Banxia strolled along Xuanwu Bay’s shore, stuffing anything edible into her bag. The coastal slope’s intertidal zone was covered with oysters, mussels, and barnacles—more than she could eat. Sea cockroaches scattered everywhere, fleeing at her approach. Seagulls circled overhead, occasionally landing to follow her, picking up what she discarded.
Living alone in this vast world, what’s most important?
Food is most important.
Unfortunately, summer made long-term food storage difficult. Banxia couldn’t find working refrigerators, nor did she have unlimited electricity. Most food had to be smoked or preserved with salt or sugar. She would take small fish caught by the sea back home to make fish sauce.
Using abandoned mosquito nets as traps, she could catch numerous small fish and shrimp, most shorter than a finger. She would preserve these tiny creatures, too small to cook individually, by adding lots of salt and sealing them in plastic containers for fermentation. The bodies would decompose in the anaerobic environment, eventually producing a brownish liquid—fish sauce.
The teacher called it “decomposition water.”
This “decomposition water” tasted both salty and savory, serving as a soy sauce substitute.
In this world, clever people never lacked food.
In the shallow waters near shore, Banxia often caught flounder, using sandworms as bait. She kept her fishing gear hidden in a sheltered spot by the sea, ready whenever needed. Besides her, no one else would come here—if she didn’t retrieve them, the carbon fiber and plastic fishing rods would remain until natural decomposition millions of years later.
In a world devoid of people, if undisturbed by animals, only time could erase traces of Banxia’s activities. Sometimes she would place a water-filled plastic bottle in the middle of the road. A month later, it would still stand exactly where she left it.
Two months later, still there.
Five months later, still there.
How lonely.
If only it would move even a centimeter.
The sun westered, with the Black Moon already showing its edge on the horizon, while the White Moon hadn’t yet appeared. Time for Banxia to head back. She timed it precisely—darkness would fall in about an hour, and she’d be home just before then.
Teacher’s Rule of Survival #4: Never go out when both moons rise!
This world was beautiful by day, but dangerous at night.
Countless times, the Teacher had earnestly warned her never to go out at night. From seven in the evening until six the next morning, all Banxia could do was stay in her fortress, draw the curtains and sleep. Building 11 of Zhongqin Garden, Meihua Villa, though appearing to be an old residential building, had been transformed by Teacher into a secure fortress, surrounded by high-voltage electric fencing.
[Content omitted: song lyrics]
Banxia hummed happily as she rode her bike through the orange-red sunset, passing through the city wall.
The bicycle frame creaked rhythmically, like musical accompaniment, as Banxia sang joyfully.
She had always been a happy person.
When Banxia pushed her bicycle through the complex’s main gate, the silver disk had just shown half its face above the distant dark buildings—the White Moon was rising, right on time.
Today’s harvest was bountiful. On her way back, she’d also gathered a large bunch of kale, which grew everywhere in Nanjing and was edible.
She parked her bicycle under the complex’s rain shelter, then carried her heavy bags through the electric fence into the building.
“I’m back—”
Banxia suddenly fell silent, vigilantly looking back at the looming shadows of buildings under moonlight.
At that moment, the girl’s scalp tingled. Something was watching her—the gaze felt like a python before striking, cold, bloody, and dangerous. The sensation sent chills from her feet to her head. Banxia stood motionless, one hand quietly gripping the pistol in its holster, eyes fixed on the opposite residential building and bushes. In the darkness beyond moonlight’s reach, something stirred.
What was it?
The girl held her breath, concentrating on listening.
She slowly drew her pistol from its holster, releasing the safety.
She didn’t know where it was, but Banxia was certain something was watching her, its gaze unwavering. This was intuition honed over years—she was extremely sensitive to being watched, especially by predators.
Time ticked by as Banxia’s limbs gradually tensed. She quickly planned countermeasures in her mind. Although the electric fence separated them, it wouldn’t be activated until she got inside. She wouldn’t hesitate to use bullets if her life was threatened. Just as she considered firing a warning shot, the oppressive gaze silently lifted.
Banxia sighed in relief, touching her clothes to find she’d broken into a cold sweat in those brief two minutes.
She carried her bags upstairs, dumped the caught fish into a large plastic basin, cleaned them with scissors, and then preserved them with plenty of salt.
By the time she finished, it was nine in the evening.
Smelling of fish and sweat, Banxia needed a shower first. After an afternoon in the sea breeze, her whole body felt sticky. She quickly tossed her dirty clothes on the sofa and ducked into the bathroom. The shower hadn’t worked for ages—not being able to bathe comfortably was torture for a girl. She and her Teacher had once tried hard to install a water tank and pump on the roof but ultimately failed.
Now if Banxia wanted hot water, she had to heat it on a honeycomb coal stove and pour it into thermos bottles.
After a satisfying wash, the girl put on clothes and sat in her room, drying her wet hair. She’d rushed through these chores, not even eating dinner, just to quickly contact the person from last night.
“Mom, Dad, wait for my good news!”
She briefly hugged her parents—they still felt as stiff as ever.
The black ICOM725 radio sat on the table. It was very old, older than her, even older than Teacher. Who knew how much longer it would last? When moving the radio, Banxia could hear metallic clinking inside—some parts might have come loose.
But she didn’t dare take it apart. She couldn’t repair it and feared being unable to reassemble it properly.
The girl sat in her chair hugging her knees, her thick black hair loose, extending her fair hand to softly click the power button.
The radio powered up, its pale yellow LCD screen illuminating.
14.255MHz.
Press the SSB button to enter single-sideband mode.
Press the TUNER button to activate the antenna tuner.
Banxia methodically performed each step, wanting to recreate everything exactly as it had been last night.
The headphones are on, hand mic is plugged in.
Her hands shook slightly, making several attempts to insert the mic plug.
The closer she got, the more nervous she became.
She might contact other survivors in this world again, or miss them entirely. Like the only two fish in the ocean, if they missed each other now, they might never meet again.
“Teacher, bless me.”
Banxia clutched the pendant on her chest—a coin Teacher had left her.
Headphones on again, gripping the hand mic.
Static crackled in the headphones.
“This is 66 Muluyuan Street, Qinhuai District, Nanjing City. I’m Banxia. Can anyone hear me? Please respond if you can hear me.”
Call once, and wait five minutes.
Call again, and wait another five.
Call once more, and wait another five minutes.
“This is 66 Muluyuan Street, Qinhuai District, Nanjing City. I’m Banxia. Can anyone hear me? Please respond if you can hear me… Is anyone there? Please respond.”
She lost track of how long she repeated this, how many times she called—maybe fifty times, maybe a hundred, maybe a thousand—until she heard that voice again in her headphones:
“CQ! CQ! CQ! This is BG4MXH, Bravo Golf Four Mike Xray Hotel, calling CQ and waiting for a call!”
Tears suddenly streamed down uncontrollably.