On January 23rd, 2039, coinciding with Chinese New Year's Eve, a unique festive atmosphere permeated the streets of Shanghai.
Red lanterns adorned both sides of the streets, their soft lights swaying gently, reminiscent of ripe persimmons hanging from branches, exuding a warm glow. A myriad of colorful lights intertwined with the lanterns, flickering and casting a hazy layer of celebration over the entire city. Fireworks had already begun to sporadically light up the sky, and the air was filled with a faint scent of gunpowder—a smell that only accompanied the New Year.
However, the streets were not bustling with people; pedestrians were scattered sparsely across the pavement. Once, as the most populous nation in the world, China brimmed with vibrant energy and vitality everywhere. Now, affected by an aging population and a significant decline in birth rates, the once-crowded scenes of people jostling shoulder to shoulder had become increasingly rare. The population had dropped by a full third compared to its peak.
Meanwhile, the rapid development of virtual reality technology had acted like a powerful magnet, drawing people deep into their homes. In that virtual online world, people could freely explore unknown fantastical realms and experience all sorts of unprecedented and wondrous adventures. Consequently, many had grown accustomed to staying indoors, rarely stepping outside even during holidays and festivals.
Despite the somewhat deserted streets, robotic vendors by the roadside continued tirelessly to hawk their wares with a mechanical rhythm that unexpectedly added a unique touch of festive cheer. Some waved their arms at the entrance, while others, topped with bright red hats, hopped and danced as if deliberately mimicking human enthusiasm, their antics amusingly endearing.
At the street corner, two robotic police officers were on patrol. Designed to resemble human forms, their dark blue metallic exteriors gleamed coldly under the lights, their expressions unchanging, no emotions at all, appearing even more authoritative than their human counterparts.
At that moment, a man clad in a military overcoat was striding swiftly through the streets. His name was Li Zhiyang, a dedicated professional soldier. Clutched in his hands were several bags of festive provisions, as he hurried to make it home for the New Year's Eve feast. Three long years had passed since he last shared this special meal with his family, a reunion he had yearned for deeply. This time, he had taken the initiative to request leave, determined not to miss another precious moment with his loved ones.
His phone rang—"Ding-ling-ling..."
He glanced at the screen. His wife. He picked up and softened his tone. "Hey, honey."
"Where are you? The kids keep asking when Daddy's coming home," came the familiar voice, gentle with just a hint of urgency.
"Almost there. I'm on the way."
Back at home, the newly bought household robot—Tesla·Xiaoji—joined in the call with digital enthusiasm:
"Master, would you like me to calculate the optimal route home? Based on current traffic conditions, I suggest—"
"Oh, take it easy, I'm basically downstairs already," Li Zhiyang chuckled, shaking his head. Cold as it was, the machine had heart—sort of.
His wife laughed too. "Sounds like Xiaoji's more anxious than we are."
Their kids' voices suddenly burst through the speaker: "Daddy! Are you home yet? I wanna light firecrackers!"
"Daddy's almost there. Wait for me, okay?" he said, picking up his pace without even realizing it.
As he passed the entrance of a shopping mall, a massive screen had gathered a small crowd. The news was playing: reports of escalating military conflicts, renewed violence in the Middle East, and rising tensions between the West and the Sino-Russian bloc.
People stood murmuring anxiously—some worried the war might spread, others fretting about rising prices and economic instability.
Li Zhiyang paused briefly, his brows faintly furrowed. As a soldier, he understood what those headlines really meant. But only for a moment. His gaze turned back ahead—to steaming dishes waiting at the table, to his children's laughter, to the home just a few blocks away.
He adjusted the bags in his hand and kept walking. He didn't look back.
Then suddenly, the news broadcast on the giant screen glitched, the image blinking—then going dark.
Not just the screen. The lights around him flickered and died in an instant. The city, vibrant and glowing just a moment ago, felt like it had been silenced by an invisible hand flipping a master switch.
Li Zhiyang froze for a second. Power outage?
He pulled out his phone instinctively—no signal. The screen read: Unable to connect.
"What's going on?" The people around him were coming out of their daze, murmuring with growing unease. Some guessed it was a grid failure, others whispered about something worse. The festive mood cracked like thin ice, and fear began to creep in—subtle, but spreading.
A deep anxiety gripped Li Zhiyang.
His home wasn't far. His family was waiting. His wife. His children.
Without hesitation, he broke into a run.
The streets, without their usual glow, now looked alien and foreboding. Familiar roads were suddenly draped in shadow, as if something terrible had snuck into the city.
Just as he reached the gate of his residential complex—a flash tore through the sky.
A fireball, blinding and enormous, erupted in the distant heavens—like a second sun exploding into existence.
A split-second later came the sound: an earth-shaking boom, so violent it seemed to tear the air itself apart.
His heart dropped. He stared wide-eyed at the growing blaze, but the light was searing—it burned his eyes, leaving them stinging, blinded. Before he could even react, a colossal shockwave hurtled toward him.
It moved like death incarnate.
The blast crashed down the street, obliterating everything in its path. Houses crumpled like paper, bricks scattered like sand. His apartment building, the one where his family waited—collapsed. Reduced to rubble in seconds.
The aftershock rampaged onward, swallowing everything. The world before his eyes unraveled into darkness and chaos.
Li Zhiyang felt himself lifted off the ground—flung violently into the air. For a moment, his body no longer obeyed him.
And then, nothing. A burning force wrapped around him. A roar of wind and heat. And silence.
The laughter of the New Year was gone.
All that remained... was the hush of death, and the endless void that followed.
The city—once teeming with life and hope—was now only ruins and despair.