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Chapter 1: The Ember Base
When the olive-green jeep finally sputtered to a stop near the checkpoint, guided by the dim glow of its headlights, the three passengers aboard exhaled in weary relief.
“We’ve made it,” said the youngest soldier, sitting shotgun with his rifle cradled in his arms. His voice carried the raw gratitude of someone who’d just survived a harrowing ordeal. “How long have we been traveling? Feels like I haven’t slept in days.”
“Not that long,” replied the man seated in the back, his tone calm but tinged with exhaustion. “Without the sun, and all our watches broken, time’s become slippery. Probably only about four hours.”
“How can you possibly know that?” the young soldier shot back, skepticism dripping from his words. “You don’t even have a watch.”
“I was bored,” the man admitted with a shrug. “No phone to distract me, so I started counting seconds on my fingers while Old Liu drove. It’s probably accurate enough.”
The younger soldier let out a low whistle. “You’re something else—bored enough to count seconds manually.”
“That’s enough, Pan Shuai,” interrupted Old Liu, the driver. His voice was steady but weighed down by fatigue, underscored by the dark circles etched deeply around his eyes. “I’ve been keeping track of the mileage too, and it matches what Mr. Li here estimated.”
Pan Shuai muttered under his breath, “Why does everyone care so much about this stuff?”
“To remind ourselves we’re still alive,” answered Li Xingyuan, the journalist in the backseat. He spoke softly, his demeanor polite despite the obvious weariness etched into his features. His shirt, stained with some unidentifiable substance, hung loosely on his frame, yet he managed a faint smile—one might call it that if the slight curve of his lips counted as such. “After everything we’ve seen these past few days, I’m not sure whether we’re still in the land of the living or already in hell.”
Neither soldier responded, but their silence spoke volumes. They pulled up to the checkpoint, where two armed guards stepped forward, halting the vehicle.
“Password,” one of them demanded.
“We don’t know it,” Old Liu replied. “We’re from Jiangcheng. Radios are useless out here now.” He handed over his ID. “Please inform the base. We’ve brought Mr. Li to see Professor Chen.”
The guard saluted, took the ID, and retreated to the nearby guardhouse. The second guard, meanwhile, struck up a conversation. “You’re from Jiangcheng? That far? How’s the situation there?”
It wasn’t exactly protocol, but given the circumstances, standing post at all felt like an act of sheer willpower.
Li Xingyuan recognized the accent immediately. “You’re from Jiangcheng too?”
“Yes,” the round-faced guard confirmed, smiling warmly. “If it weren’t so far away, I’d have gone home myself. You must be brave to travel such a distance with only three people.”
“We started with a full squad and three vehicles,” Old Liu explained.
“Oh.” The guard’s expression turned grave. “Did you encounter an attack?”
“No, most died from sudden cancer outbreaks,” Old Liu said bluntly. “And we ran into… other strange things along the way.”
The guard’s face fell. “Same here. People drop dead walking down the street, then an autopsy reveals tumors filling their bodies overnight. Yesterday they were fine; today, they’re gone.”
Pan Shuai looked startled. “Isn’t this supposed to be the base of the Ember Project? Shouldn’t it be safer here?”
The second guard reemerged from the guardhouse, returning Old Liu’s ID. “It’s the same everywhere. Even those chosen for the Ember Project, who traveled thousands of miles to get here, aren’t immune. Some have dropped dead without warning. Professor Chen’s in better shape—he still takes walks outside sometimes.”
He studied Li Xingyuan’s face carefully. “Journalist Li Xingyuan, correct? You’re three days late. If Professor Chen hadn’t insisted on waiting for you before entering the hibernation pod, you wouldn’t have seen him at all. He’s expecting you—I’ve notified someone to escort you.”
Turning to Old Liu and Pan Shuai, he added, “You two go ahead and give your reports first. Then decide whether to stay here or return to your unit.”
“It seems this is goodbye,” Li Xingyuan said, opening the car door. He exchanged brief farewells with the soldiers who had escorted him. “Goodbye, friends.”
Old Liu merely nodded, while Pan Shuai waved and stuck out his tongue in a playful gesture. Within moments, the military jeep disappeared from sight.
Standing at the checkpoint, Li Xingyuan fished a crumpled pack of Zhonghua cigarettes from his pocket, extracting the last two remaining sticks.
“Care for a smoke?” he offered.
He didn’t smoke himself—not out of health concerns but simply because he’d never grown accustomed to it. Still, offering a cigarette was a tried-and-true icebreaker, a trick he’d mastered during his years as a journalist.
“No smoking in the military,” came the reply.
Li Xingyuan nodded, respecting the principle. Carefully, he tucked the cigarettes back into the pack, folded it neatly, and returned it to his inner pocket.
“Hometown buddy,” the round-faced guard began, breaking the silence. “What’s the situation in Jiangcheng? Ever heard of a neighborhood called No. 1 Residential Community?”
Li Xingyuan froze. The name conjured memories sharp enough to sting—a peculiar, indescribable ache bloomed in his chest. His tongue tasted bitter, as though lashed by the whip of memory. Forcing himself to speak, he lied, “No, I haven’t.”
“Oh,” the guard said, not sounding particularly disappointed. “My family lives there. I wonder how my mom and wife are doing. She works as a social worker in that community.”
The look on the guard’s face made Li Xingyuan grateful for his lie.
“Hmm, is that so?” he mumbled vaguely.
Fortunately, his escort arrived just then.
As they walked toward the Ember Base, Li Xingyuan could feel the guard’s gaze lingering on him, hoping he hadn’t noticed anything amiss in his evasive responses.
There were six Ember Bases scattered across the country, each converted from pre-existing nuclear bunkers after the disaster struck. Buried deep within concrete-reinforced mountainsides, they housed the nation’s chosen “embers”—individuals selected to preserve humanity’s future. To many, these bases were sanctuaries of hope.
“Is that the main structure of the Ember Base?” Li Xingyuan asked his escort, nodding toward the mountain. “The part built into the rock?”
“Yes,” the soldier replied, surprised but obliging. “I’ve heard scientists say it can withstand high-energy particle beams from space. Most of the embers are already inside, in hibernation.”
Li Xingyuan sighed. “When they wake up again, it’ll be centuries from now.”
“Maybe longer—thousands, even tens of thousands of years. Aren’t you a journalist? Why aren’t you part of the Ember Project?”
“No,” Li Xingyuan chuckled, shaking his head. “Mostly workers, soldiers, teachers, and scientists are chosen. What use would I be in the future? Future humans might not even use smartphones anymore.”
Both men laughed.
In peacetime, Li Xingyuan was just another quirky tabloid reporter. What role could he possibly play in rebuilding civilization?
He knew his limitations and harbored no illusions. But curiosity still got the better of him. This place, sacred ground for humanity’s rebirth, looked no different from any ordinary military base on the surface.
“Watch your step, Mr. Li,” the escort warned, yanking him back abruptly. With a swift kick, he sent something dark and indistinct flying into the shadows. “Snakes are everywhere here. Most aren’t venomous, but it’s best to stay cautious.”
“Got it,” Li Xingyuan replied, snapping out of his thoughts and following closely.
He expected to be led to a room or office, but instead, the soldier guided him to a lookout platform carved into the mountainside. A man in a suit stood there, cigarette glowing faintly in the darkness, his silhouette flickering like a ghost.
The escort saluted and stepped aside.
“The rules state outsiders may only speak with the ember candidates for ten minutes. Go ahead—Professor Chen is waiting for you.”
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