A sharp, cold wind blew in through the open windows. As everyone breathed in the long-lost scent of fresh air, the tension that had gripped their bodies and minds finally began to ease.
Those who had stayed inside their homes threw open every window they could. Some even stepped right out onto their balconies and stood there without moving, as if trying to absorb the moment.
"Wow, we can finally go outside."
Though the air didn't exactly smell great.
But that wasn't the real problem. What was with all this water outside?
"Damn, is the water really this high?"
"What the hell is going on?"
Because flooding had hit both upper and lower levels of the building, the residents sheltering in the emergency stairwells had barely moved beyond the floors they were staying on. Add the constant wind and rain, which made it impossible to see anything clearly outside, and the blackout, which had taken down all communication—no one could share updates in the group chat. Everyone had been stuck in an information blackout and hadn't realized the water had risen this much.
The moment they stepped out and saw it with their own eyes, they were stunned.
And if you dared to think deeper about it, things got even worse. Their building was already on higher ground. If even this spot had flooded up to the seventh or eighth floor, then what about all the areas built lower?
But there was no time to grieve for others.
Nine straight days of heavy rain had emptied everyone's pantry. Even if you'd once had extra supplies, no one could hold out forever. Now that rescue efforts had started, the only question was—could they get some food?
Sure enough, by that afternoon, a drone flew over the building, broadcasting a message: residents were instructed to head to the rooftop to collect emergency supplies.
As soon as the announcement played, Lan Jin rushed to the thirty-first floor and untied the rope that had been securing the stairwell door. She had barely finished when she heard the pounding of hurried footsteps racing up the stairs below.
Lan Jin didn't dare stay a moment longer. She turned and bolted upstairs. She had no intention of running into that stampede of people head-on.
But as soon as she reached the next floor, she spotted Huang Jinghe, who was just about to head down to untie the same rope.
Lan Jin called out quickly, "The rope's already off. A whole bunch of people are rushing up. Let's go back inside for now. We'll wait until the crowd thins out, then go get our supplies."
Huang Jinghe nodded. "Got it, Sister Lan. I can see the rooftop from my attic. I'll let you know over the radio when it's quieter."
With that, they hurried back to their apartment. Just as they closed the door, the crowd downstairs surged up to the thirty-third floor and started trying to break open the door to the rooftop.
The rooftop door wasn't built for security. Even with a padlock, it didn't take much effort. In just a few tries, the door gave way.
Once people got outside, they were greeted by the sight of a helicopter parked in one corner of the roof. In front of it, several aid workers were urgently unloading boxes of supplies.
This round of supplies was being distributed based on headcount. Residents had to present their household ID card, collect their allocated goods, and then have their ID scanned for record-keeping before leaving.
This system not only prevented greedy individuals from taking extra but also created a clear and detailed log of the distribution. No one wanted a situation where no one knew what had been given out.
The supplies themselves were simple: one pack of compressed biscuits and one bottle of mineral water per person. Was it enough? Not really—but it was enough to keep people alive for now.
Maybe it was because everyone was truly starving by this point, but surprisingly, no one caused trouble. As soon as they collected their share and stepped away from the line, they immediately tore into the food.
With something in their stomachs, people finally began to relax a little. Though to be fair, they hadn't exactly been starving before either.
Lan Jin had said it before: as long as people hadn't been reckless, there should've been leftover food from the last supply drop. After that, most had eaten from the cafeteria, and anyone who stocked up through the app had dry goods that could last. So even if no one had cooked in nine days, they hadn't gone completely hungry.
Still, having food didn't mean they'd been full. And with the rain falling endlessly, no one knew how many more days they'd be stuck or how long it would take for help to arrive. Everyone had been rationing.
To make things worse, over the past three months of isolation, the days during the heavy rain had been the most miserable.
Residents on lower floors had no idea how the people above were living. They blamed their hardship entirely on their position in the building. Their homes had flooded, and they couldn't even live there anymore. That thought alone was enough to break their spirits.
But the upper-floor residents hadn't had it much better.
"Not a single window in my place kept the rain out. I used up every bedsheet I had just trying to plug the leaks."
"You used bedsheets? I had to use quilts. They soak up water, right? But the toilet water kept backing up, and soaked quilts are impossible to wring out. There's not a single dry spot in my home."
"Honestly, the worst part was not being able to open the windows. After the toilet flooded, the whole place stank. It was unbearable."
Someone from the lower floors snapped back, "At least you got to stay in your apartment. We've been eating, sleeping, and using the bathroom in the hallway for days."
"Honestly, we all had it rough. But now that the rain's finally stopped, things should start getting better."
The rooftop wasn't very big to begin with, and the line of people was long. The workers didn't allow anyone to linger.
"No chatting here. Keep moving. Don't block the rooftop."
Those who had been living in the stairwell couldn't help asking, "Do you know when the floodwater will recede? What are we supposed to do next?"
"There will be more rescue efforts. Please be patient."
But when exactly would the water go down? No one could give a straight answer. Once the supplies were distributed, the aid workers boarded the helicopter and left.
The real rescue came the very next day.
Boats finally reached the area, and the rescue effort began. But it wasn't about bringing people to safety in some faraway place. The goal was relocation—to move those whose homes had been submerged to nearby shelters.
Where were they going?
To save on manpower and resources, and because the disaster zone was so vast, the evacuees weren't moved far. The nearest dry area that was both spacious and accessible was chosen. That way, people could be managed more easily, and once the water receded, they'd be close enough to return home.
As it happened, there were two universities not far from the neighborhood. Though the lower parts of the campuses had flooded, the higher ground remained dry. So, the residents were relocated there.
Evacuation was done by floor. Once again, household IDs were used to keep track.
First, floors two and three. Then four and five. Next, six and seven. As for the eighth floor—
There were still two steps before the water reached it. As long as it didn't rain again, they wouldn't need to move. After some discussion, the eighth-floor residents decided to stay.
Still, the number of evacuees was massive. The rescue teams worked from sunrise to sunset, making trip after trip. Only by nightfall had they finally moved everyone.
It might have seemed slow, but in reality, the workers had done everything they could. They were already moving as fast as humanly possible.