"Stay calm and find cover."
Yun Shui was an unremarkable person whose courage fluctuated wildly. At this moment, her courage had already shrunk to the size of a sesame seed, yet it somehow spawned a desperate, escape-driven boldness.
Under the Fleet Commander's slightly surprised and displeased gaze, she snatched back her bag, stepped backward one pace at a time, nodding and bowing as she retreated while stammering, "Thank you, General. No need—my place is in an out-of-the-way spot, hard to park. Goodbye, General."
The Fleet Commander paused for a moment, then fell silent.
Clutching her bag, she fled without daring to look back, running until she was far away. Panting in place, the suffocating feeling of being mired in a swamp was forced out with each breath. She looked up—the sky was awash in brilliant sunset clouds.
Yun Shui opened her social media app. The local trending topic was "The Most Magnificent Sunset in Nearly Three Years."
Her spirits soared. She skipped the subway and waited for a slightly emptier bus instead. She had just been grateful that such a spacious bus existed during rush hour when the fare deduction notification popped up—it turned out to be an intercity loop line, costing a whopping five yuan per ride. Already on board, she paid with a pang of heartache.
She could hear horns sounding from the harbor, and the air was thick with the scent of the sea. The busy vessels at Sylvania Harbor must surely be witnessing the tide swallow the crimson sun.
Sitting by the window, she could see pink clouds. The bus windows were poorly maintained, covered in messy scratches.
Yun Shui shared a photo of the sunset with Chen Xi, who replied with a picture of a new egg tart—the same rose-pink hue as the sunset.
She was in a military fortress connected to the harbor, resembling a small town.
Legend had it that the first fortress commander came from a Germanic-speaking region and ambitiously named the place "Cliff of the Gods." After the Alliance unified, it was transliterated into "Gaotang Fortress."
She stared blankly at the slightly chipped route map for a while until her navigation buzzed—time to get off.
Yun Shui pressed the bell and disembarked. This route had taken a bit of a detour; she still had to walk six hundred meters to her rental. By the time she arrived, the fiery clouds were nearly gone. Suddenly, for no reason at all, she wondered: where does the Fleet Commander live?
Military dormitory or a mansion?
Yun Shui's family was of modest means, but fortunately her workplace provided housing subsidies. She had rented a small one-bedroom apartment. She quickly boiled some noodles, pairing them with greens and the braised beef her mother had sent over, while her Optical Brain projected a drama into the air. Blissful. The only downside was that the new neighbor's puppy barked a bit too loudly—probably still unaccustomed to its new surroundings.
An unsuppressed news headline flashed on her Optical Brain with a soft ding.
Too lazy to check, she ignored it. The pot held handmade noodles from the dumpling shop downstairs—thin yet springy, soaking up the tomato broth into a savory, fragrant delight.
…
Early morning of the 18th, 3:14 a.m.
Having eaten so well, she slept especially deeply.
In the middle of the night, her communicator rang.
Yun Shui was still dreaming at the time—a rare dream of English dictation during morning self-study in high school. Her stern, fearsome English teacher's eyes struck her like lightning bolts, and Yun Shui desperately tried to recall the complete spelling of the word, her heart racing with panic.
After a while, an alarm blared, and she jolted awake—but that lingering palpitation of dread refused to fade.
Yun Shui groggily reached for her bedside table, remembering she had set it to silent.
Before she could fully open her eyes, she was blinded by a screen flooded with glaring red.
Buzz, buzz.
……
……
17th, 7:23 p.m.
When Jiang Xie drove back to the cold, impersonal official residence, the fiery clouds in the sky still carried lingering heat.
He rarely stayed here—basically ninety-nine percent of the time, he lived directly in the central combat command center of Gaotang Fortress, which had a small suite attached. Located near the fortress's Central District armored zone, it allowed him to respond to any emergency at a moment's notice.
But today, for reasons he couldn't quite explain, he had wandered down to the underground garage, car keys in hand. The suite in the Central District was less than a kilometer away—there was no need to drive at all.
As if to prove he hadn't gone out of his way for nothing, Jiang Xie went to the official residence in the Core Zone instead.
The Core Zone bordered the residential area, though it was mostly lined with official residences and villas, along with a cluster of defensive structures. Compared to the living quarters of ordinary fortress citizens, this area was saturated with 24-hour guard posts and patrols.
Lying on a bed so soft it was almost repellent, Jiang Xie felt that coming here had been a mistake.
Not far away, the tall tower's lights flickered.
He was sick. Wrapped in any kind of soft bedding, inside a perfectly regulated climate system, in an environment devoid of any machine hum—Jiang Xie was overcome by the familiar ringing in his ears and a creeping restlessness.
Back when he was still a student at the military academy, he had been seriously summoned for a talk over psychological issues. The reason was his inability to adapt to a "non-combat" state.
To have such a severe affliction in peacetime was truly bizarre.
Jiang Xie forcibly suppressed every stray thought, issuing himself a direct order to rest. But it didn't work well—he drifted in and out of consciousness, like a dead fish sizzling in a pan.
He knew he was dreaming. He stood before a temple, looking up. Along the ridge of the roof, countless deities and Buddhas gazed down from on high. Smoke from the incense burner rose without end.
He was there to confess, it seemed, so he knelt.
But soon, violent shattering and shaking tore through the entire scene. Jiang Xie understood that even in his dreams, he was not granted the right to forgiveness. He woke with a start, exhausted, yet did not open his eyes immediately.
His limbs felt as if they were pinned down somewhere, unable to move, that strange, tremulous sensation constant and unyielding.
A moment later, he broke free of the nightmare—only to feel as if he had been sealed inside a demon-capturing gourd, the whole world shaking around him. Then came a tremendous roar, accompanied by the earth heaving and swaying, and a sensation of weightlessness followed.
Water rushed in.
Jiang Xie's expression changed drastically. He snapped his eyes open. Half of the floor-to-ceiling window had shattered completely; the other half was covered in a dense web of cracks. Wall dust mixed with rain splattered over him, leaving him a mess.
Steel-reinforced concrete and flesh and bone alike had become paper boats in this surging torrent—there was nothing to do but be broken, drowned, swallowed, and torn apart.
The blaze of an explosion fully jolted the Core Zone awake. The alarm bells, drenched through by the torrential rain, cut through the air with a hoarse, piercing shriek.
Boom—!
The sturdy, tightly sealed brick walls were now utterly defenseless. Flying sand, shards of glass, and fragments of tile rained down like meteors.
Jiang Xie moved quickly. His arm and calf had already been struck and injured. He curled up, rolled, and pressed his back against a load-bearing wall.
Before he could even catch his breath, another violent tremor struck, accompanied by boundless darkness that surged in like the maw of a beast, devouring every glimmer of light and every struggle.
Buzz, buzz.
Buzz.
Buzz—
Yun Shui had yet to come to her senses.
The communicator's warning system was still working diligently, its screen radiating concentric circles of blood-red ripples from the center. A massive exclamation mark flickered unsteadily as words appeared in a font that seemed to hasten death itself:
"Destructive seismic S-waves arriving in 5 seconds."
"Remain calm. Seek cover."
Five—
Yun Shui's face drained of color. She scrambled out of bed in a panic.
Three—
Clutching her blanket with one hand, she sprinted toward the bathroom. Fortunately, this studio apartment was so compact that the bed was only 1.2 meters wide—just a few steps to the washroom.
One!!
The countdown hadn't even reached the final second when, in an instant, it felt as though Lego blocks had been smashed and toppled. The earth shook and the ground rolled. A toothbrush cup and hand soap tumbled helplessly across the floor. She heard the sound of a vase or glass shattering. Yun Shui, wrapped in her blanket, curled up in the corner.
It was as if the four ropes that held up the earth in myth had been decisively severed—the ground no longer stood firm but became the surface of a raging sea.
Yun Shui was knocked unconscious by the bathroom heater crashing down from above.
It was a trajectory she could never have anticipated—utterly absurd. Fortunately, the blanket over her head spared her from a bloody gash, but the impact was enough to knock her out cold.
When she came to again, she could no longer tell day from night.
The lights were out, and it seemed it had rained at some point. Her communicator still had seventy percent battery, but there was no signal and no network—not even any offline games to play. It was worse than the old models that could run Snake.
She feared aftershocks and quickly got up, wanting to get out. Fortunately, aside from a bruised shin from her frantic scrambling and a scraped forehead, she hadn't suffered any serious injuries.
When she stood up, all she saw was the bathroom in complete disarray. Yesterday's wind had been so strong that the bathroom door had blown shut. After the earthquake, the doorframe had been crushed and warped, and the door absolutely refused to open.
For a moment, Yun Shui's heart sank to the bottom.
She hastily grabbed a basin to collect water. Fortunately, the faucet still produced water when turned on. She filled every container she could find, then cleaned her wounds. She splashed cold water on her face.
What should she do?
She was on the first floor. Peering through the bathroom's narrow window, the sky was tinged with a gloomy, cold hue, thick with clouds.
It felt like the end of the world—not a trace of wind stirring, not a single bird in flight.
Trees had been split by the fierce winds, and the ground was pockmarked and riddled with cracks, like a crushed wafer biscuit squeezed into the crevice of a handbag.
Suvlia Harbor hadn't experienced an earthquake in a long time.
She was born in the south, where typhoons were rare and occasional. She had never seen volcanoes or earthquakes. She had no real sense of natural disasters. In the past, during earthquake and fire drills, all she had to do was cover her head and evacuate in an orderly line when the alarm sounded. But now what? The door was blocked, and there was no food in the bathroom. How many days could she survive on raw water? A week, maybe?
Would she have to wait, growing weaker and weaker, for rescue?
The early spring weather still carried a chill. Yun Shui was only wearing long-sleeved pajamas. Her hands and feet were cold, and she pulled the blanket tightly around herself. She stood there in a daze, and before she could react further—an aftershock hit!
She immediately ducked back into the corner, covering her head. Fortunately, this tremor was light and brief, but it was enough to set her nerves on edge.
Sometimes aftershocks could be even more violent than the initial quake. Yun Shui was terrified.
Pale-faced, she carefully examined the warped doorframe. The bathroom door seemed twisted, stuck in its frame, with only a thin crack visible.
Pulling herself together, she found the mop that had toppled over in the corner, removed the mop head, and used the iron handle to forcefully pry at the gap.
The four corners of the door were wrapped in cheap plastic. She braced herself against it with all her might. Fortunately, she had gained a bit of weight recently, so her lower center of gravity was steadier—and she actually managed to jam the iron rod in!
She pushed with a burst of effort, prying outward. After a few tries, she slammed against it again, and the gap grew wider and wider—
But her strength was limited, and it stopped at a narrow crack, refusing to budge any further.
She rested in despair for a while, then began rummaging through cabinets and drawers.
Yun Shui remembered that because the living room couldn't fit a large cabinet—only a small tea table and a two-seater sofa—many unused items were stored in the cabinet beneath the bathroom sink, especially various hardware tools.
She pulled out a bag. It seemed to be a tool kit she had bought when she was changing light bulbs before.
Inside were some simple screwdrivers, a small hammer, and a pry bar.
None of it seemed particularly useful.
Driven by a fierce will to survive, Yun Shui unleashed an unprecedented passion for tinkering. She fiddled with the door, unscrewing the screws on the doorknob, until she had inexplicably managed to remove half the handle with her tools—yet it still didn't seem to help.
She kept searching. Suddenly, with a clatter, her hand brushed against a red-black cube deep in the drawer. It was a size bigger than a Rubik's cube.
She thought for a long time before realizing this seemed to be… a battery.
Yun Shui was suddenly electrified with excitement as she remembered what it was!
She nearly teared up! A godsend!