Haixin Square was huge, enough to accommodate tens of thousands of people. At this moment, the entire perimeter was guarded by the military.
They stood in neat ranks in their uniforms, carrying rifles on their backs, sharp and imposing.
They looked like guardians of humanity—saviors who always stood at the front line of disaster.
The country… would not abandon them. It was doing everything it could to save its people!
This alone was like a powerful injection of reassurance for the masses.
Once inside the Haixin Square zone, people gradually relaxed. Smiles—absent for many days—began to reappear on their faces.
This place wasn’t just gathering their group; more and more residents were arriving continuously after receiving the migration notice.
Su Ruanruan left the small district group and casually found a corner to sit down. After walking for five straight hours, her legs were practically giving out.
Along the way, very few people from her original neighborhood were still around.
The long distance, combined with extreme heat and lack of water, meant most people couldn’t make it. Many had been left behind on the road forever.
Su Ruanruan survived purely because of her strong willpower and good physical condition—otherwise she would’ve died halfway.
She was thirsty, hungry, and desperately wanted to gulp down ice-cold cola. But with so many people around, it was inconvenient.
So she took out a sealed bottle of mineral water from her backpack, twisted it open, and carefully drank it—trying not to waste a single drop.
But even this small act drew the attention of many people nearby. Their gazes were filled with greed, envy, jealousy… even hatred.
Su Ruanruan noticed it from the corner of her eye. Some people were swallowing repeatedly, staring fixedly at the bottle in her hand.
Oh no… she’d become a target.
But she wasn’t the type to be afraid of trouble. She was going to drink it anyway—she couldn’t stay thirsty.
So she drank even more deliberately, big gulps this time. Soon, the small bottle of water was gone.
She let out a satisfied sigh, stuffed the bottle back into her bag, and hugged her backpack tightly as she curled up in the corner.
She intended to nap for a bit. It was only 3:30 a.m.—far too early.
She didn’t sleep deeply. Ever since her rebirth, her sleep had been very light. Any small sound would make her instantly alert, her hand instinctively reaching for the dagger at her waist.
Perhaps because of the military presence, the entire night at Haixin Square remained calm.
Only occasional footsteps and hushed conversations could be heard. No riots, no chaos—only a fragile sense of hope.
Today was October 29th—the second-to-last day before the extreme heat disaster ended. It was also the official evacuation day for the surviving residents of Hui City.
Early in the morning, military personnel began collecting basic information from residents one by one.
People who had only recently escaped the collapse of civilization were still very intimidated by the military and obediently filled out forms.
From a rough glance, Su Ruanruan estimated there were about 100,000 people gathered in Haixin Square alone.
From casual conversations among volunteers, she learned this was only one of ten assembly points across Hui City.
She sighed inwardly—truly, it still depended on the strength of the nation. The level of coordination and unity was unmatched.
Not only were basic details registered, but each person was also given a small bottle of water and a small piece of bread, with promises of daily distribution.
By around 5 p.m., a mechanical broadcast voice echoed across the entire square.
“I am Zhang Ping, Mayor of Hui City. I hope everyone trusts the country and the government. We will survive this together!”
The speech lasted about two minutes, full of motivational words. The effect was immediate—waves of cheers rose from the crowd.
Su Ruanruan just stood quietly, letting sweat drip down her face without even bothering to wipe it.
Because no matter how much she wiped, it was useless—the sweat came faster than she could clean it.
She looked at the cheering crowd with a faint sense of amusement.
They didn’t know that in eleven days, what awaited them would be the real apocalypse.
The current extreme heat and the upcoming extreme cold… those were just minor rehearsals for humanity.
Then, the migration officially began for the nearly 100,000 people.
At the front were 30 military off-road vehicles, reserved only for city and military leadership.
Behind them were hundreds of large trucks loaded with supplies—everything the city could gather.
Next came the survivors, surrounded and organized by the military.
They were divided into groups of 100, then into units of 1,000, each protected and controlled by ten soldiers to prevent unrest.
The destination was the capital—Beijing, 2,500 kilometers away. No one knew how many would survive the journey.
But everyone still held onto hope.
Su Ruanruan was casually assigned to a group. In the eyes of others, she looked like an easy target—especially with a bottle of water in her possession.
Within just ten minutes of walking, she already felt at least ten pairs of greedy eyes on her.
Whether they coveted her supplies or something else… she would not let them off easily.
From above, 100,000 people would look like ants—dense, slow-moving, fragile.
The journey was painfully slow due to children, elderly people, and the unbearable heat.
By 10 p.m., the convoy finally stopped. The order to rest spread through the crowd.
From 5 p.m. to 10 p.m., Su Ruanruan witnessed countless scenes—people collapsing from heatstroke, fights over water, even husbands stealing water from their wives and children.
The military could barely control it anymore and eventually stopped intervening entirely.
Everyone simply collapsed where they stood, sitting or lying wherever there was space.
Safety mattered more than comfort now.
Su Ruanruan found a quiet corner and sat down, observing everything around her.