On the tenth day since entering the game, the great transport truck parked below was completely swallowed by the rising flood. Water lapped at the third-floor landing. Residents from the second floor moved upstairs overnight, either taken in by those on higher floors or left stranded in the stairwells with what little supplies they had.
A tense air weighed over the residents of Yuhaiwan. The group chat was a stream of desperate calls for help now; no one volunteered to shelter strangers anymore. At best, someone would share a little food or water.
The rain had fallen for three days straight, relentless and torrential.
On the first day of the downpour, there was still some comfort in the thought that the country would not abandon its people. But soon enough they learned this storm was not unique to Jade Lake City—every province in the nation, all across the Dragon Country, was drowning. Even the capital, Jing City, was nearly paralyzed. Too many waited for rescue. Jade Lake City was just a mountain-fringed town—a drop in the national disaster.
Ye Shu stood on the only balcony not yet sealed. Rain slammed into her like a waterfall, soaking her through. Once, Jade Lake City had rested in a basin, but now that geography only hastened its flooding—she could see the whole city sinking.
They'd tried calling for help, of course, but the phone lines never connected.
It wasn't until afternoon that several assault boats piloted by soldiers arrived at the gate of Yushuiwan Community. At the sight of that blur of green uniforms, hope rekindled in desperate hearts—a hint of salvation at last after days of despair.
"The whole country is facing this storm," said the officer, voice steady, "but the nation will not abandon a single soul. We've built a base at Shuangyue Mountain for evacuation. The elderly, women, and children go first. We'll come back for the rest—don't lose hope…"
There were tears, grief and gratitude burned raw on every face. So the country hadn’t forgotten them after all.
"Each trip will take two to three hours—each assault boat can only carry three people and just a few supplies. We’ve brought these rations—please, anyone in need, take one."
The officer explained patiently, ushering people to the boats, guiding them as swiftly as possible to the refuge.
But some elders balked at leaving food behind. "We can’t lose the supplies! If the water takes them, what will we eat?"
Ye Shu was only mildly surprised as she accepted a ration pack from the officer.
In these short, harrowing days, the government had somehow constructed a shelter.
With food to go around, life at Yuhaiwan was relatively bearable—at least for those on the upper floors. The majority of them stayed put, confident the water would never reach so high. After all, this was a 30-story tower.
Ye Shu was curious about the shelter, but evacuation triaged the old and frail first. She’d have to wait for a later trip. Leaning against a window on an upper floor, she watched the rescue boats slip away and disappear.
But no one expected—there would be no "next trip."
After the search and rescue team left, the deluge worsened. No boat, not even a fishing vessel, could set out in that storm.
Yuhaiwan fell silent, as if it had been cut adrift from the world.
Only the ceaseless drumming of rain filled the void. Nothing else stirred.
People stood by the windows, craning their necks and praying for the return of those green-clad saviors. Night passed with no hope in sight, and despair pressed in from all sides.
"Why didn't I go with them yesterday? Ah, my cursed mouth!" someone wailed.
"Maybe they’re just overwhelmed. So many people need help—maybe we should just wait a little longer."
"The state won’t abandon its people, right? ..." The last words sounded like they were trying to convince themselves.
An uneasy hush descended on those waiting for rescue as they watched the waters rise, now reaching the fourth floor.
Within days, many households had exhausted their food stores. Without some miracle—or some grim initiative—they’d starve before rescue could arrive.
Ye Shu bit into her ration pack—a dense bar, packed with fruit and vegetable bits. She’d been living off it for two days and still had half left.
A thin man watched her from across the hall, desperation etched into his face. “Miss, I—I haven’t eaten in days. Please, could you spare just a bite? Just one! We're neighbors—please, don’t let me starve!”
Ye Shu finished chewing her mouthful and replied coldly, "Sorry. I can live with it."
She remembered this man. When the rations first arrived, he'd turned his nose up at them, tossing his barely-touched pack into the flood. Now, with the rescue team gone, he came begging.
The man’s eyes widened with disbelief, but Ye Shu calmly kept eating, turning a deaf ear to the hungry stares that followed her every move.
With the elevator out of commission, she climbed floor by floor. She treated it as exercise, hardly winded after twenty stories.
Before entering her own apartment, she glanced at the tightly-shut door opposite. Since moving day, she hadn’t heard a peep from that family—not even when rescue came to the building.
On the eleventh day of the game, rain kept pouring from the heavens.
The fifth, then the sixth floor, disappeared beneath the floodwaters.
No one treated their neighbors like friends anymore. When those unfortunate enough to live on the lower floors begged on their knees for food, no one yielded a single crumb.
At the brink of death, human nature could go to dark places.
That night, several apartments were broken into. Food was gone, but injuries were minor—stop the bleeding, aspirin, disinfectant, and they’d recover. But the tension in the building thickened, shadows lurking in every corner.
Once the first robberies happened, more followed. Unsatisfied, the thieves turned their sights on others down the hall.
While Ye Shu drifted into sleep, two more homes were ransacked. In one, the father tried to fight back for his family's supplies. But his attacker was ruthless, stabbing him twice in the chest—the man died instantly.
Paranoia ran wild through Yuhaiwan. Those with food barricaded themselves in, silence thick behind every door.
On the twelfth day, the water rose to the ninth floor.
The torrent outside showed no sign of slowing, and the remaining survivors teetered on the edge of despair. Was this truly the "age of apocalyptic floods" predicted by so many online? Maybe survival could only be found on higher ground.
Yet, miraculously, the internet was still up.
Ye Shu's inbox overflowed with a thousand anxious messages—pleas for help, curses, but above all, questions.
The most common one: When will the rain end?
Ye Shu gave no reply. The truth was, she didn’t know—maybe months, maybe years.
For now, humanity’s only hope was to climb ever higher. That was the only way forward.
Knock, knock, knock—
A sudden knock broke her reverie.
Ye Shu grabbed her wooden sword and moved to the door. Through the peephole, she saw a plain-faced woman holding a bowl of meat soup. The woman eyed the broth with a hungry, almost covetous look.