“As everyone knows, for the past month, dense yellow fog has been appearing in multiple regions across the country. The meteorological bureau has repeatedly assured us that this is a natural phenomenon and poses no harm to humans. But is that really true? Where is the yellow fog coming from? You deserve to know the the truth.”
Since the arrival of the yellow fog, the forums had been flooded with posts like this. At least eight out of ten threads were dedicated to discussing it. The original poster (OP) clearly saw themselves as some kind of enlightened guru, their eye-catching title drawing in plenty of curious readers.
“Oh boy, here comes the doomsday prophet.”
“It’s just some fog. If you’ve got this much free time, go get a job.”
“Another clickbait post.”
“??? OP, where are you? Ignore them, tell us more.”
Amidst the skepticism, the original poster remained unfazed and continued their explanation as if they hadn’t seen a thing:
“The yellow fog is coming from underground. You guys know about the Yellowstone and Mosen supervolcanoes, right? Their activity has been ramping up lately—frequent earthquakes, ground fissures, a dramatic rise in underground water temperatures. All the conditions for an eruption have been met. It could blow at any moment.”
“Huh? I mean, sure, volcanoes release a ton of gas before they erupt, but dude, even if Yellowstone and Mosen went full power mode, there’s no way their emissions could cover the entire planet.”
“LOL, another clueless kid talking nonsense.”
“LMAO, does OP think his city is the only place getting fog?”
OP: “It’s not just volcanoes releasing gas—underground fissures are also releasing emissions. And let me tell you, Yellowstone and Mosen are just the tip of the iceberg. There are way more volcanoes going active right now.
I know this sounds alarmist, but I’m saying it anyway: Earth is fighting back. In a short time, humanity will face its greatest crisis yet. The only thing we can do is head for higher ground and stockpile as many supplies as possible.”
“LMAO, so according to OP, all the volcanoes on Earth just suddenly decided to wake up at the same time? That’s why we have this much fog? Sure, buddy.”
“Why not just say it’s the end of the world and be done with it?”
“Doomsday theories again? So boring.”
“Drop your forum IDs, guys. When I turn into a zombie, I promise I won’t eat you.”
The thread exploded with heated debate, but OP never showed up again.
Gu Mengran scrolled to the end, finished reading the discussion, and quickly typed a response:
“OP is right. The apocalypse is coming. Stock up on food, stay away from volcanoes, and if you can, move to high-altitude areas—the higher, the better.”
The train sped forward, passing through areas with unstable signal.
Gu Mengran hit send, but the message lagged for a second before finally going through. A couple of minutes later, when the connection stabilized, the once lively thread had vanished, leaving only a single system message:
[This post has been deleted by the administrators. Please remain rational when discussing topics.]
A sharp whoosh echoed as the high-speed train plunged into a tunnel, the darkness swallowing the carriage instantly. The window beside Gu Mengran became a perfect mirror, reflecting a pair of clear, deep-set eyes. His own face—sharp, fair-skinned, and utterly flawless—stared back.
This was him.
Not the version of himself scarred by three years of hell, not the one whose face had been disfigured beyond recognition.
The sensation of being torn apart by a propeller still lingered in his mind, searing pain rippling through his nerves. But when he opened his eyes again, Gu Mengran found himself three years in the past—one month before the greatest disaster in human history.
Having lived through it once, he would never forget.
The suffocating yellow fog that blanketed the world was only the beginning. A month later, dormant volcanoes across the globe would awaken like slumbering beasts, erupting one after another. Among them, two supervolcanoes—Yellowstone and Mosen, silent for centuries—would detonate at a VEI-7, unleashing destruction powerful enough to rewrite the landscape.
Lava spewed relentlessly, consuming cities, farmland, and countless living beings in its path. But the destruction did not stop there. Alongside the volcanic eruptions, a cataclysmic earthquake, unlike any ever recorded, tore through the continents, splitting the earth open.
Yellow fog. Volcanoes. Earthquakes. Fissures.
And still, that was only the beginning.
Earth was fighting back, and it wouldn’t stop until every last parasite—humanity—was wiped from its surface.
The volcanic eruptions released immense amounts of carbon dioxide, sulfur dioxide, and other greenhouse gases, accelerating global warming at an alarming rate. Temperatures skyrocketed. Glaciers melted. The oceans swallowed the land. Before humanity could even recover from the devastation of fire and quakes, an era of deadly, relentless heat began.
October 10, 2044.
Like the flutter of a butterfly’s wings, a storm quietly began.
After months of unbearable drought and suffocating heat, people rejoiced at the long-awaited rainfall, believing it to be salvation.
No one suspected… it would never stop.
By the time Gu Mengran took his last breath, the rain was still falling.
By then, the land was nothing more than a memory.
“Ding-dong. Next stop: Yuntian North Station. Passengers disembarking, please prepare in advance.”
The train’s announcement echoed through the cabin, pulling Gu Mengran out of his long, lingering memories. He stood up, retrieved his suitcase, adjusted his mask, and walked toward the doors at an unhurried pace.
The yellow fog had persisted for over a month, yet people seemed to have grown accustomed to it. Life carried on as usual. The station bustled with travelers, streams of passengers coming and going, while a long line of taxis waited at the curb, their drivers eagerly calling for passengers.
He queued up, placed his suitcase in the trunk, and slid into the back seat.
As the taxi pulled away, the familiar yet eerily distant streets rolled past his window, shrouded in hazy yellow mist. Gu Mengran stared outside, his throat tightening, an unfamiliar sting rising at the tip of his nose.
The city was still standing.
And the people… were still alive.
Forty minutes later, the taxi pulled up beside a cluster of towering high-rises. Nestled awkwardly between them was a lone, incongruous self-built house—standing out like a relic from another time.
Gu Mengran paid the fare, stepped out, and retrieved his luggage. Just as he straightened up, the metal shutter of a storefront nearby rattled open.
An elderly man, his salt-and-pepper hair neatly combed back, stepped out. His face bore the gentle wrinkles of age, yet his eyes held the same warmth as always.
Despite his age, he remained broad-shouldered and sturdy, his frame filled out with the healthy bulk of an active lifestyle.
He wore flip-flops, beach shorts, and a sun-faded, stretched-out tank top that looked one wash away from falling apart.
Yet somehow, the man exuded the unshakable energy of someone who had weathered life without breaking.
The second their eyes met, Gu Mengran’s chest tightened, his vision blurred with tears.
His suitcase was left forgotten on the roadside as he rushed forward, closing the distance in just a few strides. Without hesitation, he threw his arms around the old man, holding on with all his strength—like a child clutching at something precious, afraid it would slip away.
“Grandpa… Grandpa, I’m home.”
“What’s with all this sticky, sentimental nonsense? You’re getting sweat all over me! It’s only been a few months—don’t act like you’ve come back from the dead!”
Despite the gruff words, Meng Gaoyang’s smile stretched from ear to ear, his face practically glowing with joy.
For the old man, it had only been a few months.
For Gu Mengran, it had been three long years.
Three years of devastation, loss, and irreversible separation. He had lost his grandfather—the man who raised him, his only family. Now, standing before him once more, Gu Mengran could barely contain his emotions.
Gu Mengran inhaled sharply, pushing down the overwhelming surge. Forcing a grin, he wiped at his damp eyes and, just like old times, teased, “Oh? You’re complaining now? Well, too bad! I’m wiping all my sweat on you.”
“You little brat! I just took a shower!”
Meng Gaoyang scowled, lifting his fan to smack him over the head. But Gu Mengran, quick as a loach, dodged and bolted straight into the house—completely forgetting his suitcase outside.
The old house was pleasantly cool, a stark contrast to the heat outside—like stepping into an air-conditioned sanctuary.
For all his earlier complaints, Meng Gaoyang wasted no time fussing over him. Before Gu Mengran had even settled in, the old man was already moving—grabbing his luggage, rummaging through the fridge.
In less than five minutes, the table before Gu Mengran was covered in snacks: a bowl of fresh grapes, two thick slices of watermelon, an assortment of biscuits and bread.
The table was already packed to the brim, yet the old man kept bringing out more. Knowing there was no point in arguing, Gu Mengran simply picked up the bowl of grapes and leisurely began to eat.
Thump.
A frozen container of durian, still coated in frost, landed on the table. Only then did the old man finally take a seat.
“Grandpa, have some grapes. They’re really sweet.”
The seasonal grapes were plump, juicy, and bursting with flavor. Gu Mengran wanted his grandfather to try them, but the moment he lifted the bowl, it was unceremoniously pushed back.
Meng Gaoyang didn’t say a word. He just sat there, leisurely fanning himself, eyes fixed on Gu Mengran with a knowing smile.
The intense stare was impossible to ignore. Gu Mengran fidgeted under the scrutiny, his hands pausing mid-peel. With his head lowered, he muttered, “Why are you staring at me like that? Acting like I’m gonna steal your grapes or something.”
Three years apart. Three years of disaster, of survival, of pain.
Gu Mengran wasn’t sure if he could meet his grandfather’s eyes without breaking. He was afraid—afraid that with just one look, his grandfather would see through the façade, see the person he had become.
Because he had already died once.
He was no longer the naive, clueless kid his grandfather had once known.
“You are acting strange.”
Just four words—simple, direct. Yet they exploded like a thunderclap in Gu Mengran’s ears.
Gu Mengran’s hands trembled, and the glistening grape he was peeling slipped from his fingers, landing on the floor with a soft plop.
He reacted quickly, grabbing a napkin to pick it up.
When he lifted his head again, the panic in his eyes had completely vanished, replaced by a faint smile. “Damn, you saw right through me! Have you figured out that I’m actually not your grandson?”
Meng Gaoyang rolled his eyes. “Cut the nonsense. You came rushing back the moment summer break started, didn’t even bother to call ahead, and that suitcase of yours weighs a ton. Be honest, Gu Mengran—did that heartless bastard Gu Decheng give you trouble again?”
The false alarm passed, but Gu Mengran couldn’t bring himself to laugh anymore.
Gu Decheng. That name alone made his stomach twist uncomfortably.
His mother had passed away when he was young, and his father had been absent for most of his life. It was his grandfather who had raised him. Then, at fourteen, his so-called successful father, Gu Decheng, remarried—giving him a stepmother ten years older than him and a baby half-brother.
That same year, Gu Decheng—who had never bothered to acknowledge his existence—suddenly remembered his existence. Without caring about what he wanted, Gu Decheng dragged him away from his grandfather’s home and took him to live in another city.
In his past life, he had been too naive. Five years of living as an outsider in his own father’s house hadn’t been enough to make him see reality for what it was.
It wasn’t until the apocalypse arrived—when his own father pushed him out as a bargaining chip for supplies—that he finally realized the truth.
His mother’s death hadn’t just left him motherless. It had left him orphaned.
Now, given a second chance, Gu Mengran had no intention of being fooled again.
This time, he would sever those so-called family ties before they had a chance to hurt him again.
“Mengran? Mengran?”
His grandfather’s voice dragged him back to reality. “This kid… why’s he zoning out again?”
Gu Mengran sat there in silence, his brows furrowed, his face growing darker by the second. Across from him, Grandpa Meng was losing patience. He scratched his head, let out a sharp huff, and finally slammed his palm on the table.
“That’s it! I’m calling that bastard son of mine right now—what the hell is wrong with him?!”
“Grandpa.” Gu Mengran came back to himself just in time to grab his arm, his voice low as he explained, “No one bullied me. I just missed you, so I came back to see you. But… there’s something important I need to tell you.”
“What is it?” Grandpa Meng eyed him suspiciously.
“Sit down first. I’ll explain everything.”
Having lived with his grandfather for fourteen years, Gu Mengran knew him inside and out.
He couldn’t tell him the truth about his rebirth. Instead, he turned the coming catastrophe into a dream—a nightmare so vivid it felt real.
Meng Gaoyang had spent most of his life at sea, working in the shipping industry. Compared to most people, he was naturally more superstitious. Gu Mengran played into that, adding a bit of embellishment, dropping a few hints, and finally invoking the names of his late grandmother and mother.
That did the trick.
The old man stopped fanning himself. His foot, which had been bouncing under the table, stilled. The once-relaxed atmosphere turned heavy, his expression growing increasingly serious.
“A volcanic eruption… rain that never stops…” Grandpa Meng’s eyes narrowed into slits, deep wrinkles forming on his forehead. He sucked in a sharp breath. “Hiss… Are you saying your grandma and mom told you this?”
Gu Mengran nodded firmly, his expression unwavering. “Yes. They warned me about an unprecedented disaster. They told me to come back for you as soon as possible… and to start preparing now. We need to stockpile supplies before it’s too late.”
After speaking, Gu Mengran looked up at his grandfather, blinking innocently. “Grandpa, don’t overthink it. It was just a dream—it doesn’t mean anything. Maybe Grandma and Mom are just playing a prank on us. Who knows, maybe they’re short on money in the afterlife and wanted to scare us into sending some their way.”
“Nonsense!”
A classic move—playing it down to draw him in. And just as expected, the old man took the bait.
Meng Gaoyang fanned himself rapidly, his sharp eyes flicking back and forth. “I haven’t dreamed of those two in years! The last time was eight years ago, right before that Yuntian earthquake. No, this wasn’t just some random dream. Definitely not! And with how strange the weather’s been lately… I’m telling you, something big is coming!”
Gu Mengran hesitated, his lips slightly parted, his eyes filled with uncertainty. “Then… then what should we do? We can’t actually start hoarding supplies, can we? What if the dream turns out to be fake, then—”
Smack!
The fan in Grandpa Meng’s hand landed sharply against his palm, the crisp sound echoing through the room.
As if struck by sudden inspiration, he lifted his head abruptly. “Mengran, if it really rains like that—if the water levels rise—where do you think we should go?”
“The highlands. High-altitude areas,” Gu Mengran replied instinctively.
“Wrong!” Grandpa Meng grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. Then, lowering his voice, he said with an air of mystery, “Did you forget what your grandpa used to do for a living? Back in the day, I was the captain—the highest-ranking commander—of the Fengyi.”
Gu Mengran’s eyes lit up. “Grandpa, are you saying… we should buy a boat?”
Meng Gaoyang nodded. “That’s right. We buy a boat. If disaster strikes, we sail away. If it doesn’t, we rent it out for cargo transport and make a steady income. No matter what happens, we won’t be at a loss.”
A lifetime at sea had made the old man an expert. The moment he started talking about boats, he was unstoppable.
Cargo ships were too big, yachts too expensive, and fishing boats too small… but an inland transport vessel? Now that was just right.
Less than thirty minutes later, the decision was set in stone: they were getting a riverboat.
Gu Mengran was dumbfounded.
Sure, he had been subtly guiding his grandfather in this direction, but… this was way too easy. Almost unbelievably easy.
A never-ending downpour. A world where land slowly vanished beneath rising waters until Earth became a water world. A world where survival wasn’t just about food and supplies—it was about finding a place to exist at all.
In his last life, Gu Mengran had escaped with Gu Decheng’s family to some unknown island.
In the end, they had sold him out, but that half-year on the island had taught him one brutal truth—land after the disaster was a privilege for the powerful. People like him? They didn’t even qualify to set foot on it.
Since his rebirth, he had been thinking nonstop about where they should go.
And now, the answer was right in front of him.
A ship.
Not just a ship—a home on the water. A safe haven that could move, shelter them, and store enough supplies to survive.
Boats weren’t cheap. Even a modest one could cost hundreds of thousands, if not millions.
Gu Mengran was just a college student—there was no way he could afford that. That’s why he had come up with this whole scheme to convince his grandpa to invest his retirement savings.
Luckily, his grandfather loved him and trusted him unconditionally.
In the end, all those carefully prepared arguments weren’t even needed. Within moments, the old man was already deep in thought, weighing the pros and cons of buying a big boat versus a small one.
Gu Mengran’s throat tightened, his eyes burning with emotion.
But there was no time for sentimentality. He quickly blinked away the heat in his eyes and refocused on analyzing the situation with his grandfather.
“We should go small. A coastal freighter, around three thousand tons. The flooded world won’t be like the open ocean; there will be too many obstacles in the water. Large ships are slow, heavy, have a deep draft, and are far too conspicuous. If we get stuck, scrape against something, or worse, draw the wrong kind of attention… it could be a disaster.”
Meng Gaoyang frowned slightly, nodding thoughtfully. “That makes sense, but a three-thousand-ton cargo ship won’t hold much. If the land really disappears, we won’t just lose our homes—we won’t be able to farm or produce anything. That means once our supplies run out, that’s it.”
Gu Mengran understood that all too well.
Even so, after weighing the pros and cons, a small cargo ship was still their best option. As for its limited storage capacity? That wasn’t something he was worried about.
He slowly lifted his head, meeting his grandfather’s gaze with a calm, steady look.
Then, without a word, he raised his right hand and pressed his palm lightly against the stainless steel bowl of grapes.
The moment his skin touched the bowl, a thought flickered through his mind—
And just like that, the entire bowl of plump, purple grapes vanished from the table.
Axolotl Translations 
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