Chapter 132

“Drink something first.” At 2 a.m. on August 4, Fu Hantao handed Zhao Xiuyin a cup of hot milk. Both Fu Hantao and Zhao Xiuyin were reporters for International Television Station, responsible for covering news in Mali and the Southeast region.

On July 15, the station issued a directive instructing reporters across the country to pay close attention to the Hugua Virus. The Hugua Virus was an illness linked to global warming, with symptoms like fever, chills, and headaches. It came on fast but resolved quickly, and to most people, it seemed no different from a common cold.

Neither of them understood why the government was taking it so seriously, but out of professional duty, they had been closely following the virus’s developments.

As of August 2, Mali had reported 32,000 cases of Hugua Virus.

Yesterday afternoon, Ruiwei Hospital admitted twenty-three new Hugua patients. These patients were found to have an unknown mutated strain of the virus. The Shuilan Health Organization was currently studying the strain, while the patients were being treated in the operating room. The situation had escalated so suddenly that, aside from Longxia’s reporters, journalists from other countries were still resting and waiting for updates.

“Warm yourself up.” Fu Hantao opened the milk as he spoke.

“Thanks,” Zhao Xiuyin said, taking the cup.

Seeing how exhausted she looked, Fu Hantao asked, “Why don’t you go get some rest?”

Zhao Xiuyin was thirty-three this year and hadn’t slept in seventeen hours since the day before.

“No need,” she shook her head. Everyone was waiting at the hospital, and she didn’t want to miss any breaking news.

She pointed to the mask in Fu Hantao’s hand. “Wear that properly.”

“I didn’t notice,” Fu Hantao said, adjusting his mask. It was a clean white one, with the “Fengshan” logo printed on the lower right corner.

After the implementation of the 25th Day Policy, Longxia had mailed Fengshan Masks to all personnel working abroad. The government strongly required them to wear masks at all times and report any symptoms of fever or chills immediately. Though the two weren’t used to wearing masks constantly, they still followed the government’s instructions.

After chatting for a bit, Zhao Xiuyin sighed and asked, “Do you remember two years ago?”

“You mean the Harma Storm?” Fu Hantao replied.

“Yeah.”

They had both worked in Mali for seven years. Two years ago, the Harma Storm had struck, bringing with it intense acid rain in areas like MaliSola. The Harma Acid Rain had marked the beginning of the Food Crisis. Although that crisis had since eased and the Hugua Virus wasn’t as catastrophic as the Harma Storm, she still had a nagging feeling of unease.

“Don’t overthink it,” Fu Hantao said.

“Mm,” Zhao Xiuyin nodded.

At 3 a.m., Zhao Xiuyin fell asleep on a bench. Fu Hantao scrolled through photos of the acid rain from two years ago. Even though he had told Zhao Xiuyin not to worry, his mind couldn’t help but drift back to the Acid Rain of ’28.

Time ticked by slowly. At 6 a.m., the doors to the operating room finally opened.

“We’re with Global Daily.”

“We’re from Will Weekly…”

Reporters swarmed forward.

Government officials signaled for quiet. Half an hour later, after coordinating with the medical staff, they held a press conference.

“These are the patients’ detailed records.” The Mali official presented hospital documents, including lung scans. According to the images, all twenty-three patients had developed lung fibrosis. Three of them had sustained up to 70% lung damage.

After showing the lung scans, the official displayed the patients’ infection timelines.

Based on reports from their families, the earliest symptoms had appeared twenty days ago, while the most recent cases had developed symptoms just a week prior.

“What’s the recovery rate for lung fibrosis?”

“What caused the virus to mutate?”

“Is the mutated virus contagious?”

Reporters fired off questions one after another.

“We don’t know yet,” the official replied, shaking his head. The data presented had been approved for release by the Mali government. The virus samples had already been sent to the Shuilan Health Organization, and further details would be announced by the health authorities.

By 10 a.m., the contents of the press conference were published in written form across global news outlets.

“What is lung fibrosis?”

“Is it contagious?”

“This isn’t just a common cold, is it?”

Netizens around the world, not just in Longxia, were left confused and concerned.

Medical professionals began explaining: “Lung fibrosis can be primary, secondary, or idiopathic. The images show primary fibrosis, which is the most severe form.”

One user asked, “Can you get a lung transplant or use stem cell therapy?”

“Lung fibrosis is like overcooked chicken breast—once it’s that damaged, it’s nearly impossible to reverse.”

After rounds of discussion, the general consensus online was: lung fibrosis is extremely difficult to treat.

“This is terrifying…”

As the internet buzzed with discussion, Wu Haoyang scrolled through his phone, absorbed in the news. He had been following updates on the Hugua Virus since 2 a.m. He wasn’t in Mali, but had just returned from Sola… and now he was feeling feverish and had a headache.

After reading the news for a while, Wu Haoyang rummaged through his hotel room for a thermometer.

“Taking your temperature again?”

“The streamer’s checked three times this morning already.”

Wu Haoyang hadn’t slept all night. Bored from being alone, he had started a livestream at 10 a.m. It had been running for five hours now, with 10,000 viewers online.

“Worried the reading won’t be accurate,” he said, holding the thermometer tightly under his arm.

“Are you afraid you caught it?” a viewer asked.

“Yeah.” Wu Haoyang looked visibly distressed. He wasn’t afraid of the Hugua Virus itself, but Sola was right next to Mali. Now that the virus had mutated and had a twenty-day incubation period, he was terrified he might have been infected.

He touched the area over his lungs.

The images from the Mali reports were horrifying. He was afraid his lungs would end up looking like a block of honeycomb coal.

Five minutes later, he checked the thermometer. Temperature: 36.2°C.

“Healthy as can be.”

“Mali’s situation is more chaotic. Might be due to the environment and climate.”

“They’ve said before that Hugua Virus isn’t contagious.”

Viewers tried to reassure him. Though they were usually the joking type, Wu Haoyang’s fear was obvious, and everyone was doing their best to offer comfort.

“Thanks,” Wu Haoyang replied, trying to stay optimistic.

Over the next two hours, he kept refreshing international news updates.

At 4:20 p.m., it was reported that five of the twenty-three patients in Mali had died as their conditions worsened. The remaining eighteen were also deteriorating.

“They were still being treated this morning. It’s happening so fast…”

“They seemed stable during the morning interviews.”

“People are dying from the Hugua Virus?”

Netizens were stunned by how quickly the Hugua Virus was spreading.

Before anyone could react, the Shuilan Health Organization issued an emergency alert:

【According to testing by the World Health Organization, the Hugua Virus has mutated. It now exhibits a long incubation period, high transmissibility, and ongoing mutation potential. The cause of the mutation may be linked to extreme heat and the toxins associated with Acid Rain Sickness. The mutated virus can be transmitted through air, water, contact, and blood… The mutated strain has been officially named Hugua H1 Virus. Detailed data will be released in follow-up studies.】

“It mutated just like that?”

“Ahhh, we didn’t even have time to react!”

“I just turned on my phone. What’s Hugua H1?”

…

Only fifteen hours had passed since the mutated virus was first discovered, and yet, staring at the red alert, everyone felt the same thing: it had come too suddenly.

“My coworker just came back from a business trip to Mali last month. I’m kind of scared.”

“How do you even test for this virus? If a nucleic acid test comes back clear, does that mean you’re safe?”

“I’ve got a bit of a fever… are hospitals still open?”

…

After the initial shock, netizens immediately thought of the domestic Huogua Testing. Hugua Virus could be detected through Huogua Testing. It was 7 PM, and despite the evening rush hour, residents with fever symptoms rushed to hospitals for testing. Anyone who had been in contact with people from the Mali region went to get checked too…

The symptoms of Hugua H1 were comparable to the domestic Qian Cao Ku virus—basically a death sentence once infected. Compared to the hassle of going to the hospital, protecting your life came first!

“There’s a line at the hospital, tons of people with fevers and colds. [Picture]”

“There are confirmed Hugua cases in our country. If you’re healthy, don’t go crowding hospitals.”

“How does this thing spread? How do we prevent it? I’m scared to death!”

…

By 7 PM on August 4, the number of people seeking treatment for fever had surged nationwide.

Just a week ago, Hugua Virus was considered a minor cold. No one paid it much attention. But now that Mali had reported fatalities and there was no known cure, people were terrified by Hugua H1’s characteristics and contagiousness.

According to the Shuilan Health Organization, Hugua H1 was like a domino effect. With no vaccine and no effective treatment, it was absolutely terrifying.

Terrifying. Terrifying. Terrifying.

Hugua H1 had appeared too suddenly. A wave of fear swept over everyone.

“I’m so scared,” one timid netizen typed, on the verge of tears.

So far, Hugua H1 had only been confirmed in Mali. People didn’t even know exactly what they were afraid of. But when they heard about someone being diagnosed at midnight and dead within fifteen hours, their lungs turning from healthy tissue to dry, honeycomb-like coal… they couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like if Hugua Virus appeared right next to them.

“There are 7,000 confirmed cases in our country. If you’re diagnosed, just stay home and don’t go wandering around.”

A cautious netizen urged others online. According to Shuilan’s data, as of August 2, there were 200,000 confirmed cases worldwide, with 7,000 in the country. These were just Hugua cases, but there was no telling when they might evolve into Hugua H1…

While cautious netizens were busy worrying and urging people to stay put, someone replied, “Can’t stay home.”

Cautious netizen: ???

Before the cautious netizen could respond with reason, the previous user posted a picture: “I’m in quarantine. [Picture] [Picture]”

The images showed a hospital isolation ward.

Only then did netizens recall that under the Twenty-Fifth Day Policy, Longxia had mandated not only that returning travelers be quarantined, but also that domestic confirmed cases undergo fifteen days of mandatory isolation.

It had only been ten days since the policy was enacted. All previously confirmed cases were still in quarantine…

“Holy crap!”

“Longxia is amazing!”

“Wow, what foresight!”

…

Netizens were stunned.

They remembered all the complaints about the quarantine policy over the past few days. Just fifteen hours ago, mandatory quarantine was considered a terrible decision. But now… it was absolutely the right call!

…

Over the next two days, Hugua H1 dominated news coverage around the globe.

Hugua H1 was a highly infectious virus with a long incubation period. With the world currently experiencing extreme heat, Hugua H1 was like magma building up beneath a volcano, ready to erupt.

As of August 6, there were 520,000 confirmed Hugua cases worldwide, with 23,000 deaths due to lung fibrosis. Mali had declared a national state of emergency. Countries around the world were temporarily shutting down air and sea routes. The global situation was dire.

【Longxia News: As of 9 AM on August 7, the cumulative death toll from Hugua H1 in Mali stands at 5,922…】

At 10 AM on August 7, Wu Haoyang stared blankly at Longxia News. Every media outlet was now reporting on Hugua H1. As of 9 AM, Mali had recorded 5,900 deaths. Countless foreign nationals were stranded at Mali’s airport, all desperate to return home.

“I remember the anchor was supposed to go to Mali on the 3rd, right?”

“The quarantine delayed it.”

“If they had gone, we’d be seeing the anchor on the news right now…”

…

While Wu Haoyang was still in a daze, the netizens watching the livestream were equally stunned.

They remembered the jokes they had made just a week ago, the excitement during the Mali livestreams. Compared to being in Mali, being stuck in hotel quarantine now felt incredibly lucky!