Chapter 57
This natural disaster struck without warning.
Yes, a natural disaster.
The final filming location for Frost was Z City, a remote place shielded by mountains. Because of this, it had never experienced a typhoon of this magnitude before. It had never even seen a blue alert, let alone a red alert.
Fishing boats rushed back to shore, seawater flooded inland, utility poles toppled, and both power and water supplies were cut off. The wind howled, sweeping shattered wood and debris through the gray sky. The entire scene resembled the end of the world.
Anyone who was indoors at the time was lucky.
But those who were outside, especially near the sea, were in grave danger. And the most at risk were the people trapped in underground shopping centers and parking garages near the coast—especially the garages.
Seawater surged into the parking garage, flooding it rapidly. Cars floated, stacking up and blocking the exits. Even the entrance was sealed off by water. With the phone signal cut off, there was no way to call for help. They could only watch, helplessly, as the water rose inch by inch, creeping past their mouths and noses.
That kind of hopelessness was unimaginable.
*
Shi Feiran had driven here, but he wasn’t as fast as Fang Huai.
The moment Fang Huai heard about the notebook being submerged, he rushed out the door and caught the last bus before services were suspended. When the bus stopped running midway, he switched to a bicycle, pedaling through the rain to get here. Meanwhile, Shi Feiran, stuck in traffic, was left behind in his car.
When Shi Feiran finally reached the hotel, the first thing he saw was the parking garage entrance, already flooded halfway. He let out a breath of relief.
He knew Fang Huai was stubborn, but rational—he wouldn’t be reckless enough to risk his life for a notebook. His biggest fear was that the water inside hadn’t risen too high yet, and Fang Huai had insisted on going in to search—only to get trapped when the floodwaters suddenly surged.
Then, his gaze swept across the dozen people in the hotel lobby—and his heart sank.
Fang Huai wasn’t there.
The young man from the Lin family stood nearby, hands clenched anxiously, forehead beaded with sweat as he paced back and forth. Others looked just as uneasy, barely suppressing their panic as they gathered and rationed supplies, collecting all the bottled water and food. No one knew how long this typhoon would last.
“Where’s Fang Huai?” Shi Feiran asked one of the production team members sent for the handover. He still held onto a sliver of hope. “He… was exhausted, so he went upstairs to rest?”
No one answered.
They just stared at him, their faces pale.
Shi Feiran’s blood ran cold.
“I’m going in to find him.”
The young man from the Lin family trembled as he spoke, already shrugging off his jacket. He kicked off his shoes, ready to charge outside.
“Calm down!” Someone grabbed him. “One person drowning isn’t enough?! Do you all want to die?!”
That sentence snapped the fragile thread holding everyone together.
With the power out, the lights were dead. Outside, thunder rumbled ominously, and a sudden flash of lightning illuminated a room full of panic-stricken faces.
The room fell silent.
Then, someone began to sob.
“…Where’s Fang Huai?” Shi Feiran’s voice trembled as he stared at the flooded parking lot. His entire body was shaking.
Someone held up a small rubber toy—a bath-time duck. A torn, soaked strip of cloth was attached to it, its ink blurred beyond recognition.
But two words were still faintly visible:
Help me.
The handwriting was childish, as if written by a kid.
Below it, in slightly more mature writing, was another message: B13.
B13 was a section of the parking garage—a distress signal.
It wasn’t hard to guess—right now, the people trapped inside were in a car parked in B13.
*
Just Half an Hour Ago
At that time, the water at the parking garage entrance had only reached waist level.
Everyone studied the rubber duck for a long while before one of them forced out a laugh.
“It’s… probably just a prank.”
Everyone knew what he was thinking, but in this situation, no one mocked him for it.
“Even if someone really is trapped inside,” another person panted, “there’s nothing we can do—we’re not capable of saving them. A professional dive team would have to handle it. I tried calling 110, but there’s no signal.”
But everyone knew the dive team wouldn’t come.
Even if they did, it would be at least a day or two before they got here.
Right now, the entire city was in chaos—no order, no structure. Underground garages and shopping centers like this were everywhere. This place wasn’t the most populated. It wasn’t the closest to a police station.
Why would they come here?
The people trapped inside were likely already beyond saving.
Fang Huai stood quietly to the side, listening.
His lips were pale, his pant legs soaked and dripping, but his light-colored eyes were strikingly clear. His earlier panic and grief had faded—now, he showed a kind of calmness beyond his years.
“Fang Huai, don’t you think so?”
The crew member who had spoken knew him.
Fang Huai was the one who had picked up the rubber duck. The man wanted his agreement, his approval—as if that would make it okay to ignore a plea for help.
After all, the law doesn’t punish the majority.
They weren’t completely without guilt. They weren’t heartless.
But in a disaster, one’s own life mattered most. Right?
Fang Huai was silent for a moment, then nodded.
A wave of relief swept through the group. It was like they had escaped their guilt, like a burden had been lifted.
The crew member stepped forward, patted Fang Huai on the shoulder, and said, “Don’t feel guilty… Wait, what are you doing?”
Fang Huai crouched behind the reception counter, pulling out a flashlight.
He replaced the batteries, grabbed bottled water, compressed biscuits, some first-aid supplies, and bandages—quickly and efficiently packing a small bag.
“I’m just going outside to use the restroom.”
He smiled, his light amber eyes curving gently.
“I’ll be back soon. You guys carry on.”
The room fell silent.
Dozens of eyes locked onto him.
“There’s a restroom on the first floo—” someone started, then bit down on his lip.
Fang Huai didn’t expose them.
He didn’t rip away their fragile excuse, didn’t accuse them of cowardice.
He didn’t try to show off his own righteousness.
Instead, even in his final words to them, he was considerate of their feelings.
And yet, at that moment, many of them suddenly felt disgusted with themselves—like selfish worms, writhing in their own shame.
They watched—helplessly—as the tall, slender figure stepped through the hotel doors.
He didn’t bring an umbrella.
In the gray storm, his figure shone like light, his white shirt fluttering in the wind—like a bird spreading its wings, or a lone warrior stepping onto the battlefield.
They watched as he waded deeper and deeper into the floodwaters.
Until the shadows swallowed him whole.
And then, the crew member remembered something—a scene they had just filmed yesterday.
A young soldier, dressed in uniform, standing amidst ruins, raising his hand in a distant salute toward the light.
Brave. Fearless. Handsome.
Walking steadily toward death.
Fang Huai and Lin Shuheng…
They looked so alike.
The room remained silent for a long time. Then, someone’s eyes turned red.
Only when disasters strike— Only when life and death are laid bare under the sun—Is human nature truly put to the test.
Just moments ago, everyone had only thought about their own survival.
But now, as if they had just woken from a trance, something in them changed.
They gathered in small groups, passing whispered words between them.
Then, they moved; They started distributing supplies; They delivered food and water to guests on each floor; They sealed the broken windows with whatever they could find; They did what they could, even if it was small; They no longer wanted to just sit and wait.
They wanted to help each other— To survive.
*
The underground parking garage was damp and dark, with the water level rising visibly, inch by inch.
The sewage carried the scent of gasoline and was littered with shattered glass—this area was still relatively close to the entrance, and it was clear that many car owners had smashed their windows to escape. Broken glass mixed with the muddy water, and Fang Huai, caught off guard for a moment, was cut on the calf.
By now, the water had already reached his waist.
Given the circumstances, Fang Huai couldn’t carry much with him. Anticipating the possibility of being trapped, he had brought only the essentials. Bandages couldn’t be wasted—what if others trapped inside were also injured?
So, he didn’t treat his own wound.
The water level continued to rise. Holding a flashlight, Fang Huai scanned his surroundings and called out every ten meters, “Is anyone there?”
No one answered. His youthful voice stretched out and echoed, making the space feel even lonelier.
Darkness engulfed everything, thick enough to swallow his outstretched hand. The only source of light was his flashlight, and the air was damp and faintly metallic. All he could hear was the surging of the water. The farther he walked, the thinner the air became, making it increasingly difficult to breathe.
For a fleeting moment, the thought of turning back crossed Fang Huai’s mind.
He was no saint—just an ordinary person. He got sick, he felt pain when cut, and he feared death. Right now, if he turned back, he could still make it out in time.
He stood still for a long moment, silent. Then, gripping his flashlight tighter, he pressed on.
At that moment, a thought flashed through his mind—what if the person trapped inside was Fang Jianguo, or even Ye Yuyuan?
Of course, it was just a hypothetical. He knew Fang Jianguo had already passed away, and Ye Yuyuan was safe and sound in Nan City.
But he also knew that for someone out there, the people struggling and waiting desperately for rescue were irreplaceable and deeply cherished.
Putting himself in their shoes, he hoped that if Ye Yuyuan were ever trapped inside, someone would go in to save him too.
“Is anyone there?” Fang Huai continued calling out every ten meters, using his flashlight to check the markings on the walls. Zone A was the deepest part of the parking garage, followed by Zone B.
He had already reached Zone C. There was no turning back now. The shadow of death loomed over him completely, yet regret was no longer a question in his mind.
The water level had already risen to his chest. Ahead lay Zone B. The platform in Zone B was slightly higher, making the water level there lower than in other areas.
He continued wading forward, pushing through the water. After a few steps, his flashlight illuminated a sign on the wall: B13. Fang Huai wrapped a cloth around his wrist to secure his waterproof flashlight, took a deep breath, and dived.
…Someone was there!
Fang Huai’s heart pounded violently.
The visibility in the sewage was extremely low. The person in the water seemed to be struggling. Fang Huai grasped her wrist tightly and lifted her head above the surface. Two seconds later, something felt off.
“Ma’am… Miss,” Fang Huai used all his strength to support her, his body already exhausted. “Are you okay? You—”
His fingers found her carotid artery—no pulse. He pressed his ear to her chest and checked her breathing. That was when he realized—the woman in his arms had been dead for a long time. Her body had already stiffened. The ‘struggle’ he had seen was nothing more than the water’s current moving her.
His blood ran cold.
Under the flashlight’s glow, he looked at her—she was a woman in her thirties, her abdomen swollen with pregnancy. Her lips were bitten through, bleeding profusely. Her eyes remained open. Her final posture was curled up, protectively cradling the unborn child inside her.
She had used the last of her strength to escape from her car—only to drown in the water.
Fang Huai stared at her, feeling the warmth drain from his body. Suddenly, he felt unbearably cold.
He didn’t know how long he stood there. Eventually, with red-rimmed eyes and trembling hands, he reached up and gently closed her eyes.
“Rest in peace. May your next life be safe and joyful,” he murmured, his voice hoarse.
He placed her in a stable spot, then continued forward. There was no way she was the only one trapped here.
The underground parking garage was dark and damp, filled with the scent of mud and a faint trace of blood. The water was still rising. Fang Huai walked another twenty meters. Along the way, he found another pair of bodies—husband and wife, clinging to each other.
They had been trapped in their car, unable to escape as the water pressure kept the doors and windows sealed. They had suffocated inside, dying in each other’s arms.
Fang Huai bowed to them.
Then, he moved on. Exhaustion weighed on him, but he didn’t think about whether he regretted his choices.
Blood continued to seep from the wound on his calf. Dragging his injured leg, he reached the highest platform in Zone A, leaning against the wall and standing in silence—waiting.
But he didn’t know what he was waiting for. There was no way out anymore. Even at the highest platform, the water had already reached his chest. Soon, it would rise above his head.
The unpredictability of fate struck him. Just yesterday, he had been lying in his room, studying a script. Then, out of nowhere, the typhoon hit.
He had come here to save people, not to die. But he hadn’t saved a single person, and now, he might not make it out either.
Fang Huai lowered his head. The vast parking garage echoed with the sound of rushing water. He could hear his own heartbeat and breath with eerie clarity.
For the first time, he was acutely aware of just how close death was.
If these were his final moments…
It was like Fang Jianguo had once said: “Once you’re dead, that’s it. There’s no coming back.”
Fang Jianguo had chosen to eat his hometown’s sweet and sour ribs one last time and say a few parting words.
That woman had chosen to protect her unborn child.
That couple had chosen to hold each other tightly as death arrived.
And him? If he were about to die, what would he choose?
He had no deep attachments to this world. He had little experience, no close family, and barely any friends. As for his fans—he knew they would grieve for a while if he died, but they wouldn’t be trapped in sorrow forever. After all, they were just fleeting connections formed over the internet.
They liked Fang Huai, and he did his best to give back to them. That was all.
Fang Huai lowered his gaze as the water continued to rise, submerging his chest. Below his neck, his entire body was soaked in the cold, damp water.
He thought…
He had packed everything into a small backpack—bottled water, food, and his phone, sealed in a waterproof bag. There was no signal now, but he thought that if the signal returned later, he could still make a call for rescue.
At this moment, his phone had only one bar of battery left and no signal.
He opened his contact list.
There were only a few people saved in it, and the most frequent contact was Ye Yuyuan.
He had once believed that he and Ye Yuyuan would be lifelong friends.
He didn’t have many friends, and it seemed the same was true for Ye Yuyuan. Fang Huai had thought about it—when Ye Yuyuan got married, he could attend his wedding. In the future, he could even be the godfather of Ye Yuyuan’s child.
He would have been a good friend. He understood human relationships well. He knew that Ye Yuyuan treated him well, and he wanted to return that kindness with everything he had.
But there was no more time.
The water kept rising, reaching his neck. Fang Huai closed his eyes as countless images flashed before him— The first time they met outside a convenience store. That time he had a fever. The moment he fell from the stage and Ye Yuyuan caught him.
Then came the quiet figure waiting for him in the rain, the summer night moonlight over the water town, the sound of paddles dipping into the river.
Ye Yuyuan was special, Fang Huai thought.
Most of the time, Fang Huai was a singer, an idol to many, an actor. He had responsibilities, things he had to do. He had to work hard, to protect many people. Sometimes, he even felt that only when he was with Ye Yuyuan could he truly be Fang Huai—just himself.
The young man took a deep breath, eyes shut tight.
In the damp, dimly lit underground parking garage, the water continued to rise. Even breathing was becoming unbearably difficult. Fang Huai turned off his flashlight—the only remaining light came from his phone’s faint glow.
He opened his eyes and looked at the screen.
At that moment, his breath caught.—In the top right corner, the signal bar flickered weakly. One bar.
For a brief second, the rush of wind and water roared around him. The humid air clung to his skin. The seawater flooding in surged violently, and the water level rose even faster—it was about to submerge his mouth and nose.
In that instant, his body moved faster than his thoughts.
He pressed the call button.
Barely a moment passed before the call connected.
This might be the last phone call of his life, Fang Huai thought. But unexpectedly, he realized that apart from the slight chill in his palms, he didn’t feel much fear or regret.
“Hello?”
A deep, rich voice came through, laced with slight static, echoing in the waterlogged parking garage.
Fang Huai lowered his gaze, took a breath, and the corners of his lips lifted slightly.
“…Ye Yuyuan.”
Through the pitch-black ceiling above him, he seemed to see once again that vast expanse of blue sky from days ago.
A sudden surge of water caught him off guard, and he choked on it.
Yet his voice remained clean and steady, so calm that no one could have guessed the dire situation he was in.
“It’s almost noon. Have you eaten?” Fang Huai pulled the phone slightly away, covering the speaker as he coughed up a bit of blood. He steadied his breathing before continuing, “There’s a typhoon here. The film crew’s schedule might be delayed, so I won’t be able to return anytime soon.”
Yesterday, when they last spoke, Fang Huai had promised he’d be back in Nan City the day after tomorrow. Ye Yuyuan hadn’t said anything, but maybe he had planned to pick him up.
That might not be possible anymore.
His words were casual, even carrying a hint of a smile—just like any of their usual calls.
But on the other end of the line, Ye Yuyuan remained silent for a long time.
The poor signal made it hard for Fang Huai to hear clearly. He could only vaguely make out the man’s voice tightening, his tone more serious than ever before.
“Fang Huai, where are you?”
“Don’t hang up.”
In the underground parking garage, the water kept rising. It had already reached his nose, forcing him to hold his breath and kick upward to stay afloat. His strength was fading fast. Glancing at his phone, he saw the battery drop to 3%.
“I…”
The battery drained again—2% now. A notification popped up: Phone will automatically shut down in 20 seconds.
Fang Huai closed his eyes.
Suddenly, the roaring water faded into silence. For a brief moment, he caught the scent of osmanthus mixed with the moisture of a summer night. That second stretched infinitely long, leaving him no time to think about anything else.
He curved his eyes slightly, smiled, and spoke into the phone.
“Ye Yuyuan, I wish you a lifetime of peace and happiness.”
“…Goodbye.”
He had always loved the phrase peace and happiness. Every single word of it. It was the best blessing he could think of.
“Fang Huai!”
The man’s voice on the other end almost cracked. But before he could say more, the phone powered off, cutting his voice off abruptly.
The last 2% drained away. The screen went dark.
The water level had risen so high that it nearly touched the ceiling. All the remaining air was stolen away.
Beneath the water, Fang Huai’s eyelashes slowly lowered. There was no trace of panic on his face. Seawater filled his nose and mouth, and his consciousness faded away completely.
And in that final second—just before everything went dark—
He suddenly realized—Someone was in the water, holding him.
Fang Huai forced his eyes open one last time and met a pair of deep, pitch-black eyes. The man’s lips were pressed into a tight line, his face serious, almost pale, yet his embrace was impossibly warm. Holding him close, he swam toward the surface.
But Fang Huai had already swallowed too much water. His last trace of air had run out, and his consciousness was slipping away.
The man’s movements suddenly halted.
He stared at Fang Huai in silence for a long moment, his fingers curling tightly. Then, after a brief hesitation, he lowered his gaze…
Awkwardly yet carefully, he pressed his lips to the boy’s, passing oxygen to him.
“…”
For a fleeting second, the roaring waters fell completely silent.
