Dandelions serve as both food and medicine. When boiled into soup, they have a slightly bitter taste. The teacher said dandelions are also called bedwetting grass, as they have diuretic properties—if you have kidney stones, eating more dandelions can help.
When making porridge or soup, the tender leaves of the dandelion are primarily used. Yesterday, Banxia gathered a large bundle of dandelions from the residential complex downstairs. After sitting overnight, the flowers had wilted, so Banxia plucked all the leaves and put them in the pot to boil.
But dandelions alone wouldn’t suffice—like traditional Chinese medicine, they’re both unpalatable and lack calories. So she added peeled lotus seeds, salt, and oil, cooking it into a thick porridge.
The girl crouched on the floor, holding a fan in one hand while adding firewood to the stove with the other.
The fire burned vigorously, filling the kitchen with swirling smoke. Banxia decided the wild vegetable soup was nearly ready. She stood up, coughing as she retrieved the last two pieces of salted fish from the cupboard, tearing them into strips by hand and mixing them with chopped purslane to make a cold dish.
After a few minutes of high heat, the aroma began to rise.
“It’s ready…” Banxia emerged from the kitchen carrying the steaming pot. “Dandelion and lotus seed porridge is done! With cold purslane and shredded salted fish as side dishes!”
She excitedly placed the iron pot on the coffee table. “Dad, Mom, come eat breakfast!”
She portioned out the wild vegetable porridge into bowls.
“Mom, Dad, Teacher was right—I contacted a living person last night! A living person! Can you believe it? And he was a young man! Heaven has finally heard my prayers and given me a handsome guy who can help me carry wild vegetables!”
Banxia wasn’t clear about the identity of the person she contacted last night, but it still filled her with joy. She had never contacted anyone before—could what the Teacher said to be true?
Was she not alone in this world?
If there was a second person in this world, why hadn’t they found each other before?
But the city was so vast, the world so enormous—two people were incredibly insignificant, like two lone fish in the ocean. Could such fish ever meet in their lifetime?
Banxia slowly stirred the wild vegetable porridge in her porcelain bowl, carefully contemplating last night’s experience.
Fortunately, she wasn’t a fish—she had advanced communication equipment: the ICOM725 shortwave radio!
Banxia wasn’t sure where this shortwave radio came from. When she was very young and the Teacher found her and brought her here, that ancient radio was already in the room. She learned to use it entirely from the Teacher’s instruction, but she wasn’t as skilled at shortwave communication as the Teacher was. Following the Teacher’s instructions, she persisted in making outbound calls every night, never really expecting to contact anyone else.
Teacher’s Rule of Survival #2: Keep calling for help!
“I’ll try to contact him again tonight, his frequency is 14.255MHz.” Banxia spooned some wild vegetable porridge into her mouth, then frowned and stuck out her tongue. “Wow, it’s bitter and salty.”
Banxia licked her lips, then rested her head on her hands and slumped over the coffee table, making whimpering noises through her nose.
“But he turned off his radio right away—why? Am I that scary? I didn’t even get to say much… Sigh… Where is he exactly? How many people are with him? Does he need food? I don’t know any of it. If we weren’t out of fish, I’d want to stay home and call on the radio all day, but would he even be on that frequency? I don’t know that either.”
Banxia knew nothing.
“He said he still has his mom—that’s so nice… I’m envious.”
After breakfast, Banxia got dressed, pulling on a light blue hoodie and thick jeans, then took down her bow and arrows from the wall.
The bow was handmade, its limbs carved from wrist-thick oak, slightly bent after heat treatment. The bowstring was twisted from three fishing lines. When not in use, the bow limbs and string were stored separately; when needed, Banxia had to string the bow herself.
She drew an arrow from her quiver, faced the wall, took a deep breath, then spread her feet! Turned! Nocked the arrow! With a slight “creeak—” sound, power flowed from her core to her shoulders and arms. Left hand forward, right hand back, using standard Mediterranean draw technique, the bowstring drawn back steadily.
At that moment, Banxia’s gaze turned sharp, her presence as intimidating as a spear tip. Aim—bow empty, target full. Release!
With a sharp mental command of “Release!” the girl’s fingers let go. The arrow grazed past her cheek, lifting a few strands of hair. With a whoosh through the air, the wooden arrow firmly embedded itself in the thick leather on the opposite wall.
With a “twang,” the arrowhead penetrated nearly an inch into the leather.
The entire sequence flowed like water. Banxia lowered the bow expressionlessly, its string still vibrating.
The bow was still usable. The girl exhaled deeply—judging by its condition, this bow could last another few months.
Banxia was an expert archer, her archery skills even surpassing Teacher’s, though Teacher was an excellent shot with a gun. Banxia often wondered if she were to face off against Teacher with bow and arrow—at ten paces, the gun would be faster.
Within ten paces, the gun would still be faster.
“Mom, Dad, I’m going to Xuanwu Bay today. We’re out of fish, no food left. I need to catch some more salt. I should be back before sunset—wait for me at home.”
Banxia slung the bow and quiver on her back. The bow could be used for hunting and self-defense. If she encountered a red deer on the way, she could hunt it with arrows. If she met a wild boar, she could drive it away with arrows. If she encountered a brown bear, she could use arrows to perform a dying struggle.
“I shouldn’t run into any bears, right? I’m not that unlucky.”
Next, she slipped her dagger into the sheath on her chest. No matter what, a knife must always be carried.
Then she pulled out a Type 54 replica pistol from the TV cabinet, ejected the magazine, confirmed the bullet count—seventeen rounds, all accounted for—and finally tucked the pistol into the holster on her thigh.
Banxia once asked why this gun was called a Type 54 replica.
The teacher said all handguns were called Type 54 replicas.
Knife, gun, bow, and arrows all prepared, finally Banxia slung her shoulder bag—Teacher’s Rule of Survival #3: No matter what, never leave home without a bag!
This was iron-clad.
Even if you’re just going out for gasoline… Banxia regularly went to gas stations for fuel, and she had to take the bag.
It was a first-aid bag, stocked with medicines, bandages, maps, fire starters, flashlights, and spare knives. No matter where Banxia went or for how long, she had to carry this bag. The teacher had spent tremendous effort instilling this habit in Banxia. The teacher once told her that in this world, no place was safe. Leaving the shelter meant facing mortal danger—when you step out that door, you must be prepared to be devoured by this world.
Back then, Banxia didn’t understand.
Now Banxia understood.
All preparations complete, Banxia hugged her parents on the sofa tightly, then changed her shoes at the entrance.
“Dad! Mom! I’m heading out! I’ll be back before dark! Make sure to wait for me!”
The girl waved her hand.
“If I don’t make it back… No, I’ll come back. I still need to find that handsome guy tonight, can’t keep him waiting.”
With that, she closed the door and ran downstairs, descending eight floors in one breath, bursting out through the building’s main entrance.
“I’ll be back before dark—!”
The girl shouted as she ran. She had this habit, of not knowing who she was shouting to—maybe to her parents upstairs, maybe to the residential complex, maybe to this world. As if as long as someone could hear her words, she would return safely and on time as promised.
But before her lay a wild, green world. The gray-black concrete was gradually being covered by plants, knee-high wild grass grew from the broken pavement, and all the high-rises had become enormous giants wearing green robes. As soon as you step out of the building’s entrance, you touch that viscous, suffocating vitality and wildness. In the years since humans vanished, nature had frantically rushed in to fill the vacant survival space.
Banxia’s small light blue figure ducked into the undergrowth, quickly swallowed by this world.
Nanjing was a long-dead corpse, with towering trees growing lush and verdant upon its remains.