Volume 2: Winter’s End
As Shu Xun continued to flip through the pages, his little brows gradually furrowed. Successive sheets of the journal were filled with chaotic word entries. The once smooth and elegant handwriting lost its calmness, the strokes becoming heavy to the point of scratching the paper. The recorded words were laden with overwhelmingly negative emotions. Shu Xun found it almost impossible to connect these disordered pages with the man outside the door who faced death with indifference.
Finally, when Shu Xun turned another page, the handwriting in the journal returned to its neatness. Though only a few simple words, it seemed the owner of the journal had regained control over their emotions. On this page, there were only six words: Adenine tablets.
Shu Xun: “…”
While each of these six words was individually recognizable, when connected, Shu Xun couldn’t understand their meaning at all. Although his language proficiency was automatically triggered, it was evident that in some specialized fields, simple language couldn’t comprehend the content. However, these words looked quite familiar, as if he had just seen them recently. Engrossed in thought, Shu Xun suddenly felt a sense of suspense.
Ye Qian had finished checking the ventilation equipment and returned to the bonfire. Now, both of them simultaneously lifted the black notebook, indicating their shared intention to examine the notes.
Shu Xun shuffled his position with his little legs, freeing up the space for the remaining five words to avoid obstructing Ye Qian’s view.
“Stimulants,” calmly stated Ye Qian upon seeing the notebook. He took out a small white pill bottle from his pocket and handed it to Shu Xun. The name on the bottle corresponded to the words written in the notebook. “Found it in the drawer upstairs.”
Shu Xun raised his little head in slight surprise. Even if he hadn’t encountered it before, he knew the effects of the drug by its name.
Reaching out, Shu Xun held the pill bottle. Although it wasn’t particularly large, he still struggled a bit to carry it. After placing the bottle down, Shu Xun scrutinized the instructions on it. Confirming Ye Qian’s statement, he learned that it was a stimulant that could effectively alleviate fatigue, stimulate the nerves, and keep the user in an excited state for an extended period.
Shu Xun then checked the specifications of the medicine, finding that each bottle contained one hundred pills. Shaking the bottle, it seemed that the remaining pills inside were not many. Shu Xun wanted to open it to confirm the remaining dosage, intending to estimate how long the journal’s owner had been taking the drug. He approached, placing his two hands on the bottle cap and gripping the bottle body with his little arms, then exerted force. However, facing a bottle almost his height, it was challenging to find the right angle for leverage. Even with Shu Xun hanging onto the bottle, the cap remained firmly in place.
Ye Qian’s face remained expressionless as he extended two fingers, gripping the pill bottle cap and giving it a gentle twist.
Shu Xun casually released the bottle, looking as if nothing had happened, pretending to be earnestly peering into the bottle’s opening.
In the live stream chat:
“Useless! The moment dumpling struggled to open the bottle cap has been recorded, hahaha…”
“Baby is quite concerned about his image!”
“The situation seems to be getting more complicated. That corpse doesn’t seem to fit with something like a stimulant.”
“When Ye Qian twisted the bottle cap, he must have been laughing inside!”
“Does the owner of the journal have mental issues? Otherwise, how to explain the sudden change in the writing style and this bottle of medicine? Maybe that’s why he calmly starved or froze to death outside the door.”
“I don’t believe someone with such clear eyes has mental issues.”
“Another strange thing, the person mentioned in the journal called Qu Yan, why is there no trace of him in the villa?”
In the live stream, initially, most viewers followed Ye Qian’s perspective as he moved, changing scenes accordingly. However, after Shu Xun appeared, nearly half of the audience set a free perspective, allowing them to choose their viewpoint within a certain range around Ye Qian. Therefore, when Shu Xun examined the notebook, many viewers also saw the content of the journal.
After inspecting the pill bottle, Shu Xun found only a few pills remaining. He sighed, took the bottle cap from Ye Qian’s hand, and intended to screw the bottle back. Ye Qian reached out to steady the bottle, and this time, Shu Xun effortlessly tightened the cap using his foot.
Ye Qian sat cross-legged, placing the notebook on his lap, apparently intending to examine it together. Shu Xun walked to the edge of the notebook, hopped onto Ye Qian’s thigh, and settled down. Stretching out his chubby hand, he flipped a page of the notebook.
This page’s date was only three days apart from the previous one, but the journal’s owner seemed to have completely returned to normal. It documented a small event, narrating how the journal’s owner, Qing Mo, and Qu Yan raised a rabbit named Soap. Below the entry was a simple sketch of the rabbit, looking recently born—a small, lively bundle with a vivid and playful depiction.
Seeing the rabbit, Shu Xun instinctively thought of the all-red-eyed rabbit, the one that disappeared without a trace. However, the illustrated rabbit in the journal had no apparent resemblance to the one seen before. Moreover, the time of raising the rabbit was a year ago, making it impossible for Shu Xun to draw any conclusions.
After waiting for a while without seeing Ye Qian turning the pages, Shu Xun lifted his little head to look at Ye Qian, only to see Ye Qian’s determined chin. Waiting for a moment more, Shu Xun reached out and flipped another page of the notebook. Ye Qian still showed no reaction. It finally dawned on Shu Xun that Ye Qian was waiting for him to turn the page.
In the live stream chat:
“Ye Qian is exploiting minors, actually making little dumpling flip the book.”
“God Ye can’t judge little dumpling’s reading speed, so he lets little dumpling decide for himself.”
“Am I the only one who feels the scene is as beautiful as a painting?”
“I also want a little dumpling to flip through books for me every day.”
In the warm yellow light of the fire, Ye Qian sat quietly, looking down at the notebook, while on his thigh, Shu Xun sat at the edge of the notebook, also lowering his little head to read attentively. Occasionally, he reached out his short hand to turn a page of the notebook. The atmosphere was quiet, unexpectedly harmonious, as they continued flipping through pages, depicting the serene life of Qing Mo, gradually returning to a warm and ordinary daily routine—taking care of the rabbit, going to work, and spending time with Qu Yan. Even in the simplest matters, the notebook conveyed a gentle and enduring warmth.
Until one day, in the upper right corner of the notebook, in addition to the date, there was also a temperature record. As time passed, the temperature recorded became lower, fortunately still staying above freezing. However, compared to previous years, the temperature was clearly abnormal. Qing Mo also noticed the issue and wrote many questions in the notebook. Yet, this natural phenomenon was obviously beyond Qing Mo’s comprehension.
After flipping through several pages continuously, there was suddenly a drastic drop in temperature. A temperature, circled prominently in the upper right corner, was written there: Minus forty-two degrees Celsius!
Shu Xun’s spirits shook as he realized that he might witness the first day of this world plunging into winter. Qing Mo’s recorded information was sparse, just a few short lines, seemingly affected by the cold, the handwriting appearing somewhat awkward, filled with deep confusion: September 3rd, minus forty-two degrees Celsius. Woken up by the cold in the morning, the early autumn weather suddenly dropped by over forty degrees. It’s unimaginable. Work paused, unable to leave the room. Qu Yan and I stayed indoors all day, hoping for improvement and new information tomorrow.
After Shu Xun finished reading, he continued to flip through the subsequent pages, presenting the contents of the notebook in front of both of them.
September 4th, minus forty-four degrees Celsius. The situation seemed to worsen; no external news was received, and electronic devices appeared to be malfunctioning, cutting off contact with the outside world.
September 6th, minus forty-seven degrees Celsius. It snowed heavily outside the entire night, and the small lake froze.
September 16th, minus forty-seven degrees Celsius. Food in the villa was running low. Someone came to borrow food. Obviously, the people around were facing similar situations. Qu Yan wanted to contact the outside.
September 18th, minus forty-eight degrees Celsius. Soap is missing! Qu Yan wants to leave to seek help outside, but I don’t want to go.
September 19th, minus forty-seven degrees Celsius. I found Soap’s fur in front of the door. Soap was eaten. I buried it. Qu Yan has decided to leave, but I don’t want to go.
October 1st, minus forty-four degrees Celsius. Qu Yan left. At the same time, some residents around the small lake also left.
October 2nd, minus forty-six degrees Celsius. It snowed again. No one can be seen outside the window.
October 10th, minus forty-nine degrees Celsius. Qu Yan has been gone for ten days, and there is no news. When will he come back?
October 15th, minus fifty degrees Celsius. There seems to be a light blue butterfly flying in the northern sky. Is it an illusion? Or is it a side effect of the medicine? I don’t want to sleep.
October 16th, minus seventy degrees Celsius. It’s too cold. The moonlight last night seemed to be blue. Is the thermometer broken? How can I still be alive at this temperature? Why hasn’t Qu Yan come back?
October 24th, minus fifty-three degrees Celsius. Food is depleted, only one can of canned food is left. I went to nearby villas, but strangely, people were gone. Those who stayed behind, like me, are also gone. When did they leave? It must be it! It’s not my fault! Qu Yan.
October 30th, minus fifty-six degrees Celsius. Medicine is running out. I saw the blue butterfly again. I have a premonition that I’m probably going to die. Qu Yan.
November 1st, minus eighty degrees Celsius. The temperature has dropped again. It’s very cold in the villa. Is Qu Yan coming back soon?
November 3rd, minus seventy-one degrees Celsius. I decided to wait for him at the door so that I could see him at first glance, and he could see me for the first time. Qu Yan.
The notebook ends here. Shu Xun sits bewildered on Ye Qian’s lap, a lingering sadness in his heart. What’s even more heartbreaking is that he knows the outcome in advance. Qing Mo didn’t wait for his lover in the end.
“Where did Qu Yan go?” Shu Xun’s teary-eyed question is low, but evidently, there is no answer to this question. Ye Qian doesn’t speak either, but both of them understand that if Qu Yan was still on the road when the blue light appeared, the likelihood of him being alive is almost zero.
