followed Bai Duan and Bai He to find water sources and dig wild vegetables; the women stayed in the camp to reinforce the tents and count the supplies; and the elderly helped to look after the children and the wounded who had not yet recovered.
Bai He followed the group deeper into the mountains. The fallen leaves beneath their feet were soaked and rotten, soft and slippery, making them easy to slip if not careful. The forest was eerily silent, not even a bird could be heard. In the past few years of the disaster, animals had become incredibly savvy due to human hunting. The less savvy would have starved to death or been eaten long ago. Some plants, in order to survive, had even evolved poisonous sap. Ingestion of it could cause vomiting and diarrhea at best, or even death at worst.
After two or three hours of walking, several people, armed with wooden sticks, pushed aside the weeds before finding a spring beneath a sunken rock. The water flowed as thin as a thread, and several people took turns guarding it, fearing they would miss a drop. Wild vegetables were even harder to find, as the heavy rain had destroyed most of the edible ones. Occasionally, they would find a few purslane or chicory plants, and they would squat down to carefully examine them—the shape of the leaves, the color of the stems, meticulously checking for any signs of poison. Only after confirming they were free of poison would they dare to dig.
When we returned to camp that evening, we received the bad news: several elderly people and children who had been running fevers that morning had already weakened immune systems, and the damp, cold weather in the mountains had worsened their condition. Their breathing became rapid, their lips turned purple, and they couldn't even take medicine. The medical staff stood by, constantly wiping their foreheads with warm water, but they couldn't help.
A shallow pit was dug at the edge of the platform, and the deceased was gently placed inside. There wasn't even a tombstone, just a sharpened branch planted beside the pit. Family members knelt before the grave, weeping heartbreakingly, but others wore a look of numbness—in this apocalyptic world, death was all too common, leaving no time for grief; tomorrow they had to continue searching for food and water.
At noon on the third day, someone suddenly pointed at the flood below the mountain and shouted, "Look! What is that!"
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
