Fengyi anchored at the port for the night, with no one left on duty.

The three people on board had gone back to their rooms early to rest and recharge.

But when they met in the dining room the next morning, each of them showed up with dark circles under their eyes—some worse than others.

Well, of course. With a volcanic eruption and ground-splitting earthquakes, who could sleep peacefully?

After hastily eating breakfast, Meng Gaoyang and Liang Zhao headed to the engine room and deck to inspect the ship’s facilities. Gu Mengran was tasked with checking and tidying up the rooms on the first and second floors.

Fengyi’s giant swing was about to be activated. Furniture and appliances that could be secured needed to be fixed in place immediately, and anything that couldn’t be secured—or was likely to shake or topple, had to be stowed away quickly.

Everything had to be put back exactly how it was taken out. After two full hours of busy work, the carefully decorated living room and bedrooms Gu Mengran had worked so hard on were suddenly returned to their original bare-bones, model-room state.

With the vacuum and floor washer working together, Gu Mengran cleaned every corner of the Fengyi, inside and out, all over again.

Doing housework in the summer was absolute torture, sweat poured off him like rain. By the time he finished everything, his clothes were completely soaked through.

Sticky sweat clung to his skin, making him uncomfortable. Just as he was about to go shower and rest for a bit, he had one foot in the bathroom—and the intercom blared.

What a busy day!

He didn’t even get a chance to use the toilet before he had to run back up to the deck.

He had been inside the ship all morning, and it wasn’t until he walked from the living room to the stern deck that Gu Mengran noticed something was off—the fog today was terrifyingly thick.

The sky was dark and heavy, as if it were brewing a violent storm. The clouds hanging at the horizon had sunk lower, an oppressive black mass smothering the river and the deck, bringing with it a suffocating, almost claustrophobic pressure.

Visibility was severely reduced.

Three meters ahead, and you couldn’t tell man from beast.

The moment he stepped outside, a sharp sulfur stench hit him full in the face.

Gu Mengran quickly pulled on a mask, relying on memory to grope his way slowly toward the stern, calling out as he walked, “Grandpa! Liang Zhao!”

“Over here—careful!”

“Walk slower, brat! Don’t go falling into the river!”

Voices called back and forth. Following the sound, Gu Mengran finally found his grandpa and Liang Zhao in the thick fog.

Now that everything was out in the open, things were easier. With no need to hide anymore, Gu Mengran immediately pulled a large waterproof tarp out of his space.

The tarp had been custom-made to scale for the Fengyi. When spread out, it could cover the entire upper structure of the ship. Originally, it was meant to be used during the upcoming rainy season.

But Meng Gaoyang was worried the thick fog and volcanic debris might corrode the hull, and insisted Gu Mengran bring one out early.

They were currently within the borders of Shaozhou. Gu Mengran really wanted to tell Grandpa that the nearest active volcano was over a thousand kilometers away. At most, they’d be affected by some ash—not exactly something to panic over.

But in the end, he let it go. The old man loved his ship. If one tarp could ease his mind, that was fine. There were still a dozen more stored in the space anyway.

The fog was so dense, there was no difference between day and night.

Installing the tarp was far more troublesome than usual.

The old man stayed on deck to give orders. Gu Mengran and Liang Zhao took turns climbing onto the roof, securing the tarp little by little, starting from the four corners.

By the time all the prep work was done, it was already noon.

The three of them were drenched in sweat, filthy and exhausted. After washing up in their own rooms, they regrouped once again in the cockpit.

They were hungry, but the pots, pans, and utensils had already been packed away by Gu Mengran. Since cooking wasn’t an option, they had to make do with instant food and some leftover braised meat from a few days ago—the kind that the old man found disgusting just by looking at it.

The tables and chairs had also been stowed away, leaving only the captain’s chair securely fixed in the spacious bridge. The three of them stood in front of the helm to finish their lunch, then packed up the trash and crawled one after the other beneath the control console.

To prevent the Fengyi from being capsized by the river currents, someone had to stay in the bridge for watch duty, steering as needed to keep the ship balanced. But none of the three felt comfortable leaving just one person behind. After a brief discussion the previous night, they decided to all stay together in the bridge.

The ship’s superstructure was usually made of steel decking, constructed with welding techniques that could withstand collapse even if the ship sank—unless subjected to a violent impact.

So hiding in the Fengyi during an earthquake meant they didn’t have to face the danger of buildings collapsing or getting hit by debris. In fact, it was somewhat safer than staying in buildings on land.

But risk doesn’t disappear—it only shifts. If the ship capsized, the danger would increase exponentially.

The bridge console was tall, and the space beneath it was fairly roomy. Even with three people hiding under it at the same time, it didn’t feel cramped. They still had enough space to move their arms and legs.

But as Gu Mengran, like a real-life Doraemon, kept pulling out items from his storage space, the once roomy area started to get more and more crowded.

“Here, here—life jackets, one for each of us. Put them on, now. Quilt—here, Grandpa, Liang Zhao, scoot to the side a bit. The floor’s too hard, I’ll lay the quilt down as bedding.”

“Gas masks, one each—just hang them around your necks, just in case. Auto-inflating raft—we’ll keep that here for emergencies. Also, emergency rations, medicine, water…”

“Mengran! Gu Mengran!”

Meng Gaoyang finally raised his voice to cut off Gu Mengran’s endless chatter.

Gu Mengran paused, confused, and looked up. “What’s wrong?”

Something was off—very off. Gu Mengran’s demeanor, though seemingly calm, had a turbulent undercurrent—like someone making final arrangements for the end.

The old man furrowed his brows deeply, looking at Gu Mengran with clear concern in his eyes. “We’re all still here, aren’t we? No one’s going anywhere. Why are you rushing to unpack everything? Just keep it stored where it’s easy to grab.”

“That won’t work,” Gu Mengran immediately rebutted. “When the earthquake hits, whether we stay together or not won’t be up to us. What if the Fengyi accidentally capsizes and we’re separated? What if I lose consciousness? No. You have to bring extra—”

“That’s enough, Gu Mengran.”

The old man gently patted his shoulder and spoke softly, “Don’t be so nervous. We’re well prepared. The Fengyi isn’t that fragile. We’ll be fine.”

“But—”

Gu Mengran still wanted to argue with his grandfather, but suddenly, a warm touch wrapped around his wrist.

This time, it was Liang Zhao who interrupted him. He gently grasped Gu Mengran’s wrist, his firm gaze laced with a soft reassurance. “Grandpa Meng is right. There’s no need to be so nervous. As long as we keep holding hands, we won’t get separated. Don’t we still have the space?”

Liang Zhao’s brows twitched slightly as he gave Gu Mengran a discreet wink.

The space... right, they still had the space!

Liang Zhao’s words were like a breeze in spring, effortlessly dispelling the panic clouding Gu Mengran’s heart. The mental fog lifted, and his sluggish mind began to function again. Slowly, Gu Mengran regained clarity and composure.

Unlike in his previous life, now they had a ship, plenty of supplies, and a spatial dimension as their last card to play. He would not lose his grandfather again. He would not lose Liang Zhao. He had the strength to protect those he cared about and lead them into a stable life.

This lifetime—things would end differently.

Time ticked by, second by second. Yet the disaster still hadn’t struck.

All they knew was that it would come sometime this afternoon, but not the exact time. There was nothing they could do but wait.

The quiet cockpit slowly filled with the sound of soft snoring. Meng Gaoyang was curled up on a blanket in his life jacket, with half his head resting on Gu Mengran’s thigh, blissfully dreaming.

Gu Mengran hadn’t slept well the previous night. Now that things were momentarily calm, he began to feel drowsy too.

He leaned shoulder to shoulder with Liang Zhao on the other end of the control console, their hands still intertwined. His chin bobbed up and down with fatigue.

As his eyelids grew heavier, Liang Zhao whispered in his ear, “Sleep. I’ll keep watch.” Gu Mengran closed his eyes with peace of mind, his consciousness slowly drifting.

──•~❉᯽❉~•──

RUMBLE—

A deafening explosion tore through the skies. The river trembled, and Fengyi rocked violently.

Meng Gaoyang jolted awake at once, suddenly sitting up. He completely forgot he’d been curled under the console—his head slammed right into it with a loud bang.

“Grandpa! Are you okay?” Gu Mengran shook off all traces of sleep, fully alert. He hurriedly reached for his grandfather’s hand, asking with concern.

“No big deal,” the old man muttered, rubbing his dizzy head while scanning the area warily. “Just now… was that an earthquake? Has it started?”

The thunderous roar echoed like muffled thunder exploding in their ears, lingering long after it struck. Yet the Fengyi gradually stopped shaking, and the river began to calm.

The roaring sound brought an inevitable wave of panic, and the atmosphere grew tense.

At that moment, Liang Zhao, who had been silently frowning in thought, shook his head and softly reassured them, “It was probably just a volcanic eruption.”

“Volcano?” The old man frowned. “Didn’t Mengran say the nearest volcano is over a thousand kilometers away? How can it be this loud?”

Moreover, the nearest active volcano was just a small, obscure one—by all logic, it shouldn’t be capable of such force.

Having experienced it once himself, Gu Mengran already had an answer in his heart.

His body visibly tensed, and he tightened his grip on his grandfather’s and Liang Zhao’s hands, his lips trembling. “It’s Mosen. The Mosen Volcano has erupted.”

Mosen Volcano was located in the western region of China, approximately 2,500 kilometers from Shaozhou. It was as famous as Yellowstone Volcano and ranked among the largest existing supervolcanoes in the world.

The fact that its roar could be heard from 2,500 kilometers away spoke volumes about its power.

With that deafening blast, at this very moment, magma at 1,000 degrees Celsius was surging from Mosen’s crater. Flames and molten rock shot out like high-speed bullets, spraying in all directions and ruthlessly obliterating surrounding cities and villages.

Smoke and dust filled the air, and massive amounts of toxic gases mixed with volcanic ash shot straight into the sky.

Hundreds of thousands of people would perish in this catastrophe. The energy released by a supervolcano like Mosen was equivalent to 200 million tons of TNT—on par with a small asteroid striking Earth.

It had brewed for a thousand years, only to burn out its entire life in a single eruption. The sheer power flattened the entire mountain. Refusing to vanish alone, it screamed in its final moments, determined to drag humanity down with it.

A light scratch against his palm pulled Gu Mengran from his nightmarish memories. He looked over to see Liang Zhao watching him with concern, and warmth bloomed in his chest. He returned the gesture by lightly scratching the back of Liang Zhao’s hand in response.

Ten minutes passed. The river surface returned to complete calm, not a single ripple in sight, as if the earlier thunderous explosion had been nothing more than a shared hallucination.

The tense atmosphere in the cockpit eased somewhat. The old man yawned repeatedly and leaned weakly against the inner panel, half-asleep again.

“Man’s heart is huge,” Gu Mengran muttered softly, shaking his grandfather’s arm hard, trying to jolt him awake.

But just as he lifted his hand to shake him, the previously silent cockpit was suddenly filled with a short, rhythmic buzzing sound.

“Whose phone is ringing?” mumbled Meng Gaoyang, not fully asleep yet.

On the floor, the gas masks in front of them were bouncing and colliding, making a noise very similar to a vibrating phone. Gu Mengran’s brows furrowed deeply, but before he could say a word—

In the blink of an eye, the ground quaked violently—

As if someone had pressed the activation switch on a giant pendulum.