Even though Lan Jin wanted to think otherwise, she still had to consider things more carefully for the sake of their future.
The ground shook harder and harder. Houses that had already been corroded by acid rain couldn't withstand it anymore and crumbled into rubble. Thankfully, they'd kept their distance. If they'd been any closer, the collapse and the quake together would've buried them before they even had the chance to scream.
After another violent tremor, the ground finally stilled.
Just as everyone was starting to breathe in relief, thinking the quake was over, the earth lurched again, stronger than before. The land that had cracked dry under the sun burst into clouds of dust. Out of that haze, a black fissure split open in the distance. As the ground convulsed, it widened, stretching and tearing until it reached right beneath their feet.
Nobody even had time to react. People and vehicles alike were swallowed by the abyss.
There wasn't even time to organize a basic rescue.
Screams and cries for help pierced the air, sending fear surging through the survivors. Panic followed, and soon people were running everywhere in blind terror.
But in the chaos, humanity showed its ugliest side. People shoved, tripped each other, stampeded over the fallen, some even deliberately taking advantage. It was hard to tell who did what in the blur of disaster, but the base would investigate later and hold people accountable.
Knowing they couldn't save everyone, the base's soldiers changed tactics. They focused on protecting the children. As long as the kids were safe, they'd done their duty. The others…
They wouldn't abandon anyone outright. If they could save someone, they would. But if not, there was nothing they could do.
What followed was nothing but tragedy. By the time the quake truly ended, the only words that could describe the scene were heavy casualties. Their timing couldn't have been worse. If they'd left a little earlier, they'd have already passed through the quake zone. If they'd left later, they wouldn't have reached it yet. Either way, fewer lives would've been lost.
But they'd departed exactly when they did, wasting no time on the road, and walked right into the quake zone just as disaster struck. What puzzled them most was why there'd been no warning. Everything else could be predicted, so why not this? If they'd had even a hint, they could've avoided it.
Captain Zhou's face was grim. "Our comms cut out halfway through. Even if a warning was sent, we couldn't have received it."
Before they left, they hadn't gotten any messages about an impending quake. That left two possibilities: either the higher-ups never sent a warning, or the warning was sent after they'd already left. Between the two, they leaned toward the second.
Either way, it meant their luck had run dry.
Captain Zhou's expression stayed dark.
The real headache was this: how was he supposed to write the report once they reached the new base? And right now, there was still rescue work to handle.
The pressure on him was suffocating.
…
Captain Zhang, in contrast, was calm. "When I was out on missions, plenty of people died too. It's nothing unusual. This is a natural disaster. Don't overthink it. What matters is dealing with the situation right in front of us."
And there was a lot to deal with. First came treating the wounded, then counting the survivors, then taking stock of supplies. They had to figure out whether they had enough to make it to the new base. If not, should they turn back or find another solution?
There was no way to finish everything in a single day.
They were still in the quake zone too, and aftershocks kept rolling through. Each tremor left hearts racing, making it impossible to rest. Worse, the quake had left the environment unstable. Disease could break out, and even if it didn't, one sudden attack from mutated creatures could wipe them out.
The endless list of risks made Captain Zhou and the others deeply worried about how the base's ordinary survivors would hold up.
But while everyone else was shaken, Lan Jin and her little group barely seemed fazed. They'd already braced themselves for the worst. Yet once disaster hit, it wasn't nearly as bad for them. They avoided the fissure, suffered nothing more than a few scrapes, and though the kids were scared, that was all.
In fact, Qiao Qiao had already been coaxed into laughter and was back playing with the other children.
Lan Jin sighed. "Kids really do forget fast. Just a moment ago she was bawling like she'd lost her father, and now she's all smiles again."
The others twitched their lips at her choice of words, too speechless to reply.
…
Rescue efforts continued. Most injuries were minor, but some were serious, and a few people were trapped under massive boulders.
Two soldiers struggled to lift one of the rocks, but it was far too heavy. Just as more men rushed over to help, a tiny figure broke away from the children's group.
Qiao Qiao, her sense of justice flaring, ran straight toward the trapped man. Her strength was terrifying. She could hug a double-door fridge without effort, so a boulder was nothing. She dashed past several soldiers trying to stop her, then strode right up and lifted the huge rock that two grown men couldn't even budge.
She heaved it aside with a grunt and tossed it to the ground. Turning toward Lan Jin, she flashed an innocent grin. "Mama, see? Qiao Qiao strong!"
Lan Jin was speechless. Truly speechless. She wanted to scold her daughter. "Didn't I tell you already? Don't show off. Don't reveal your strength. Why can't you just stay still?"
But now wasn't the time.
She forced a thin smile and said softly, "Qiao Qiao's amazing. But lately… Qiao Qiao's memory doesn't seem very good, does it?"
The hint landed. Qiao Qiao froze, her little body stiff, then quickly lowered her head. "Mama, Qiao Qiao bad. Did wrong."
"Not really."
It wasn't wrong. After all, she'd just saved a man's life.
But it wasn't entirely right either. Because from this moment on, there was no hiding how strong Qiao Qiao really was.