Chapter 40

“The living room and kitchen are flooded, but we’re okay.”

“Help me find a two-bedroom apartment, money’s not an issue—preferably above the fifth floor.”

…

2 p.m., Longjing Bay Community, Changping City. Gao Shengliang wearily hung up the phone.

“What did Lao Zhang say?” Xu Xiucai asked from the side.

“Not many listings available. Might take a day or two.”

Gao Shengliang, 47, was a beverage sales manager in Wang’an District. Ever since Longxia issued the acid rain warning for Central South, he and Xu Xiucai had started stockpiling rice and flour. They had seen the rain in Yunyu before and had made ample preparations. But when the acid rain really came, they realized how insignificant humans were in the face of nature.

Longjing Bay sat on lower ground. The entire first floor of the community was now flooded. Their home had been spared, but the floors and wallpaper were damp, and all furniture and appliances were unusable—only the TV was still sputtering away with sound.

Just now, Gao Shengliang had called a friend to discuss setting their house in order before heading to Jinghe to take shelter.

As they chatted idly, a WeChat notification buzzed on his phone. Gao Shengliang tapped it—

[Longjing Bay Property: April 18 relief supplies have arrived… @All Residents.]

“I’m going to pick up the supplies.” Gao Shengliang grabbed his jacket and headed out.

They had stocked up on rice and vegetables before the warning, so food wasn’t an issue, but they had long run out of bottled water.

“Come back early,” Xu Xiucai reminded him.

At the elevator entrance, the sky outside was still overcast. Most of the floodwater had receded from the ground, and quite a few residents were emerging from the stairwells.

“Heading to pick up supplies?”

“Going to get some rice.”

…

None of the residents knew each other, but just seeing others from the same complex gave a shared sense of how hard it was to survive.

Longjing Bay had 1,300 households. By the time everyone arrived at the property office, five lines had already formed. Gao Shengliang lined up behind Line 3, according to his building number.

“The wind was so strong a few days ago, it blew out all my windows.”

“We live on the first floor. During the worst days around the 10th, we slept in the upper-level stairwells.”

…

People in line shared their disaster stories. Though it had been three days since the storm passed, the violent winds and rain still felt fresh in their memories.

Gao Shengliang glanced around. It was mid-April, but because of the acid rain, everyone was bundled up and still wearing masks as they spoke.

At 3:20, it was Gao Shengliang’s turn.

“Here you go.” The staff organized the supplies.

Gao Shengliang looked at the supply list—

One box of bottled water.

One box of instant noodles.

One bag of long-grain rice.

One bag of sweet potato vermicelli.

“There’s vermicelli too?”

He was quite curious. He had volunteered at senior centers before and was used to seeing rice and flour as standard aid items. This was the first time he’d seen sweet potato vermicelli being distributed.

“Donated by Baisheng Agricultural Market—heard it’s Fengshan vermicelli,” the staff whispered.

“Fengshan?” Gao Shengliang was stunned. He didn’t know Baisheng Agricultural, but he had definitely heard of Fengshan Farm—for one reason: their TV commercial had been insanely catchy for a whole month.

After three minutes, the staff tapped the form. “Signature.”

“We still have rice and noodles at home.”

Gao Shengliang didn’t take the rice or noodles—just carried home a box of bottled water and the vermicelli.

By 5 p.m., just as he walked through the door, he saw Xu Xiucai with red-rimmed eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Gao Shengliang was startled.

“Our son called. He wants to come back—I told him not to.” Their son, twenty-five, worked in advertising in Jinghe. He’d been talking about coming home even before the Central South storm started, but they had told him it was too dangerous.

Now that the storm had passed, he saw the news about Wang’an District on TV and wanted to return.

After hearing this, Gao Shengliang replied without thinking, “Everywhere’s still soaked. No need to come back.”

He planned to look for housing in Jinghe. Once something was settled, they would head there to take shelter for a while.

After chatting for a bit, Gao Shengliang carried the supplies into the kitchen.

Half an hour later, a light, pleasant aroma drifted out from the kitchen.

“What’s that smell?” Xu Xiucai sniffed deeply.

“Beef vermicelli soup.” Gao Shengliang brought out a small clay pot.

The soup was made with sweet potato vermicelli, beef, dried shrimp, and black fungus. He had frozen a chunk of braised beef before the storm—it came in handy now.

He ladled out two bowls of soup and brought out the sesame flatbreads he’d heated earlier.

Xu Xiucai took one sip and immediately praised, “Delicious!”

The beef soup was mild and warming—perfect for the weather after a storm. After a few sips, she picked up some vermicelli with her chopsticks.

In the bowl, the vermicelli was slightly gray, but once lifted, it resembled thick, transparent crystal threads that shimmered in the air.

Xu Xiucai examined it carefully, then continued eating.

The sweet potato noodles were soft and glutinous, melting in the mouth and releasing a light aroma of sweet potato that lingered on the tongue. She had felt heavy-hearted from the earlier phone call with her son, but now, with one bite, it was as if her whole being had been soothed.

“This vermicelli is amazing!” she exclaimed. Having cooked all her life, it was the first time she’d ever tasted sweet potato noodles this good.

“How did you make this?” she asked curiously.

“Got it just now from the property office.”

Gao Shengliang didn’t keep it secret and explained the whole supply process.

He was about to share the backstory of Fengshan Farm’s commercials when Xu Xiucai picked up the vermicelli package. “Fengshan Farm, huh.”

She was a loyal viewer of Longxia Evening News. When Fengshan Flour had first appeared on the show, she’d thought it was just another flashy brand and didn’t pay much attention. But when their ads started flooding the airwaves, she realized they’d completely vanished from stores.

“This grain company must be the real deal!” Xu Xiucai finished her bowl and praised it heartily.

She had thought, no matter how good Fengshan Flour was, it couldn’t be that good—but now, tasting the vermicelli, she deeply regretted not stockpiling more of it when she had the chance…

As the two of them chatted about this and that, they turned on the TV.

Just in time for Longxia Evening News. The day’s broadcast had three main stories—

Air travel has resumed in the Central South region. High-speed rail and expressways will reopen gradually within the month.

Longxia’s grain reserves are abundant. Thanks to early harvests in March and April, no significant price increases are expected for grains or vegetables over the next three months.

Longxia Agricultural Research Institute has developed the Zhongzhi 002 sweet potato. According to data analysis by the institute, Zhongzhi 002 is highly resistant to disasters and corrosion. Once seed production is mass-produced, it can be planted nationwide, with an expected yield of 10,000 jin per mu.

…

Xu Xiucai and Gao Shengliang focused on the third point.

Sweet potato is one of Longxia’s most famous crops. An annual yield of 10,000 jin per mu isn’t surprising—in fact, five or six years ago, yields of 15,000 jin per mu had already appeared in Longdong and Longbei.

Yields of 10,000 jin per mu aren’t rare, but now with acid rain across the region, the news reported crop deaths and soil fertility loss in Yunyu and other areas. Soil erosion has become an undeniable reality, which is one reason for the nationwide panic.

So the news of a 10,000 jin yield, with nationwide planting possible, is absolutely the best news amid the disaster!

In the midst of this daze, the doorbell rang.

Xu Xiucai put down her chopsticks and opened the door.

“Mom.” A tall, thin young man stood at the door, carrying large bags and looking dusty and tired.

His clothes and shoes were covered in mud, but his eyes held an unmistakable joy.

Xu Xiucai was stunned for a moment and quickly helped carry the luggage. “Why are you back? I told you not to come.”

“I quit my job. Our disaster area here—I couldn’t rest easy…”

The young man took off his jacket and looked around. Their home was on the second floor, but the floor was stained from acid rain, the wallpaper peeling, and rows of muddy shoes lined the shoe rack…

This was the place he had lived for twenty-five years, now even more desolate than in his memories.

“Sigh, your dad is contacting people in Jinghe. We didn’t want to worry you, but things just turned out this way.” Xu Xiucai went to the kitchen to ladle soup, feeling deeply sorry for her son’s dusty journey.

The young man changed his shoes and looked at Gao Shengliang. “Dad.”

“How did you get back?”

“I booked an online ride on my phone. The driver happened to be transporting supplies, so I came along.”

Though brief, this sentence alone made Gao Shengliang imagine the hardships his son endured on the 1,200-kilometer trip from Jinghe to Changping City.

“Are you going back?”

“I signed up as a volunteer in Central South. I’m not going back for now.”

Volunteers from across the country were heading to support Central South. Being a native of Changping, he felt he couldn’t stay safe while others suffered.

“All right, all right!”

Gao Shengliang patted his son, both proud and concerned.

At that moment, his phone rang. Gao Shengliang answered—

“I found a place near the Fifth Ring Road, two bedrooms, one living room. The place is clean, rent is 7,600 yuan a month…” It was his friend Lao Zhang.

Gao Shengliang thought for a moment and politely declined. “Sorry, not going for now.”

“What happened?”

“My son came back.”

Looking at the twenty-year-old old neighborhood, Gao Shengliang suddenly felt home was still the best place.

“All right.”

At that moment, Xu Xiucai served the vermicelli soup.

“Smells so good!”

The tall young man leaned in. Having wandered far, he missed the taste of home the most.

…

“Was it successful?”

“Yes, it was…”

While Gao Shengliang was happily chatting, inside Fengshan Farm, Liu Wensheng carefully observed the field before him. This was a special sweet potato field. Although the plants were not as lush as the systematically cultivated sweet potatoes, each plant had been meticulously nurtured by farm staff.

Liu Wensheng recalled three days earlier, when he and Qin Yun were organizing the sweet potato factory and a researcher came rushing over excitedly.

After nearly three months of research, the Sweet Potato Research Institute hybridized the farm’s sweet potatoes with Longxia’s Yan sweet potatoes, finally developing a hybrid sweet potato seed.

Hybridizing sweet potatoes is simpler than hybridizing wheat. This was the farm’s second hybrid crop research project since Longfeng 001.

Given the recent disaster, the Longxia Research Institute and the farm unanimously named it Zhongzhi 002.