There was no moon and no stars. The sky looked wrapped in a sheet of black cloth, dense and lightless. Sunlight tried to pierce through from outside but couldn't, the dust layer too thick. A faint, unsettling blood-red sheen seeped through the darkness at the horizon, eerie and wrong, a permanent bruise on the world.
This time, Jing Shu's eldest aunt had learned her lesson. She didn't invite her own extended family along, keeping the visit to her immediate household. The moment they crossed the villa's threshold, they felt a wave of warm, humid air wrap around them, a stark contrast to the dry heat outside, and they smelled that familiar, pungent scent of medicated oil again, saturating the air.
"How much medicated oil does this family even have? Does Jing Shu have some special hobby, smearing the stuff everywhere to buy so much of it?" Wang Fang muttered under her breath, her voice barely audible.
Everything ahead in the entryway was pitch-black, the power still off for the day. She hugged Su Long tightly against her side and inched toward the main doors one careful step at a time, her shoes scuffing softly on the tile.
Green eyes stared at them from the darkness near the stairs, unblinking. Su Long's legs shook. They obediently entered the lit living room and sat where they were told on the sofa to wait for dinner. They didn't dare wander. It felt like walking through the gates of life and death. Those green eyes in the dark were too terrifying, belonging to some unknown guardian.
The table was already loaded with delicious dishes, steam rising gently. Jing Shu handed out thin plastic gloves and blue shoe covers from a box. "Water is too scarce to wash hands. Use disposable gloves." Her tone was matter-of-fact.
The last visit had been in June for Dragon Boat Festival. Wang Fang had assumed the earlier feast was only possible because the family had stocked up just before the worst hit. But now it was already October and water was even scarcer, a dire crisis, yet tonight the drinks set out were homemade red bean milk tea in a large pitcher, and there was actual cold milk to drink in smaller cups.
The soup was pork trotters stewed with soybeans, the meat falling from the bone. The dishes were familiar dry-goods fare, proof of good storage: wood ear and scrambled egg, steamed egg custard, plain fried eggs, thin egg pancakes, and a whole steamed fish from the pond.
Of course. Working at the Livestock Breeding Center meant eggs and milk were not a problem, a direct benefit. She was so jealous she could scream internally. Why hadn't she fought harder for a post at the Livestock Breeding Center back when assignments were made?
Grandma Jing smiled, wiping her hands on her apron. "Try the mooncakes I made this year. They aren't as good as the ones you buy outside." She pushed a plate of homemade pastries toward the center of the table.
Wang Fang carefully lifted one, feeling its weight, and took a small bite. Soft, sticky, fragrant sweetness filled her mouth. Beneath the sweet five-nut filling there was a rich, salted yolk center. So good. The flavors were a shock of normalcy.
She was moved to tears, the simple luxury overwhelming after months of grim rations.
Jing Shu herself ate more than a dozen of the small mooncakes, reaching for one after another. The flaky, buttery ones were irresistible. Jing Shu's appetite once again shattered everyone's quiet expectations. Surviving in a world without food was not easy, and her capacity was its own testament.
After the meal, the family chatted over cups of tea, and the talk turned naturally to the imminent artificial sun. Wang Fang slapped her thigh. "My friend just introduced me to a solar distiller yesterday. It can collect water from the air. Then the news said the artificial sun would start. People in our chat are saying the artificial sun is unreliable and the distiller is better. If it works, I can recommend it to you too." She offered it as a helpful tip.
The whole family around the table stared, stunned into silence for a moment.
"How many did you buy?" Jing Shu covered her face with one hand, the gesture weary. In the past life and this one, the same trap, the same pattern.
"Only one. This model is basically a pyramid scheme. You only make money if you are at the very start. I just wanted to earn some points back and pick up a bit of extra water," Wang Fang said with a hint of pride, thinking herself clever for understanding the game.
Exactly the same as before. She studied law, knew it was a scam in structure, and still wanted to try her luck at the edges. Whether she recommended it to them or not, the outcome for her would be the same, a small loss.
As the saying goes, it's usually the experienced swimmers who drown.
This time, she would take a loss, but twenty work points, while significant, were bearable for her family now with their government jobs. Jing Shu could hardly "foretell the future" and spoil the plot without revealing her impossible knowledge.
"So, want to buy a distiller and try it?" Wang Fang pressed, looking around the table.
"The artificial sun starts in a couple of days. Our family will pass," Jing Shu refused at once, her voice firm.
"Right, I figured you wouldn't need it." Wang Fang looked a little dejected, her offer of insider knowledge rejected. Look at this villa, with electricity and water, the same comfortable temperature day and night, clean and odorless. How did Jing Shu's household manage to live better and better while the world crumbled? The question hung unspoken.
…
For Mid-Autumn Festival, Grandma Jing sent more than twenty leftover mooncakes home with the eldest aunt, packaged in a reused box. They came back with a carload of small gifts for the elders, some salvaged tea, a few bars of old soap. Grandma Jing grinned so wide her big tooth showed. The eldest daughter was still the most thoughtful and knew how to give the family face, maintaining propriety.
A phone call later brought more good news. Jing Pan's sow, which they had kept hidden, had given birth to several healthy piglets. On the strength of those piglets, they had been officially transferred to work at the Livestock Breeding Center and were doing well there. Wei Zheng had brought his girlfriend home to meet the family too. If things eased up next year, they would hold a proper wedding banquet, maybe even combine it with the baby's full-month celebration if one came. Grandma Jing couldn't be happier, her worries for her eldest child easing.
Jing Shu's rise, her strange luck and preparations, had truly lifted the whole family's fortunes, a rising tide.
Every year, the military parade began at 10 a.m. on October 1. This year kept the same time despite the darkness. The entire country received a special, extended power allotment so the people could gather and witness the great day together on television or public screens.
Due to circumstances, the parade was kept simple, fewer marching units, no flyovers, but the soldiers' bearing still shone through the screen, straight-backed and disciplined. At the same time, the broadcast introduced new types of resilient food crops and survival technologies developed for the dark, offering a carefully curated vision of a better future.
The subsequent speech by a senior leader, his voice crackling through speakers across the nation, moved many to tears in their homes and community centers.
On this day they officially redefined the new century as an apocalypse of survival in the cracks, a time of endurance, and they designated January 1, 2023 as Day One of the apocalypse calendar. When sunlight finally returned, China would officially declare the apocalypse over. It was a bureaucratic line in the sand, a point of hope.
"I hope it lasts only a year, or less. Even if it lasts longer, as long as we stand together and weather the storm in the same boat, no matter how long the apocalypse lasts, the Chinese people will live on, steadfast and strong." The words were measured, determined.
At that moment, the national anthem rang out from every screen and speaker and the national flag rose on the broadcast, a recording from a brighter past. It didn't rise alongside the sun, but it still flew proud in the digital wind, a symbol.
Jing Shu's family stood up from their chairs in front of the television without thinking and sang the anthem solemnly together, their voices soft but united. No matter how many times it happened, her eyes still grew hot, a tightness in her throat. China had many flaws, but it was her motherland. It had also, in its messy, stubborn way, carried her and millions through ten years of the apocalypse in her last life.
To celebrate National Day, supermarkets across Wu City opened for three days of special buffets. Unlimited maggots prepared in various ways, and one serving of plain white rice per person, a festival bounty.
The news spread through communities like it had wings, sending people into a frenzy of joy. When had eating a simple bowl of white rice become so thrilling? The line answered itself.
The artificial sun started on schedule, a new point of light in the sky visible as a diffuse glow behind the dust, yet there was still no immediate water. Another wave of people, those who had held on hoping for this day, died because they couldn't hold on any longer, their bodies giving out just before the tide turned. Bitter, fishy water or worse, people would have drunk anything by the end, but some had nothing left to drink.
Spirits, briefly lifted, sank again. Finally, on October 8, after days of anxious waiting, the announcement came: the artificial sun's attached purification systems had completed processing an entire previously polluted freshwater lake.
The people of Wu City finally had clean water to drink.
[Wang Qiqi]:"@everyone, huge news. We finally have water. Starting now, water trucks will deliver to every community daily. Civil servants get 5 liters per day, other work units 4 liters, ordinary residents 3 liters. All 20 water trucks have departed from the distribution center. Our hard days are ending."
[Fei Niu]:"My god, is this real? They're actually giving 3 kilograms of water. I'm so happy I can even wipe my body down with a damp cloth tonight."
[Chou Chou]:"I promise I can drink all 3 kilograms in one go right now."
It was a day destined to thrill, a palpable shift in the atmosphere. In no time, the rumbling water trucks, large tankers with municipal markings, arrived in each district. Everyone had lined up already, having heard the rumor, and finished registration with the block captains. Wu You'ai, who had spent the last four months recovering from her injuries at home, personally came out to direct the scene in their community.
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Now that I'm rereading this, like really rereading it, I think I've got some thoughts about her aunt, Wang Fang. She was introduced as a lawyer who basically ran her household before the dark days started. From her early interactions, she also came off as a bit miserly, though not as miserly or stingy as Jing Zhao, the second paternal aunt.
But after the apocalypse starts, I'm not sure if it's just me, but it feels like the author starts portraying her as… kind of dumb? A lot of the interactions seem to hint at that. I can't tell if it's her IQ or EQ that's the problem, but she doesn't feel nearly as sharp as a lawyer should be. Maybe the apocalypse shook her so badly that it shifted her personality, but even then, doesn't that feel like too drastic of a change?