Doomsday Wonderland

Chapter 1637: News

With just a bit more money, Xie Feng’s situation changed drastically.

Inside Dong Luorong’s coin purse, along with several coins, was a bundle of crumpled bills, including a few high-value notes—more than enough to last her at least a week.

Xie Feng hailed a cab, finally spared from walking through the pouring rain. As she sat quietly in the back seat, her fingers traced the outline of Dong Luorong’s purse—and the spare hotel key card she’d found inside.

Dong Luorong had to know that Xie Feng returning would put both of them at risk. Yet, she still left her a way back. When the security bureau launched their citywide search, Dong Luorong’s place was one of the least likely spots they’d check.

Xie Feng thought back to stories she’d read, especially martial arts novels, where two heroes would meet for the first time and, recognizing their kindred spirits, become sworn brothers for life. Yet she could never recall any female characters sharing that same experience.

Now she knew—it wasn’t that it didn’t happen. It just hadn’t been written about.

“This d.a.m.n rain won’t quit,” the cab driver grumbled, watching the wipers struggle to keep the winds.h.i.+eld clear. “In all my thirty-odd years, I’ve never seen rain this heavy go on for so long.”

Xie Feng hummed distractedly, already planning her next move. She needed to warn her friends in the group chat before the security forces got to them. The capsule hotel she’d stayed at before likely hadn’t drawn the bureau’s attention yet. If she could find someone she knew there, she could borrow a phone and send a message.

The driver, indifferent to her silence, kept venting—about his family in the hospital, getting hit by a stray bullet from the security forces, his kid’s school being shut down because the curriculum didn’t meet imperial standards, and the mounting expenses everywhere. “I’d saved up for ages, hoping to take my kid to see Dawnstar one day. Now the planet’s gone, and the money’s gone with it.”

“I always wanted to visit, too,” Xie Feng said, stirred by the memory of a childhood dream. Chatting with the driver almost made it feel like her world hadn’t fallen apart—like this was just an ordinary, unlucky day.

“Right? I’ve only seen those red maple trees on TV, so tall and beautiful,” the driver sighed.

The ma.s.sive red maples, rising straight into the sky as if to touch the stars, were a signature of Dawnstar’s landscape. It was said that walking among them could make you feel as if you’d stepped back into prehistoric times.

Suddenly, Xie Feng sat upright.

Wait.

Yes… If there was anything unique to Dawnstar that Noonstar didn’t have, it was the red maples.

The trees weren’t just a different species; they belonged to a different botanical family altogether. Vast forests of them were so breathtaking that entire cities had been built around them, turning into major tourist destinations. If doomsday was linked to the red maples—if they were the cause of Dawnstar’s extinction—of course the empire wouldn’t be concerned.

But how could red maples destroy a planet? She had no idea.

And what about the posthumans? Where did they come from? Qiu Chantian didn’t seem to be lying—posthumans had appeared on Dawnstar. What connection could they possibly have to the trees?

The thoughts swirled in Xie Feng’s mind without resolution as the cab pulled up to her destination. After paying the fare, the driver handed her an umbrella, left behind by another pa.s.senger. s.h.i.+elded from the rain, she made her way to the capsule hotel, almost feeling like she’d stepped back in time.

Fortunately, she ran into a familiar face—someone she knew from the streets, though not well. Still, she managed to borrow his phone and sent out as many warnings as she could, hoping to s.h.i.+eld others from the fallout she now faced alone.

“Make sure no one knows we know each other,” she warned as she returned the phone. “If they find out, it won’t just be trouble for me but for you, too.”

The boy hesitated for a moment, realizing the weight of the situation. “What about you? Do you have somewhere to go?”

No.

Even with nowhere to go, Xie Feng didn’t dare linger a second longer. Despite the torrential rain outside, as if it was trying to wash the whole world away, she gripped the flimsy umbrella—already trembling under the downpour—and stepped into the storm. The umbrella was practically useless; the wind blew so fiercely it felt like walking through ocean waves.

‘There’s nothing left to hold on to,’ she thought.

Meeting Dong Luorong had been an unexpected gift. Now that she no longer had to worry about her other friends, Xie Feng felt an odd sense of relief wash over her. With nowhere to go, she figured she’d just take things one day at a time. If her life happened to come to an end tomorrow, she was ready for it.

With that mindset, she entered a restaurant and ordered a steaming plate of curry rice, eating until sweat trickled down her face. Afterward, she cradled a free cup of hot tea and spent over an hour there, watching the endless rain fall outside. The storm shrouded the world in a dim gloom that made it feel like evening, though it was only the afternoon.

While the security forces scoured the city for her in the pouring rain, she sat comfortably inside the restaurant, almost tempted to laugh at the absurdity of it.

The place was empty, and the owner didn’t seem to mind her staying. Exhausted from the sleepless night, Xie Feng unknowingly drifted off, slumped over the table. She was startled awake by a gentle nudge on her arm, nearly b.u.mping her head into the person standing next to her.

The owner, startled as well, stepped back.

“What… what’s wrong?” Xie Feng asked groggily, sitting up. Was the owner asking her to leave?

Without a word, the woman glanced toward the gloomy rain beyond the gla.s.s doors, then pointed to the television on the wall.

Puzzled, Xie Feng turned to look.

The TV was playing an emergency news broadcast, displaying a blurry image of a person’s face. It seemed like a cropped section from an enlarged photo, the details fuzzy. But anyone who knew Xie Feng would recognize her features instantly.

She’d seen that photo before. Back on the high-speed train, the overweight man who had grabbed her had shown her the same picture.

She almost wanted to laugh bitterly: If she’d known it would come to this, she wouldn’t have wasted that cup of hot coffee on him.

That man must’ve reported her right away, submitting her photo. Qiu Chantian must’ve confirmed her ident.i.ty, matching it with existing records at the security bureau, which explained why the arrest notice had gone out so quickly.

Wait, did this mean the parking lot cameras hadn’t caught her?

If they had footage of her from the surveillance cameras, wouldn’t they have used that instead? After all, comparing her appearance from a year ago to last night would have been far more useful.

The shop owner unmuted the television, and the news anchor’s crisp Imperial accent filled the room, “Among the rioters involved in this morning’s terrorist activity, one female suspect is still at large… Citizens who provide effective leads or a.s.sist in her capture will be rewarded.”

“It’s been playing for a while now, just on repeat,” the shop owner said quietly in the local dialect from behind Xie Feng. “They want every shop on the street to install surveillance cameras. I haven’t installed mine yet. I won’t call them, but you shouldn’t stay here either. You need to go.”

Already on edge, Xie Feng grabbed her umbrella and hurried to the door. Just before leaving, she turned back and softly said, “Thank you.”

The owner gave her a silent nod.

She couldn’t stay on this street. Other shops might have surveillance cameras. Fortunately, the heavy rain offered some cover; in the dim light, it was difficult for anyone to make out the person under the umbrella. And in this downpour, there were hardly any people on the streets.

Xie Feng didn’t dare take a taxi again. She walked slowly through the pouring rain, soon becoming soaked to the bone. As she pa.s.sed various shops, she caught fragments of the news from their TVs. It turned out that two of the people with Ah Cheng were still alive, though severely injured and undergoing emergency treatment at a heavily guarded hospital. The mayor’s daughter-in-law tearfully thanked Qiu Chantian on television, saying he not only captured the culprits but also recovered their yacht. Her husband, however, was too embarra.s.sed to make a public appearance.

Different people were being interviewed and offering opinions, but Qiu Chantian himself never appeared on screen.

This was strange. Whenever he captured suspected posthumans, he would give long speeches on TV. Yet for such a major accomplishment, he was nowhere to be seen? He hadn’t been injured—Xie Feng knew that much from how energetically he berated his subordinates back at the warehouse.

Puzzled but unable to linger in one place, she stood near shop entrances, listening to the news through open doors, unwilling to close her umbrella. Anxious, she kept moving from one street to the next. Then, as if by some stroke of luck, she finally spotted an electronics store.

In the window, large, high-definition TVs were all broadcasting the same news.

“Through decisive and intelligent leaders.h.i.+p, with unwavering resolve in the face of danger, Officer Qiu not only escaped harm but successfully apprehended the criminals. He is in good health and currently resting, so there’s no need for public concern,” the male anchor said solemnly. “He stands as a pillar holding back the rise of posthumans and preventing the impending doomsday! What kind of heartless criminals would jeopardize the entire city like this?”

If red maples were truly the cause of Dawnstar’s downfall, then calling Qiu Chantian a pillar made sense. After all, a pillar just divides the river, letting the water flow around it.

Xie Feng scoffed quietly, standing in the rain, watching the broadcast a little longer. The more she listened, the more a nagging unease settled over her. It wasn’t based on anything concrete—more like the paranoia of seeing shadows where there might be none.

But why would Qiu Chantian choose this moment to “rest”?

His absence only fueled speculation and rumors. If he wasn’t seizing the opportunity to accept praise, bolster his image, and intimidate potential threats, was he really just lying in bed?

Dong Luorong had mentioned that her driver was suspicious of Xie Feng. If the driver reported this to the security bureau—or worse, directly to Qiu Chantian himself…

She stood on the street for nearly twenty minutes before finally flagging down a taxi. Jumping into the cab, she barely managed to close her umbrella, blurting out the hotel’s name, “Please, hurry!”