June 29, 2027. 5:30 in the morning.

The main hall was still dark, so dark you could only touch air when you reached out your hand. A few red embers lingered in the stove, glowing and fading like a final breath. He didn't move, listening on his side—

Outside, the Black Rain had started again. It fell steadily, not too fast and not too slow, as fine as if someone were sifting something from up high.

Behind him, Lin Zhixi's breathing was even, her nose slightly stuffy, making a soft sound. Xiaoyu was curled up in her arms, her small hand clutching the corner of his shirt. She held on tightly, as if he would disappear the moment she let go.

The old woman wasn't asleep.

She sat on a small stool by the stove, her back against the wall, a fire poker resting flat on her knees. Her eyes were half-open, as if she were dozing, or perhaps just keeping watch. The fire in the stove crackled occasionally, the light flickering across her face, illuminating wrinkles deep and shallow, as if they had been carved, one by one, with a knife.

Yu Molan slowly got up, his movements light. He added two pieces of wood to the stove. The wood was damp; it sizzled as he pushed it in, and white smoke billowed out. The old woman opened her eyes and glanced at him but said nothing. She only shifted the fire poker to make some room for him.

The two of them sat side by side, watching the fire.

The fire wasn't large, just enough to warm their fingers, but it kept the deathly chill of the room at bay.

After a long while, the old woman suddenly spoke, her voice so low it was as if she were talking to herself.

"My old man passed away early. It was just me and my granddaughter."

She paused.

"The first day the rain fell, she came down with a fever. Her cough was terrible, like a kitten's."

She took a breath. "Later... she stopped coughing."

She didn't say what happened after.

Yu Molan didn't ask. He knew what came after. They had seen too much of it on their journey.

Find the original at " pa𝑤read.com ".

"I buried her in the backyard, under the persimmon tree," the old woman continued, her fingers slowly picking at a crack in the fire poker. "The ground was hard. I couldn't dig. It took me three days."

Yu Molan's throat tightened, as if something were lodged in it. He wanted to say something comforting, but his lips only moved, squeezing out a single phrase, "Auntie, you... all alone..."

"Alone is alone," the old woman cut him off, her voice suddenly hardening. "It's better than watching her turn into... that."

The fire flared with a pop, sending sparks flying before they quickly died out. In the light, a moist sheen was visible in the corner of her eye. It didn't look like tears, but more like the dampness left from many sleepless nights.

As the sky began to turn gray, Lin Zhixi woke up.

She saw Yu Molan and the old woman sitting side by side. Without a sound, she first felt Xiaoyu's forehead, then tucked the blanket more snugly around her daughter before tiptoeing over and crouching by the stove.

The old woman glanced at her, then pulled three roasted, golden-brown corn cakes from the stove's embers. She broke one, handing the larger half to Lin Zhixi and keeping the smaller half for herself.

"This is it for morning. Left over from yesterday."

Lin Zhixi took it and said softly, "Thank you, Auntie."

The old woman waved her hand. "Don't thank me. Eat up. It's a long road."

The smell of the corn cakes woke Xiaoyu.

She sat up, rubbing her eyes, her hair a complete mess. Her eyes lit up when she saw the cake, but she didn't reach for it, looking first at her mother. Lin Zhixi broke her half of the cake into three small pieces, one for each of them.

Xiaoyu took a bite and chewed slowly. "It's good," she said in a small voice.

The old woman watched her for a few seconds, then suddenly got up and rummaged in a corner of the stove, pulling out an old plastic bag. Inside were a few candies, all melted and stuck together. She spent a long time peeling them apart, finally picking out one that was still mostly intact and handing it to Xiaoyu.

"Here, eat it."

Xiaoyu looked at her mother. Lin Zhixi nodded. Only then did she pop the candy into her mouth, her cheek puffing out like a little animal's.

The old woman stared at her for a long time, and the hard lines of her face softened just a little.

And so, breakfast was over.

The old woman boiled a kettle of water. It was rainwater collected the night before, boiled twice and left to settle, but it still had a strange taste. It was hot, though. As Yu Molan drank, he asked in a low voice, "Auntie, if we head west from here, is there anywhere else to find shelter?"

"Twenty li west, there's a place called Liu Village," the old woman said, seeing them to the door. She pointed toward the gray, hazy distance. "It used to be a market town. Now the school there has been taken over, walled off. I hear there are a few dozen people, and they have guns. They've planted some crops. They take in passersby, too."

A flicker of hope stirred in Yu Molan. "Is it safe there?"

The road was rough, but twenty li... if they gritted their teeth, they could make it in a day or two.

"It's a nest, at least," the old woman said, pausing. "But when people gather, their hearts get complicated. You're traveling with a child. Don't be too trusting."

Yu Molan and Lin Zhixi exchanged a look.

Lin Zhixi looked down and murmured in agreement, her fingers twisting in her lap.

Before they left, the old woman dug out two old raincoats, one for an adult and one for a child. She said the child's one had belonged to her granddaughter; it was a little short, but it would keep the rain off. She also pushed half a bag of cornmeal on them, about ten jin, tied up tightly in a plastic bag.

Yu Molan tried to refuse twice.

"I have enough to eat," the old woman said, shoving the bag into his arms. "I'm already seventy. How many more days do I have? The child still needs to grow."

Yu Molan didn't refuse again.

The old woman stood in the doorway, watching them shoulder their packs, take each other's hands, and walk into the Black Rain. The rain was as fine as mist. Xiaoyu looked back and waved. "Bye-bye, Grandma!"

The old woman didn't answer. She just raised a hand to wipe her face, and it was impossible to tell if it was from the rain, or something else.

Only after the three of them had disappeared into the distance did she turn back inside, pulling the door gently closed. It clicked shut.

As if something had been shut in.

And as if something had been left out.

On the road, Lin Zhixi asked in a low voice, "Will she really be able to survive, all by herself?"

"I don't know," Yu Molan said. "Maybe she'll live longer than we do."

He stared at the gray-white road ahead, the bag of cornmeal pressing heavily on his shoulder like an intangible debt.

Xiaoyu tugged his hand and said quietly, "Papa, that grandma is so pitiful."

Yu Molan crouched down and pulled her raincoat hood tighter, his voice hoarse. "That's why we have to live. We have to live as long as we can."

Xiaoyu nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

They had half a bag of cornmeal more on their shoulders, and in their hearts, a little more of the warmth that had not yet completely dissipated from this dead world.

It was very small.

Very weak.

But it was enough to keep them going a little longer.