His physiological preference

An elderly local man carrying two baskets of vegetables walked by and stopped to catch his breath when he saw her sitting on the stone bench. "Young lady, are you from out of town?"

"Yes, I'm here to buy Nanjing brocade," Yang Zhiyan said.

"The road is flooded and you can't walk?" the old man asked with a smile, revealing a set of teeth stained yellow from smoking.

"Um."

"It's alright, the water will recede tomorrow."

The old man switched the carrying pole to the other shoulder. "This road floods every year, and the water recedes every year. I'm used to it."

The old man carried his vegetables away, his footsteps fading into the distance on the bluestone path.

Yang Zhiyan sat on the stone bench, watching the river water slowly recede, leaving streaks on the bank.

The feeling of being trapped and anxious slowly, like the receding waters of a river, gradually subsided.

The next morning, the water had receded by most. However, the water on the only road leading to the area had not yet completely receded.

The elderly people in town said the road should be open by the afternoon. The driver said that for safety reasons, it would leave the following morning. Yang Zhiyan thought, "Okay."

Anyway, the most urgent days are over, so one more day won't make a difference. Besides, she discovered that she quite likes it here.

I love the slow pace of life here, I love the tranquility.

She stayed another night.

In the middle of the night, Yang Zhiyan was awakened by a shaking.

She lay in bed and felt the whole house moving, a slow, swaying motion, like sitting on a boat sailing through a wave pool.

She closed her eyes, thinking she was dreaming. Then the shaking intensified, turning from swaying left and right to bouncing up and down. The bedside lamp fell to the floor with a "crack," and the lampshade shattered.

The window was rattling, clanging and banging, like someone was banging on it. The painting on the wall was crooked; it wobbled twice on the nail and then fell down.

Yang Zhiyan suddenly opened her eyes and sat up in bed.

earthquake.

When those two words exploded in her mind, her body had already begun to act before her brain could.

She threw back the covers and stepped barefoot onto the floor, which was cold and vibrating.

People were running in the corridor, their footsteps chaotic and urgent. Some were shouting, "Earthquake! Earthquake!" and others were yelling, "Run! Get out of here!"

She ran to the door, and the moment she grabbed the doorknob, she was thrown off balance by an even bigger jolt, slamming into the door frame and hitting her shoulder on the wooden ridge, making her hiss in pain.

Ignoring the pain, she turned the doorknob and rushed into the corridor.

The lights in the corridor were swaying, and the chandelier on the ceiling was swinging back and forth like a swing, casting swaying shadows on the floor, sometimes to the left and sometimes to the right, like ghostly figures.

When she ran to the top of the stairs, there was a woman squatting on the stairs, afraid to go down. She was crying and trembling.

A voice came from behind. It was Sister Zhao, the guesthouse owner, standing at the bottom of the stairs on the first floor, shouting upwards, "Come down quickly! Don't stop! The building will collapse! Hurry!"

Yang Zhiyan reached out and pulled the woman squatting on the stairs. "Come on! Follow me!"

She pulled the woman to her feet, and the two of them ran downstairs hand in hand.

The stairs trembled beneath her feet. When Yang Zhiyan's foot touched the last step, the shaking of the entire house stopped.

The world suddenly fell silent, so silent that you could hear your own heartbeat. Thump, thump, thump, as fast as a drumbeat.

There was silence for about two seconds. Then the sounds returned: people were crying, people were calling out their family members' names, and children were screaming.

The various sounds mingled together, noisy and chaotic, like a pot of boiling porridge.

Yang Zhiyan stood in the courtyard in front of the guesthouse, barefoot, wearing a thin nightgown, her hair loose, and a bruise on her shoulder.

She was still holding the hand of the woman squatting on the stairs; neither of them was wearing shoes, only pajamas.

Sister Zhao ran out of the house, carrying a quilt in her arms. Seeing the guests standing in the courtyard, she counted them one by one. "One, two, three, four, five, are you all here? Have you all come out?"

"They've all come out," someone said.

Sister Zhao spread the quilt on the open ground in the middle of the yard. "Come and sit down, don't stand under the eaves, or things might fall down."

Yang Zhiyan sat down next to the woman. The woman was still trembling, her lips were white, and her face was pale.

Yang Zhiyan reached out and took her hand. Her hand was icy cold, as if it had just been pulled out of cold water.

"It's alright," Yang Zhiyan said, her voice more steady than she had expected. "Xiao Zhen, there won't be any major problems."

She didn't know if she was comforting the other person or herself. She had never experienced an earthquake before and didn't know what a "minor tremor" was. All she knew was that the shaking had stopped, the building hadn't collapsed, and everyone in the courtyard was alive.

Her phone. She suddenly remembered that her phone was still in the room. She stood up, and Sister Zhao saw her walking towards the door and called out, "Where are you going?"

"Get your phone," Yang Zhiyan said.

"Don't go in! Aftershocks!" Sister Zhao's voice was sharp and urgent.

Yang Zhiyan stopped in her tracks, stood there for a few seconds, then walked back to the bedside and sat down.

Her hands were trembling, whether from the cold or from fear, she didn't know.

Yang Zhiyan buried her face in her knees, telling herself, "It's okay, it's okay." She didn't have a phone and couldn't contact anyone, so she could only wait here.

More and more people gathered in the courtyard, and guests from the neighboring inn also came out. People from several nearby guesthouses also came to this relatively spacious courtyard.

Some people were wearing pajamas, some were wrapped in blankets, some were barefoot, some were hugging pillows, and some were clutching their passports and ID cards in their hands, crumpled up.

Everyone sat together, and their initial panic gradually turned into calm.

Some people were making phone calls to let others know they were safe, some were scrolling through their phones reading the news, and some were quietly discussing their feelings about what had just happened.

"I thought I was going to die," a young girl said, her voice still trembling.

"Nonsense, a level 4.6, you won't die." The boy next to her had his arm around her, his voice was a little unsteady, but his tone was very confident.

Level 4.6. When Yang Zhiyan heard this number, half of the huge weight lifted from her heart. She

She didn't understand earthquakes, but she knew 4.6 wasn't a large magnitude. There shouldn't be any serious casualties. She leaned against a pillar and pulled the blanket tighter around herself. The August night wasn't cold, but she was still trembling with fear.

Everyone sat in the courtyard, chatting and waiting for dawn. No one dared to go back to sleep, fearing aftershocks.

Haicheng.

It was 1:03 AM. Qin Yuzheng's phone rang.

When he was abruptly dragged out of his dream, his first reaction was to frown.

It was dark outside the curtains, and the room was also dark. The light from the phone screen made him squint.

He picked it up and saw Zhou Zhanyu. When that name appeared on the screen, his brows didn't relax; instead, they furrowed even more.

Zhou Zhanyu never makes phone calls at this time. If he does, there's only one possibility: something has happened.

He answered the phone. "Zhan Yu."

"Zheng, there's been an earthquake in Yun Town," Zhou Zhanyu said urgently.

Qin Yuzheng paused for a moment, his fingers tightening on the phone case, his whole hand trembling uncontrollably.

"What level? Are there any casualties?" His voice trembled.