Apocalyptic Hoarding Diary

Early in the morning, Xu Xiaoyan woke up before her alarm clock went off.

Well, it's my biological clock; even sleeping a little longer has become a luxury.

She didn't open her eyes immediately, but closed them first to sense the sounds around her. Hmm, all she could hear was the sound of raindrops hitting the roof!

She opened her eyes; the inner walls of the tent appeared a pale grayish-green in the morning light.

She turned her head and peeked out through the gap at the bottom of the tent, but couldn't see anything clearly, only a blurry, grayish-white light.

The watch was still next to the sleeping bag, face up. She reached out and glanced at it: 6:12.

There are 18 minutes left until the alarm clock is set for 6:30.

She didn't lie back down. Instead, she turned over and sat up. The sleeping bag slipped off her shoulders, and a chill immediately enveloped her from all sides.

She shivered slightly, but didn't pull back; she just quickened her pace in getting dressed.

The windproof jacket was zipped up all the way, the hood was pulled up over the head, and the brim was pressed down to the eyebrows.

The rain boots were covered, the laces were tied tightly, and an elastic band was used to secure the top of the boots to prevent mud and water from seeping in.

The gloves I put on weren't the long rubber ones; they were thin, non-slip gloves with durable leather sewn onto the fingers so they wouldn't slip when holding the axe.

Xu Xiaoyan crawled out of her sleeping bag, bent down and squatted in the tent, rolled up the sleeping bag and stuffed it into a storage bag.

Tighten the strap, flatten it, flatten it again, until all the air is squeezed out, then stuff it into the bottom of the backpack.

She pulled the fruit knife out from under her pillow; she had placed it under her sleeping bag before going to bed last night, with the handle facing outwards, so she could easily reach it.

She sheathed it and put it back in the side pocket of her backpack.

With a thought, her sleeping bag, water bottle, lunchbox, pajamas, blanket, spare socks, pillow, and other items vanished into thin air; she had emptied them of her personal belongings.

From the outside, it looks like a perfectly intact tent, but if you unzip it and look inside, you'll find it's completely empty.

The backpack, bulging and full, was nestled in the corner of the inner tent, filled with things that could be easily accessed and used.

You can never be too careful. Who knows if someone will search the tent after they leave? Xu Xiaoyan has seen similar incidents many times!

When she was in Xuan County, she saw someone climb over the wall and take everything that could be moved out of the house while the neighbor was out running errands.

On the road to Linchuan, she witnessed someone slash open an abandoned tent from the outside with a knife, and take away the sleeping bag, water bottle, and even half a bag of biscuits inside.

A tent is not a safe, a zipper is not a lock, and no one will care about the words "this belongs to someone else".

If you are not here, your things are ownerless.

If your belongings are unclaimed, then taking them is perfectly acceptable.

This logic would be called theft in a normal society, but here it's called survival.

Therefore, Xu Xiaoyan will not give anyone the opportunity to "steal something".

Take everything you can, and there's nothing you can do about what you can't take. Let whoever wants to search it can search it; there's nothing inside anyway.

She unzipped the outer tent, bent down, and crawled out.

The morning air was filled with the bitter scent of pine resin, earth, and the lingering rainwater from the previous night.

There were already figures at trading point number 23 in the distance. Several blurry figures moved in the mist, as if they were setting up something, or as if they were queuing up.

She glanced at her watch; the screen showed 6:21.

When I got to Blue Moon's tent, the drainage ditch at the entrance, made of rubble, was still the same as it had been the night before, without any signs of being disturbed.

She crouched down, put her ear close to the tent fabric, and listened. The breathing inside was very light; Lan Yue must still be asleep.

Xu Xiaoyan reached out and gently tapped the tent frame three times with her knuckles, calling softly, "Lan Yue, are you awake?"

The voice was kept very low, just low enough to penetrate two layers of tent fabric, but not enough to reach the ears of the strangers who were still sleeping nearby.

On this mountaintop where basic trust has yet to be established among everyone, shouting is an offense.

The reply came quickly: "Up, wait for me, almost done."

Blue Moon's voice came from inside the tent, with the slightly hoarse quality unique to the early morning, but without any of the drowsiness or sluggishness of someone who had just woken up.

Soon, there was movement inside the tent: the sound of things being moved around, zippers being pulled open, and backpack straps being tightened.

Xu Xiaoyan stood up. Behind her, the zipper of the tent rattled, and Lan Yue emerged from inside.

Xu Xiaoyan whispered a reminder, "Bring everything you can from the tent. If we're not here, someone might try to sneak in!"

She didn't look at Lan Yue when she spoke; her gaze swept over the surrounding, motionless tents.

Lan Yue nodded, her ponytail swaying under the brim of her hat, then bent down and crawled back into the tent.

A moment later, Blue Moon emerged from the tent, her backpack already on and trekking poles in hand.

She turned around, squatted down, pulled the zipper at the tent entrance all the way down, and then took out a small ring lock from the side pocket of her backpack.

It's one of those combination locks used on suitcases, made of thin wire, about the size of a fingernail. You thread it through the hole in the zipper pull and it clicks shut.

It's not for preventing thieves, but for preventing petty theft. A real thief can cut open the tent with a knife; this kind of small lock won't stop anyone.

But it can stop those idle people who "pass by, see the curtain is open, casually lift it up for a peek, find nothing of value, and then casually zip it up again."

We'll stop as many as we can.

Lan Yue stood up, brushed the mud off her knees, stuffed the key to the lock into the inside pocket of her windproof jacket, zipped it up, and said, "Shall we leave now? I've brought everything I can!"

After saying that, the two set off for trading point number 23.

Lan Yue walked half a step ahead, and Xu Xiaoyan followed half a step behind, maintaining a similar formation as when they went up the mountain yesterday.

There was no agreement on who would walk in front and who would walk behind, but they automatically formed this subtle positional relationship starting yesterday afternoon, with the distance between them always within an arm's length.

The road was difficult to walk on. There was no paved road from the top of the mountain to the No. 23 trading point. There were only crooked and intermittent footprints left by people yesterday afternoon.

Some places are wide enough for three people to walk side by side.

In some places, the passage is so narrow that you have to squeeze between two pine trees sideways.

As Xu Xiaoyan walked, she glanced at the trees lining the road.

This habit was formed in the sinkhole; she knows the species, thickness, and growth status of every tree around her like the back of her hand.

It's not because we're idle, but because every tree can be used as material: bamboo for building sheds, hardwood for making tools, and drying racks for drying plums and vegetables.

If your eyes weren't on a tree, you'd never know how many resources you've missed.

And now, on this completely unfamiliar mountain, she is rebuilding her cognitive map in the same way.

Pine trees, pine trees, and more pine trees.