The next day.
When Bai Yang got up for breakfast, he again glimpsed canned dace with black beans and Maling luncheon meat on the table. His dad had bought them. Although Dad confidently assured him that with professional forces involved, the problem would be solved—just think about it, a country of 1.4 billion people, a world of 7 billion people, how could they just sit and watch the sky fall? With all of humanity’s strength united, even if an asteroid were heading for Earth, they could push it back—Dad said all this, yet he was still secretly buying canned food everywhere, bringing it home by the case, having Bai Yang and Mom taste-test them. The three of them ate canned food for a whole week straight, and now Bai Yang felt nauseous just smelling it.
Besides canned food, Dad was also buying bows and arrows, daggers, stun guns, helmets, soft body armor, and ceramic armor plates on Taobao. He’d bring them home and test them with hammers and chisels, banging away—anyone who didn’t know better might think he was changing careers to become a military equipment review blogger.
Mom said if you’re so confident, could you stop saying one thing and doing another? You’re making noise every night, and the neighbors will complain sooner or later.
Dad argued righteously, saying how am I saying one thing and doing another? As a middle-aged man whose desires have declined across the board, can’t I have some extra hobbies? Haven’t you seen those plastic model enthusiasts? With their walls full of models—my playing with some knives and daggers is pretty normal! After saying this, he turned around and called the workers, secretly instructing them that the walls needed to be reinforced with steel plates.
Uncle Wang was looking at houses in Lulou Town. Old countryside houses weren’t worth much, but Old Wang was spending generously. He and Dad were secretly planning to connect the basements. When they unfolded the blueprint, it was bigger than the coffee table. The Amateur Radio Emergency Communications Command Center for Reversing the Future and Saving the World rose from the dead like a zombie. The two middle-aged chunni men had marked it with storage areas for supplies, freshwater storage, an armory, underground parking, and an impressive-looking command center. From the way they were going about it, it didn’t seem like they were building a doomsday shelter, but rather constructing a secret base for humanity’s final resistance.
This was middle-aged people’s plan for survival after doomsday.
Zhao Bowen remained completely out of contact as before, and all external communications were cut off. Who knew which laboratory he was in now, in full protective gear, with armed police standing guard outside, security tight at every level? Based on the plot patterns of all those sci-fi disaster movies Bai Yang had watched, the main characters who survive to the end must include a group of ordinary people and must have one scientist. He didn’t know if he was one of those ordinary people, but Zhao Bowen was very likely to be that scientist.
Bai Yang still went to school as usual. He felt that the place with the strongest doomsday atmosphere in the whole world was his living room. But step outside and the sun was still shining brightly, young mothers pushing strollers to sunbathe in the residential complex.
On the weekend, He Leqin invited Bai Yang to play video games. These two didn’t feel an ounce of urgency about the approaching college entrance exam—the former because his family was rich, the latter because his mind was elsewhere. The two spent an afternoon at the Fengyunzaiqi Arcade in Xinjiekou. Though Young Master He wasn’t good at studying, he was excellent at gaming. This guy had hung around arcades with his dad since he was little (Old He was also a legend in Nanjing’s arcade scene), spending more time holding joysticks than pens. He claimed to be Nanjing’s best King of Fighters player among those born after 2000, mastering both KOF ’97 and ’98. Wherever he sat in the arcade became the throne, unshakeable.
So He Leqin dragged Bai Yang to play King of Fighters, destroying him every round, avenging that arrow from Civilization.
Bai Yang rolled his eyes and said how many people our age still play King of Fighters?
He Leqin said we are the last banner-bearers of KOF for the post-2000 generation!
Since Young Master He was paying for all the game tokens anyway, Bai Yang decided to treat himself as the rich kid’s gaming companion. He put on a falsetto voice and said to He Leqin, “Young Master, your gaming companion also offers bedtime services at night. Would you like that? For just 1,500 extra, you can make any request you want.”
He Leqin said get out get out get out get out get out.
Around six in the afternoon, the two came out of the arcade. Leaving the noisy chaotic environment, Bai Yang’s ears suddenly felt clear. He stood on the steps and took a deep breath.
“Little White Sheep! Let’s go!” He Leqin had walked far ahead and turned back to call him. “Let’s find a place to eat.”
December days got dark early, and the street lights were already on. Bai Yang walked behind He Leqin with both hands in his pockets, and suddenly asked: “Young Master, if you knew you were going to die in five years, what would you do?”
“Take revenge on society,” He Leqin said. “Make some big news, like going to blow up the White House.”
“Be serious.”
“If you want me to be serious, don’t curse me,” He Leqin said. “Your brother here eats three meals a day, two bowls each meal, drinks milk at night, goes to the gym on weekends—how could I die in five years? Have you heard that saying? Old He, Old He, eat an old sow without burping—”
“No jokes. If the world-saving plan fails, everyone will be finished in five years,” Bai Yang stood in the shadow under a tree. He Leqin couldn’t see his expression clearly and wasn’t sure how to respond for a moment.
“Bai Yang—”
“Prepare early,” Bai Yang interrupted him. “No jokes, Young Master He. Your family has money, you can run very far away, find a safe place to hide.”
He Leqin was a bit surprised by this abrupt statement telling him to find a place to hide. Where was he supposed to hide?
“Hide? How to hide?” He Leqin asked. “Where to hide? Is there going to be a big earthquake or flood?”
“They’ll probably come down from the sky,” Bai Yang said. “So we should hide underground, the deeper the better. There are many, many tunnels in the mountainous regions of Guangxi and Guizhou in the southwest. Those should be good hiding places.”
“They? Aliens?”
Bai Yang nodded.
“This… Little White Sheep, are you under too much pressure lately?” He Leqin moved closer and waved his hand in front of Bai Yang’s eyes. “Why are you talking so mysteriously?”
“You don’t believe me?”
“I believe you, I believe you!” He Leqin said. “Have you seen ‘2012’? If the world ends, I’ll have my dad spend money to charter a plane, take you with us, and fly to the Qinghai-Tibet Plateau together.”
He Leqin figured Little White Sheep must be under too much mental pressure with the college entrance exam approaching. He knew Bai Yang’s mom had high hopes for her son, but this exam business—first depends on having good ancestral graves, second on having big shots in the family, third on being naturally smart, and fourth on parents pushing you to study—parental pressure doesn’t necessarily work. Getting into NUAA or NUIST wasn’t as simple as just taking the exam. Having good targets was important, but you also needed high scores, and scores were fate—this was Young Master He’s understanding of the college entrance exam. He felt his score estimates were less accurate than the fortune tellers on the street since he picked answers by rolling dice. Little White Sheep must be having delusions under the pressure of the exam.
Because he couldn’t get into NUAA or NUIST through the exam, Little White Sheep imagined the world was about to be destroyed.
“Come on, let’s go eat!” He Leqin pulled Bai Yang into an alley. “Food is the only thing in this world that cannot be wasted!”
The two found a street-side restaurant, and after eating and drinking his fill, Bai Yang indeed stopped having delusions.
Seems like eating and drinking solved the problem.
At eight in the evening, Bai Yang was dizzy from eating, all the blood in his brain stolen by his churning digestive system. He climbed the stairs home on unsteady feet and took out his key to open the door.
With a “click,” light from the living room shot through the door crack, falling on Bai Yang’s face.
For a moment he thought he’d gone to the wrong door.
Bai Yang tilted his head to check the door number—no, not the wrong door.
The living room was surprisingly full of people again. Bai Yang saw the tortoiseshell-framed glasses on the face of the person sitting on the sofa and instantly sobered up.
His brain sucked up all the blood from his digestive system like a whale, making his face flush red.
“Zhao… Zhao…”
Bai Yang stared in shock.
“Yang Yang.” Zhao Bowen gave a bitter smile and spread his hands. “I’m sorry, we’re back again.”