Lin Xi took a screenshot of the video and sent it to Lin Duxi, who had been sitting by the window waiting. The moment the WeChat notification sounded, he immediately checked his phone. Even though two years had passed in that other timeline, seeing the footage of that night—when he discovered his girlfriend’s betrayal—still stirred emotions he couldn’t suppress.
[Post-Apocalyptic Wasteland Lin Duxi: Thank you, Lin Xi.]
Just as he sent the message, someone knocked on his bedroom door. Lin Duxi quickly hid the text he’d been drafting, tucked the gun back into his pocket, and went to answer it.
A short-haired woman in her early twenties stood outside, her expression cool. "Dinner," she said.
Lin Duxi gave a quiet acknowledgment and followed her. This was He Xin, his partner in the wasteland survival group he’d joined after arriving in this desolate world. From their first meeting, she had been distant. Two years later, as their environment grew harsher, everyone had become even more withdrawn. Words were scarce unless absolutely necessary, and life felt like stagnant water.
Dinner was no exception. The group ate in silence, mechanically chewing on blackened, moldy, bitter-tasting steamed buns. The air was thick with despair. During their last expedition, they’d lost two comrades. While fleeing a quicksand pit, they’d barely escaped—only for those two to suddenly turn back and sprint into the swirling sands, vanishing in moments.
Lin Duxi had witnessed scenes like this countless times over the past two years.
Gazing at the swirling dust outside, he took a sip of water tainted with an unmistakable foulness, wondering how much longer he could last. Maybe once the obsession in his heart faded, he too would choose the same path as the others.
Just then, the gun housing their group chat vibrated faintly. Lin Duxi swallowed his food hastily and hurried back to check the message. As soon as he pulled out the gun, he froze.
[System Notification: Earth Girl Lin Xi has sent you a package. Accept?]
A package. Lin Duxi hadn’t heard that word in two years. He tapped "Accept," and a plastic bag materialized before him—filled with bread, spiced eggs, sausages, and a bottle of clear, pristine mineral water.
The label read "Red Mountain Spring."
Hands trembling, he unscrewed the cap and took a careful sip. The sweet, pure water flowed into his heart, reviving his withering spirit, as if breathing a faint glimmer of hope into his existence.
......
Lin Xi emerged from the dead-end alley and boarded a bus heading toward the orphanage where Lin Duxi had grown up.
After leaving the internet café, she had already devoured the red bean coconut bread she’d bought, washing it down with water. Conveniently, there was a small store downstairs where she purchased more food to send to Lin Duxi.
Lin Xi was an avid reader of novels, and though she pinched pennies elsewhere, she always set aside fifty yuan each month for fiction—post-apocalyptic wasteland stories included.
The genetic repair serum Lin Duxi had given her had been life-changing. Lin Xi felt no gesture of gratitude could ever be enough. She hadn’t sent anything more extravagant because she believed what Lin Duxi needed most right now were these simple necessities.
The orphanage wasn’t far from Zhang Qiang’s village. After three bus stops, Lin Xi arrived. As she approached the gate, the sound of children’s voices reciting lessons drifted out.
The orphanage’s entrance was shut tight, but a towering ginkgo tree stretched over the high walls, its golden leaves swirling in the autumn wind.
Lin Xi pressed the call button. Soon, a young woman in her twenties opened the door.
"Hello! Are you Ms. Wang, the volunteer scheduled for today?" Her tone was cheerful.
Lin Xi shook her head. "No, I was just passing by and wanted to take a look."
The young woman’s smile widened. "Welcome! Come in, please. I’m Yu Xiaomeng from Love Welfare Home. And you are?"
"Lin Xi."
At the name, Yu Xiaomeng stiffened slightly, her expression flickering with sadness. Lin Xi noticed. "Is something wrong?"
Yu Xiaomeng forced a smile. "It’s just… a strange coincidence. There was someone here before named Lin Duxi. Your names are so similar."
Lin Xi studied her as Yu Xiaomeng tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "This way, please. The children are in the classroom."
Lin Xi followed, raising her phone to record. Yu Xiaomeng didn’t object—she’d grown up seeing visitors like Lin Xi and was long accustomed to it.
They stopped outside the classroom, where a gray-haired woman in her sixties stood at the front, guiding the children through a poem written on the blackboard.
Tiny hands rested on tiny desks as the little ones repeated each line after her in unison.
Yu Xiaomeng whispered, "That’s our ‘Mama Director.’ She founded this orphanage. Never married—devoted her whole life to the children here."
Lin Xi glanced at her. "Were you raised here too?"
"Yes," Yu Xiaomeng replied warmly. "I studied early childhood education in college and came back after graduating. Mama Director and the others are getting older, and the world outside changes so fast… they struggle to keep up."
"I owe this place my life. Without it, I wouldn’t be here. So I thought… someone had to return to help. There are still so many children depending on us."
Lin Xi didn’t know how to describe what she felt in that moment. She recalled stories of college graduates returning to their rural hometowns to start businesses—something she’d envied online.
She admired their courage. She’d wanted to go back too, but her hometown offered no way to repay her debts or survive.
"You’re amazing," Lin Xi said sincerely. To her, Yu Xiaomeng’s bravery surpassed even those entrepreneurs. They only had themselves to answer for—Yu Xiaomeng carried the weight of an entire orphanage.
Yu Xiaomeng laughed softly. "Not really."
She then led Lin Xi on a tour of the facility, ending at the activity room. The back wall was covered in photos—some black-and-white, others in color.
"This is our Memory Wall," Yu Xiaomeng explained. "Every child who leaves the orphanage leaves a photo behind."
Among them, Lin Duxi’s picture hung prominently, his name inscribed below.
Yu Xiaomeng was also looking at him. She said, "This is the person I told you about, the one with a name similar to yours. His name is Lin Duxi, a graduate from Hua University. Right after graduation, he landed a job at a Fortune 500 company with a monthly salary of over ten thousand after taxes."
Her tone softened unconsciously.
Lin Xi looked into her eyes and saw the tenderness lingering in them. She wasn’t foolish—in that moment, she understood everything. The person the shopkeeper at Xu Gezhuang had mentioned, the one who went to Fang Qianqian asking about Lin Duxi’s whereabouts, must have been Yu Xiaomeng.
"Where is he now?" Lin Xi asked.
Yu Xiaomeng shook her head. "I don’t know. He’s disappeared. Aside from a weekly text on Tuesdays confirming he’s safe, there’s been no trace of him."
Before Lin Xi could respond, children poured out of the activity room as their class ended. Toddlers between one and three years old dashed outside, their laughter ringing through the air as the headmistress called after them to slow down.
The little ones shrieked and giggled, racing toward the play area. The sunlight bathed their faces, making their smiles glow with pure joy.
Lin Xi couldn’t help but smile too. Yu Xiaomeng, now distracted from her sorrow over Lin Duxi’s disappearance, hurried after the children, guiding them in their play and tending to the younger ones.
Just then, another group arrived at the gate—university students in matching volunteer uniforms, here to lend a hand.
After exchanging a few words with the headmistress, Lin Xi filmed the lively scene before quietly slipping away.
She sent the footage of the Loving Heart Welfare Home to Lin Duxi, then took the subway straight to Brother Feng’s place.
Brother Feng lived in Maxingzhuang, just two subway transfers away.
Having moved to the capital at twenty, Brother Feng had built a life here—marrying, raising children, and eventually buying an old, cramped apartment in Maxingzhuang with a hefty down payment. Now, six family members shared the three-bedroom home.
Their unit was on the third floor of a walk-up building. When Lin Xi knocked, the door was opened by Aunt Yang, Brother Feng’s mother.
"Lin Xi! Come in, come in! Li Ying’s been talking about you all morning," Aunt Yang said warmly, the rich aroma of braised meat wafting out from behind her.
"I had some errands earlier, but I came as soon as I finished. Aunt Yang, how have you been these past few days?" Lin Xi replied, stepping inside with a bag of premium fruits in hand.
Aunt Yang clicked her tongue at the gift. "How many times have I told you? Stop bringing things every time you visit!"
Lin Xi just grinned sheepishly and set the fruit on the coffee table. "I’ll go see Li Ying."
"Go on, go on," Aunt Yang waved her off.
Lin Xi headed to the kitchen, where Li Ying, Brother Feng’s wife and a CPA at a nearby accounting firm, was busy cooking.
With only four leisurely days a month amidst her hectic schedule, Li Ying used those rare moments to prepare elaborate meals for her family—and always invited Lin Xi over.
Lin Xi considered herself incredibly lucky to have met such warm-hearted people like Brother Feng’s family in this unfamiliar city.
Her Grandma, too, was grateful for their kindness. Every year when the family’s orchard bore fruit or during holidays, she made sure to send gifts to the Feng household.
Aunt Yang and Grandma, despite their wildly different dialects, had struck up a lively friendship over the phone. The two elderly women had even made plans to meet in person during the New Year.
Lin Xi joined Li Ying in the kitchen, where she was promptly handed a basket of leeks to trim. Sitting by the trash bin, Lin Xi worked while they chatted about work and life.
Once they’d caught up, Lin Xi leaned closer.
"Li Ying, didn’t you mention you know a detective?"
Lin Xi had been mulling over how to handle Lin Duxi’s case. She’d considered sending the surveillance footage to the police department’s public email or handing it over to the welfare home staff.
But neither option felt right. The police might take ages to review the email—if they even prioritized it. The welfare home could act, but she’d likely never learn the outcome.
Reporting it directly to someone trustworthy seemed best—and as luck would have it, Li Ying’s cousin was a detective.
"My cousin is one. Why? Did something happen?"
Lin Xi hesitated, then said, "I knew someone online. When I checked his blog recently, I found a video. I think... he might have been murdered."
Having known Lin Xi for years, Li Ying understood she wouldn’t make such a claim without solid evidence.
Her expression turned grave. Setting down the kitchen knife, she pulled out her phone and made a call.
Thirty minutes later, a young man in a police winter uniform arrived in a hurry.
