Chapter 78 Chapter 78 [VIP]
hope
Everyone looked up suddenly. Amidst the murky floodwaters, a blue sailboat plowed through the waves. The camouflaged figures against the side of the boat stood out—soldiers! That familiar color pierced the rain and fog, like a thunderbolt that dispelled days of despair.
The sailboat cut through the water, swirling with broken wood and debris, drawing ever closer to the temporary mountainside platform where they had taken refuge. On the deck, a soldier clutched the bright red national flag, his uniform soaked by the rain, and shouted to the crowd, "We are the emergency rescue team! We've brought food, medicine, and construction supplies! Hold on a little longer, we'll reach shore soon!" His voice pierced the rain and resonated with everyone.
The platform was instantly abuzz with activity. Those who had been slumped in the mud struggled to their feet, their legs weak and smeared with mud, as they desperately waved toward the sailboat, their hoarse cries mingling with the sound of rain. Family members whose eyes had been weeping suddenly stopped, their once hollow eyes now bright, their hands tightly clutching the arms of those around them. Even a few elderly people, who had been silent for days, trembled and clung to tree trunks, their cloudy gazes fixed like nails on the approaching ship. Bai Changqing helped his father, who had just recovered, to the edge of the cliff. Gazing at the busy figures on the sailboat, his nose suddenly sore—the anxiety, helplessness, and panic that had weighed on him for days finally found an outlet. Hot tears streamed down his cheeks into the mud, leaving a small wet mark.
The sailboat anchored steadily at the foot of the mountain, and the soldiers trudged uphill, their feet sluggish and their feet shallow. Some carried bulging woven bags, their edges frayed, their shoulders bent by the weight of sweet potatoes, potatoes, and brown rice. Others clutched labeled medicine boxes, their sealed bags containing herbs, their fragrance still fresh from the sun, permeating the humid air. Still others dragged large rolls of tarpaulin and folding tents, water dripping down the folds. Each piece of supply was like a ray of life-saving light, piercing the haze and shining into the hearts of those trapped on the edge of the cliff. The village chief shook the rescue team leader's hand, his words incoherent with emotion. He simply bowed repeatedly, tears welling in his wrinkles as he repeated, "Thank you, thank you, PLA comrades..."
But the rain hadn't stopped yet, and the platform halfway up the mountain was still slippery. Occasionally, gravel would roll down the hillside, hitting the mud with a dull thud. The rescue team leader looked up at the sky, which seemed to be gloomy and pressing down on him. His brow furrowed, and he immediately ordered, "We can't stay here! The mountain is unstable. While we're here, everyone, pack up your things and head to the top!"
Everyone packed up their belongings and followed. Ning Weiran helped his grandparents onto the oxcart, expertly tugging the reins as the oxen trotted steadily forward in the mud. Bai He and Su Xing, carrying wooden sticks, led the way, clearing broken branches and pebbles from the roadside, clearing the way for the group. The Ning couple protected their daughter-in-law and grandson in the middle, their arms tightly wrapped around them, fearing the throng would knock them over. Fortunately, the soldiers helped. They crouched down and carried elderly people with limited mobility, and picked up children who couldn't keep up. In less than two hours, everyone had safely reached the top of the mountain.
In the resettlement area atop the mountain, a cold wind, laced with dampness, seeped into the bones, making people shiver. The army had cordoned off an area roughly the size of a football field with barbed wire, dividing it into offices and family quarters. The ground was covered with layers of plastic sheeting salvaged from the floodwaters, barely insulating it from the mud and water below. Bai Duan, with his military experience, secured a spot in the inner section of the temporary warehouse. The canvas provided some protection from the mountain wind, and relief supplies were delivered promptly, saving him from the hassles of the villagers huddled in the open mud.
Bai He first used the army-issued canvas to form a crude enclosure, then led his family's donkey and two cows inside. He then took out the large tent they had prepared before the apocalypse and, along with Ning Weiran, set it up, driving the poles deep into the earth to prevent it from blowing over. He then inflated the inflatable mattress he had brought from home and laid it under the tent, adding several layers of dry straw to cushion the moisture from the ground. Sleeping directly on the ground in such gloomy weather would surely be too much for the old man's rheumatism. Every morning before dawn, when the sky was still shrouded in gray fog, he and Ning Weiran would quietly inflate their inflatable boat and carry it down the mountain. The floodwaters carried a wealth of items carried over from the village and city: half a bag of grain that hadn't been soaked, an iron pot with a leaky bottom, a few cotton-padded clothes that were still wearable, even a piece of usable plastic sheeting—they were all hopes of survival in the apocalypse.
The risks of salvaging supplies were greater than they'd imagined. For the first few days, they were able to pick up some "goodies" in the remote waters, but later, the number of people on the water grew: some paddled homemade rafts made of door panels and tree trunks, glaring fiercely at others' hauls like hungry wolves; others hid in garbage and behind broken logs, waiting for lone individuals to prey. Once, Bai He had just hooked a woven bag and was pulling it onto his inflatable boat when several men, armed with knives, paddled the raft and approached. Fortunately, he reacted quickly and jumped from the water into the boat. Ning Weiran paddled desperately toward shore, while Bai He used a wooden stick to block the outstretched hands, barely avoiding them.
"Are you trying to kill yourself?" Bai Duan was so angry when he discovered they were secretly salvaging supplies that he almost attacked them. He pointed at them, his voice filled with rage, "Most of those people out there are desperate criminals with lives on their hands! Don't think you can get away with it just because you have a little strength and an inflatable boat!"
Ning Weiran lowered his head, clutching the corner of his clothes with his fingers, his voice a little hoarse: "There are many people in the family, and the elderly and children all need to eat, so we have to stock up on food. We thought that since we have a boat, while everyone is still not reacting, we can catch more to last longer... Now there is enough food to last for a while, and Brother Baihe has already told me that we will stop after these few days."
Bai Duan sighed, his tone softening as he patted his shoulder. "The troops will send patrol boats to inspect the lake every morning and salvage any supplies they can. You follow us. With soldiers watching, they won't dare touch you. It'll be safer."
From then on, Bai He and Ning Weiran followed the unit's patrol boats every day. They didn't rush ahead, but rather followed behind, picking up any loose ends. The soldiers would first check the waters for safety and salvage essential supplies, only then picking up any remaining debris. The soldiers on the patrol boats kept them in mind. If they spotted a raft carrying strangers approaching, with malicious eyes, they would raise their hands and draw their guns. As soon as the dark muzzles of their guns were exposed, the men on the rafts would immediately turn around and paddle away, not even daring to take a second look.
In this way, safety was greatly improved, and the possibility of finding less things was reduced. Even so, every time the two came back from the foot of the mountain, they would always stuff the homemade things into the hands of the soldiers around them: baked pickled vegetable cakes, dry and fragrant; sweet potatoes roasted in charcoal fire, peeled and steaming.
"Take it. You've been guarding us and haven't had much to eat." Bai He always said this when he handed over the cake. He knew that it had not been easy for the soldiers over the years: some were only in their early twenties, with childish faces, but they had already been guarding the flood and standing in the most dangerous positions; many had lost contact with their families, not knowing whether their families were doing well or not, and could only suppress their worries in their hearts, carrying supplies during the day and guarding patrols at night. Every time the soldiers received the hot food, a shy smile would appear on their red faces due to the cold. When their fingertips touched the cake, they would whisper "thank you". That little bit of warmth was especially precious in the cold apocalypse. Bai He and Ning Weiran both knew that in this world, you can't go far by just being yourself. You help me and I protect you, so that we can survive.
But life in the mountains was still unbearable. The weather was incredibly harsh. The rain was intermittent and incessant, sometimes turning into an icy sleet that stung my face. Occasionally, a strong wind would blow, blowing the tent off, the canvas rustling loudly. Everyone had to hold on to the tent poles tightly, fearing they would be blown away. At night, the temperature could drop below zero, forcing people to huddle in their tents, wrapped in their thin blankets, relying on each other's body heat to keep out the cold, even their breath steaming.
Supplies were becoming increasingly scarce. Initially, the troops' daily rations were reduced to one mixed-grain steamed bun and a bowl of porridge with visible rice grains, then to two bowls of green vegetable porridge. The vegetables in the porridge had a bitter taste, and the rice and sweet potatoes sank to the bottom. This was barely enough to keep them alive. Some, starving to death, began gnawing on tree bark and chewing leaves, but the bark was tough and astringent, and the leaves left many writhing on the ground in stomach pain, their faces turning blue. Yet, some still resisted—after all, hunger was worse than the pain, and at least chewing something could comfort them.
Even more terrifying than the lack of supplies is the collapse of people's hearts. Most of those living in the mountains have lost their families and homes, and trapped in this isolated environment, seeing no hope and experiencing a deteriorating mental state. Every day, people choose to end their lives: some hang themselves from pine trees, branches bent by the weight; some jump into the floodwaters unnoticed, disappearing without a splash; others chew poisonous grass roots they found from nowhere, convulsing and dying. Even worse, some take revenge on society over the smallest of incidents: one man, after losing half a wild vegetable cake, killed everyone in two neighboring tents in the middle of the night.
The army tried every possible means to maintain order: 24/7 patrols; psychological counselors were deployed to chat with people; and even troublemakers were confined in makeshift iron cages, placed in plain sight, for punishment. But the effect was minimal. Despair spread like an epidemic through the resettlement area. Fatigue and numbness were written across everyone's face, their eyes sunken and their complexions sallow. Even children rarely cried, huddled in adults' arms, staring blankly at the perpetually gloomy sky, unable even to play with the pebbles in their hands.
Thanks to their previously stored supplies, the Bai family never went hungry, but they were inevitably affected by the atmosphere. At night, they could often hear sobbing from the neighboring tent, intermittent until dawn. During the day, they could often see people sitting on the ground, dazed, motionless for a long time, like clay statues. Grandpa and Grandma Bai, in particular, watched as the familiar elderly people around them passed away one by one. They would often stare at the top of the tent in a daze, eating less and less, and talking less and less. Only when they saw Sui Sui running over and calling out "Grandpa, Grandma, Great Grandpa" in a baby voice would their eyes light up and they would reach out to touch the child's head.
The days go by one after another, and everyone seems to be living just for the sake of "living". There is no hope, only numb persistence, and no one knows when such days will end.
Until that morning three months later, Bai He went out as usual. As soon as he stepped out of the tent, the cold raindrops on his cheeks suddenly disappeared. He was stunned for a moment, raised his hand to touch his face, and when he looked up again, he saw that the thick dark clouds above his head were slowly dispersing, revealing a small patch of gray sky. No more rain fell.
"The rain is getting lighter! The rain is getting lighter!" Someone suddenly shouted not far away, his voice full of incredible excitement.
Everyone rushed out of their tents, their heads raised simultaneously, their necks craned to gaze at the sky. The dark clouds retreated like ripped cotton wool, the gap widening as a faint ray of light finally pierced through. This light made people want to cry—some crouched on the ground, their hands covering their faces as they wept silently, their shoulders heaving; others leaned against trees, missing their loved ones who hadn't survived the disaster. Grandpa Bai held Grandma Bai's hand, a light gleaming in his cloudy eyes, his lips trembling as he repeated, "It's clearing up, it's getting better... it's getting better..."
Bai He gazed at the distant hillside—the dry, yellow earth, previously plucked bare, had now sprouted with tiny patches of grass. The surrounding dead trees had also sprouted thin new branches. A breeze blew over from the other side of the mountain, carrying the fresh scent of green grass and the moist air of earth. It wasn't as biting as before, but rather a bit warmer.
He suddenly remembered the day three months ago when the rescue team arrived - the muddy flood was filled with broken branches and damaged furniture, but the blue assault boat split the chaos like a sharp arrow blade. The bright red national flag on the deck was fluttering in the wind, burning particularly brightly in the gray sky and earth, like a ball of boiling fire, which instantly burned away the numbness in everyone's eyes and melted the frozen despair in their hearts.
Just as he was lost in thought, he suddenly heard the sound of small footsteps behind him, with the briskness of a child. He turned around and saw Su Sui running towards him, clutching a piece of dried meat. His hair was stuck to his chubby forehead by sweat, and a bright and excited smile appeared on his little face. "Uncle! Uncle Su just said that we can go home tomorrow!"
The wind carried a faint fragrance, the scent of nameless little flowers sprouting from the cracks in the rocks at the foot of the mountain. Their pale yellow petals punctuated the gray tent and the muddy ground with tiny dots of color. Bai He looked up at his partner, who had emerged from the tent, medicine box in hand. He stepped forward, taking it naturally, a long-lost, heartfelt smile on his face. He slowly crouched down, gently stroking Sui Sui's sweaty hair with his palm, and said firmly, "Yes, we can go home."
He didn't know when this global catastrophe would end, nor what desperate circumstances he would face in the future. But looking at his beloved beside him, and the family around him, the anxiety weighing on his heart eased a little. He held his partner's hand, looked into their eyes, and a light slowly gathered in his eyes. Life might still be difficult, like the grass on the hillside, having to endure the wind and frost of late autumn and the parched dry season. But as long as the roots remain, green will gradually emerge from the withered yellow, and things will gradually get better.
The author has something to say:
Dear readers, this article officially concludes here. First, I want to apologize for the numerous interruptions I've experienced due to health and family concerns. Thank you all for your patience, which gave me the courage and motivation to tell this story in its entirety. Finally, I wish you all the best in the future, and may you all shine brightly in your own lives.
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