First point: keep your hand steady.
Ban Xia took a deep breath, left hand pushing the bow, right hand drawing the string. As the oak limbs bent slightly, she drew the longbow to a span and a half, then held steady. Immense potential energy built up in the taut limbs and string, forming a delicate balance with her arms and shoulders, ready to release at any moment.
Ban Xia’s gaze followed the arrow shaft to the grass across the road, where she heard movement—high-pitched, dog-like calls.
It was a muntjac.
Muntjacs were common in Nanjing, a small deer species active mainly at night, though occasionally appearing during the day. Compared to the massive red deer, muntjacs were much easier to hunt.
They were an excellent source of meat.
Muntjacs had three virtues: light, tender, and easy to bring down with one shot.
Ban Xia hooked the bowstring with her index and middle fingers, the taut string nestled in the arrow’s nock. Left shoulder forward, right shoulder back, feet slightly apart—she recalled her teacher’s archery lessons. The body should be still but not rigid, stable but not stiff, and shoulders relaxed. Without a doubt, Ban Xia was a good student; her archery skills were now unmatched in this world.
The girl was at least twenty meters from her prey. She knew how to conceal her presence and scent. Muntjacs were extremely timid creatures, fleeing at the slightest disturbance, so Ban Xia hid behind a large tree. The wild grass reached her waist, and the breeze blew from the front—she was downwind, so the prey couldn’t smell her.
Second point: keep your hand even steadier.
The emerald shrubs rustled, and the girl held her breath as she saw a pair of erect tawny ears emerge through the verdant leaves.
Then its forehead appeared, with a black V-shaped marking on its fur, and two dark eyes. Ban Xia identified it as a female Chinese muntjac, as males had antlers.
Third point: your hand absolutely must be steady.
There was only one chance.
Once released, an arrow couldn’t be recalled. Miss and you’d startle the prey—with creatures as wary as muntjacs, there’d be no second chance after missing the first shot.
They’d vanish into the thick grass, beyond even divine intervention to find.
In the tenth year after humanity’s disappearance, cities had become natural landscapes growing from the earth. Nature’s erosive power was far greater than anyone had imagined. In just ten years, human buildings have become natural habitats for animals. For creatures born in this era, cities were simply part of their natural world, like forests, deserts, mountains, and plains—just another type of terrain.
By the fifteenth year after humanity’s disappearance, cities had become one of the most biodiverse regions in the biosphere. The slowest forces were the most powerful—sprouting seeds could crack concrete, and any place that received sunlight and rain was quickly occupied by tenacious weeds. Small rodents would burrow in, followed closely by predators that fed on them. The high-rise buildings humans had constructed provided animals with unprecedented vertical living space. They quickly adapted to the environment. Leopards, skilled climbing felines, learned to ambush from tall buildings or elevated highways. They were cruel and clever predators that had caused Ban Xia great trouble.
This was truly a wild world.
In the food chain, all creatures play one of two roles: predator or prey. Nature was cruel and bloody—at the height of human civilization, people often overlooked this fact, having long since abandoned their role as prey. They had not seen the bloody remnants of their kind left behind after being eaten for a very long time.
Ban Xia aimed.
With this shot, the female muntjac would die.
After killing prey, Ban Xia would process it on the spot—skin it, remove the organs, and take the best cuts from the back or thighs. She never took the whole carcass back; it was too troublesome, as disposing of the remaining organs and hide meant another trip far away to avoid attracting dangerous scavengers.
For safety, Ban Xia never hunted within three kilometers of her residence.
Suddenly the shrubs rustled again.
Ban Xia froze.
She heard a second muntjac’s voice, fainter and weaker.
Soon a tiny deer head emerged from the grass—soft tawny fur, perked ears, dark eyes, and two small bumps on its head. It was barely half the size of the first one, likely a young male muntjac that hadn’t fully matured.
This was a mother muntjac with her young.
Ban Xia held her drawn bow, aiming the arrow at the smaller one.
The young one would taste better, more tender.
She could take it back and roast it—she hadn’t had roasted meat in ages. Just thinking about it made her mouth water. Ban Xia released her fingers, the bowstring snapping forward.
With lightning speed, the arrow whistled through the air across twenty meters—and struck the ground at the young muntjac’s feet.
Both deer stood dumbfounded, staring at the wooden arrow embedded in the grass. The air was still for a second, then they sprang up like coiled springs, fleeing in panic into the grass and vanishing.
Ban Xia stood on tiptoe, adjusting her backpack straps, and raised her hand to shade her eyes, watching birds take flight in the distance.
They ran fast.
The girl strolled over leisurely, pulled the arrow from the ground, and tucked it into her quiver.
“I’m getting rusty,” Ban Xia scratched her head. “What bad luck—the meat flew away from my mouth.”
She thought about needing to practice her archery accuracy when she got back.
Oh well, can’t catch what you can’t catch. Ban Xia stretched lazily. “What’s meant to be will be, what’s not meant to be shouldn’t be forced!”
She pulled out her pocket watch—it was 3:30 PM.
Today’s hunting was over; time to check if her traps and snares had caught anything.
The girl emerged from the grass onto the wide road, took off her long-sleeved jacket, draped it over her shoulder, and wiped the sweat from her face and neck.
In this scorching weather, having to wear a long jacket was torture.
But going without wasn’t an option—the grass contained all sorts of hazards, like terrible stinging caterpillars and even worse land leeches. Just brushing against these things was enough to make you suffer.
The teacher said the stinging caterpillars were sycamore moth larvae. These devils could occasionally be found under plane tree leaves, several at a time under shaded leaves. Entirely green and covered in clustered spines, Ban Xia wasn’t afraid of regular caterpillars but hated these things. Touch exposed skin once and you’d get a huge swollen welt, painful enough to make you want to cut off your hand. It was hard to say whether they or rove beetles stung worse.
Land leeches weren’t common normally but would suddenly appear after rain. Ban Xia didn’t know where they came from—these things would hang on leaves, jumping onto passing animals to suck blood, impossible to pull off.
Stockings were essential survival gear for the apocalypse, worn over the head and hands when traversing grasslands.
6 PM that evening.
The black moon was about to rise; it was time for Ban Xia to return.
She had checked all her traps and snares and unsurprisingly found nothing.
Looks like she caught nothing today; she’d try hunting again tomorrow.
Ban Xia stepped through the entrance of the Meihua Villa complex, carrying her backpack and bow, humming an old song as she walked along the community path.
Suddenly, her hair stood on end.
Her steps faltered, and she almost instinctively drew her gun and turned to aim.
She felt it again.
Something was watching her.
That gaze was frenzied and bloodthirsty, like sharp canine fangs. Ban Xia instinctively knew it was a fearsome predator, but she couldn’t locate it. Her eyes swept across the lush shrubs and grass in the darkness—no movement.
Ban Xia held her breath, maintaining her composure as she slowly backed up step by step toward the high-voltage electric fence gate. One hand held the gun aimed forward while the other closed the gate.
She kept backing up until she reached the building entrance, flipping the wall switch for the electric fence. Sparks flew.
Only after completing all this did the girl slowly slide down against the wall, breathing heavily, feeling her clothes—soaked with cold sweat.