Chapter 131

“Even during the Food Crisis, it wasn’t this strict.”

“Landed at 3 a.m., and now I’m flying to Natal again.”

“My classmate landed at 12:20 a.m., and they wouldn’t let him go home.”

…

In the early hours of July 26th, Airport Hotel Quarantine shot up the trending searches.

According to Long Xia Daily, on the 25th alone, 120,000 people entered the country by land, sea, or air. Of these, 70,000 Longxia citizens were quarantined at the state’s expense, 20,000 foreign nationals paid for their own quarantine, and the rest were diverted to other regions for various reasons.

As hashtags like Airport Hotel Quarantine and XXX Causes Chaos at the Airport trended online, netizens realized something: Longxia’s quarantine policy wasn’t just empty talk—it was being enforced to the letter.

“Our neighborhood just issued a notice—anyone with a fever has to register with the residents’ committee.”

“Pharmacies won’t sell fever medication unless you’ve taken a Hugua test.”

“They’re registering all permanent residents in our complex…”

…

With the implementation of the Twenty-Fifth Day Policy, Longxia also released corresponding domestic measures.

There were only two days between the announcement and enforcement of these policies. Across the country, people felt the same way: what a hassle! The Hugua Virus was supposedly just a flu-like virus, and nothing was even confirmed yet—why all the fuss?

“I live in Chunfeng Community. It’s just a regular fever.”

“Do I really need a Hugua test?”

“You can’t just say fever meds are unavailable and that’s that.”

…

At 7 p.m. on July 26th, Zhao Ruijie had already visited seven pharmacies.

Zhao Ruijie, 32 years old, worked as a seaman for Sheng’an Shipping in Qing Province, mainly running the Huaiyun Port–Slanton route. Since sea voyages took time, he usually got about a week off after each trip.

He returned to the country on the 20th and was scheduled to set sail again on the 28th. But just yesterday afternoon, as he was packing, the company issued a notice: due to the national 14-day quarantine policy, the sailing schedule was adjusted—his next voyage was pushed to August 5th.

Zhao Ruijie didn’t have strong opinions about the national policy. It was just that this morning, he suddenly developed a fever—his temperature hit 38.7°C. He got dressed and went out, intending to buy some ibuprofen or similar fever meds. But after searching all over, not only was there no fever medicine, even basic injections were unavailable.

At 7:20 p.m., he finally found a clinic.

“I woke up dizzy and nauseous, bit of a headache,” Zhao Ruijie said evasively.

“Fever?” the doctor asked.

“Not sure,” Zhao Ruijie feigned ignorance.

“Let’s take your temperature.” The doctor pulled out a thermometer.

Zhao Ruijie obediently complied. Five minutes later, the reading showed 38.9°C.

“Just give me something to bring the fever down—pills, injection, IV, anything,” Zhao Ruijie said quickly, trying to get ahead of the situation.

There were no other patients at the clinic, so he figured the doctor might bend the rules. But the doctor looked helpless. “We just got the notice this morning. Fever patients now have to go to the hospital for testing.”

“Can’t you just prescribe me something?”

“The health bureau’s new regulation—no fever meds without proper testing…”

After a brief back-and-forth, Zhao Ruijie left the clinic, frustrated.

At 7:50 p.m., he took a cab to the city’s First Hospital. He wasn’t afraid of hospitals, but in his mind, hospitals were for surgeries or serious illnesses. This was just a minor fever—no need to make a big deal out of it.

By 8:30 p.m., Zhao Ruijie had arrived at the fever clinic window.

“Of all the countries, only ours makes such a fuss.”

“Feels like the health bureau’s broke and trying to make money.”

“Just a simple fever, and we still have to line up…”

…

There were over thirty people in line, all waiting to take the Hugua test.

Despite the number of staff, each test only took about half a minute. After a short wait, it was Zhao Ruijie’s turn.

The medical worker first entered his ID information, then swabbed both his nostrils with a test strip. “Results will be out in five hours. If your fever gets worse, go to the Respiratory Department on the second floor. If it’s serious, they’ll handle it immediately.”

Zhao Ruijie touched his forehead. He felt he could tough it out, so he sat down on a bench to rest.

Half-asleep, he heard a nurse calling from the hallway, “Is Mr. Zhao Ruijie here?”

His body felt paralyzed—he couldn’t open his eyes.

The nurse called again twice. Then his phone rang in his pocket. After a moment, he finally answered.

“Hello, this is the First Hospital…” It was the same nurse’s voice.

“I’m in the lobby,” Zhao Ruijie replied, getting up with his hospital card. Maybe it was the nap, but he felt a bit better.

Ten minutes later, Zhao Ruijie arrived at the Respiratory Department. Three young nurses were seated inside. When they saw him, one said, “No need to be nervous.”

“I’m not nervous.”

“Your test result came back positive. According to national policy, you’ll need to be isolated in the hospital for half a month,” the doctor said bluntly.

“It’s just a regular cold and fever,” Zhao Ruijie said, stunned.

According to national policy, from July 26 to August 15, Longxia would provide free hospital isolation for Hugua Virus patients. His test report confirmed he had the Hugua Virus.

“Hugua’s just a minor illness.”

“I’m supposed to head to Slanton next month…”

“You don’t have the right to force me into quarantine!”

…

Zhao Ruijie began arguing with the medical staff. When communication broke down, the hospital had no choice but to call the police. Ten minutes later, officers from the local precinct arrived. Since it was a national-level mandate, Zhao Ruijie had no choice but to comply and enter quarantine.

The next morning, Zhao Ruijie called his company. It turned out that twelve crew members from his returning ship had tested positive for Hugua.

“Just got back from Weir, and now this quarantine nonsense!”

“There are 200,000 Hugua cases worldwide, and no one else is quarantining.”

“If we’re quarantining for Hugua, might as well isolate everyone with a cold or fever.”

…

Over the next two days, the internet was flooded with criticism of the Hugua quarantine. Since the policy took effect on the 25th, over 100,000 residents had been affected, with economic losses exceeding 10 billion yuan.

“This is a terrible policy!”

And it wasn’t just Longxia—some international media outlets also began criticizing the country. Longxia’s quarantine policy made no distinction based on nationality. Whether you were a Longxia citizen or a foreigner, once you entered the country, you had to go into quarantine. For multinational companies, this was hard to accept.

On August 2nd, hashtags like #LongxiaQuarantinePolicy, #LongxiaTrade, and #LongxiaQuarantineSituation were trending. The world was now watching how Longxia would handle the aftermath of its quarantine measures.

…

At 3 p.m. on August 2nd, Liu Wensheng rubbed his temples wearily. With the national situation so tense, he hadn’t rested in twenty hours.

“Have some water,” Qin Yun said, handing him a cup of hot tea.

Liu Wensheng wanted to keep working, but he was too exhausted. He set down the documents and took a sip.

After finishing, he looked at Qin Yun. “What color is it now?”

“Red.”

Qin Yun opened the System Interface.

Host Name: Qin Yun.

Current Tasks: Cultivate one billion mu of Off-site Seeds, sell 50 million units of the Dual-Machine Series, restore 10% of the nation’s greenery to pre-disaster levels…

Unlocked Scenario: [The Beginning of a Disaster] (Red)

…

[The Beginning of a Disaster] was a special scenario unlocked during the trip to arctic.

When it was first unlocked, it appeared blue. After the expedition to the Arctic, it turned yellow. Then, in the early hours of the 23rd, it changed to red. A [Warning] icon now accompanied the red label, and the System Interface itself had shifted from its previous silver theme to a deep red.

Based on previous analysis, [The Beginning of a Disaster] signaled a virus alert. This time, not only had the scenario turned from yellow to red, but even the entire System Interface had gone red. The situation was serious enough that Liu Wensheng made a trip to Jinghe.

He stayed in Jinghe for a full day and night. Upon his return, the government released the “Twenty-Fifth Day Policy”—a preliminary policy that would be adjusted based on the national situation.

When Qin Yun heard this, he grew anxious and asked, “Isn’t this too risky?” The correlation between the system’s color changes and virus activity was still just a theory. To base such a major national policy on that alone… felt reckless.

Liu Wensheng waved it off. “We can’t afford to hesitate anymore.”

Since the year 3027, Longxia had been locked in a constant battle against all manner of natural disasters. Now that the national situation was stabilizing, Longxia faced two options: 1) preemptively prevent mutation of the Hugua Virus and implement early quarantine, or 2) wait for the disaster to occur and respond afterward.

The Hugua mutation was a hypothesis from the Longxia Team. Even if they chose the second option, it wouldn’t be wrong. But the memory of the Cockroach Disease from eight hundred years ago still loomed large. Longxia would rather make a mistaken call than risk unleashing an uncontrollable virus.

If the team was wrong, Longxia would lose nearly ten billion in funds and face global backlash.

But if they were right, they could potentially minimize the virus’s damage.

After weighing the pros and cons, Longxia didn’t hesitate to choose the first option.

With international tensions running high, the atmosphere on the farms was equally strained. The Biology Group was working around the clock without rest.

Right now, whether on the farms or across the country, everyone was hoping this was just a false alarm…

…

“I’m in airport quarantine right now.”

“I want to go too, but I’m stuck. Earliest I can leave is the 10th.”

…

On the evening of August 3rd at 8 PM, Wu Haoyang was furiously making and taking calls.

It was supposed to be the day he flew to Mali for a travel livestream. But since the 25th, he’d already been in quarantine for nine days. During that time, he’d pulled every string he could to get out, but this was a state-level quarantine. No connections could help him now.

Frustrated. Agitated. Stir-crazy.

That summed up Wu Haoyang’s last nine days. He’d regretted more than once not turning back the moment he got off the plane. If he had, none of this mess would’ve happened.

After venting to a colleague, Wu Haoyang opened his Longyin livestream channel. His Longyin ID was “Sky Blue Traveler”, with 1,100 videos and 20.35 million followers.

He splashed some water on his face and started the stream on his phone.

“Old Wu still stuck in quarantine?”

“Guess that Mali trip’s off this month, huh?”

“How’s the food and the place?”

…

As soon as he went live, fans flooded in with playful comments.

Wu Haoyang was one of the first travel vloggers to be quarantined. He’d streamed once before during this period, and everyone was curious about his experience.

“Still in quarantine. This whole building’s under lockdown.”

“Just confirmed with the company—we’re pushing the trip to the 15th.”

“As for the food… it’s what you see on the table.”

…

He turned on the rear camera. On-screen was a standard meal: two dishes, one soup, and a bowl of porridge. The food was simple but clean, and he always finished every bite.

“Dinner looks decent.”

“That millet porridge looks really well-cooked.”

“How much is quarantine costing you per day?”

…

Fans were full of questions.

“Quarantine’s free. Meals are sixty a day,” Wu Haoyang said, lying back on the bed.

“Sixty for a four-star hotel with food and lodging? I wanna go too!”

“Does your hotel have any vacancies?”

“I’m thinking of going abroad just to come back and get quarantined…”

…

Plenty of viewers were envious.

“It’s enough to drive you crazy!” Wu Haoyang complained. Sure, sixty a day for a star-rated hotel sounded great, but he couldn’t even step outside his room. These past few days had felt like years.

“Yeah, sounds suffocating.”

“Over in Canpesheng, the Hugua patients have already recovered, and we’re still stuck in quarantine.”

“My classmate’s stuck abroad and can’t come back. No idea what the government’s thinking.”

…

The chat started turning into a gripe session.

“Nothing better to do,” Wu Haoyang chimed in.

He didn’t want to bring down the mood, but this quarantine had caught him completely off guard. His work was on hold, and there was no one he could even complain to…

“Don’t stress too much, streamer.”

“We’ll head to Mali next week.”

“Tell us about the pyramids over there—are they really like what we see on TV?”

…

Fans tried to cheer him up.

Wu Haoyang felt a little better.

The stream went from 8:10 PM all the way to 12:30 AM, with an average of 30,000 viewers online. Just as Wu Haoyang was about to end the session, the chat suddenly exploded—

“Streamer, check the international news!”

“Emergency report just aired!”

“Go look now!”

…

The fans were so frantic that Wu Haoyang immediately pulled up the Longbo trending page.

Top headline on Longbo: [On the morning of August 3rd, 23 cases of mutated virus confirmed in Ruiwei, Mali. Patients suffering severe pulmonary fibrosis. Emergency treatment underway.]