Chapter 13: A Global Nuclear Strike

So Qiang just drove off, cruising around the town. There were a few cars parked by the roadside, but none looked in good shape. After wandering for most of the afternoon, he still hadn’t found anything suitable. Passing by the township office, he noticed a makeshift shelter hastily erected—apparently, besides the three people he’d seen earlier, another twenty or so had been brought in. A few of them stood out: pale, sluggish, constantly vomiting.

Wang Xiaoqiang stayed well back, pulling over to the curb and asking a nearby old man, “Sir, are those folks new today? What’s going on?”

The gray-haired man turned, squinting. “Heard they came from Dian’an City. Some kind of radiation exposure, I guess. That’s why they’re all isolated separately.”

Xiaoqiang’s stomach dropped. Radiation? He knew what that meant. People hit with serious radiation didn’t last long—just suffering, slowly dying. Better off dead, really. Luckily, Xingfu Town was far from Dian’an. If it had been closer, maybe 60,000 people would’ve ended up here too. The weak groans from those figures echoed like wind howling at dusk. Cold sweat broke out across his body. *Could this radiation spread this far?* The thought gnawed at him. He had to keep moving—because if this place was contaminated, he’d need a way out. And fast.

By nightfall, the streetlights flickered on, but Xiaoqiang still hadn’t found a usable vehicle. Aside from the solar-powered lamps glowing faintly, the whole town was pitch black. A few flickering candles were the only signs of life left in the village.

Back home, Xiaoqiang didn’t tell anyone about what he’d seen. Talking about it wouldn’t help. No solutions, no point in worrying the elders and kids. That kind of pointless drama? Not his style. Dinner was still hearty—spicy pork stir-fry, fried eggs, braised cabbage with potatoes, sour cabbage with vermicelli—four big bowls. He figured the orphanage fridge’s fresh supplies wouldn’t last more than two days.

After eating, Xiaoqiang told Yingzi to keep an eye on the radio, then went straight to bed. It wasn’t that he didn’t care—he knew his role. He couldn’t do everything himself. Everyone needed to contribute, to feel useful, or resentment would fester. And he needed rest. Too many unknowns. He had to stay sharp.

Too much on his mind, Xiaoqiang slept fitfully. Around 1 a.m., Yingzi shook him awake and pressed the radio into his ear. Static crackled, but through the noise, a voice emerged—barely audible, but clear enough:

“Repeat broadcast: At 6:30 a.m. on the 25th, White Eagle Nation launched a strategic nuclear strike against the entire world. Though we activated every air defense system and intercepted most attacks, major cities suffered catastrophic damage. White Eagle used massive amounts of neutron bombs, atomic bombs, and electromagnetic pulse weapons. Neutron bombs inflict extreme harm on people and electronics, but leave buildings largely intact. Neutron radiation dissipates within about 24 hours. However, high-radiation zones caused by atomic and other long-lived nuclear weapons have created 15 uninhabitable areas across our country. These regions are now being released: 1. Most of Tianan Province, 2. Most of Bailong Province... The Heavenly Vault Nation has begun post-war reconstruction. Communication lines are being restored urgently. All government offices receiving this broadcast must coordinate local recovery and resumption of work. Our nation will rise again from disaster—stronger than ever before. Repeat broadcast…”

Xiaoqiang listened intently. He pulled out his phone, opened the offline map, cross-referenced the listed zones, and marked them one by one. The radio’s voice also woke up Lao Zhang, the orphanage director, and Xiaoqiang’s parents. Xiaoqiang gestured for Yingzi to explain. Then he climbed out of the basement and sat on the rooftop of the second floor, staring into the dark sky.

The broadcast was short—but packed with meaning. Most critical: those 15 high-radiation zones matched key grain-producing regions. White Eagle had triggered global nuclear war. Once that truth sank in, the picture became horrifyingly clear: unimaginable death tolls, ecosystems collapsing overnight. Survival would be the top priority. Water and food shortages would sweep the globe. Lawlessness would explode. These weren’t just headlines—they were coming true.

So what now?

Wait for national rescue? In a remote hole like this, who even remembered you? He had to secure his own safety first. Then clean water. Then enough food. Only then could he survive until help arrived.

Reassessing: First, safety. Second, clean drinking water. Third, sufficient food. If it were just him, he might not worry so much. But he wasn’t leaving the orphans behind. That place—their little haven—was where his soul felt at peace.

“Safety. Safety. Safety.” The word looped in his head. Then—*a spark*. *Guns.* Where could he find guns? Military bases. Security stations. The closest? Dian’an City.

According to the broadcast, Dian’an hadn’t been hit by an atomic bomb. If it had, the city would’ve been vaporized. So likely a neutron bomb attack. One and a half days had passed—radiation should’ve dissipated by now. The city was probably a ghost town. Getting weapons? Shouldn’t be impossible.

Xiaoqiang clenched his jaw. He was the family’s anchor now. He had to act—even if it cost him his life.

No time to think. He scrambled down the stairs, whispered into the basement: “I’m going out. Watch the house. Yingzi, tell Old Zhang tomorrow morning. Don’t tell anyone else.”

Without explanation, he grabbed a steel pipe, leaned it diagonally across the car seat, started the engine, and roared toward Dian’an City.

As he got closer, the darkness deepened. Even the last traces of light vanished. Just endless black roads and cold gusts of wind—probably all electronics fried by radiation. Within a kilometer of the city center, the main road was jammed with vehicles piled together. Some still had bodies slumped over steering wheels, motionless. Dead.

Thanks to years as a ride-share driver, Xiaoqiang knew the area like the back of his hand. He remembered a construction zone blocked off weeks ago. He turned sharply left, reached the barricade, jumped out, and pulled out tools. *Clang. Clang.* With a few quick strikes, he tore off a section of metal barrier. Less than two minutes later, another piece came loose—wide enough for the car to squeeze through. He drove straight into the construction lane. The road ended at a major wholesale produce hub in Dian’an City. From there, he’d be inside the city limits—avoiding the worst of the traffic chaos.