Gu Mengran had been so dead set on convincing Liang Zhao that he was prepared to go to extreme lengths. If persuasion didn’t work, he was prepared to go all out—even if it meant being mistaken for some kind of lunatic or letting Liang Zhao think he had some hidden agenda, he had to get him on board.
But he never imagined that after barely getting through the first part of his pitch, Liang Zhao would actually agree.
“Stop spacing out. Eat.”
The soft clang of a ladle against a porcelain bowl broke the silence.
A shrimp dumpling, soaked in flavorful broth, landed in his bowl. Liang Zhao withdrew his hand so naturally that for a split second, Gu Mengran felt like he was watching a replay from his past life.
Still feeling a little skeptical, Gu Mengran picked up his chopsticks and poked at the shrimp dumpling. In a small voice, he asked, “You agreed? Just like that? You’re not even gonna ask about salary and benefits?”
“I was already planning to switch ships, but I hadn’t found a good opportunity yet. And since you’re the one extending the offer, I doubt the salary will be bad.” Liang Zhao spoke with his usual composure, then casually fished a slice of beef out of the bubbling red broth.
“But…”
Just as he was about to take a bite, he paused, set the beef down, and looked at Gu Mengran with a more serious expression. “The yellow fog has had a huge impact on the shipping industry. Buying a boat to run a floating supermarket right now isn’t exactly the best move.”
Gu Mengran nodded thoughtfully, putting on a convincing act. “Yeah, I know. But my grandpa has some extra cash and always wants to try new things. Nothing I can do about it. I’ll just go along with it and try to minimize the losses.”
The shrimp dumpling had gone cold. Gu Mengran split it in half with his chopsticks, dipped it twice in the sauce, and slowly popped it into his mouth.
It was bouncy, with a faint tomato flavor. Tasted pretty good.
Liang Zhao wasn’t much of a talker, leaving Gu Mengran to chatter away on his own for most of the meal.
That said, he wasn’t completely unresponsive. Whenever Gu Mengran tried to strike up a conversation—asking about his current situation, prying into his life—Liang Zhao answered patiently, albeit in a casual, half-hearted manner.
By the time they finished eating, the initial awkwardness of their reunion had mostly faded, and the unfamiliar distance between them felt a little less daunting—at least, in Gu Mengran’s opinion.
After dinner, they exited the mall, and Gu Mengran slipped into a narrow alley behind the shopping center. Moments later, a rickety red mini electric car wobbled to a stop in front of Liang Zhao.
Beep beep—
Two sharp honks cut through the quiet before the car window slowly rolled down. Behind the wheel, Gu Mengran grinned brightly, waving enthusiastically. “Hop in, Liang Zhao! Where do you live? I’ll drive you home.”
Liang Zhao took two steps forward, lowering his gaze to meet his. “No need. I live nearby.”
“Huh?” The excitement in Gu Mengran’s eyes dimmed a little as he pouted. “Oh… okay then. But don’t forget—ten days! You have to come find me. I’ll send you the address when I get home. You can even ship your luggage ahead of time if you want. Just don’t forget, okay?”
Liang Zhao nodded seriously. “Got it. I’ll call you. Drive slow in this fog, stay safe, and text me when you get home.”
Gu Mengran hummed softly, his chest tightening as an inexplicable warmth rose in his eyes.
The red brake lights flickered once before vanishing as the tiny electric car sputtered forward, weaving into traffic, melting into the hazy yellow mist until it was gone from sight.
Liang Zhao stood motionless on the sidewalk, his gaze locked on the distant spot where the car had disappeared.
Click.
A lighter flared briefly before flickering out. A cigarette now rested between Liang Zhao’s long, slender fingers.
The ember glowed and dimmed, smoke curling up along the sharp contours of his face. His expression remained unchanged, his gaze still locked onto the endless stream of passing cars.
As the cigarette burned to its end, his lips parted slightly. His usually calm eyes held a rare trace of nostalgia.
“Gu Mengran… it’s been a long time.”
***
Before dawn had even broken, Gu Mengran bolted upright in bed, rushing to wash up. He’d been too excited to sleep, tossing and turning all night—now his eyes were shadowed with deep, dark circles.
Stepping out of his room, he nearly bumped into his grandfather.
One look at the old man’s matching panda eyes, and Gu Mengran instantly felt a little better.
Today was an important day. There was no way either of them could’ve slept soundly.
After freshening up and changing, he gathered all the necessary documents. Then, he and his grandfather hopped into their tiny electric car, grabbing a quick breakfast along the way. They ate on the go, wasting no time as they made their way toward the shipyard.
For an hour and a half, the small red electric car wove through layers of dense yellow fog, heading south toward the outskirts of the city. There, an enormous shipyard sprawled across the industrial landscape, brimming with the scent of steel and machinery.
Gu Mengran had left everything regarding the ship purchase to his grandfather. He had zero knowledge of the process, but as soon as they entered the shipyard, his eyes widened in awe at the sight of the towering steel giants stretching toward the sky.
The little electric car zipped along at full speed, following the directional signs toward the dock. Along the way, the old man finally took pity on his clueless grandson and offered a brief explanation.
“Normally, you have to pre-order a ship from the yard. They build them in dry docks or slipways so they can launch straight into the water. But shipyards don’t have unlimited slipways, and building a ship takes time. If you want one, you get in line and wait.”
“How long’s the wait?” Gu Mengran asked.
“Six months at best. A year, if you’re unlucky.”
And so, a new profession was born—ship dealers.
At the mention of these middlemen, the old man scoffed. “Ship dealers are the worst! They snatch up the available slipways first, forcing people who actually need ships to stand in line like fools. The ones who are in a hurry have no choice but to buy from them—at an inflated price, of course.”
“It’s pure exploitation! That kind of dirty business should be boycotted!” He let out a hearty laugh. “Good thing the shipping market’s been terrible the past couple of years. I bet those bloodsuckers are bleeding money.”
Meng Gaoyang grinned widely, clearly enjoying the thought. “Still, buying from a dealer has its advantages. They usually wait until the ship is built before selling, which saves you the long wait. Plus, they take care of all the paperwork—it’s basically paying extra for convenience.”
Gu Mengran raised an eyebrow, a teasing lilt in his voice. “Oh, so when Grandpa said he was ‘pulling some strings’… what he actually meant was buying a ship from the very dealers he claims to ‘firmly oppose’?”
The old man’s face turned beet red. He shot Gu Mengran a glare, practically grinding his teeth. “Listen here, kid! Your grandpa was in ocean shipping—deep-sea freight! This is river transport! How the hell am I supposed to know anyone in this business?”
“Gotcha, gotcha. Loud and clear.”
Gu Mengran grinned, his smirk unwavering.
Desperate times called for desperate measures. With shipbuilding taking at least six months, they simply couldn’t afford to wait.
As they joked back and forth, they finally arrived at the shipyard dock.
Since they had purchased a pre-built ship, they could skip the usual launching ceremony. Their new vessel was already moored at the shipyard, waiting for its new owner’s inspection.
The Windwing.
The ship measured 69 meters long, 14 meters wide, and 4.9 meters deep, with a full load capacity of 3,000 tons.
The hull stood out with its vibrant colors—below the waterline was bright red, above it dark green, and the white superstructure gleamed in the daylight. The hull was built from reinforced steel plating, tough enough to withstand wear and highly resistant to corrosion.
Unlike the other bulk freighters at the dock—whose cabins were tucked away at the bow or stern—the Windwing had undergone major modifications. Designed specifically as a supermarket ship, its once-open deck had been repurposed to support a two-story structure.
Put simply, while most freighters had only small cabins at the front or back, the Windwing was carrying the equivalent of a two-story, thousand-square-meter penthouse right on its deck, leaving only a sliver of open deck space.
From a distance, the ship was an awe-inspiring sight, its massive structure resembling a small cruise liner sailing down the Yellow River. But standing on the dock, seeing it up close, Gu Mengran could only think of one word—breathtaking.
After a basic hull inspection, the shipyard representative finally arrived, leading Meng Gaoyang and Gu Mengran on board.
The moment Gu Mengran set foot on the deck, a powerful sense of belonging surged through him. This wasn’t just any vessel—it was their home now.
Since both he and his grandfather had been involved in designing the ship’s interior layout, Gu Mengran already had a rough idea of what it would look like inside.
But seeing it on a blueprint and stepping inside the ship itself were two completely different things.
The second he walked through the entrance, he froze. His lips parted slightly, but no words came out. He almost forgot to breathe.
The first floor was the largest, designed as the main supermarket area.
Since today was only the handover, the shelves weren’t installed yet. What stretched before him was a vast, immaculate, mall-like interior, its sheer openness making the ship feel even larger.
There were no walls, no partitions. Standing at the entrance, he could see everything.
The ceiling lights shone brilliantly, illuminating the sleek gray marble floors, polished to a mirror-like finish. The white walls were spotless, giving the space a crisp, clean look.
If not for the gentle rocking of the ship beneath his feet, Gu Mengran could have easily mistaken this for a fully renovated supermarket on land.
Perfect. Absolutely perfect.
Since society was still intact before the disaster, they had to follow regulations when remodeling and outfitting the ship’s interior to ensure a smooth launch. But leaving the first floor completely open had its advantages—once the apocalypse hit, they could modify it however they wanted, as long as they had the materials.
The first floor had already exceeded Gu Mengran and his grandfather’s expectations, but the second floor was even better.
The Fengyi was designed with a front-positioned wheelhouse, meaning they had to circle around to the open deck at the stern to reach the second floor. And the moment Gu Mengran stepped inside, he was met with his dream come true—an enormous 150-square-meter living room.
The entryway, floor tiles, wall tiles, TV wall—every detail was meticulously finished, replicating a high-end living room on land. Even the shipyard supervisor couldn’t help but exclaim, “Lavish! You’re using all this space just for living quarters?”
Gu Mengran grinned and shrugged. “Land is too expensive. My dream mansion can only exist on a ship.”
Adjacent to the living room was a dining area, a semi-open kitchen, and a small bar. The decor was minimalist yet practical, with stove tops, countertops, and cabinets already in place—just waiting for kitchen appliances to be added.
Further inside were the bedrooms—two master suites and four guest rooms, all fully equipped with private bathrooms and showers.
And tucked away at the back? Two massive storage rooms, each spanning over 100 square meters—big enough to stash a whole warehouse worth of supplies.
And finally, at the very end of the ship, lay the Fengyi’s command center—the wheelhouse.
From inside the wheelhouse, where three walls of reinforced glass provided an unobstructed, panoramic view, Gu Mengran took in the majestic sight before him—the vast, rolling waters of the Huang River and the constant movement of ships entering and leaving the port.
The control panel was packed with an array of instruments and equipment, enough to make anyone’s head spin. Gu Mengran had earned his crew license last year but had never had the chance to practice on an actual ship. He knew how to steer and could handle basic equipment like the radar and electronic navigation charts, but that was the extent of it.
His grandfather, Meng Gaoyang, however, was a seasoned former ship captain. As he took in the familiar controls and displays, his heart filled with nostalgia and deep emotion.
After leaving the wheelhouse, the shipyard manager suggested they take a look at the engine room.
If the wheelhouse was the ship’s brain, then the engine room was its beating heart.
Gu Mengran wasn’t particularly interested, so while his grandfather followed the manager inside, he stepped onto the open-air deck just outside the wheelhouse.
The cool river breeze ruffled his hair as he stood there, mentally running through the growing list of supplies they still had to gather—
Furniture, appliances, fuel, various large-scale equipment…
And the time left to prepare?
Barely two weeks.
Previous Chapter | TOC | Next Chapter
Axolotl Translations 
Leave a comment