Chapter 180: Die yesterday, live today
“What? They left?!!!” A loud, rough voice echoed through the Area C mall building. The bearded man hoisted his luggage over his shoulder. “When did they leave? Where did they go?”
The people being questioned looked just as confused as he was, at a complete loss—they had no idea where they’d gone.
The bearded man felt his blood surge with frustration. He hurled his bag hard onto the ground. In the apocalypse, it wasn’t easy to come across good people; it was even harder to find good people who were both capable and ruthless when necessary. Now that the Northern Base had been torn to pieces, wherever they went, they’d always be latecomers. After much deliberation with a few old companions, he figured that since they had to relocate anyway, they might as well follow someone who had both a conscience and the means to survive.
But by the time they made up their minds and came over, the place was already empty.
It would be a lie to say he wasn’t disappointed. These people possessed abilities even more terrifying than Ning Bizhen’s, yet they hadn’t harmed any of them in the slightest. It was as if they had come solely to liberate Hanzhou—such a group completely defied the logic of the apocalypse!
At that moment, a sharp blade had just been splashed with two ladles of water. Feathers filled the air. The man raised his knife and brought it down, pinning the struggling duck’s neck and letting the blood flow out in a gurgle. The duck was nearly as large as the man himself, yet it was completely immobilized under his grip.
From the crack of the door, an elderly man on the bed stretched out a withered arm toward the outside. “Water…”
The man was about to get up, but Wu Heng turned and pushed the door open, walking in. “You keep working on the duck.”
Wu Heng entered the room, and the others followed. Lin Mengzhi, quick-eyed, pointed at the chipped bedside cabinet. “A kettle!”
There was a kettle, but no cup. The old man strained his neck out from under the thick cotton quilt, signaling for whoever came over to feed him directly from the spout.
Wu Heng shoved the kettle’s spout straight into the old man’s mouth.
“Ah!”
The old man drank his fill in one go, then pushed the spout away and pointed at the stools in the room, gesturing for them to sit.
Wu Heng glanced around the room. It looked like an old house from the last century, with a roof made of beams and tiles. Dust coated the beams, and in one corner stood a triangular table cluttered with bottles and jars. Behind them sat an old-fashioned television, equally covered in dust—clearly unused for a long time.
It was a very crude room, but the old man’s bed was crowded and oddly lively. At a glance, you could tell the mattress was layered with several quilts, piled with all sorts of oddly shaped pillows, and covered with two or three thick cotton blankets. The old man was wrapped up inside them, his hair sparse, his scalp and face wrinkled, his features all scrunched together—he looked exactly like an old crow that could no longer move.
There was only one brazier and four stools in the room. With so many of them, most couldn’t sit and simply leaned against the wall or sat on the floor instead. The floor, at least, was quite clean.
“Sir,” Lin Mengzhi brushed off his clothes and sat down next to Wu Heng, speaking first. “Is that man outside your son?”
The old man made a few indistinct sounds, not forming any words—no one could even tell what syllables he was trying to say.
Xue Shen added a couple of pieces of firewood to the brazier. “The man outside just said—that’s his father.”
“He said that?”
“That’s right, he is my father—but he wasn’t like this half a year ago,” the man’s flat voice came from outside. Then he walked in, carrying a cleaned duck, blood dripping from its rear. He passed through this room into the next one.
They heard a thud—he had probably tossed the duck somewhere—then he appeared in front of them again.
The man took a photo frame out of the bedside drawer and held it up for everyone to see. “This is what he looked like before the apocalypse.”
Several heads leaned in almost at the same time. In the photo was a middle-aged man even more imposing and sturdier in build than the man in front of them.
They stared at the picture in silence for a moment, then almost simultaneously looked up again.
“Isn’t that you?!”
For the first time, the man finally showed a bit of expression—though it was a bitter smile. He put the photo frame back and said, “My father isn’t even fifty this year. After the apocalypse came, he awakened a special ability—to foresee the future. But the damned thing is, using that ability costs him his life.”
“In less than a year, he aged into this state. So now he rarely uses his power. When you all arrived today, he had no choice but to use it—but he needs to eat something first. He hasn’t eaten for a week.”
“What’s your name?” Xue Shen asked.
“Ao She.”
Ao She’s tall yet somewhat sorrowful figure disappeared behind the door he closed himself. The room was dimly lit—not by electricity, but by an old-fashioned oil lamp. The glass cover had been wiped clean, and the oil inside was clear as well.
“Cough, cough—” In the silence, the old man suddenly began coughing again. Everyone turned to look at him at once, only to see a withered arm pointing upward. “Water.”
“I’ll go,” Dou Lu said, getting up from the floor and picking up the kettle. With several pillows propped behind the old man’s head, there was no need to help him sit up—she just fed him directly from the spout as he had indicated.
After giving him water, Dou Lu didn’t leave immediately. Instead, she bent down and leaned in very close to observe him—he was so weak and shriveled, like a grain stalk stripped of its rice.
“Can you hear me?” she asked.
“Uh—” The old man strained his voice. Under Dou Lu’s hopeful gaze, he finally managed to say, “Pee—”
“….” Dou Lu straightened up and walked back. “We need a guy.”
“I’ll do it.” Lin Mengzhi strode over to the bedside and lifted the blanket in one motion.
The old man’s body was even smaller than they had imagined—like that of an eight- or nine-year-old child, all bones with barely any flesh. Covered by the blankets, a careless glance might even make one think there was no one in the bed at all.
Lin Mengzhi thought of his grandmother, and emotion welled up in him. Without hesitation, he picked the old man up in his arms. Only after lifting him did he remember to ask:
“Where should he pee?”
The old man pointed toward the door.
Lin Mengzhi didn’t feel awkward at all. He carried the old man out just as casually as he had picked him up, then brought him back in and laid him on the bed. But as he was pulling the blanket back over him, his wrist was suddenly grabbed by a hand that shot out from beneath the covers. The old man’s cloudy eyes shone with a sudden light, and he spoke with unusual clarity:
“Your love life will be full of hardships.”
Lin Mengzhi blinked. “Are you talking to me?”
“Probably,” two people leaned in, and one of them said, “But why would your love life be difficult? No matter how you look at it, you’re unquestionably single—and destined to stay that way.”
“Feels like Grandpa can only say this much,” Xue Qi said.
Sitting in the corner, Wu Heng leaned against the wall. The heavy rain had left him drained, but after warming himself by the open fire for a while, he finally began to feel dry and comfortable again. Beside him, Xie Chongyi had laid a blanket on the floor and fallen asleep at some point—or perhaps passed out.
Thinking of this, Wu Heng quietly got up and moved over, kneeling on one knee beside him. He reached out and placed his fingers beneath Xie Chongyi’s nose.
Thankfully, he was still breathing.
The boy silently returned to his spot, feeling a bit better. His appetite followed, and he pulled out a large meat roll from his pocket, chewing on it with loud crunching sounds.
—
“Brother, I need to use the bathroom.” Shen Ruyi, eyes full of gloom, grabbed Shen Ping’an and led him outside to an open area.
He kept walking farther and farther away from the others. Shen Ping’an stopped and spoke to his back, “What do you want to say to me?”
Shen Ruyi turned around, stepping through the mud, and stormed up to him. Without a word, he threw a punch straight at Shen Ping’an’s face. He didn’t use any abilities—just the strength of a teenage boy—so Shen Ping’an didn’t even stagger.
“Mom is dead. Why do you look like nothing happened?” Shen Ruyi demanded. “That person—Wu Heng—killed her just like that. Why don’t you hate him at all?”
Shen Ping’an’s gaze was indifferent. “Do you want me to mourn our mother’s death, or do you want me to hate Wu Heng?”
“…I want both!” Shen Ruyi gritted his teeth.
“The former doesn’t need you to tell me—I’m not made of stone or wood,” Shen Ping’an said. “As for the latter…” The coldness in his eyes softened slightly, and his voice grew gentler. “That’s impossible.”
“He has a boyfriend, you pervert!” Shen Ruyi pointed at him.
Shen Ping’an stared at him with his dark eyes for a moment. The last time they met, Shen Ruyi had only just reached his shoulder, but now he was nearly at nose level. For a second, Shen Ping’an almost forgot—the other was only fourteen.
“It’s not what you think.” After denying it, Shen Ping’an didn’t bother explaining further. With Shen Ruyi’s limited understanding, the only kinds of feelings in his world were childish promises and simple affection like kissing.
Shen Ruyi lowered his hand in disappointment. “You’ve changed. You weren’t like this before.”
“I hope you can grow with me, instead of staying where you are. If you don’t want to, that’s fine, it’s your choice.”
“If growing up means becoming as cold and heartless as you, then I’d rather stay the same,” Shen Ruyi said bitterly. He shoved past Shen Ping’an and headed back toward the house.
Panting, he climbed up to the open space in front of the house and saw two people standing by the water basin.
Lin Mengzhi and Wu Heng.
Wu Heng was holding a pinkish-white fish in his hands. Its belly was plump, and its scales shimmered like pearls, the same soft color as his skin. Wu Heng had tucked his long hair behind his ear and leaned in to sniff the fish—only to get smacked on the chin by its tail, making him mutter as he pulled back.
The fish jumped out of his hands and, before even touching the ground, transformed into a pink-haired boy. His expression didn’t look too good.
Wu Heng wiped the slippery residue from his hands and explained, “I was just curious whether you’d taste good.”
By then, Lin Mengzhi had already changed the water in the fish tank. Holding it in his arms, he called out to Qiu Li:
“Come on, get in.”
“Dirty,” Qiu Li said bluntly, his tone full of disdain.
“This is the best we’ve got. Having water at all is already pretty good. You’ve no idea, back during that heatwave earlier, there wasn’t even urine for you to drink, and you’re still being picky…” Lin Mengzhi complained.
Qiu Li simply turned around and went back inside.
“Wow, this guy is seriously hard to please!” Lin Mengzhi said, looking at Wu Heng.
Wu Heng dipped his hand into the fish tank to rinse it. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Shen Ruyi standing not far away, with Shen Ping’an appearing behind him. When Shen Ruyi’s gaze met his, he quickly looked away, let out a cold snort, and rushed into the house ahead of them.
Holding the fish tank, Lin Mengzhi said meaningfully to the approaching Shen Ping’an, “You’ve got to educate kids early, you know, otherwise they might grow up into little brats like Wu Zhi.”
The three of them went inside together, just as Ao She called everyone to eat.
The old man moved before anyone else. He suddenly threw off the blankets, sat upright on the bed, swung his skinny legs over the edge, and planted his feet firmly on the ground. Full of vigor, he strode toward the dining room—leaving everyone in the room stunned.
“So this old guy was messing with us!” Lin Mengzhi hurried after him to argue, but the aroma of duck stew from the large iron pot instantly overwhelmed him.
“This is our local muscovy duck. After mutating, it’s grown bigger with tender meat and lays plenty of eggs—perfect for making blood duck right now,” Ao She said, taking out a stack of bowls from the cabinet. He lifted the pot lid and added several small, corn-like pieces into each bowl. “We don’t have rice, so we’re using immature corn as a staple for now. The core is edible too, you can try it, it’s sweet.”
Dou Lu looked into the pot. “You even have ginger and garlic?”
“They were already growing in the field. When the apocalypse came, my father and I dug up quite a lot and kept them as seed stock. We only planted them again two months ago, and they’re growing well now,” Ao She said generously. Then he added, “When you leave, you can take some with you. It’s not just ginger and garlic—we’ve got plenty of leafy greens too.”
“Let’s eat first,” Ao She said.
Wu Heng ate corn cobs the way others ate fruit—biting both the kernels and the core in one go, juice bursting with sweetness. As for the duck, he didn’t bother spitting out bones; he simply chewed everything to pieces and swallowed.
Since leaving Hanzhou, aside from snacks, this was the first proper meal for the group. Everyone ate in silence. Even the ordinary humans without abilities—those with the smallest appetites—managed three or four corn cobs and a large bowl of duck meat. As for Wu Heng, it barely filled the gaps between his teeth. While the others were already burping in satisfaction, his mind had drifted off to the duck coop.
“Have some flower tea—honeysuckle. My dad dried it.”
After the meal, Ao She brewed a large bowl of flower tea for everyone. The blossoms were big, four or five in each bowl, yet the tea was already a bright, clear color, with a refreshing fragrance.
Wu Heng didn’t like it. Seeing that Xie Chongyi seemed to enjoy it, he handed his own bowl over to him.
“Thank you, gege,” Xie Chongyi said without the slightest bit of restraint or modesty. His tone was respectful, but there was something almost predatory in his gaze.
Wu Heng was still savoring the taste of the duck.
The old man was no longer curled up in bed. Ao She had brought him a comfortable reclining chair, adjusted the backrest, and settled him into it. Half-lying there with a blanket over him, he looked like a yellow bean sprout buried under soil—only a shriveled head sticking out. He, too, held a steaming cup of tea. Outside, rain pattered over the fields, clinking and tapping, and somehow the room took on a strangely peaceful atmosphere.
“Stay here for the night. Leave tomorrow morning,” the old man let out a long sigh, though his voice was much stronger than before the meal.
But after speaking, his heavily wrinkled eyelids slowly drooped shut.
“Hey, hey, old man, don’t fall asleep. Didn’t you say you’d been waiting for us for a long time?” Lin Mengzhi shook his shoulder from the side.
The old man had already completely closed his eyes. His eyeballs made his lids bulge slightly, making it look like he had fallen asleep—yet the teacup in his hand remained perfectly steady.
After a short while, the old man slowly opened his eyes. The murky, mud-like color in them had turned blue—not indigo, not sky blue, but a deep blue with layered depth. They no longer looked like eyes, but more like two slowly rotating planets.
The first person he looked at was Ruan Silian. No one had expected it to be her. The way he looked at people now was completely different from before—gone was any trace of joking. Instead, there was a weary calm about him, as if he had lived for centuries.
“Pregnancy is hard, isn’t it?” he said as soon as he spoke. “You must stay clear-headed. Always remember your identity as a human, not as the Mother of Serpents.”
“Also, these little ones were brought out of the Shenjian Mountain by you. Raise them well, protect them—and in doing so, protect yourself. Legend says the Black Serpent curses those who harbor ill intentions toward them.”
“You will obtain what you desire most.”
Not everyone knew about Ruan Silian’s pregnancy—only a handful did. After thanking him, Ruan Silian lowered her eyes slightly, unwilling to explain or answer anything.
The next person he fixed his gaze on was Dou Lu.
“Pitiful, cursed child.”
In fewer than ten words, he had already moved on.
Neither of the first two sounded like good omens. Those who were chosen next found it hard to keep smiling, though they were still expectant.
“A spider has eight legs. As long as you keep two of them healthy, you will still be a fearless human savior, scaling walls and rooftops.”
Xue Qi’s mouth twitched. With a bitter expression, he looked at the person beside him. “Brother…”
Before Xue Shen could comfort his younger brother, those blue eyes had already shifted to him.
“You, with an orchid’s form and a thorned heart, will have a very happy life.”
A chuckle escaped from Xie Chongyi behind them.
Xue Shen: “…”
The old man coughed twice and turned to the next person—Shen Ping’an.
“Unknown in life, surrounded by admirers in death.”
The room fell instantly silent, so quiet that the crackling of burning firewood could be heard. He had said quite a few things already, but none had directly touched on death—until now.
Lin Mengzhi leaned his head toward Shen Ping’an. “Isn’t that totally normal? After you die, your sons, daughters, grandkids, and great-grandkids all come to kowtow to you—of course it’ll be a full house of people.”
“Fair point,” Shen Ping’an nodded.
When it came to Ying Liuquan, the old man said, “You will, as you wish, die in a way that shakes the heavens and the earth.”
“Wow, Teacher Ying, what kind of scripts have you been secretly writing for yourself behind our backs?” Lin Mengzhi rubbed his cheeks, feeling that trying to lighten the mood was becoming less and less like a human job.
Compared to the others, “a troubled love life” didn’t seem like such a big deal anymore.
Finally, the old man skipped over Yang Ao, Zhou Yi, Xue Zhi, and the others, and fixed his gaze directly on Xie Chongyi.
“Die yesterday, live today.”
Just as the corner of Wu Heng’s lips began to lift, he realized the latter half of that sentence was meant for himself—not for Xie Chongyi.
“What does that mean?” Wu Heng asked softly.
The old man’s eyelids drooped again, his breathing uneven and broken. “Water…”
A teacup wasn’t convenient, so Lin Mengzhi quickly grabbed the kettle and poured water into his mouth.
But when the old man opened his eyes again, they had returned to their original muddled state. He seemed to have lost consciousness, muttering:
“Spring is about to end, summer is coming. After the bitter winter, everything will come to a complete end.”
“A complete end…” Ruan Silian murmured thoughtfully. “Does that mean the disaster is ending?”
The old man’s eyes flickered between confusion and clarity. In a clear voice, he said, “To share sorrow with all ages of dust—you can bring the final era of humanity to a complete end, a beautiful end. But it will only be an end. It must be an end.”
The room fell even quieter than before.
After a moment of silence, Lin Mengzhi leaned in closer than ever. “Old man, is your ability actually accurate?”
“Of course it is!” Before the old man could speak, Ao She eagerly answered on his behalf. He shot Lin Mengzhi an unhappy look and said, “If it weren’t for my dad these past six months, I and all our neighbors would’ve been dead by now.”
“My dad’s tired. I’ll carry him back to bed to rest. You all should get some rest too. The rooms on the second floor are all usable—make yourselves at home.”
Ao She carried his elderly father back to bed and tucked him in. Then, knife in hand, he went out again, saying he’d kill another duck and stew some soup to nourish his father.
The others, however, didn’t go to rest right away. Instead, they added more firewood to the brazier.
“So, what do you guys think—”
“Wait, let me speak first,” Dou Lu cut off Lin Mengzhi’s incoming nonsense, her face serious as she looked at Ruan Silian. “You’re pregnant? With a snake? When did this happen? Why didn’t you tell me?”
Ruan Silian’s calm profile didn’t change at all. Lin Mengzhi tugged at Dou Lu from the side. “Let’s not talk about such unpleasant things.”
“Then let’s talk about our ‘orchid outside, thorn inside’ class rep,” Dou Lu said, still looking displeased.
“Are you targeting me?” Xue Shen asked uncertainly.
The brief and forced banter failed to dispel the unease brought on by the unclear prophecies. After sitting together a while longer, everyone eventually went upstairs one after another, burrowing into their blankets, staring wide-eyed into the darkness, listening to the chirping of insects as they pondered the future.
Wu Heng wasn’t very sleepy, nor was he interested in contemplating life—his own life was too full of holes to bear much thought.
So he squatted in the courtyard, digging up earthworms for X as a late-night snack.
Earthworms as thick as a forearm—he pulled them out and tossed them aside, and X ate them with great relish.
The greyhound lay by the brazier, fast asleep.
Xie Chongyi silently appeared behind Wu Heng. The boy was so focused on digging that he unearthed several worms before finally noticing him.
Wu Heng glanced back, then continued turning the soil, his voice soft and damp like the rain. “If you’re not feeling well, stay inside.”
Xie Chongyi crouched down beside him, resting his chin on his hand as he watched Wu Heng’s long, rain-damp lashes flicker. “I want to stay with you.”
Wu Heng hummed slowly in acknowledgment, and his movements gradually slowed as well.
“Class Monitor, we need to enjoy every day from now on.”
Xie Chongyi nodded slowly, deliberately, savoring the moment.
“I’ll take care of you,” Wu Heng said sincerely. Then, like a pale green scallion, his fingers emerged from the damp, soft soil, holding a long, thick, wriggling pink earthworm that thrashed violently in his hand. “Want some earthworm?”