One of the sorrows of being reborn, Jing Shu reflected as she hurriedly helped dismantle the tent, was the necessity of performance. Even knowing the flood wouldn't reach the community, its advance following a path seared into her memory, she still had to act frightened and evacuate with everyone, her movements urgent, her expression a mask of appropriate concern.
She couldn't very well claim she knew it would be fine and force the whole family to stay, then spend the final hours on edge, fielding their terrified questions and second-guessing herself, could she? The burden of foreknowledge was a lonely one, enforced by the need to blend in.
The community already sat at a relatively high ground, a fact that usually offered comfort. If the center of Wu City hadn't been swallowed before dawn, if the tallest buildings hadn't gone under and tens of thousands on high floors hadn't vanished, and if whole island nations hadn't drowned on live television, everyone would have just stayed on the top floor of the community, waiting out the rain. It had been the plan.
But those things had happened, each news bulletin a hammer blow, and panic spread like a crack through glass. Hearing the flood was spreading toward their side, a vague but terrifying update, people rushed to a higher refuge, the Hongshan Ecological Park, a name that now meant salvation.
Wu You'ai went to gather people for departure, her phone held high as she moved from unit to unit on the top floor, her voice carrying down the hall. As the community's visiting official, she had time on her hands now, her regular duties suspended by the crisis. In this community, only a bit over seventy people were left alive, a small cluster in the vast, wet emptiness.
Once the flood failed to recede and the government began searching for new settlements, they would cram people into communities again, any community with dry land. A place this size might end up holding tens of thousands, bodies pressed together in every room.
That kind of crowding would be a nightmare, a breeding ground for everything worse than water.
Jing Shu's family packed fast, a well-drilled team. They shook Jing An awake from his deep sleep and told him to drain the villa's cistern, a last task to prevent stagnation or backflow.
This was when buying the most expensive tents paid off. They were lightweight, one-pull foolproof setup, and just as quick to pack, collapsing into neat, flat discs. In minutes, every tent was down, the sleeping bags rolled tight. Jing Shu hauled the luggage and bedding and stuffed it all into the roof rack of the BYD Song, the vehicle already loaded with supplies from the villa.
Thank goodness she had prepared early, her purchases often seeming excessive until moments like this. Otherwise, they would have been scrambling, making hard choices about what to leave behind.
She had prepacked down jackets, daily necessities, compact cookware, a gas stove, canned stews, a multifunctional kettle, a large barrel of bottled water, easy-to-carry prepared foods, vacuum-sealed braised meats, spicy jerky, jars of pickles, a stack of disposable toilets, dry bath towels, hand warmers, bottles of medicated oil, and more, each category in its own waterproof bag.
Her family watched as bag after bag disappeared into the back of the car, the seats folding down to accommodate the bulk, then onto the oversized roof rack, secured with cross-hatched straps.
Finally, she laid plastic-wrapped planks across the rack and tied them down twice with heavy rope, creating a solid platform for more soft bags. The whole BYD Song sat two tiers taller, a lumbering beast of burden.
Anyone who didn't know better would think they were moving house, evacuating for good.
The whole family stared, feeling something was off but unable to say what, the scale of their luggage incongruous with a temporary shelter trip. After a long beat, Jing An finally spoke, scratching his head. "Aren't we evacuating? Shouldn't we bring all the grain? This looks like a road trip, not running for our lives."
Jing Shu couldn't say they would be back in a few days, that this was a precautionary exodus. Instead, she said, "Relax. I've secured the grain in sealed bins in the basement. Even if the villa floods, I've got the submarine and diving gear. I can retrieve it." She zipped a final bag shut. "Bring too much food now and you'll draw eyes. What if a few dozen people jump us on the road? Better to be cautious."
That made sense. They already had a lot of food piled around them. Enough for half a month, easily, even with her appetite.
Jing Lai added a needle to the heart, eyeing the towering vehicle. "But what you're bringing is still flashy. It'll draw hate anyway. Maybe not for the food, but for having this much stuff."
No, when it comes to attracting hatred compared to some folks later, she would be modest. The thought was internal, a cold slice of memory. When the time comes, it'll be really like the Eight Immortals crossing the sea, much like whole parade of miracles by then. She would see soon enough, the extremes people would go to, the treasures they would reveal when pushed to the brink.
Grandma Jing originally wanted to bring all the poultry, fussing over the coop. In the end, it was impossible, the logistics of transporting live birds in the chaos untenable. After Jing Shu promised to check on them daily with the submarine, Grandma Jing tied each bird's leg with a short string to prevent drowning and personally put little makeshift life jackets, cut-up foam pads, on the two best layers, then took only Xiao Dou along, with this reasoning, stated firmly:
"It lays twenty eggs a day. Anyone can die but not it." The hen, in her mind, was family; the chickens were vital infrastructure.
Everyone pulled on knee-high rain boots and sealed raincoats, checking each other's seals at the wrists and neck. At last, the family set out in neat order, a small procession leaving the temporary camp on the eighteenth floor.
Jing An drove the overloaded BYD Song, its suspension groaning softly. Grandma Jing, Grandpa Jing, Su Lanzhi, and Third Aunt took the seats, since two spots were filled with soft bags of supplies.
Xiao Dou rode in Grandma Jing's arms, basking in special treatment, its nose pressed to the foggy window.
Jing Shu ferried Wu You'ai on the shark submarine. It was more maneuverable in the flooded streets they might encounter, and she needed to keep an eye on the community convoy, acting as a scout and rear guard.
In ten minutes, Wu You'ai had gathered everyone from the top floor and the units below. No one had much to bring. The only prep most made was wearing every piece of clothing they owned and wrapping themselves tight with plastic bags in every color, blue, white, translucent, secured with tape or string. Those with better means wore a cheap raincoat over that bulky package.
It wouldn't help much. From Jing Shu's experience, if it wasn't a properly sealed raincoat, you were better off without the plastic cocoon. Red nematodes loved burrowing into warm, damp spaces. They would slip in through any gap, any loose fold. The consequences… ha. She didn't elaborate, the memory of itchy, burning skin enough.
Everyone had a bicycle, salvaged or brought from home. The convoy rolled out in a roar of spinning wheels through puddles and muttered worries. Jing Shu even spotted Zhang Bingbing with a big belly, moving slowly with help. She looked well, all things considered. When they saw the shark submarine glide past, envy flashed in their eyes, a bright, bitter spark.
People from the villas really were on another level. Another fancy toy. The unspoken thought hung in the wet air.
Four days of downpour had left even the high ground with standing water, large puddles that splashed up to the knees. The overloaded BYD Song waded forward through wind and rain, its tires pushing wakes through the brown water. The family ate breakfast on the move, cold, chewy flat naan Grandma Jing had made the day before, with sharp pickles and strips of spicy jerky, washed down with thermos-hot milk tea, passing parcels hand to hand in the crowded cabin.
Jing Shu patrolled the flanks on the shark submarine with Wu You'ai, eating the same breakfast held in one hand. The difference was that once she started eating, the physical exertion of the morning catching up with her, she couldn't stop. She finished a whole tin of spicy beef jerky, the oil staining her fingers. Even Wu You'ai's eyelids twitched, watching the rapid consumption. Would their supplies be enough if she ate like this every day?
Jing An's car, more powerful and less encumbered by people on foot, soon vanished from sight around a curve in the uphill road.
The road was a long climb, the grade increasing as they neared the park. In some places the water flow was too strong or the debris too thick, they couldn't ride, only push their bikes, heads down against the rain. Because of the delay in gathering and the slow pace, the convoy took over two hours to reach the Hongshan Ecological Park's outer gates. Jing Shu's feelings were complicated, a tightness in her chest. She hadn't expected to come back to this place again, this stone maw that held echoes of hunger and cold from another life.
Police and crowds packed the gate, a sea of sodden color. Some barked orders through loudspeakers, the sound distorted by the rain. Clusters of people waited for assignment on muddy ground, their expressions blank or fearful. It was chaotic, but the weather was tolerable now, a steady soak rather than a punishing deluge. After days of rain, people were used to being soaked to the skin. Hunger and thirst weren't immediate problems, just a dull, gathering ache.
Wu You'ai moved like a tour guide buying tickets for a large group, waving her phone with its official barcodes. She registered their headcount with a harried clerk under a dripping tarp, then local staff in bright orange vests led the whole group inside, bypassing the longest lines.
The park was truly huge, the paved paths now streams, the manicured gardens submerged. After another ten minutes of trudging, they reached the real entrance to Hongshan Cave, the famed Thousand-Cave Grotto, a dark opening in the limestone cliff face, widened and reinforced with concrete. A staffer gave the two women, one on a bizarre shark-shaped vehicle, both covered in high-quality sealed raincoats, a strange look, thought to himself they must have connections, pointed a flashlight beam toward a branching tunnel, and said, his voice echoing:
"Your community gets all of Zone Z, Cave 5. It's marked inside with reflective tape. If you need anything, ping me in the big-data channel. Don't wander. It's easy to get lost."
He left, his orange vest disappearing into the gloom.
The Hongshan cave mouth was divided into twenty-six lettered zones, the letters painted in fading white on the rock. Each zone had dozens of numbered caves branching off, usually from 1 to 50. The lower the number, the bigger the space, the closer to ventilation shafts and the main passages.
"Zone Z, Cave 5 is a prime spot," Jing Shu murmured to Wu You'ai as they steered the submarine into the tunnel, its headlight cutting the darkness. She hadn't expected Officer Li Yuetian to play it so well, to secure such a decent location for their small group.
Jing Lai had just called, the signal weak and crackling, to say they had been blocked at the main vehicle entrance. It was Officer Li Yuetian who had arranged for them to go in first, his name clearing a path.
Signs marked every cave intersection, arrows and letters glowing under battery-powered LEDs. Steering the shark submarine carefully, its fins nearly brushing the walls, Jing Shu threaded the group through twists and turns, the bicycle tires whispering on damp stone, and soon found Zone Z, Cave 5, its number glowing. Jing Shu hadn't even had a chance to look around, to take in the familiar, hated dimensions of the space, when she saw the cavern was already jammed with people, a crowd milling in the dim light. Screams rang out, sharp and raw against the stone.
"Murder! Murder! Help!"
At the same time, cutting through the human noise, an eerie, out-of-place chicken call echoed in the cavern.
"Cluck cluck cluck."
A man's voice, rough and furious, shouted over it. "Who else wants chicken, you bastards?"