Jing Shu hesitated for a moment but still snatched the red envelope out of habit. The bright red 0.01 virtual coin mocked her cheerfully on the screen. She sighed, turned off her phone, and just wanted a moment of peace.
"Never again," she told herself. Next time, she wasn't even going to bother with these stupid red envelopes.
Her mood only brightened when her parents each sent her a red envelope with 600 virtual coins inside. At twenty-six, she was technically an old maid already, but in her parents' eyes, she'd always be their child—married or not, grown or not—and children always got New Year's money.
Su Lanzhi sent 100 virtual coins each to little Shu'en and to her brother's son, Su Long. Li Yun watched silently from the side, his face a picture of envy. He was almost thirty, and asking for New Year's money at his age just felt wrong. Still, he couldn't help feeling jealous that Jing Shu, all grown up, still got hers.
Jing Shu and Wu You'ai each gave little Shu'en 50 virtual coins as well. Li Yun looked like he was about to cry. He had only ten coins to his name, carefully saved over a long time, and now all he could do was keep his head down like an ostrich and stay quiet.
This year was rare. The house was full, warm, and lively. The adults weren't in any hurry to sleep; they wanted to stay up for the night watch. Her grandparents couldn't hold on, though, and went to bed early.
Jing Lai and Su Lanzhi, on the other hand, still had tons of chores waiting. They had to prepare feed for the chickens, ducks, and cows. Since the family didn't have vegetable scraps anymore, they had to mix in more worm patties to save on feed. Thankfully, insects were rich in protein, so the hens laid plenty of eggs that way.
Even with a little Spirit Spring mixed in, the feed still needed more nutrients. Beans and grains had to be added, too. The problem was that the weather was freezing, and the feed couldn't be mixed with cold water. It had to be done with boiling water so the poultry would eat more and grow better, which meant more eggs, milk, and meat.
The crops on the balcony needed tending. The pigs and cows in the backyard needed watching. The milk had to be collected early. The mushroom room in the front yard needed care, and even before bed, Jing Shu still had to do her nightly patrol, check on the fruit plants in the greenhouse, the bees, and all the pets that demanded attention.
No wonder her family was well-off. The daily feast of fish and meat on their table wasn't without reason.
The TV was playing New Year specials, kids were lounging on the couch sipping milk tea and munching candy, laughter filling the air.
At the dining table, people were playing mahjong, while others were battling over cards on the coffee table. It had been so long since they'd had such a lively and cheerful New Year's.
Jing Shu thought, "Maybe this is what simple happiness really is. If life could just stay like this, peaceful and steady, that'd be perfect."
But of course, things never stayed perfect for long.
The warmth lasted only a few days. The whole country was still drunk on the joy of Spring Festival, lost in the rare luxury of full stomachs. People who normally barely ate had been enjoying buffet-style meals for several days straight. Who wouldn't be happy? The food had even improved—two new dishes were added this year: one wild vegetable dish and one bowl of rice porridge. But each person could only choose one and only got a single bowl.
It was like the buffets from before the apocalypse, when you had to choose between abalone porridge or hairy crab. People couldn't help but hesitate.
Li Zhu's family was still fretting. They hadn't managed to get a spot in any villa, not even a regular house. They were anxious, but at the same time, they couldn't stop stuffing their faces in the city cafeteria. "Let's just enjoy these few days first. We'll think of something after the holidays."
"This city food really is different. Those worm patties back in the countryside were so rough. Look at these—so many varieties!"
"Can't compare. The city patties are pure meat. Ours back home are half dirt."
And that was true. The rural cafeterias had already started mixing in dirt. In Wu City, thanks to the Red Nematode Patty Processing Factory, they still had a daily supply of worm patties to stretch the rations. Plus, there was some old grain in storage, so people hadn't yet resorted to literally eating dirt. But Jing Shu figured once the New Year passed, it wouldn't be long before that happened too.
The dirt wasn't regular soil or clay but a special type called "expanding soil." It could fill your stomach for a while, though it was hard to digest. Short-term, it wasn't too bad, but eating it long-term would cause severe bloating until—boom.
It was a processed, filtered kind of edible earth that contained trace nutrients humans needed.
If someone had told Jing Shu before the apocalypse that people would one day be eating dirt—making biscuits and dry rations out of it—she would've laughed herself sick.
But now? Desperation made people eat anything. Some literally survived on dirt. The ever-resourceful Chinese people had even learned from their African counterparts how to make it edible.
Sure, expanding soil wasn't as deadly as the toxic Guanyin clay that killed you in a few meals, but it still caused long-term harm. Then again, when you were starving to death, who cared?
And honestly, at this point, being able to eat dirt was already a kind of blessing. Next year, even dirt might be out of reach.
Jing Shu suddenly thought, "Does that mean the job of 'dirt digger' is about to become a thing too?"
It was tough work. Dirt diggers had to dig several meters deep to reach fine, soft soil, then crush, filter, and refine it to get the best texture.
The soil would then be sent to the cafeteria, where the kitchen aunties would mix it with flour, salt, or worms, stirring it into a paste before shaping it into flat cakes or strips. Once dried, these "earth-worm patties" became simple, low-cost food that could keep countless people alive.
And it spread fast.
They'd just slap the mix onto the hot walls of a waste-burning plant, and before long, dry, edible patties were ready.
The fourth year's mudslide season was the best time to make these earth-worm patties. When the mud hadn't fully hardened, dirt diggers could collect raw materials easily—no tools needed, just their hands. If they were willing to work hard, they could earn a decent number of virtual coins.
But once the ground froze in the second half of the year, it was over. The land hardened like cement, nothing could be dug up, and with all edible resources gone, the real test began.
So yes, being able to eat dirt was, ironically, a form of happiness.
Then, one morning—
Mud started flowing down from the mountain!
More and more muddy water surged out from all directions.
At first, no one paid much attention. After all, they'd survived floods and earthquakes before. A little muddy runoff didn't seem like a big deal. It wasn't life-threatening.
But soon, things clearly weren't normal.
It got worse—much worse.
If it had just been one spot, fine. But more and more areas began spewing mud. Some volcanoes even erupted, sending violent torrents of mud crashing down and swallowing entire towns.
Drones captured shocking footage. In just one night, the landslides poured down from the mountains, devouring everything in their path. Tens of thousands of people lived in those towns. Thankfully, there had been an early warning, and unlike floods, landslides weren't as fast, giving people time to flee. The town mayor had experience too, organizing everyone to grab what food they could and escape in time.
On the morning of the fourth day of the Lunar New Year, Jing Shu's whole family was gathered for breakfast, watching the news when the live broadcast appeared on-screen.