Jing Shu was still wondering how to bring it up when Grandpa Jing went ahead and told the story in full detail. He waved his hands as he spoke, making the situation sound much bigger and scarier than it really was.
She kept patting her head, nodding after every line he said and adding a quick "yeah" each time to confirm the tall tale. He spun the narrative until it was all over the place, and she added a few more symptoms: her skull splitting at the sound of the thunder, her ears ringing so bad she couldn't hear anything else, and her heart skipping like crazy.
"Dad, Mom, I'm going deaf," Jing Shu whined, clutching her head.
"You silly child, don't talk nonsense. I will find a doctor right now."
While the whole family gathered around trying to figure out how to get a doctor, the world outside the villa windows suddenly bleached into a stark, blinding white. It was as if someone had switched on a massive super spotlight in the dark sky. Even inside the house, they could see the glass glowing with a fierce, sterile light that washed out all the shadows in the living room.
"What is going on out there?"
"Did the sunlight come back?"
Everyone rushed to the window, their faces lit by the brilliance, but Jing Shu sighed and quietly covered her ears with both hands. She knew too well what this was. This was one of the doomsday disasters, nicknamed Thunderflash. From her past experience, that light meant a quake epicenter was about to erupt, and it had to be near the Banana Community.
That meant at least a magnitude 6 quake at the source. By the time it spread here, it would probably hit around magnitude 4 or 5.
Before the end, people categorized earthquakes into plate-boundary, intraplate, volcanic, and collapse types. They also divided them by distance: an epicentral distance under 100 kilometers was a local quake, and 100 to 1,000 kilometers was a near quake.
But the quakes of this year flipped all that knowledge upside down. They didn't fit any category. You could call them local since the sources were tiny, but instead of one or two sources within 100 kilometers, there were dozens of them.
Normally, an earthquake had one epicenter and spread across hundreds of kilometers. This time, there were countless epicenters, each just a few kilometers wide. It was more like a tornado brewing inside the earth's crust.
Scientists in her past life studied it in detail, but most explanations didn't stick. Only one metaphor felt right:
"Imagine countless tornadoes spinning inside the earth from deep to shallow. When one reaches the surface, it causes a quake. The closer it's to the surface, the stronger the quake—up to magnitude 10. The deeper ones only shake at magnitude 3 or 4."
That year, there were tens of millions of such tornadoes worldwide, constantly stirring the crust.
So right under Jing Shu's feet, tornadoes were spinning. If one reached the surface, a magnitude 7 or 8 quake would hit. If not, it would just rumble at magnitude 3 or 4. Nobody knew where would quake next or where was truly safe.
The moment she covered her ears, the light blazed for four full seconds. Her family rushed outside, but right then—
Boom! Boom!
The earth roared, a deep, guttural sound that seemed to come from miles below. The villa shook so hard the floorboards trembled underfoot. Even with her ears covered, Jing Shu felt the vibration rattle her teeth.
"Ahh, my ears!"
"I can't hear anything!"
"Hello? Hello? I can't hear!"
The family was caught off guard, all of them suffering brief deafness from the pressure. Jing Shu didn't warn them. It was better to let them feel the terror firsthand. It would hammer home just how serious things were.
"Dad, Mom, hurry, get in the bathroom! Lanzhi, hold onto Jing Shu, let's hide for now. Something big is happening outside! Hey, can you hear me?"
Jing An helped his parents, while Su Lanzhi dragged him along. They were all stumbling as the villa started shaking violently. Vases toppled over, the overhead lights swung in wide arcs, and tables and chairs rattled against the walls. Everyone staggered and fell flat on the floor.
It was a good thing Jing Shu had prepared. Ever since returning from Jing Pan's place, she had been swapping out anything fragile or unsteady, knowing hundreds of quakes were coming this year. The garlic in the living room and the fruit racks in the upstairs greenhouse—she had quietly modified them all.
Some things she hung up, not only making them prettier but quake-proof too. Even if they swung wildly, they wouldn't smash against anything. Others she secured with hidden nails and brackets.
She had even reinforced the kitchen cabinets, making sure plates wouldn't shatter every time the ground shook. Still, that wasn't a permanent solution. She would need to sit down with Grandpa Jing and figure out some tricks to keep furniture from sliding and small objects from flying.
According to him, wooden furniture was best against quakes. It was structurally solid and could bear weight well. This project would fall to him.
"Feels like a magnitude 7 source. we're probably getting a magnitude 5 here, no need to run," Jing Shu estimated calmly. Unless it was above magnitude 8, they didn't need to flee. After all, big quakes couldn't be outrun, and small ones didn't require running. It made sense. In her last life, people ran at the first shake—ten, twenty times a day. Eventually, everyone got used to it. When a quake came, you just grabbed something sturdy and waited it out. If you lived, you lived. If not, it was game over.
After a few moments of ringing ears, everyone recovered.
Su Lanzhi shouted, "It's an earthquake, it's an earthquake! Jing An, what do we do? Should we run out to the open?"
"We're already in a flat spot. Only Building 25 might collapse and hit us, but the developer said it's built to resist magnitude 8. Go, get in the bathroom, quick! I will think of something else!" Jing An shoved his parents toward safety.
Grandma Jing pointed to the door. "Zijin is still in the little house! Bring her over right now."
Jing Shu couldn't keep pretending to be sick anymore. She jumped up. "You all go, I will get Zijin."
She scrambled to her feet, Xiao Dou clucking madly and chasing right after her. Grandma Jing suddenly remembered and cried, "The chickens! The cows! My livestock!" Tears welled in her eyes.
"Mom, you go to the bathroom first. I will check the coop, just in case the cow panics."
She and Jing An braced themselves against the furniture and rushed out. They found Zijin crouched inside the little house. She looked calm and only said when she saw Jing Shu, "Grandma just gave me a handwarmer, but it broke. Such a waste."
"…Come on, let's get to safety first."
Meanwhile, Jing An headed into the coop, rounding up the chickens, ducks, and cow. Luckily, none of them were hurt. Of course they weren't, not with Jing Shu pulling the strings from behind.