Chen Yuan stood by the mud-sealed window, staring out at the frozen landscape, a profound sense of confusion rising in his heart.
Why?
Why has everyone disappeared?
Even if they were unwilling to share their supplies, was it so much to ask that they would at least open the door?
He watched the needle on the thermometer continue its relentless downward creep, and his heart sank to the bottom of a frozen well.
At two in the morning, the cold was too deep to allow for sleep. He wrapped himself in his blanket, curling into a tight ball on the sofa.
Outside, snowflakes had begun to drift down, a silent declaration that the temperature had now plunged below zero. Transparent ice crystals began to creep across the edges of the window pane, growing more numerous by the minute. Chen Yuan stared at the falling snow until he could no longer fight off his exhaustion and finally sank into a heavy, troubled sleep.
...
"Attention all citizens. The current cold wave is proving to be more severe than forecasted. Please maintain your indoor temperatures."
"The water supply systems in some districts are undergoing emergency repairs. We urge the public not to panic."
"This hardship will eventually pass. Please remain calm and reduce all unnecessary activities."
...
In the morning, Chen Yuan was jolted awake by the announcements from the television. He opened his eyes to find the sky outside was a uniform, hazy gray. The snow piled on the windowsill was now several inches deep.
Achoo!
The breath he expelled condensed into a puff of white mist in the air. A shiver ran through Chen Yuan's body; he thought he might be coming down with a cold.
He turned his head to look at the thermometer on the wall.
Negative five degrees Celsius!
In the span of a single day, the temperature had dropped by more than thirty degrees.
Chen Yuan scrambled off the sofa and headed for the bathroom. He twisted the faucet. A trickle of water, even smaller than yesterday's, slowly flowed out. Thank god. The pipes hadn't completely frozen yet. He still had water and power, which meant the electric water heater could still work.
He turned the temperature to its maximum setting and began to heat the water. Then, he went to the kitchen and turned on the gas stove.
Click... FWOOSH!
A blue flame leaped to life, bringing with it a sliver of warmth. Chen Yuan placed a pot of icy water on the stove, then retrieved his five-kilogram bag of flour. Once the water boiled, he scooped out a bowl of flour and slowly poured it in, stirring continuously with a pair of chopsticks until the flour went from a cottony texture to a solid dough. He moved the pot, replaced it with water and a steaming rack, and then kneaded the dough into long strips and placed them on top.
Twenty minutes later, his simple, makeshift steamed buns were ready. He took a bite, and his mouth involuntarily twitched. They were awful, but they would keep him alive.
After eating, he felt a bit of heat return to his body. He then ran to the bathroom for a shower. That's right—a hot shower was now his only means of staying warm. Going outside for half an hour would mean freezing to death, and it was just as cold inside. Sometime during the night, the air conditioner had stopped working.
Chen Yuan put on every piece of clothing he could, then wrapped himself tightly in his blanket. The television played nothing but announcements. His phone signal began to weaken, and the WiFi had already disconnected. The apartment he was in now felt like a cage. As the temperature continued to drop, he knew there was only one way out: death.
The second day, Chen Yuan spent the entire day huddled on the sofa.
The third day, when he could no longer stand the cold and went to take a hot shower, he found that the faucet no longer produced water. The temperature in the room had dropped to negative eight degrees.
That night, the television screen suddenly went black. The lights in the room dimmed and died.
The power was out.
The fourth day, Chen Yuan awoke in a daze, his entire body aching. Thankfully, the gas canister still had fuel, allowing him to eat a warm steamed bun. He took some cold and fever medicine and huddled on the sofa for the rest of the day.
The fifth day, the entire street was covered in a thick blanket of white snow, without a single footprint. His usable water was running low...
The sixth day, his phone died. Chen Yuan rummaged through a bookshelf and found an old-fashioned radio, inserting two AA batteries. He tuned the dial and heard the station's announcement: The cold wave was severe. Citizens should take care to stay warm.
The seventh day, Chen Yuan felt he couldn't hold on much longer. He tried calling for help, but the operator said they were short-staffed. He continued to eat his steamed buns and fever medicine, then retreated to his bed, shivering.
The eighth day, someone knocked on a door outside. Chen Yuan, in his delirious state, didn't hear it.
The ninth day, the temperature reached negative ten degrees. The world outside was a vast, white emptiness. The gas canister had frozen. He had no more fire.
The tenth day, Chen Yuan, trembling uncontrollably, crawled to the window, waiting for the first ray of sunlight to touch him. It was a pity. The sky remained dim, and the snow continued to fall. The promised ten-day cold snap showed no signs of ending.
The eleventh day, Chen Yuan was awoken by the radio beside him. It was emitting a broken, static-filled hiss. After a short while, a man's voice emerged from the static.
"To all our dear citizens, we regret to inform you that this cold wave has far exceeded our predictions. Hereby, we are officially announcing that Blue Star has entered its sixth ice age.
All citizens, please proceed to the shelters as soon as possible!
All citizens, please proceed to the shelters as soon as possible!
All citizens, please proceed to the shelters as soon as possible!"
Hearing the announcement, Chen Yuan was stunned. Staring at the ice crystals that now coated the inside of his room, a look of bitter self-mockery and unwillingness spread across his face.
He had finally managed to transmigrate, only to struggle desperately for ten days before dying.
The food was gone. The fever medicine was gone. No gas, no electricity, no heating equipment, and now, an ice age.
Chen Yuan looked at everything in the room and felt how laughable his ten-day struggle had been. It wouldn't have mattered if his supplies were匮乏 (kuèfá - scarce) or if he had been fully prepared; there was no way he could have endured. As for the shelter mentioned on the radio, he knew where it was. It was an abandoned air-raid shelter ten kilometers away. He remembered playing there as a child. It was massive, bottomless.
And in his current state, he could no longer walk that far.
The persistent fever had sapped all his strength. Prolonged hunger had dropped his resistance to freezing point.
With a great effort, he tore away the stiff blanket from his body and staggered out of the room. The furniture in the living room was already covered in a layer of white frost, rough to the touch.
He trembled as he made his way to the door of the other room.
The "warehouse," as the landlord had called it. He wanted to see inside. Perhaps, in the final moments of his life, he needed to accomplish something, anything, so he wouldn't die with regrets.
Chen Yuan mustered all his remaining strength and kicked at the doorknob.
The door lock, long since frozen and deformed, shattered with a brittle crack.
A cloud of foul, musty dust erupted from the dark room.
Chen Yuan grinned, leaning against the doorframe as he stepped inside. As far as he could see, it was indeed just some useless construction materials.
"Heh, what kind of last wish is this..."
He shook his head with a wry laugh and prepared to leave. But just as he turned, he noticed a faint, unusual light in the corner of the room.
With a flicker of curiosity, or perhaps just unwillingness to give up, Chen Yuan stepped forward. On a square device the size of a desk, a gray cloth was draped. And that sliver of light was seeping out from beneath it.
Chen Yuan grabbed a corner of the gray cloth and yanked it away.
In a cloud of rising dust, he saw something that looked like an arcade machine. On the left was a circular opening. On the right was a platform. And in the middle was a single red button.
At that moment, on the device's screen, several large characters were scrolling.
「Apocalypse Store: Insert Materials on the Left, Press Red Button, Collect Output on the Right」
Staring at the white text scrolling across the black screen, Chen Yuan's face was a mask of profound shock.