Chapter 70

“It doesn’t even feel like Cybera anymore…”

While Maike waited patiently, Gao Shen stood aboard the [Longxia-Cybera] cargo ship, staring blankly at the sea.

Ever since the Harma Storm, the world had been grappling not only with food and economic crises, but also a growing water crisis. According to international authorities, Harma Acid Rain had highly corrosive properties. Even after dilution, the contaminated water, if consumed long-term, could trigger serious health issues.

Mali and Cybera were among the hardest-hit regions. Since March of last year, many residents had begun suffering from severe illnesses—respiratory problems, lead and mercury poisoning, and in the worst cases, internal organs corroding to death. Longxia, with its advanced water filtration systems, had managed to shield its population for the time being. But in other countries, where filtration technology lagged behind, the crisis was only worsening.

Under Strategy Point 25, Longxia had begun selling water filters to other nations. These could be purchased outright or through asset-backed credit. The collateral terms were generous—up to two years—marking the maximum extent of Longxia’s aid. Since the strategy’s announcement, international inquiries had surged. Longxia’s water filtration companies were now operating at full capacity, providing both relief to afflicted nations and a lifeline to domestic manufacturers.

Gao Shen, forty-two, was the manager of Hengzhiyuan Water Filters. He had visited Cybera once before, two years ago. Back then, Cybera was small but bustling, with thriving sea trade. The moment you entered Cybera Port, you could feel the local fishing culture in the air. But now… the port looked the same, yet the vitality was gone. Only a few scattered fishing boats remained, hauling up dead fish from the sea.

As the cargo ship neared the dock, the number of dead fish increased. Gao Shen looked down—the fish, victims of Harma pollution, had floated up from the ocean depths. There were so many of them, some already rotting for two months. The sight made his stomach churn.

At 9:40 a.m., the cargo ship docked. Gao Shen disembarked wearing a triple-layered mask.

“Hello, I’m Maike from Dayun Seaweed Factory.” A tall Cyberan man approached him as soon as he stepped off the ship.

Gao Shen was a bit surprised. “You speak Longxia?”

“I worked in Longxia for ten years,” Maike said with a smile.

“Pleasure to meet you.” Gao Shen immediately felt a sense of familiarity. The two chatted for a while before heading to Dayun Seaweed Factory. Maike had named the factory “Dayun” after a Longxia word, hoping it would bring good fortune to both his business and Cybera.

The factory was located twenty li south of Cybera Port, in the industrial park that had once been the largest seafood processing zone in the country. But with the food and Acid Rain crises, half the businesses had shut down. The remaining ones were barely scraping by on old seafood stock. Dayun Seaweed Factory was at Lot A369, formerly a seafood processor that had gone bankrupt last October.

The facility had been vacant for six months before Maike leased it at a rock-bottom price from the park’s management.

“Maike!”

As Maike opened the factory gates, a muscular man with brown hair approached. His name was Ha’ersi, a relative of Maike’s, helping him set up the factory.

“This is Ha’ersi, my friend,” Maike introduced him to Gao Shen, then turned to Ha’ersi and said in the local language, “This is Manager Gao.”

“Hello!” Ha’ersi didn’t speak Longxia, so he offered a warm handshake instead.

“Hello,” Gao Shen replied, shaking his hand.

After the awkward but friendly greeting, Gao Shen and his assistant entered the factory. The facility covered 7,200 square meters, and the seaweed processing equipment was already in place—secondhand machines Maike had salvaged from a defunct plant. Cybera had once been famous for its fisheries, with seaweed grown on floating rafts. But now with the ocean so polluted, those rafts were useless.

Maike planned to buy professional water filtration systems to simulate seawater indoors for cultivation. The cost would be higher than traditional raft farming, but with seaweed prices on the rise, the indoor method could still be profitable.

“These are custom filtration units. The cost might be a bit high,” Gao Shen said after inspecting the site.

“How much are we talking?” Maike took a deep breath.

“We’ll need to run the numbers.”

With years of experience, Gao Shen quickly gathered Maike’s requirements and instructed his team to calculate the quote.

The next morning, Hengzhiyuan completed the estimate: 1.2 million.

“One-point-two million?” Maike was stunned.

“That’s the standard company rate, already factoring in the aid discount,” Gao Shen said helplessly. As Longxia’s largest filtration company, they were following the mutual aid policy strictly—every quote was fair and transparent.

Maike quickly clarified, “That’s very reasonable.”

Over the past month, he had gotten quotes from companies in Natal and Guqia—2.2 million and 2.1 million Longxia yuan, respectively. And that was their lowest “disaster pricing.” He had mentally prepared for 1.8 million from Longxia, so this quote was a pleasant surprise.

“Here are the contract details,” Gao Shen said, handing over the papers.

They spent half an hour discussing maintenance terms before signing the deal.

“Pleasure doing business,” Maike said gratefully.

“Likewise.”

Gao Shen didn’t have the authority to adjust prices, but he did throw in an extra year of warranty. Both sides were very satisfied with the arrangement.

Over the next three days, Gao Shen visited other potential clients—all of whom signed on. A 100% success rate.

On April 10th, after wrapping up the orders, Gao Shen and his assistant wandered around Cybera’s capital. Aside from a few landmark buildings, the city was economically underdeveloped. The food crisis had left the streets filled with thin, wiry pedestrians—most of them porters or cart-pullers, their veins bulging from exertion.

“Different from Mali…” the assistant observed. They had visited Mali the previous week—one of the countries hit hardest by the Harma disaster. Though it had received food aid, most of its residents still slept on the streets, lifeless and despondent. Cybera wasn’t exactly lively either, but its people seemed to carry a quiet determination.

“Maybe it’s the environment,” Gao Shen said, glancing around. With 320 countries in the world, each had its own unique conditions. Having traveled internationally so often, he no longer dwelled on the differences in how people lived.

As they turned to head back to the hotel, a fifty-something woman approached them. She spoke rapidly to the assistant in a language he didn’t understand, then hung a fishbone necklace around his neck.

The assistant tried to take it off, but the woman stopped him and walked away.

“That was weird,” he said, confused.

Half an hour later, they returned to the hotel.

When the translator saw the necklace in the assistant’s hand, he immediately asked, “Did a local give you that?”

“Yeah…” They recounted what had happened.

The translator explained, “That’s a Cyberan fishbone necklace. It’s a symbol of gratitude and blessing.”

They were puzzled. “Gratitude for what?”

“For Longxia’s sweet potato aid,” the translator said.

Gao Shen and his assistant suddenly remembered last year’s sweet potato relief program. They hadn’t paid much attention to international affairs at the time—but now, receiving a fishbone necklace because of Longxia’s aid… it felt kind of proud.

On April 11th, Gao Shen and his team set off for Longxia.

As they passed Cybera Port, the waters were still littered with the stench of dead fish. It wasn’t that the Cyberan government wasn’t cleaning up—the port’s low-lying geography and ocean currents meant that even if they cleared it out, more dead fish would drift in from hundreds of nautical miles away.

The blue oceans covered 70% of the Earth’s surface. With Acid Rain settling in, more and more of it was being affected. Cybera’s situation was just the tip of the iceberg.

At 3 p.m., the cargo ship left Cybera’s waters. The assistant came up on deck, shirtless. “Thirty-nine point two degrees. Feels like we’re roasting.”

They had been in Cybera for five days, and the temperature had steadily climbed. Even as they left, the stench of dead fish in the sea was worse than ever.

“This place is at a low latitude,” Gao Shen said casually. But his gaze lingered on the sea below. Aside from the scattered dead fish, there were swathes of green algae—most of it dead, tangled up with the fish.

Back in Longxia, he hadn’t noticed it. But after spending half a month in Mali and Cybera, he could feel the shortness of breath—like a low-grade version of altitude sickness. Oceanic algae produce 88% of the world’s oxygen. As he stared at the floating algae, a thought struck him: if all of it died… would the world still be able to breathe?

“It’s too hot, I’m going to get some oxygen!” As her thoughts drifted, the assistant pulled out a portable oxygen canister from the boat.

Gao Shen shivered. If all the seaweed died, and everyone had to carry around an oxygen canister… what a terrifying thought.

He shook off the pointless ideas and started browsing domestic news.

Top trending news in China: [Pingyu County, Sichuan Province has completed the sowing of 300,000 mu of rice. The new rice variety is expected to be harvested in July…]

He suddenly remembered—April 1st marked the nationwide launch of rice and lettuce vegetables. He hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but now, reading about the sowing news, he really wanted to eat some rice!