Days passed one after another.
The electrical wiring at the forest station warehouse had been repaired; all the lines that needed replacing were replaced, and all the repairs done. Director Zhou even sent someone to move the sacks that were piled too close to each other further away, and placed two fire extinguishers at the warehouse entrance.
Lin Jianguo had checked; those fire extinguishers were new, bright red, like two sentry soldiers standing guard.
He felt much more at ease.
But there was still one thing he couldn't let go of.
That morning, the sky was gloomy. The clouds hung low, dark and heavy, as if about to collapse. The wind was strong, howling loudly at the windows, and the withered branches of the jujube trees snapped with crackling sounds.
Lin Jianguo stood in the yard, staring at the sky, feeling a bit uneasy.
Something was off with the weather.
He remembered the news from the future—those disasters caused by heavy rain: landslides, mudslides, collapses—those words kept popping into his mind.
"Dad!" he ran back inside. "Don't go out today! It's going to rain heavily."
Lin Dashuan was putting on his clothes when he heard this and froze for a moment. "What's wrong with heavy rain? We still have work to do, even if it rains."
"Not… I just…" Lin hesitated, unsure how to explain. "I'm worried something might happen up on the mountain."
Lin Dashuan looked at him and said nothing, continuing to dress.
His mother chimed in: "He's right. The sky looks scary. Maybe you shouldn't go today?"
Lin Dashuan shook his head. "No, I have to go. There's still work at the warehouse." He finished dressing and headed outside.
Lin Jianguo hurried after him. "Dad, I want to go with you."
His father turned back and looked at him. "What do you want to do?"
"I want to go."
His father stared at him for a few seconds, then didn't refuse. He nodded.
The father and son headed toward the forest station. The wind grew stronger, blowing so hard that it became hard to stand. Halfway there, the first raindrops fell, hitting their faces painfully.
Then it started pouring.
Not gradually, but all at once—loud and relentless, as if the sky had split open and water was flooding down. Lin Jianguo was soaked through in seconds, his clothes sticking to him, shivering from the cold.
Lin Dashuan grabbed his hand and hurried forward.
"Quick, run!" he shouted. "Find somewhere to hide!"
They ran to the station's warehouse entrance, taking shelter under the eaves. But the rain was too heavy—the eaves couldn't hold back the water, which poured down like a curtain of water.
Lin Jianguo wiped the rain from his face, looking outside. Through the rain curtain, everything was a blur—nothing clear, only a vast white mist.
Suddenly, he heard a dull thud.
It wasn't thunder. It was a different sound—deep, heavy, coming from beyond the mountain.
His heart clenched tightly.
"Dad!" he shouted.
Lin Dashuan also heard it. He stared into the rain curtain, his expression changing.
Another dull thud. This time closer.
Then they saw a scene they would never forget for the rest of their lives.
On the distant hillside, the soil began to slide down. Not slowly, but in huge chunks—entire sections collapsing. Trees, rocks, dirt—mixed together, like a giant mud dragon roaring down the mountain.
"Landslide!" Lin shouted.
His father froze for a second, then suddenly turned and ran toward the warehouse.
"Dad!" Lin Jianguo chased after him. "What are you doing?"
"Storage shed!" his father yelled. "Someone is underneath!"
The storage shed was behind the warehouse—a simple shelter stacked with timber and tools. People often hid there to shelter from the rain or rest.
Lin Jianguo hurried after his father.
The rain was so heavy that nothing was clear. They staggered toward the shed, which was still standing but leaning dangerously. Inside, they saw two workers crawling out.
"Come out quickly!" Lin Dashuan shouted, rushing to pull them.
At that moment, another loud bang sounded.
Lin Jianguo looked up and saw the mudslide turn a corner and rush toward them. It was moving too fast—so quick that they had no time to react.
"Run!" he shouted.
His father grabbed the two workers and pulled them out. They took only a few steps before the shed collapsed. Not because of the mudslide itself, but because rocks carried by the mudslide struck and brought it down. Wood, asbestos tiles, broken bricks—crashing down in a loud mess.
But the mudslide continued forward.
It surged past the collapsed shed, heading straight for the warehouse.
Lin Jianguo stood in the rain, watching everything unfold. He saw the mud collide with the warehouse wall—the wall wobbled but didn't fall. But there was something else in the mud—rocks, and something else—striking the wall and sparking.
Sparks?
His heart clenched again.
He saw those sparks splash onto the warehouse door and the nearby woodpile, which had been left untouched. The wood was wet from the rain, but the surface was still dry. The sparks landed, and a wisp of blue smoke rose.
Then, the flames leapt up.
Not a big fire—just a small flicker struggling in the rain, flickering on and off. But the wind was strong, the rain heavy, and the flames flickered erratically, refusing to die out.
Lin Jianguo wanted to rush forward, but someone grabbed him.
It was his father.
"Don't go!" Lin Dashuan shouted. "It's dangerous!"
Lin Jianguo couldn't break free and could only watch helplessly as the small fire grew bigger and fiercer. The rain couldn't extinguish it, and the wind only fueled it. It climbed along the woodpile, up to the warehouse door, and onto the wall.
The warehouse wall was brick—fire couldn't burn through it. But the door was wood.
As the flames licked the door panel, Lin Jianguo's heart sank.
At that moment, he saw a figure rush out from the rain curtain.
It was his mother.
She was wearing that floral cloth shirt, her hair disheveled, rain pouring down her face. She carried a bucket and was pouring water onto the small fire.
The water doused the flames briefly, making them dim, then flare up again.
She kept pouring, the fire flickering, then brightening again.
"Mom!" Lin shouted.
But she didn't turn around.
His father loosened his grip and also rushed forward. He grabbed another bucket, and together, they kept pouring water on the fire.
Lin Jianguo stood in the rain, watching the two figures—mother and father—continuously pouring water, in the rain, in the firelight. He saw his mother's floral shirt illuminated by the flames, saw his father's back bent like a drawn bow.
Then he saw it.
The small flames suddenly surged higher, licking toward his mother's sleeve. A corner of her floral shirt caught fire—a tiny blaze jumping in the rain, like a golden butterfly.
Lin remembered the first cycle, the golden butterfly on his father's sleeve.
It was different.
This time, it was different.
He rushed forward and grabbed his mother, pulling her back. She struggled slightly but couldn't break free. His father also came over, slapping the flames on her sleeve with his palm.
The fire was extinguished.
But a black hole remained on her floral shirt.
Lin stared at the hole, breathing heavily. Rainwater splattered his face—he couldn't tell if it was rain or tears.
His mother lowered her head, looking at the hole, then suddenly smiled.
"It's okay," she said. "Just patch it up when we get home."
Lin looked at her smile, his throat feeling blocked as if something was choking him.
He wanted to say something, but no words came out.
The rain kept falling.
The small fire at the warehouse door was finally extinguished.