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Chapter 40: Di Mu
“Communications were briefly restored a few days ago,” Chen Yingyao explained. “The disaster struck so suddenly that it caught everyone off guard, but repair efforts have been ongoing.”
“Are we preparing to resume production already?” Li Xingyuan asked, surprised.
“There’s been an official directive issued—red-headed documents and all—but implementation is challenging.” Chen Yingyao let out a bitter laugh. “For now, only government offices are up and running, but without the internet, even basic tasks feel nearly impossible. I’m not sure about the situation in the city, but revitalizing the countryside will take time. Village committees are going door-to-door, urging farmers to prepare for the autumn harvest. After all, this region is a major producer of double-cropping rice, and the second crop should be nearing its harvest season.”
“But yesterday…”
Chen Yingyao trailed off, but his meaning was clear. The three of them knew exactly what he was referring to—the colossal being’s march, its overwhelming power reshaping ecosystems with terrifying efficiency, leaving devastation in its wake.
The rice paddies would have frozen solid under those merciless winds; no crop could withstand such conditions for long. The alien ecosystem imposed by the giant had ruthlessly crushed the human world. Even if some semblance of survival remained possible, the familiar landscape was irreparably altered.
Chen Yingyao took another sip of tea before continuing. “To be honest, sudden-onset cancer isn’t our biggest concern anymore. It seems people are adapting to whatever high-energy particles are affecting us, as cancer rates are gradually declining. But what about everything else? First came flooding, then blizzards—and countless other strange phenomena we can’t even begin to explain. This year’s grain yields won’t look good at all. Even if we manage to mobilize farmers next year and rely heavily on mechanization, stretching manpower to the limit, what happens if another disaster strikes? What if something worse occurs, rendering the land unsuitable for farming?”
“I’ve heard rumors that higher-ups are considering reorganizing parts of the military into work brigades—collective labor units focused on planting and harvesting, aiming to stabilize food production for the near future. But even then, how effective can such measures really be against unknown calamities? Against what happened yesterday, what use are planes or artillery?”
Chen Yingyao sighed again. “We’re likely heading into a period of wartime economics, enduring hardships however long we can. If our generation resolves every issue now, what purpose will remain for the embers of tomorrow? Let the elites worry about the future.”
Li Xingyuan said nothing, merely clinking glasses with Chen Yingyao.
“We need to cross the river,” Old Liu interjected abruptly. “Secretary Chen, do you have any suggestions?”
“I’ve got some flood-control supplies—a small inflatable raft, perhaps.” Chen Yingyao shrugged. “But given the current intensity of the floods, I’d advise waiting a while longer. Before communications cut out, I heard they’re planning to open a flood-diversion zone. Once that happens, conditions might improve.”
What Chen Yingyao said made sense, and the other three understood implicitly. Attempting to cross the Yangtze River now bordered on suicidal—though not entirely impossible, thanks to the slim chance gravity might reverse again and fling them across.
Even if such a miracle occurred, Li Xingyuan doubted he’d survive to see it.
“How’s Fengyuan Town recovering?” Li Xingyuan shifted the topic, sensing the conversation slipping toward despair.
To his surprise, the question hit a sore spot for Chen Yingyao, who grimaced bitterly. “Recovery has been… decent, though it doesn’t involve me much as town official. Few are tending the fields; most have flocked to the mine.”
“I’m not from Jiangcheng or Fengyuan, Mr. Li, as you know. Although I haven’t reached county-level rank where strict regulations apply, avoiding one’s hometown for postings is customary. Fengyuan Town follows this rule too—aside from dispatched laborers, there aren’t many locals working in the town hall.” Chen Yingyao poured out his frustrations. “Normally, this wouldn’t matter, but chaos breeds division. Locals stick together, following their villages and clans rather than the town authorities. Even residents living here have returned to their ancestral villages and joined others heading to the mine.”
“The mine?” Li Xingyuan frowned. “You mean Fengyuan Copper Mine?”
Chen Yingyao nodded. “Mr. Li, I’m a Party member—I shouldn’t indulge in superstition. But after what happened yesterday… even the staunchest skeptic would tremble.”
“Fengyuan Copper Mine may technically belong to the state, but the town has no jurisdiction over it. The mine operates independently, always led by locals.”
“It’s run legally, pays taxes on time, avoids major accidents, and meets environmental standards during inspections. Most workers are local, and crime rates remain low. So when certain old practices persist—well, the town turns a blind eye.”
None of Chen Yingyao’s words carried significant weight—they served mainly to distance himself from responsibility. Seeing Li Xingyuan’s growing impatience, Chen Yingyao sighed and added, “The townsfolk believe a deity resides within Fengyuan Mine—a goddess called ‘Di Mu.’”
“Di Mu?”
“Yes, they believe. During festivals, they hold rituals at the mine. Nothing extreme—just traditional offerings of livestock and incense. We’ve tried promoting modern customs a few times, but it never stuck.” He sipped his tea again. “I’ve seen the statue of Di Mu myself—it looks like a black stone carving of Guanyin bodhisattva.”
“The people of Fengyuan believe they’re her children. She gifted them the mine, promising prosperity for generations as long as they offer regular sacrifices. Since the mine’s discovery, offerings to Di Mu have never ceased. In times of famine, she supposedly provides sustenance—her ‘milk’ flowing forth to sustain them through hardship.”
Li Xingyuan nodded. “Such stories exist everywhere. But surely that doesn’t explain why the entire town has rushed to the mine?”
“It shouldn’t…” Chen Yingyao gave another rueful smile. “And yet…”
He hesitated, then continued. “Mr. Li, what I’m about to say might sound insane. Just humor me.”
“I’ve personally witnessed Di Mu’s ‘milk’ gushing from the mine shafts.”
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