When Wei Yuexin arrived at the hospital, a caregiver was wiping her grandmother’s face.
The old woman lay quietly on the bed, eyes tightly closed. Her hair had been shaved off for the craniotomy, and her head was covered with a protective mesh. An oxygen tube was inserted into her nose. She looked many years older than before the accident.
Looking at her, Wei Yuexin felt her nose tingle with emotion. She carefully called out, “Grandma.”
The old woman did not respond.
She asked the caregiver, “Grandma still hasn’t woken up?”
The caregiver shook her head. “No.”
Wei Yuexin’s heart felt heavy. Her grandmother had been in a coma for half a month.
That day, while she was at work, a neighbor suddenly called—Grandma had fallen from upstairs. Neighbors rushed her to the hospital. By the time she arrived, her grandmother was already in the operating room.
The operation lasted more than ten hours. She sat outside the whole time, dazed.
She had no idea who was coming or going, nor who explained the surgical risks to her. She just kept signing her name over and over, running around paying fees, like a puppet with her soul floating away.
Fortunately, the surgery was relatively successful. After coming out, her grandmother was transferred to the ICU, where she stayed for a week before stabilizing and being moved to a regular ward.
Everything was moving in a positive direction, except her grandmother still wouldn’t wake up.
“The patient’s recovery is quite good. Her brain CT scan looks fine. As for why she remains in a coma, we can’t explain. It may be a form of self-protection by the brain. Before the accident, was she emotionally agitated or upset?” the doctor had told her.
But no one knew what had happened before her grandmother fell.
“Xinxin, you’re here?”
Wei Yuexin turned to see Grandma Xu from next door, along with her daughter.
She quickly stood up. “Grandma Xu, Auntie Xu.”
Grandma Xu placed a fruit basket on the bedside table. “We came to see your grandmother. She still hasn’t woken up? Oh my, what a terrible ordeal!”
Wei Yuexin shook her head. “Grandma Xu, you really don’t know what happened to her that day?”
Grandma Xu said, “At the time, no one was around. We just heard a loud thud. When we rushed over, your grandmother was already lying on the ground. The blood… it was everywhere.”
Auntie Xu moved her lips, as if wanting to speak, but Grandma Xu quickly nudged her to stop.
Wei Yuexin noticed and pressed, “Grandma Xu, Auntie Xu—you know something, don’t you? Please tell me. The doctor said her coma might be connected to what happened that day.”
Grandma Xu hesitated. “Well… we weren’t trying to hide it from you. We just didn’t know how to say it. That day, someone saw your mother.”
Wei Yuexin was stunned.
Auntie Xu blurted, “Mom, why are you still holding back?” Then she turned to Yuexin. “That day, people heard your mom arguing with your grandmother. It sounded fierce. Your mom accused your grandmother of being a kidnapper, said she was taken from her real family, and now she’s gone back to her roots. She even claimed her family would sue your grandmother. When your mom left, she rode off in a luxury car. Not long after that, your grandmother fell.”
Wei Yuexin was in complete shock. “So… that’s what happened?”
Grandma Xu glared at her daughter—was that any way to speak? She quickly added, “These are just things passed around by word of mouth. Nobody saw or heard it firsthand. Our family wasn’t home either—we only heard later. We were afraid if outsiders talked recklessly, it would damage the bond between you and your mother.”
Wei Yuexin nodded distractedly. “I understand. Thank you for telling me.”
Feeling awkward, Grandma Xu pulled her daughter away.
Left alone at her grandmother’s bedside, Wei Yuexin’s thoughts were tangled.
She had always known her mother and grandmother didn’t get along. Her mother thought her grandmother was too controlling, too strict. Whether it was her flash marriage, the flash divorce, or her insistence on giving birth to Wei Yuexin, all were acts of rebellion against her grandmother.
When Wei Yuexin was barely a month old, her mother left to work elsewhere.
In her memory, she had only seen her mother three times.
The first time, when she started school, her mother returned with a new backpack and clothes, stayed one night, and left.
The second, when she graduated elementary school, her mother brought clothes again and asked if she wanted to come with her, saying middle schools in big cities were better.
She refused. Her mother left that very day.
The third, when she turned eighteen. Her mother returned, looked her over, and said she was now an adult, independent, and that she’d arrange a job for her. Beyond that, she would have nothing more to do with her.
At that time, she had been preparing for college entrance exams. She was stunned speechless, while her grandmother was so furious she threw her mother out of the house.
After that, her mother never came back.
She never expected to learn her mother wasn’t even her grandmother’s biological daughter.
So now she had returned to her birth family?
Wei Yuexin rubbed her face. More than shock, what she felt was overwhelming anger—anger that a woman she had only met three times had brought her grandmother to such harm.
She absolutely refused to believe her grandmother could ever have kidnapped someone else’s child.
If Wei Ruochu had harmed Grandma like this, then she could never forgive it.
Clenching her fists tightly, Wei Yuexin felt—for the first time in her life—such intense, burning rage toward another person.
“Room 7, you’re behind on payments. Please pay as soon as possible, or we won’t be able to provide medication,” a nurse came in to remind her.
Wei Yuexin quickly answered, “Okay, I’ll pay right away.”
It was Wednesday, the day she could withdraw from DouDou. She withdrew three thousand yuan, added to the red envelope from last night, and paid downstairs. If nothing unexpected happened, it would be enough for the next few days.
For now, the top priority was making money.
Just as she thought this, HR messaged her on WeChat—her second video wasn’t acceptable.
Her heart sank. How could it not work?
She asked for guidance. HR sent a voice message, gentle in tone: “You have to think about it—everyone is playing the game. If you directly tell them that the protagonist is so-and-so and has something that can save the world in their hands, everyone will swarm to find the protagonist. How could the game continue?
“And if someone accidentally kills the protagonist… he’s the center of the world. If he dies, the whole game collapses.
“So you can only hint and guide, half-show, half-hide—that makes it more interesting.”
Wei Yuexin: …
You’re playing a game and still care about protagonist-centered theory?
Forget it. The client is king. As long as she could make money, she would comply.
But without openly revealing the protagonist’s special abilities, her video content options shrank dramatically.
She thought for a moment, then opened her laptop and began editing by her grandmother’s bedside.
*
「The Acid Rain World」
Three days had passed since the acid rain in A City.
Because the city had been well prepared, aside from reckless people who had deliberately stood outside waiting for the rain, most residents were fine.
But the acid rain’s arrival silenced all those waiting to see A City’s downfall—and filled them with dread.
Because its arrival proved the Sky Screen was real. The apocalypse had truly begun.
Later, people learned that night not only A City, but twelve other cities across the country had suffered acid rain, each with heavy casualties. Hospitals had overflowed overnight.
Abroad, thirty to forty cities were hit.
At least in China, those twelve cities had some warning through news and horrific livestreams, so most people stayed indoors. Overseas, there had been no preparation—the casualties were even more devastating.
By the next morning, the nation issued a Super Acid Rain Alert. The whole country entered an “Acid-resistant war.”
The thirteen affected cities rushed into disaster relief. Elsewhere, all non-essential outdoor activity stopped. Schools closed. Countless companies suspended work. People stayed indoors. If one had to go out, acid-proof gear was mandatory.
Major grain-producing provinces launched large-scale emergency harvests.
Vital freshwater sources were strategically secured and protected.
Many materials became strategic resources overnight—strictly banned from export.
Factories shifted en masse to producing acid-resistant materials: fiberglass sulfuric acid tanks, synthetic polymers, ceramics, and more.
Pharmaceutical research also pivoted to this field.
Acid-proof gear, protective suits, filtration masks, and neutralizing solutions became hot commodities.
Every household urgently reinforced their homes. Some towns and communities collectively upgraded their buildings, applying acid-resistant coatings and materials to walls and rooftops.
People frantically hoarded food, water, gasoline, firewood—anything they could get their hands on.
Yet even after doing so much, the unease would not stop.
For three days, acid rain had fallen unpredictably across different cities. Each rainfall registered below pH 3. Every downpour shattered preparations, derailed plans, and left countless people injured or sick.
“Where the hell is this acid rain coming from?”
“If this is just the adaptation period before the apocalypse, I don’t even want to imagine the real thing.”
“This is a natural disaster humanity can’t possibly resist!”
“I’m starting to believe what that video said—humanity is doomed to destruction.”
“Didn’t the Sky Screen say there would be an Acid-Resistant City in the apocalypse? Where is it? Why hasn’t there been any follow-up?”
The world waited on the Sky Screen, restless and desperate, hearts burning with anxiety, eyes turning green with worry. All attention focused on the skies above A City.
The day after the first acid rain, the state dispatched troops to A City—to urgently repair corroded roads, maintain urban order, and distribute supplies household by household.
It was clear—A City had become a key strategic city.
Inside her home, Qiqi stayed bundled in layers of masks and clothing, wrapped up tightly, peering out the sealed window. Their vegetable patch was blackened and charred, the neighbor uncle’s small greenhouse really hadn’t been much use.
Far-off fields were scorched black. Trees on the mountains had darkened too, with all their leaves fallen.
Some old village houses had collapsed or developed leaks.
She heard that all the fish and shrimp in the river had floated to the surface, dead and stinking.
Many of the chickens and ducks raised in the village had also died. The well water and mountain spring water were no longer drinkable.
Luckily, her family had stored plenty of water in tanks and buckets. But once that was used up, there would be no more—they’d have to ration very carefully.
Her parents forbade her and Grandma from going outside, saying the air was acidic. Grandma had been coughing for three days. At first she could take medicine from Grandpa Zhang, but his supply was small—divided among the whole village, it soon ran out.
Her parents could only try to go out and get medicine for Grandma, but they couldn’t seem to find any anywhere.
Qiqi rubbed her nose—it felt sore and dry, just like her eyes.
Suddenly, a big truck rumbled down the village dirt road. She saw many adults crowd around it, and it seemed like something was being distributed from the truck.
Soon, her parents returned. At the doorway, they stripped off their outer clothes and changed shoes before opening the door.
They quickly came inside and shut it tight, but even so, a strange smell from outside rushed in—acidic, but not just acidic.
..Anyway, it was terrible and made people want to cough.
Her parents, however, looked very relieved. They told Grandma, “It’s the army truck—came to distribute supplies. The military has taken over our city. Don’t worry, there won’t be any chaos in town now!”