Raindrops fell in a gentle, ceaseless patter against the windowsill, casting a shadow over the already dim room.
Ye Shu opened her browser, searching for any new information, but aside from widespread reports of falling temperatures, there was no news at home or abroad.
The rain lasted all night without pause.
Living on the seventh and highest floor of an old building, Ye Shu wiped at droplets seeping from the ceiling, cursing silently to herself. Not only was the place terribly equipped, but now even the roof was leaking.
The sky outside was a leaden grey. The muggy heat of the previous days had vanished, replaced with a kind of cheerfulness throughout the building. Ye Shu wasn’t sure if the walls here were just thin or if her hearing was simply too good, but she could hear every word of the aunties’ gossip from the next room.
The voice was familiar: it was the elderly woman who’d been refused entry when she tried to borrow some air conditioning.
“Tsk, tsk, youngsters these days have no morals. If it weren’t for her, my old man wouldn’t have died. That woman in 701 should take some responsibility.”
“That girl’s just hiding in her room, too afraid to come out. Shufen, what are you scared of? I, Wang Daqin, will drag her out here myself. I want to see what kind of heartless little thing she is. You offered to split rent with her, and she still repays kindness with ingratitude… Heartless!”
“People like that ought to be killed, if you ask me!”
“Shufen, I say just let it go… Didn’t your son suggest installing an air conditioner ages ago? But you refused. If you hadn’t, nothing would’ve happened in the first place.”
Another woman, seeing the accusations escalating, chimed in with a rare moment of reason.
“Jianfang, it’s easy for you to talk, since your family’s all fine. Neighbors are supposed to help one another, you know. Old Liu’s gone… Watch your tongue.”
A harsh screech as the iron door scraped against the floor broke up the argument at 701. Ye Shu appeared in the doorway, her face half visible.
She hadn’t wanted to squabble with these old men and women, but they were slandering her.
Split the rent? When had she ever agreed to that?
“I heard you wanted to see me?”
She was holding a baseball bat, approaching the aunties. Her pale face was tinged with a touch of irritation, and the little congregation of retirees awkwardly averted their gazes. They never imagined the subject of their gossip would actually show up—let alone bring a bat.
Ye Shu’s malicious gaze lingered on each of the elders, making their hair stand on end.
Auntie A: “My grandson’s hungry, better get home and cook!”
Auntie B: “Oh, I made plans to play mahjong, must dash.”
Uncle C: “Uh… It’s getting late. My wife’s calling for dinner.”
The flock dispersed in all directions like startled birds.
“Apologize. I’ve recorded everything you just said, by the way. And, isn’t your son a civil servant? If I write a letter exposing him for having a mother who slanders her neighbors, want to bet on his iron rice bowl staying intact?”
“You… I…”
The eldest auntie—Zhao Shufen—stood rooted to the spot, staring bitterly at her departing companions. Her face flushed with awkwardness, she muttered a barely audible apology, so soft it was almost a mosquito’s whine, and it brought her a shame she couldn’t shake.
“Louder, I can’t hear you.”
Ye Shu picked at her ear, leaning carelessly against the wall, munching on an apple.
Killing a person meant little to Ye Shu, but handling people like this—that required a different strategy. Through gossip, she’d learned that Zhao Shufen’s pride and joy was her son.
No matter how much Shufen resented Ye Shu, she wouldn’t dare jeopardize her precious son's future. The old woman finally forced herself to repeat the apology, louder this time, her hunched form seeming even frailer as she shuffled away.
“Would you like an apple? Thanks for speaking up for me earlier. The forecast says it’ll rain for quite a while, so it wouldn't hurt to stock up on some food.”
Zeng Jianfang stared, arms around a bright red apple, watching as Ye Shu disappeared behind the iron door.
Ye Shu, ever fair-minded—grudge for grudge, kindness repaid—handed the apple to the striped-pajamaed old lady almost like a magic trick. She still couldn’t say for sure what disaster was coming, but it never hurt to have more supplies at hand.
…
Morning passed, but the rain only worsened.
Ye Shu eyed the oppressive black clouds overhead, opened her umbrella, and headed to a rain gear store. She bought the inflatable raft the owner had recommended earlier and picked up a few large plastic basins—big enough for two—to store in her secret space, careful to avoid the security cameras.
By the next day, the rain was relentless. Water pooled through the streets, soaking the cuffs of her pants.
Passing a clothing shop, she stocked up on spare clothes and bought two months’ worth of hygiene products.
She didn’t buy more food—her home’s reserves were enough to last half a year with careful rationing.
That night, sleep brought her only unrest. She kept hearing quiet, rustling noises. When she woke to find puddles spreading across the floor, she realized it hadn’t been a dream.
Water threatened to soak the goods stacked on the floor. Ye Shu hurried to lift the boxes to higher ground, trying to keep them dry.
The rain intensified.
This was an old window. Its painted red iron grating was already slick with water, and even the bricks beyond were exposed. Ye Shu pinched at them with slender fingers; the brick crumbled to powder at her touch.
If the rain continued, this building would become uninhabitable—too dangerous to stay.
She notified her landlord about the risk, and was met with a torrent of curses. He dismissed it as nothing more than a passing shower. The entire building was his investment; if word spread about structural issues, his profits could suffer.
Online, Ye Shu found the so-called "tallest building in Yuhu City"—Yuhai Bay. It boasted thirty-two stories, a rare skyscraper in this backwater. Moving to the mountains wasn’t an option; Yuhu sat in a basin, with no hills nearby. The closest, Shuangyue Peak, was seven to eight hours away by car, and with these downpours, the roads would be suicidal—landslides and flash floods awaited.
The sky grew even darker. It was day, but it looked as black as midnight outside.
Worse yet, the rain kept increasing.
Wading through knee-high water, Ye Shu finally called for movers.
Before leaving, she posted photos of her leaky window to the building’s chat group, hoping people might pay attention. Instead, she was ridiculed—no one took her warnings seriously.
Zeng Jianfang glanced at the glossy red apple on her table.
She didn't think that young woman was lying. This weather was simply too strange—she’d never seen anything like it her whole life. And as for the old building, everyone could see the crumbling walls and ancient systems.
After some thought, Zeng Jianfang made up her mind to move.
Her son had tried to persuade her to relocate to the city for years—he’d even set aside a room for her—but she’d been too attached to her little apartment to leave. But now, it felt like the right time.
…
Ye Shu climbed into the moving van.
Rain blurred the view out the window, falling so heavily it was as if someone was pouring water directly from the sky. She could barely make out the street outside.
“Weird. Was fifty degrees just yesterday, now it’s a downpour… How’s anyone supposed to live with weather like this?”
The driver grumbled, but slowed the van to twenty miles an hour, cautious under the circumstances.
Progress was slow; the roads were clogged with traffic stalled in the rain. Some cars had already broken down from water damage, with tow trucks hauling them away.
It took over an hour for Ye Shu to finally reach Yuhai Bay.