Too much had happened in a single day, compressing a month's worth of stress into a few hours.
At 4 a.m., Jing Shu couldn't sleep because the pervasive, gut-churning smell of roasted red nematodes clung to everything in the cave, seeping into her tent. At 6 a.m., she was ambushed with a flash-bang and a live grenade on her own doorstep. If she hadn't reacted with preternatural speed, the whole family might have been wiped out. They still lost over a dozen painstakingly quarried and stored boulders, now shattered into gravel. The battered arrival of the Conqueror RV had lifted her mood a little, a tangible piece of future security. But by noon, they were being brazenly extorted by corrupt housing officials.
Just when she thought the day's chaos was finally done, after she and her father had finished the miserable task of clearing the blocked drains around the property so they could finally go inside the warm, dry villa and rest, a growing roar of voices reached them. She looked out to see the gate and the entire road surrounding their property packed with a dense mass of people, a crowd that seemed to stretch as far as the eye could see down the community lane.
Her first, furious thought was of that hot-headed young clerk who had just thrown out threats as he fled. He must have brought people back immediately to stir up trouble, to make good on his boast. Otherwise, why so many, so fast?
Then she spotted Wu You'ai, expertly squeezing the shark submarine through the press of bodies, rolling up to the gate in that now-familiar, flashy vehicle. Her second thought, slightly more rational, was that these must be the new residents assigned to Banana Community under her management, following her back from the distribution point.
But why were they all rushing toward her house? No, on second look, their immediate target was not the villa, but the shark submarine itself, their eyes wide with curiosity and excitement.
"So this is the shark submarine from the video! It really is as cool as they said!"
"Wow, I can't believe someone that awesome is in our community now. Look, she even lives in the villa area. No wonder."
In the crowd, Shi Jiuyou, the woman Jing Shu had rescued from the supermarket roof, was so excited she started livestreaming on her phone right then and there, her voice high-pitched.
"Hi everyone, I'm the lucky Shi Jiuyou! Today during the big placement I was assigned to Banana Community, and guess what, the owner of the shark submarine who saved over a thousand people during the floods is here too! I'm so happy! My goddess is right there!"
The shark submarine eased to a precise stop just inside the gate. With a series of mechanical clicks, the canopy unlocked and lifted. A man carrying a professional-looking waterproof camera and a female reporter in a bright, clean raincoat jumped out, beelining for the submarine.
"Hello everyone, welcome to Wu City News Special Report! The hottest video circulating on the short-video apps these past two days shows the incredible shark submarine that saved over a thousand people during the great flood, and this is it! We have tailed it for a long time and it finally stopped here. Now, let's try to interview the mysterious person involved." The reporter, holding a microphone, turned to Wu You'ai, who was still in the driver's seat. "Excuse me, ma'am, how did you come up with such a brilliant and daring idea to rescue so many people? What was going through your mind?"
Jing Shu started to understand the surreal situation.
Wu You'ai climbed down from the shark submarine, lowered the clear visor of her own raincoat, and quietly slipped the vehicle's keys into Jing Shu's unnoticed hand as she passed. She looked genuinely helpless and told the reporter, "I honestly don't know what is going on. I'm just the community manager. If you have questions, you should ask the actual person in charge of the rescue." She subtly tilted her head toward Jing Shu.
Then she turned fully to Jing Shu, speaking in a low, rushed tone. "I only went to the park to take over a batch of newly assigned residents today. I didn't expect this many people to follow the news van and the submarine all the way back here. Or that the reporters were staking out the community."
Only then did the reporter and the ring of onlookers realize where the real focus should be. Their eyes swiveled to Jing Shu, standing slightly apart in her sealed raincoat, her face shadowed by the hood. "So… you're the owner of the shark submarine? You're the one who saved so many people that day?" the reporter asked, shoving the microphone toward her.
Jing Shu nodded slowly, then shook her head in clear annoyance. "What is going on? How did you even figure out it was this specific shark submarine? And find this address?"
The reporter looked amazed, as if the answer was obvious. "You don't know you're trending? Look at this video that has been shared millions of times." She held up her own phone, tapping play on a short clip.
Jing Shu took the phone and watched. The video was shaky, filmed from the supermarket rooftop. It captured her voice, slightly distorted: "The wholesale seasoning market is closed. Next time you go to the supermarket, buy some oil, otherwise you won't even be able to stir-fry in the future." Then the camera panned to the shark submarine, the narrator's voice, Shi Jiuyou's, saying, "This shark submarine is so cool, and it's driven by a girl. Too bad she's only here to pick up her relatives. There is no way she can save all of us…"
Another clip cut in: "Oh my god, this girl says she will evacuate us. How is she going to move more than a thousand people?"
When the clip ended, Jing Shu's expression had gone dark beneath her hood. A cold anger simmered. Thankfully, throughout the entire rescue, she had kept her sealed raincoat on and her hood up, never showing her face clearly. Her identity was still protected, just her voice and the distinctive vehicle.
In the crowd, Shi Jiuyou was buzzing with excited guilt. She wanted to rush out and bow in thanks to her savior, but Jing Shu's next words, spoken in a flat, dangerous tone, froze her in place.
"Who recorded this?" Jing Shu's voice carried, cold and clear. "If they want to meet me so badly, the next time I see them, I'll beat them to death."
Shi Jiuyou whimpered quietly, shrinking back. "So scary. I'm not going out." The livestream chat on her phone, which she had forgotten to stop, exploded with a cascade of "666s" and laughing emojis, screen after screen. Comments flew: "My fierce goddess is badass!" "She doesn't want fame! Respect!" "The savior has a temper! I like it!"
The reporter gave a strained, professional laugh. "Hehe, looks like our mystery savior is a very private person and doesn't want to reveal her identity. Then we'll keep it simple and just ask a few questions. How did you come up with that ingenious rescue plan? Most people would've been paralyzed, with no idea what to do in that situation."
Jing Shu said, without inflection, "Wild imagination."
The female reporter: "…" Her smile tightened.
She forced herself to continue. "In the video, you mentioned you were just there to pick up relatives. What made you decide to go beyond that and save so many other strangers?"
Jing Shu thought for a moment, her honesty brutal. "Convenience."
Seeing the reporter's face visibly freeze, Jing Shu seemed to remember she was on camera and hurried to add, a beat too late, "Cut the front part. Cough. What I mean is, people always say to do what you can within your ability. Since I had the ability and the means right there, I couldn't just watch so many people die. As long as I could save them, I would. It was the right thing to do."
The crowd murmured. They weren't deaf. They had all heard the first, blunt answer.
"Hehe," the reporter laughed awkwardly. "And why would someone carry that many climbing ropes in a recreational submarine? That seems… unusually prepared."
Jing Shu said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "To go climbing, of course."
Climbing. In this world-ending downpour. Great timing.
The reporter kept smiling through visibly gritted teeth. "When you made that risky decision, towing so many people through dangerous floodwaters, did you consider what would happen if it failed? The potential loss of life?"
"Desperate times call for desperate measures," Jing Shu replied, invoking a proverb that ended the line of questioning.
The reporter was about to give up. This person only told blunt, unvarnished truths. Couldn't she say something noble, inspiring, something that would make for good propaganda? "Alright then," she tried one last angle, "did you buy this very cool shark submarine originally as a hobby? Did you ever imagine it would be so critically useful one day?"
Jing Shu pondered for a while, genuinely considering. Just when the reporter thought she had finally hit upon a question that would yield a satisfying soundbite, Jing Shu said, "I traded for it about two months ago. The previous owner didn't want it anymore."
Curiosity piqued, the reporter leaned in. "What did you trade for such a valuable vehicle?"
"A few sprigs of fresh honeysuckle."
The reporter: "…" She stared, speechless. Either the trader was a complete fool, or this woman thought the audience were fools.
"Alright," the reporter said, giving up entirely, her professional demeanor cracking. "Thank you for your time. Please remember, viewers, this unnamed mystery person performed an incredible act of courage and rescued over a thousand people. Let's all hope that the next time she or anyone else is in trouble, others will step up to help them too." It was a generic sign-off, delivered with a lack of enthusiasm.
The reporter grabbed the cameraman's arm and practically ran back to their news van, looking relieved to escape. She was afraid she would have a professional meltdown if she stayed. She was also deeply annoyed about today's segment. Should she air it or not? On one hand, it was terrible television. On the other, the mystery person's identity was still hidden, and the raw, awkward honesty was… oddly compelling in its authenticity. She would air it. Why not? It was real.
After the reporters left, the crowd, emboldened, got even more enthusiastic. Phones were raised high for photos and videos of Jing Shu, or rather, her raincoat-clad figure, and the shark submarine.
Jing Shu's head throbbed with a building headache. Thank goodness, she repeated to herself like a mantra, for the fully sealed raincoat and the habit of never exposing her face. Otherwise, she would've become an unwilling post-apocalypse celebrity overnight. After all, once people were marginally fed and had a little energy, there wasn't much entertainment or positive gossip left. A real-life hero was irresistible.
What she hadn't expected was that she had stumbled into a wave of unsought fame. Saving that many people with a single, unusual small submarine was perfect, uplifting publicity in the grim apocalypse. Even the government's information bureau was likely boosting those videos to spread "positive energy" and morale.
Wu You'ai, seeing Jing Shu's barely contained irritation, raised her voice above the din. "Alright, show's over! Newly assigned folks, follow me to the distribution center to get your housing assignments and meal tickets! Everyone else, find your own designated Consolation and Counseling Specialist! If you don't, you won't eat tonight!"
Mentioning food was the most effective dispersal tool. The thrill of spectacle was one thing, missing a meal was another. The crowd of melon-eaters scattered fast, their curiosity overridden by basic need, vanishing down the wet streets toward the community administration building.
That night, when the edited Wu City News segment aired on the public broadcast channel, the whole family sat in front of the old TV in the villa's living room in various states of shock. Grandparents, who had been sheltered from the full details of the supermarket rescue, watched wide-eyed.
Besides Jing Shu's own family, the most stunned viewers were her high school classmates, watching in their own assigned rooms, garages, and basements across Banana Community. The grainy footage, the distinctive raincoat, the shark submarine, the voice, put together with her known residence, it was undeniable.
Everyone in the class chat now knew for sure: the mysterious savior, the owner of the viral shark submarine, was their formerly quiet, unremarkable classmate, Jing Shu. The group chat, once buzzing about housing, exploded all over again.