Chapter 5: Come Back Quickly, Something Serious Has Happened

Not knowing what she had seen, her eyes widened slightly. She turned back, pulled Old Qin out, and pointed to a spot in the sky.

It was about seven in the evening; the sky had darkened, and after being washed by the rain, it was exceptionally clear. There was a black dot in the sky, roughly the size of a full moon, easily overlooked if not looked at carefully.

“What’s that? A black moon?” Old Qin asked, puzzled.

“I’ll tell you later,” Grandma Qin said gravely, continuing to gaze upward.

It might have been an illusion, but the black dot seemed to be expanding. Yet on closer inspection, it appeared unchanged.

Staring at the dot, the utter blackness was unsettling, stirring an inexplicable dread.

“Grandma, I’m so hungry. Mom called—does that mean she’s bringing food?” Little Shrimp, unable to hold back his excitement, shouted before even wiping his tears.

Seeing the two elders craning their necks to look up, he joined in.

“Yes, your mom will be here soon—to take care of you!” Grandma Qin rolled her eyes and hung up.

Qin Xiaoyu came out of her room and looked up. Upon finding the black spot, a heavy weight lifted from her heart.

Dou Sha Village was close to Tangshui Town; An Xian took only ten minutes on her electric bike. From afar, she saw four people under the eaves’ light looking up at the sky.

Their movements were identical—somewhat amusing, but there was no room for laughter.

“Let’s eat first. Stop staring,” An Xian said as she parked her bike and carried the meal boxes over.

After dinner, the group sat together discussing the impending apocalypse.

The first priority was to call everyone back; otherwise, once the apocalypse struck, returning from overseas would be difficult.

After deciding this, the two women took out their phones one after another.

“Bosong, come back quickly! Xiaoyu’s in trouble!” An Xian burst into tears right after speaking, sobbing uncontrollably.

Qin Xiaoyu’s eyes widened in disbelief as she pointed at her own nose.

Grandma Qin, unable to find a reason, suddenly brightened. As soon as the call connected, her voice choked with emotion: “Boss, you have to come back. Your father—he… had an accident.”

Old Qin’s eyes, half-closed moments before, widened sharply. Just as he was about to say something, his wife smacked him aside twice.

The voice on the other end grew urgent and even higher-pitched.

Feeling guilty, Grandma Qin glanced around, her gaze inadvertently falling on the motionless little cub in front of her granddaughter.

---

“It’s serious. It’s exhaling more than inhaling—might not make it through. Just these couple of days,” she said solemnly.

Before she finished, An Xian added, “Serious? Hurry back! If you’re late, you might miss the last moments.”

The two women spoke while staring intently at the panda cub.

Old Qin and Qin Xiaoyu exchanged looks.

There was something they didn’t know whether to say or not.

Soon, the two women put down their phones and resumed watching the cub.

They really couldn’t understand how such a large panda could give birth to such a tiny cub—smaller than kittens born to house cats.

“Can this thing survive? Should we send it back?” Grandma Qin hesitated.

“I definitely can’t raise it,” An Xian frowned.

Qin Xiaoyu felt anxious. “Our family runs a clinic. We have to find a way to help it survive these three days. Once Earth crosses over, we can feed it some Grade One Beast Milk, and it’ll get better.”

Old Qin was curious. “Grade One Beast? What’s that?”

Qin Xiaoyu explained, “Rabbit, horse, sheep, cow—you know, after the apocalypse, eating more grass upgrades them. Anything with milk counts.”

Old Qin pondered. Would the apocalypse really come? If it did, what about the mutated medicinal herbs? Would their effects remain?

“I can try raising this panda cub. Surviving three days won’t be a problem, but beyond that, no guarantees,” Old Qin took on the responsibility.

He frowned, thinking further. “But bringing this cub home might attract unwanted attention.”

Qin Xiaoyu’s eyes lit up. After the apocalypse, everyone could raise a beast companion; those capable could have several.

“It’s fine. They probably don’t even know this cub exists. Even if they find out, it’ll take time to track us down. I’ve disguised myself all along, so it won’t be easy to trace.”

Qin Xiaoyu wasn’t too worried. To rescue the panda cub, she had even padded her shoes with five-centimeter insoles halfway through, posing as a short adult.

Besides, it was pouring rain, and cameras couldn’t capture clear images.

If the cub survived, it could turn out to be a good partner. It didn’t have to be hers, as long as it belonged to someone in the family.

She glanced at Little Shrimp and shook her head, thinking he was better suited to be with Shaobing.

When bedtime came, Qin Xiaoyu thought she wouldn’t be able to sleep. But as her biological clock kicked in, sleepiness overwhelmed her quickly, and she drifted off.

---

An Xian opened her computer to check Weibo and found the comment section exploding—the short story had surged to the top of trending searches.

Usually, no one paid much attention to the sky. Even if they glanced up by chance, they’d unconsciously ignore it, thinking it just another faint star, nothing unusual.

But those who had read the story, when looking up again, couldn’t help but think: “Holy crap!”

“How did this not get banned?” An Xian was surprised.

Having read many novels, she assumed anything that could cause chaos would be swiftly banned, even accounts blocked.

Then she realized the truth.

The story was written subtly; on the surface, it just seemed like a wild imagination sparked by discovering a black spot in the sky. Many similar posts followed—about zombies, wastelands, disasters. Deleting them one by one would only attract more attention.

With today’s technology, a black hole would likely be noticed before it became visible to the naked eye, though what lay beyond was unknown.

An Xian’s mind drifted, then returned.

She wondered what her daughter had experienced during the apocalypse. Her gaze lacked the imagined weariness—she was less naive, more bewildered, but still clear-eyed and excited.

Fear? Not a trace.

Had she really lived through twenty years of apocalypse, not just two?

No use thinking about it.

She grabbed herbicide to dilute. Tomorrow would be sunny—a bad day for spraying pesticides. Outside the yard grew a large patch of wild Dieffenbachia, which had long annoyed her because no matter how often she tried, she couldn’t clear them.

Her daughter had said that after the apocalypse, this patch had turned toxic, emitting poisonous gases daily.

Better to get rid of them before they mutated.

---

Qin Xiaoyu’s sleep was restless. In her dreams, she returned to June 1, twenty years into the apocalypse, when she had been embedded inside a mutated blood ginseng.

The ginseng’s roots lashed at her, piercing her body, while she desperately clawed at its flesh, stuffing it into her mouth.

In the end, human and mutated blood ginseng had fused—who won or lost was unknown.

Upon waking, Qin Xiaoyu smacked her lips. Though the mutated blood ginseng tasted somewhat bitter, overall it was acceptable, especially its fragrant aroma.