Apocalyptic Hoarding Diary

Chapter 487 Moving Forward Bravely

Another person chased after the woven bag, running for more than ten meters while bending over.

Just before the woven bag was about to roll into an even deeper ditch, he leaped forward and grabbed the straps of the bag tightly with both hands.

The three of them swayed back and forth in the wind, and it took them almost two minutes to regain their balance.

Two minutes is just the time it takes to drink a sip of water on a calm day, but in a gale, it is a suffocating struggle.

The woven bag was recovered; it had a hole in it, and a corner of its contents was visible—several neatly folded pieces of clothing.

The top one is for children, it's very small, probably only suitable for one or two-year-olds.

There was a small cartoon pattern on the neckline, and the torn hole was positioned right in the middle of the pattern, revealing half of the cartoon character's face.

No one asked the man why he was carrying a child's clothes on his journey, because on this road, everyone was silently commemorating something in their own way.

On the third night, the wind seemed to have died down a bit.

To be honest, it's not that the wind has really died down, it's just that people's bodies have become numb.

After being battered by sandstorms all day, your brain activates a self-protective mechanism that reduces the sensitivity of all your senses, turning "uncomfortable" into "tolerable."

When did the wind stop? She didn't know, she only knew that at one moment, everything around her suddenly became quiet.

She looked up. The sand was still falling, but it was no longer being swept horizontally by the wind; instead, it was falling vertically and slowly.

The wind seems to have really stopped.

Team Leader Gu stood at the front, his training uniform worn grayish-white by the wind and sand.

He stood there and said the words everyone was waiting for: "Rest in place for fifteen minutes."

Xu Xiaoyan took the backpack off her shoulder and placed it beside her feet. She sat down against the backpack. The ground was hard and hurt her buttocks, but she didn't care anymore.

She stretched out her legs, crossed her ankles, leaned back, placed her hands on the ground behind her, and looked up at the sky.

Blue Moon sat down next to her, mimicking her movements.

After a quick rest, they continued on their way.

The days after the storm didn't get any better, because after the wind stopped, the temperature soared.

Temperatures are rising sharply, and the moisture on the ground is evaporating, turning into visible water vapor that distorts a few centimeters above the ground.

A few days later, the high temperature turned into torrential rain. The rain came without warning; one second the sky was blue, and the next second it was dark.

The raindrops were as big as beans, and they stung my face when they hit me.

The group continued walking in the rain, and no one stopped, because there was nowhere to take shelter if they did.

There was nothing in the wilderness—no trees, no houses, no bridges, nothing to shelter you from the rain; you could only walk.

After the heavy rain, the ground became muddy again. Every step you took would sink your shoes into the mud, and it took a lot of effort to pull them out. Sometimes your feet would come out, but your shoes would still be left in the same place.

Several people in the team had encountered this situation: one foot bare in the mud, bending over, and reaching into the mud with their hands to feel their shoes.

After finding it, I pulled the shoe out of the mud. The shoe was full of mud and water. I emptied it, put it back on, and continued walking.

The weather on the plains is truly unpredictable.

It's hot today, cold tomorrow, dry the day after tomorrow, and wet the day after that. There's no pattern, no warning. You never know what tomorrow will bring.

Maybe it's a whole day of blazing sun, making your scalp tingle.

Perhaps it's a gale strong enough to blow your tent away, forcing you to get up in the middle of the night and chase after it.

Perhaps a torrential downpour overnight soaks all your belongings, and the next morning you can't even light a match.

No one can predict the weather, no one can be prepared, so you can only pack all the clothes you can wear in your backpack.

Eat as little as possible of what you can eat, and use all your energy on walking.

Then I pray that tomorrow won't be too hot, too cold, too rainy, or too windy.

But in reality, prayer is useless; what's meant to happen will happen.

But people in this kind of environment will gradually learn one thing: not how to endure, but how to be optimistic.

People began to calculate how long the rain would last, how deep the mud was, and whether the wind would blow the tents away.

Will there be enough water left to last until the next water source? How many kilometers have we traveled today? How many kilometers are left to travel tomorrow?

More than half a month has passed just like that.

That afternoon, the weather was unusually fine, and the sky was that long-lost light blue.

Xu Xiaoyan walked in the middle of the group, head down, looking at the road beneath her feet.

I don't know when it started, but the road has begun to change.

It was no longer a grayish-yellow dirt road, but began to show signs of human intervention, with even a few broken cement posts appearing along the roadside.

Further on, there were some broken glass and ceramic fragments on the ground.

The glass shards were green, brown, and transparent, with sharp edges that reflected a blinding light in the sunlight.

The ceramic shards are white with blue patterns on them; they are fragments of old-fashioned blue-rimmed bowls that every household used.

When Xu Xiaoyan stepped on a piece of ceramic shard, a crisp "crack" sound came from under her foot, and the shard was crushed into even smaller pieces.

She looked down at it, lost in thought.

Blue Moon's fingers suddenly tightened.

Xu Xiaoyan stopped and was about to ask a question, but before she could speak, she heard shouts coming from ahead.

I couldn't quite make out what they were shouting because there were too many sounds mixed together.

You can only catch some high-frequency words and phrases like "We've arrived," "Is that Qing City?" "Oh my god," "We've arrived," and "We've finally arrived."

Xu Xiaoyan raised her head, looking past the countless heads of people in front of her, and gazed into the distance.

On the horizon, there were some arched structures, which, if I'm not mistaken, should be overpasses, layer upon layer, stretching from the ground all the way into the air.

There were still some remnants on the bridge surface, but Xu Xiaoyan couldn't see them clearly.

Perhaps it's a railing, perhaps a street lamp, or perhaps those old, rusty, and abandoned traffic signs.

Lan Yue's face was covered in tears. Xu Xiaoyan tugged at her hand and comforted her, "We've arrived. We've really made it."

The group continued moving forward, and everyone quickened their pace.

Xu Xiaoyan and Lan Yue were swept forward by the crowd, and only when they got closer did they see the details that they couldn't see from a distance.

The city's outskirts remain chaotic.

The remains of the building are scattered on the ground, some of them being entire walls with windows still standing, the glass broken and the window frames hanging crookedly on the walls.

Some were just piles of broken bricks, making it impossible to tell whether they were red or gray bricks.

Some of the wreckage has been mostly covered by plants, with green vines sprouting from the collapsed walls and climbing all over the walls.