"Everything is already done. Isn't it a bit late to bring this up now?" Jing Shu pointed out, gesturing at the half-installed PVC structure.
"...True." Yao Zixin conceded, looking at the work in progress.
That was the end of the matter with Yao Zixin for the moment. He would only realize how thoughtful and prescient Jing Shu had been months later, when the torrential rains came and red nematodes swarmed the sky, and her enormous clear umbrella ensured no bugs seeped into the house, keeping it dry and clean.
Her foresight was seriously impressive; surviving this apocalypse wasn't just about luck, he would think. Right then he decided in his mind that he would stick close to Jing Shu whenever possible in the future, a lucky charm.
Jing Shu narrowed her eyes slightly, thinking. Sea level rise was predictable in theory. Scientists constantly discussed the models, and related government departments surely ran frequent satellite and sensor tests to make predictions and contingency plans.
So why did so many places in her last life get flooded before they could organize a proper evacuation? Why was the damage so sudden and widespread?
Because Earth now held mysteries, chaotic climatic feedback loops, beyond the reach of current science. People called the sudden surges "unscientific," but in reality, the sea levels rose at a terrifying, nonlinear rate once a tipping point was passed. From the moment it was first noticed to the outbreak of massive floods and torrential storms, it had taken less than a few days in some regions.
Flooding came too fast, like a tsunami or a tornado, overwhelming. There was no escaping the storm circle once it formed, nowhere to hide, no way to withstand the volume of water.
Who could have imagined that after years of creeping up only five millimeters annually, sea levels would suddenly skyrocket meters in mere days? The scariest part was that it defied all conventional reason, flooding even the highlands of Africa, places thought safe.
Newton: Physics no longer applies to Earth. The dark joke circulated online.
Jing Shu sighed, a soft exhale. All she could do now was lead her family safely through the known perils of the apocalypse and prepare as best she could for a full year of sequential disasters.
That evening over dinner at the crowded table, Jing Shu voiced her concerns about flooding, using the scientific predictions as her basis. She didn't expect her entire family to agree immediately, but they did. Thankfully, those scientists' predictions had been accurate in essence, even if the public timing was off. It gave her a perfect, believable excuse to justify her future actions and purchases.
Wu You'ai, fresh from her recovery, was the first to support her, tapping her chopstick on her bowl. "My mentor at the agricultural college said this too. Extreme heat and drought conditions will eventually reverse violently. Heavy rain is inevitable, and floods will hit the entire country, not just coasts. It's only a matter of time, based on atmospheric moisture data." She cited authority.
"That makes sense. Scientists have data to back it up. We must prepare, not just hope," Grandpa Jing agreed, nodding slowly, his practical nature swayed by logic.
Su Lanzhi added, between bites, "I already dried all the surplus vegetables and fruit from the last harvest. We won't starve, and with the ten hours of light daily from the grow lamps, the new vegetable crop is thriving. But flooding could ruin the soil in the courtyard plots."
"We should pack non-perishable food in advance and be ready to run at any moment. But what about the chickens, ducks, and pigs? We need to figure out how to keep the poultry safe during a flood," Grandma Jing said seriously, her brow furrowed. The animals were her daily charge.
Those animals were national treasures now, their value immense.
Jing Shu nodded in agreement. Even if the worst floods might not reach their specific hilltop, it was better to prepare than gamble with their lives, a principle she lived by.
But she knew Grandma Jing treasured the animals so much that if they ever had to evacuate, she would insist on bringing them along, every last chicken.
Everyone else would be fleeing for their lives with just a backpack, while their family caravan hauled crates of clucking chickens, quacking ducks, and squealing pigs along.
Jing An gave his input on practical construction. "With potentially days of heavy rain ahead, we need proper drainage around the foundation. Aside from the collection tanks, we should raise the ground level immediately around the house. Have your grandpa pour a sloped cement apron and dig channels to redirect excess water toward the back hill, away from the walls."
Everyone contributed suggestions in their own way, a family council.
Jing Shu finally "acted out her role," mentioning another stash of supplies she had hidden upstairs in the locked rooms.
"Besides the food and water, I am planning to get umbrellas, raincoats, life vests, and inflatable boats. I have been looking at catalogs." She made it sound like a recent thought.
Of course, her preparations were far more thorough and already complete. To prevent red nematodes from jumping onto exposed skin, she had bought full-body industrial rain gear: rubber rain boots fused to waterproof pants, the pants fused to a long coat with an attached hood, and a clear plastic visor for visibility. Every seam was sealed.
Ugly or not, it was infinitely better than her last life, when she had to wrap herself in overlapping plastic bags. Even then, nematodes still found ways to wriggle into her collar and every crevice. Sometimes they clung to her skin like wet strands of hair, itching unbearably. If they hopped, it felt like someone flicking or scratching her.
She had also stocked both old-fashioned bulky life vests and new, compact automatic inflatable ones.
The new ones looked like wide sport bracelets. The moment they hit water, a chemical tablet would dissolve, releasing gas to inflate the bladder and lift the wearer to the surface.
Grandma Jing even asked, practical as ever, how many of those new vests they had, insisting they put one on every valuable bird. If a flood came, they would tie themselves and the poultry together with rope so none would be lost or drown.
Jing Shu stared at her grandmother, then slowly covered her own face with one hand.
...
The next day, Grandpa Jing mixed the last remaining bags of cement with precious water and paved a sloped, raised ring around the villa's foundation, raising the ground level by a good ten centimeters for better runoff. He even elevated the floor of the small coal shed behind the villa with bricks because wet coal would be impossible to burn later.
Jing Shu wasn't idle either. She took a shovel and dug shallow but wide drainage channels leading away from the back of the villa, directing toward the natural slope of the hill, to keep floodwaters from pooling around the house. Three or four days of rain could flood up to their ankles, and months of relentless rain could submerge the first floor entirely if they didn't manage the water flow.
While she was busy with these preparations, her phone rang. Niu Mou called unexpectedly. His voice was low. Yang Yang had finally sent a secure message: the item Jing Shu ordered had arrived at the transshipment point. It would take about twenty days to reach a designated Chinese port. She should get ready to pick it up.
She was ecstatic, a genuine smile breaking through.
Finally, it wasn't a one-way trip for nothing. The waiting was over.
The RV she had been dreaming of for months, the key to mobile survival, was finally hers. One of the apocalypse's top three luxury items, and now Jing Shu would soon own one. The thought was thrilling.
She did the math quickly in her head. It would arrive in early December if the schedule held.
Location: a northern port in China, the message specified. The map in her mind showed it was roughly four thousand kilometers away from Wu City. Before the apocalypse, driving non-stop, she could reach it in three or four days via the Lianhuo Expressway.
But now, after a year of neglect and storms, some highways had been buried under landslides or a year's worth of wind-blown debris. There might also be official roadblocks, checkpoints, or required detours. Without knowing the current road conditions, she conservatively estimated at least ten days of travel one way, maybe more.
If everything went perfectly smoothly, she could make the round trip and return before the end of December. If not, she might get caught en route by the early floods she knew were coming.
The timing was really frustrating, cutting it close.
"Jing Shu," Niu Mou's voice hesitated on the line. "Yang Yang also asked me to apologize. The RV's condition... well, it's a bit battered. You will probably need to do some repairs when you get it."
"A bit battered? How bad is 'a bit'?" Jing Shu's face darkened, her excitement dampened. Details mattered.
"Oh, and Yang Yang said he found a way to make it up to you." Niu Mou continued, rushing. "He got in touch with people from Hengda Logistics, they are essentially government transport staff now, trustworthy. They will be hauling official supplies from that port back here soon, and they can bring your RV back on one of their flatbeds too. You will just need to cover the transport cost. Saves you the drive."
Niu Mou's hesitant tone, his avoidance of the damage question, didn't help. He still didn't say how bad the damage actually was.
Jing Shu had a sinking feeling in her stomach. Yang Yang's casual "a bit battered" probably wasn't so simple. Something had happened to the vehicle during its acquisition or transport.
Still, she had been worrying about wasting weeks traveling to the port and driving the unknown vehicle back herself over ruined roads. Now that Yang Yang had arranged professional transport, it saved her a massive amount of trouble and risk. The trade-off might be worth it, even with a "battered" RV.