"It's raining!" A shout went up from somewhere in the community.
"Finally, the heavens are pouring rain again!" Another voice, full of raw relief, joined the chorus.
December 31st, 2023. Sunday. 37°C. After a full year of relentless drought, dust, and thirst, the world was greeted with a sudden, torrential downpour that hammered down, soaking the parched earth and everything on it to the bone in minutes.
That day had begun as uneventfully as any other, overcast but dry. At one in the afternoon, weather stations across online platforms, the ones renowned for boasting predictions of the next fifteen days with shaky accuracy, suddenly issued a flurry of emergency red announcements: extreme heavy rainfall would hit most regions of the country the next day, beginning around noon.
Yet almost as soon as the digital announcement was made, the skies opened up everywhere at once, releasing thick sheets of rain as if on a spiteful cue, hours early.
People across the country who saw the alert then looked outside flocked to social media, mocking the meteorologists. This batch of weather forecasters really has it rough. Their predictions get slapped in the face by reality every single time.
Jing Shu, however, watching the radar animations on her phone, had a different understanding. The world had spent an entire year evaporating what little water remained, gathering water vapor in the upper atmosphere until it could no longer hold the sheer volume. The result was inevitable, a massive pressure release. Just like a water balloon filled to the absolute point of bursting, the sky had simply given way, the seams splitting.
On this rare day off, a Sunday, Su Lanzhi and Jing An were both at home, and the whole family had gathered around the table for a luxurious meal of hot pot mutton, a celebration of sorts.
Two days ago, they had butchered one of their sheep. The prime cuts had been expertly sliced into thin, papery rolls, while the offal, tripe, liver, heart, had been meticulously cleaned and prepared for today's feast. Garlic paste, chopped fresh chili, fragrant sesame oil, and sharp vinegar flavored the communal dipping sauce, and each bite of chewy, sauce-coated tripe was followed by a satisfying gulp of chilled, sweet coconut milk. The meal, in this context, was nothing short of divine, a pinnacle of normalcy.
As they ate, steam rising between them, Grandma Jing remarked, "The main water tank on the third-floor terrace is running low, below the quarter mark. Even though we get thirty liters a day from the ration now, that's just enough for the cattle and the essential cooking. At this rate, we won't have enough stored water for the courtyard crops within a week." Her brow was furrowed with the perennial worry of a farmer.
Grandpa Jing chimed in, spearing a slice of mutton, "Didn't the news say for months there would be floods soon? Been saying that since summer, but it never rained a drop. All talk." He sounded dismissive, conditioned by false alarms.
The words had barely left his mouth when a sudden, deafening drumming sound hammered against the villa's massive PVC canopy overhead, a relentless pitter-patter that quickly escalated to a roar.
"Shh!"
Everyone at the table paused mid-bite, chopsticks hovering, listening.
"Is that... is that rain?" Grandma Jing's voice trembled with disbelief, hope warring with caution.
Jing Shu exhaled softly, a long breath she had been holding. It had finally come, right on time, exactly like in her previous life. The first rain of the second year.
Grandma Jing was the first to spring to her feet, her chair scraping back, charging out of the dining room toward the front door. Water was life to her, the very hope of their fields, their survival.
The whole family, caught in the moment, dropped their chopsticks and bolted after her, a stampede of curiosity and hope. Jing Shu, however, calmly filled her bowl with more meat and vegetables from the bubbling pot before leisurely following them out. Wu You'ai, who had seen and heard more, however, continued scrolling through her phone at the table, unhurriedly eating her hot pot, knowing the rain wasn't the simple blessing it seemed.
The villa's courtyard security lights flicked on automatically as the sky darkened, illuminating the downpour in silver streaks as Grandma Jing rushed out the front door onto the covered porch.
"Grandma, slow down! The air outside is full of dust and who knows what, don't go out in the rain!" Jing Shu shouted after her, her voice sharp.
She wasn't worried about dirt. It was the red nematodes she feared, invisible in the downpour. If even one of those tiny, invasive worms landed on Grandma Jing's bare skin or head, the consequences, the infestation, would be unimaginable.
As the heavy wooden gate to the main courtyard swung open under Grandma Jing's push, Xiao Dou, the vigilant hen, burst out from her sheltered spot like a dog set free, flapping her wings and clucking joyously, dancing in the rain that splattered just beyond the porch roof.
The earthy, petrichor scent of freshly drenched soil drifted through the wet air, a smell forgotten for a year, mingled with that all-too-familiar, underlying fishy stench she remembered. Nothing had changed since her past life. The rain brought life, and with it, the pests.
Grandma Jing stood in the doorway, tears brimming in her eyes as she gazed at the silver curtain of downpour under the courtyard lights. "Old man, do you see this? It's raining! It's finally raining! The crops are saved! The land is saved!" Her voice cracked.
"Yes! The famine is finally over. As long as there is no drought, we won't go hungry again." Grandpa Jing's voice was equally choked with emotion, his hand on her shoulder. Droughts had been the root of every famine he had lived through in his long life.
Jing Shu stayed quiet, watching the rain sheet down. Things wouldn't be so simple. The rain wasn't a return to normalcy; it was the start of a new, wet nightmare.
Her phone buzzed relentlessly in her pocket, vibration after vibration. She pulled it out. The group chats were in chaos, messages flooding in.
[Wang Qiqi]:"It's raining! Heavy rain! Everyone, look outside!"
[Fatty Niu]:"Oh my God, I'm going to go out and shower until I'm clean! Dear heavens, please let this rain never stop. I would rather drown later than ever feel thirst like that again!"
[Luo Zhu]:"Same! Better to drown in water than to die of thirst in dust."
Jing Shu shook her head slightly, a grim smile touching her lips. Those hasty vows would only bring deep regret later, when the drowning became all too real.
Wang Cuihua sent a long voice message, her voice excited: "Hurry up, everyone! Bring out your dirty clothes and dishes to wash! Who knows how long this rain will last. Anyone want to go shower together in the courtyard?" The invitation was communal.
[Chou Chou]:"I'm washing everything, blankets, sheets, whatever I can haul out. They smell so bad I can barely stand to touch them."
[Fatty Niu]:"Yeah! Wash everything while you can! And let us collect as much rainwater as possible in every container!"
[Young Madam]: "Agreed! I'm bringing out the bathtub!"
Reality, Jing Shu knew, would soon prove them painfully wrong. Anything washed today would never truly dry, would stay damp for a year, growing moldy and full of bugs. Only the government-issued, specially treated supplies might hold up. But after going a full year without a proper bath or laundry, the logic was overpowered by need.
The layer of grime on everyone's bodies could practically be kneaded into noodles as thick as a finger. The filth was unbearable, itchy, and socially crushing. In that moment, even rain mixed with unknown creatures seemed worth the risk for a few minutes of feeling clean.
People from the community, heeding the calls, soon gathered downstairs in chattering groups, carrying buckets, basins, and armfuls of dark, stiff clothes. At 37°C, the rain, while heavy, hadn't yet reached the bone-chilling cold of the coming months. Bathing in it was almost pleasant, a novelty.
Some stood under the eaves or in open areas, chatting and laughing as they scrubbed their belongings with precious slivers of old soap. Chou Chou, more daring, even tilted her head back, mouth open, and drank greedily from the sky, letting the water stream down her face.
"Ew, why is the rainwater so slippery? Feels oily." Someone commented, rubbing their arms.
"I drank some too, and it tastes fishy. Felt something slimy, like a bit of seaweed, slide down my throat." Another voice, concerned but not yet alarmed.
"Just be grateful. The water rations barely cover drinking needs. Bathing? Forget it. This is a gift." The pragmatic response shut down complaints.
The overcast sky was so uniformly dark grey you couldn't recognize your own father standing three meters away. The rain fell in such thick, pounding torrents it masked all sight and sound of the initial, subtle danger.
But soon, as the initial euphoria wore off, the people washing their clothes and showering in the rain began to notice something was wrong. Something soft, thin, and impossibly slimy brushed against their hands, slid into their ears, clung to their hair like extra strands, and even wriggled into their open mouths with the water.
Red nematodes.
They were barely a millimeter thick, thread-like, but could grow up to twenty centimeters long, each worm a uniform blood-red from head to tail except for its two distinct black-tipped ends. Hair-thin, slippery, and constantly writhing with a disturbing, independent energy at each tip, these creatures thrived in the rain, multiplying in the moisture.
Scientists who had studied them in Jing Shu's past life discovered a bizarre, unique trait: every worm was either entirely female-female or entirely male-male, a complete duplicate.
In other words, if one end of the worm was genetically female, so was the other end. Two minds, two sets of instincts, shared one body, both competing for neural control, both trying to propel the body in opposite directions. This constant internal struggle was what caused the worms to writhe, knot, and jump seemingly at random.
It also made them nearly impossible to chew or bite through if eaten. Their longitudinal muscles were incredibly dense and their skin unbelievably tough and elastic.
The black tips on each end housed their simple sensory organs and mouths. Interestingly, killing one half of the worm killed the other instantly, as they shared a circulatory system, so they had evolved these unyielding, armor-like bodies for mutual protection.
It didn't take long for the first shrieks to cut through the rain's noise, for panic to spread like a current. Everyone bathing or washing clothes began to itch ferociously all over, as if something were frantically trying to burrow into their skin. Worse, their heads began to feel unbearably heavy, weighted down.
Fatty Niu, who had been joyfully soaping her hair, reached up to touch her scalp, her fingers encountering not just wet hair but a dense, moving mass. She was shocked to find her head weighed down with something soft, slick, and alive that bounced and writhed against her scalp like a living, seething carpet.
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Finally, my red nematode makes its grand return!!!
This chapter marks the start of Year 2 in the story, and this volume will focus heavily on the red nematode. You'll be seeing it a lot from here on out, which honestly makes me so happy and excited! ヽ(*≧ω≦)ﾉ