Chapter 110

“Mr. Wu, Director Li says to meet in the conference room.”

On the afternoon of March 12th, beneath the walls of Flying Sky Ancient City, Fu Mingshu called out, looking up.

Fu Mingshu was twenty-seven years old, an intern restoration technician at Flying Sky Ancient City. The city, located in the southern part of Gan Province, was one of the nation’s key protected cultural heritage sites. Since the Acid Rain of 3028, the ancient city had suffered widespread wall erosion due to acid corrosion and drastic temperature fluctuations. As a result, it had been closed to tourists and under continuous restoration for the past two years.

As Fu Mingshu finished speaking, an old, wiry man climbed down from a scaffolding ladder. His name was Wu Qian, a renowned cultural relic restorer in Xia.

The two exchanged a few words before Wu Qian looked around with a worried expression. “The weather’s about to change.” The sky was overcast, the air thick with an oppressive, stifling weight.

Half an hour later, they arrived at the conference room.

“This is a strong sandstorm. The news says it’ll last three days.”

“Could be a super sandstorm.”

…

Over thirty staff members had gathered in the room. Through the windows, they could see the wind howling outside, the corroded trees rustling violently. Fu Mingshu snapped a couple of photos and sent them to his high school group chat.

“Is this the prelude to the sandstorm?”

“Stay safe, Old Fu.”

“Immersive sandstorm experience!”

…

More than thirty people were online in the group chat, all absorbed in the dramatic sandstorm photos. Fu Mingshu took two more shots, but just as he was about to send them, he switched to video mode instead. The wind outside was growing fiercer. He had only recorded three seconds when a bolt of lightning flashed in the distance, followed by a wall of sand that instantly turned day into night.

Fu Mingshu instinctively hit send.

Group chat: !!!

It was the first time any of them had seen such a terrifying sandstorm.

…

“Everyone head to the Tulou and the labs. Don’t leave anyone outside.”

“Forget the outdoor equipment—if it can’t run, it’s staying put.”

…

At the same time the sandstorm hit Flying Sky Ancient City, Fengshan Farm was also engulfed in a sea of yellow dust. Though the farm had the Heart of the Farm system, only the loess Tulou buildings were shielded—other areas were fully exposed to the harsh weather. Before long, everyone had taken shelter in the Tulou and various lab buildings.

“The sand’s too thick.” Inside one of the loess Tulou, Liu Wensheng spat a mouthful of grit onto the floor.

The farm had received a sandstorm warning three days ago. Located in a Gobi region, it was a high-risk area for sandstorms. Liu had been outside directing evacuation efforts, but the storm had arrived halfway through the process.

“Here, brush it off first.” Qin Yun handed him a feather duster. He had just returned from the fields, his hair coated in a layer of sand, looking just as miserable as Liu Wensheng.

After brushing off the worst of it, Liu asked, “Is everyone safe?”

“They’re all in the labs.”

“Sigh.” Liu Wensheng let out a long breath.

The farm had experienced mild sandstorms last year, but they’d passed quickly. This year, with widespread vegetation decay, not just the farm but the entire northern region was suffering from the sandstorm’s effects.

“March 12th: A massive sandstorm sweeps across Gan Province, hitting areas like Qinzhang and Jinghe. Authorities warn of a potential super sandstorm.”

“Longxia Meteorological Station urges northern residents to stay indoors and be aware of sandstorm hazards.”

“Longxia Transportation Bureau: On March 13th, all air and rail traffic in Longxia, Jinghe, and Qinzhang will be suspended…”

…

For the next two days, every news broadcast was dominated by sandstorm coverage. Aside from the near-zero visibility, the most immediate impact was a total transportation shutdown. The storm’s reach was so vast that north-south travel across the country came to a halt.

“Stuck at Shan’an Airport for three days now. [photo][photo]”

“Can’t see three meters ahead. Even the buses are canceled.”

“Step outside and you’re coated in dirt.”

…

Over the past two days, the hashtag #NorthernSuperSandstorm# had dominated national trending lists. Unlike floods or snowstorms, sandstorms didn’t always seem immediately dangerous—but fallen trees, shattered high-rise windows, and near-zero street visibility all posed very real threats.

Yellow dust.

Blinding sand.

This was the daily reality for northern residents trying to get around.

Amid all the complaints, on the afternoon of March 15th, the sandstorm finally came to an end after three relentless days.

“So much sand…?”

…

The moment the storm cleared, Fu Mingshu and the other restoration workers rushed outside. After three days of devastation, the sand around the ancient city had piled up half a meter deep. Fu barely got a few words out before he felt his mouth fill with grit. Even though the storm had passed, the air was still thick and murky.

He looked down toward the parking lot. Three black cars were parked there—now completely yellow. The entire ancient city was shrouded in a dusty, golden haze.

Just as Fu was about to head down for a closer look, a message popped up in the work group chat: “The Flying Sky Pagoda has cracked!”

Half an hour later, everyone had gathered in a crowd at the pagoda’s location. The Flying Sky Pagoda, built 1,300 years ago, stood seventy-two meters tall with seven floors. Each level housed numerous Buddha statues and murals, making it a vital piece of Longxia’s thousand-year historical record.

At this moment, due to the relentless sandstorms, the Flying Sky Pagoda had partially collapsed—half of the seventh tier had crumbled, and from the sixth tier down to the base, large cracks had formed. The entire tower leaned at an angle of over thirty degrees, looking as though it could topple at any moment.

“Notify the Cultural Relics Bureau!” the director of the ancient city ordered immediately.

“Is the tower going to collapse?”

“There are still 327 Buddha statues inside…”

“Should we go in and try to rescue them?”

…

A number of cultural preservation staff spoke up anxiously. Inside the Flying Sky Pagoda were some of the most precious Buddhist murals and statues. If all of it were destroyed, it would be an irreparable loss to Longxia’s history.

Some hot-tempered restoration experts even made moves to rush into the tower.

“The tower’s leaning—we can’t go in yet,” the director said, trying to maintain order despite his headache. Half an hour later, a security perimeter was set up around the Flying Sky Pagoda. With security personnel intervening, the researchers finally restrained themselves from charging in.

Aside from the leaning pagoda, large cracks had also appeared in the ancient city walls and murals. Some historic buildings had even suffered subsidence. According to the damage assessment, 73% of the area had been affected by the sandstorm, and many delicate artifacts still needed to be carefully inspected.

At 7 p.m., everyone returned to their dormitories in silence.

Fu Mingshu sent a message home to let them know he was safe, then chatted with his classmates about the sandstorm. He packed a meal to bring to Wu Qian, but after circling the dorm, found it completely empty. After a moment’s thought, he headed to the section of the city wall they had been repairing earlier.

The stairs and surrounding area were covered in sand. As he climbed up, he spotted Wu Qian standing on the wall, staring blankly into the distance.

“Professor Wu,” Fu Mingshu called, walking over with the meal box.

“Ah, Xiao Fu,” Wu Qian turned to look at him.

Fu Mingshu stepped up beside him. From this angle, he had a clear view of the Flying Sky Pagoda’s silhouette. After a few casual exchanges, Wu Qian asked, “Do you know how old the Flying Sky Pagoda is?”

“Twelve hundred years.”

“To be precise, one thousand two hundred and thirty-seven years,” Wu Qian continued. “The Flying Sky Pagoda sits at the westernmost end of the Jingxi Corridor. Throughout dynasties and centuries, it has always been the brightest jewel of the west. It allows us to glimpse into the past—twelve hundred and thirty-seven years of history. Through wars and regime changes, the Flying Sky Pagoda never fell. And now, in our generation, in the most peaceful of times, it’s collapsing.”

As he spoke, Wu Qian’s voice choked with emotion. He was sixty-two years old and had worked in the Flying Sky Ancient City for thirty-eight of them. He had always dreamed of restoring the Flying Sky artifacts so that three hundred, five hundred years from now, the people of Longxia could still experience the majesty of the pagoda.

He had devoted his life to this work, but never imagined the Flying Sky Pagoda would fall during his time.

It was now ten at night. The atmosphere on the city wall was heavy. After a moment of thought, Fu Mingshu said quietly, “It hasn’t fallen yet.”

The pagoda was cracked and leaning, but still stood tall across from the city wall.

Wu Qian waved his hand. “The Cultural Relics Bureau and the Construction Bureau have sent people. The Flying Sky Pagoda is too old—setting up support structures is difficult now. It might not hold much longer…”

Fu Mingshu fell silent.

…

“Is that a harvester?”

“Looks like they’re pulling up radishes.”

…

While the ancient city was shrouded in somber tension, over at Fengshan Farm, the staff braved the sandstorm and stepped outside. Thanks to the protective shielding, the farmland itself remained unharmed. However, the irrigation systems, harvesters, seeders—all the farming equipment had been half-buried in sand.

They took a few steps outside the building. The yellow sand was at least half a meter deep. Zhang Hu lifted his foot only to find his shoe stuck in the sand. As he dug around for it, Liu Wensheng pulled a stalk of lettuce out of the dirt.

It was a half-meter tall, green stalk of lettuce. Liu Wensheng examined it carefully, heart aching. “What a waste.”

This was system-grown lettuce. Though it had survived the sandstorm, the leaves were imprinted with marks from the sand’s pressure. The system crops were resilient, but physical damage like this was beyond their defense.

The farm didn’t just grow lettuce—it also had large plots of tomatoes and lettuce.

This entire batch of vegetables was ruined.

Over the next three days, the staff worked to clean up the farm. With the help of the system’s AI, the sand was cleared quickly and efficiently.

By March 19th, the farm had returned to its previous state. The sandstorm had come suddenly and left just as abruptly. Like a signal, its departure marked the return of normal temperatures in northern Longxia.

On March 20th, when residents stepped outside, they discovered that the average temperature in the north had already reached twenty degrees Celsius. Still reeling from the sandstorm’s intensity, they were hit with another realization: it was time to break out the short sleeves.

“Just took off my down jacket—didn’t even get to wear thermals, and now it’s straight to T-shirts and shorts.”

“The weather’s completely messed up. The temperature swings are insane.”

“Been following the northern sandstorm news… Hope Longnan doesn’t get hit with a typhoon.”

…

After the northern sandstorm, people across the country started paying closer attention to weather changes. Sandstorms in the north and typhoons in the south were Longxia’s two major climate threats. Now that the sandstorm had passed, coastal residents began to worry about incoming typhoons.

“Just planted the rice—really worried a typhoon will flood the fields.”

“My home’s only twenty kilometers from the coast… I’m thinking of selling.”

“With the way the global climate is going, where would you even move to that’s safe?”

…

Residents in the south were growing increasingly anxious. As public attention mounted, on March 21st, the Longxia Meteorological Station released an article titled: Ocean Currents along the Longnan Coast and Global Marine Changes…

In the section on Marine Changes, it stated that due to the global greenhouse effect, sea levels worldwide were expected to rise by 5 cm this year. A large number of typhoons were forecasted, but because of geographical and ocean current patterns, they would mostly concentrate in areas like Natal Zhongnan. In short, while typhoons would occur this year, the chance of a strong typhoon hitting Longxia was virtually zero.

“Whew, looks like we can finally enjoy a proper summer.”

“I want watermelon. Ice-cold watermelon. Watermelon with cola!”

“No typhoons this year? That’s amazing!”

…

Netizens flooded the comments with [clapping] emojis. From the year 3028 until now, the simple prospect of a summer without typhoons was enough to fill them with joy.

Amid this nationwide discussion, on March 23rd, a short video suddenly went viral: Canna Lily in the Reef.

The video was filmed at a beachside reef and consisted of ten photos.

Photo 1: A pair of large hands scattering sesame-sized seeds into the cracks between the rocks. Caption: February 3027 — planted on a whim.

Photo 2: A patch of green grass sprouting from the reef. Caption: May 3028 — is this from those seeds?

Photo 3: The grass blooming with orange-red flowers. Caption: June 3029 — still alive?

Photo 4: The flower stalk now half a meter tall. Caption: October 3029 — it really survived? Continuing observation…

…

Since October 3029, the video blogger had posted monthly updates on the Canna Lily’s condition. Now, the plant had grown into a vibrant, blooming bouquet.

The final caption read: A miracle. [stunned][stunned]

A miracle.

It wasn’t just the blogger who was stunned—viewers were equally astonished. Ever since the global Acid Rain catastrophe, no plant could survive without Acid Rain Seeds or bio-fertilizers. Yet this Canna Lily had managed to grow for three years without dying… It truly was a miracle.