Chapter 37: When the Sky Falls, the Tall One Bears the Weight

The old man didn’t answer. Wang Xiaoqiang stood up and left the small courtyard. Only the creaking, creaking sound echoed through the yard.

Back at the orphanage, Xiaoqiang just happened to run into Zhang Youcai arriving in a car. He waved them to park one by one along the roadside. Then he went back upstairs alone, and a few minutes later came down carrying several large bags.

“Everyone, come downstairs to the dining hall,” he said, stepping inside first. Once everyone was seated, Xiaoqiang began opening the bags one by one—two big ones filled with firearms and ammunition, and one large bag of restricted knives.

“I originally gathered these for self-defense during wartime. I don’t know what’s coming next. But now I’m distributing them all for protection. From today on, no one leaves home without a weapon. Keep your guns and knives within arm’s reach—even when you sleep.”

“Adults: one submachine gun, three magazines, one handgun, three magazines, and choose your own restricted knife.”

“Kids: one handgun, two magazines, and pick a short blade.”

With that, he started handing out weapons. Then he pushed the knives toward the center of the table and spread them out. “Pick your own.”

Everyone looked grim, especially Huang Tingting and the siblings. They were still reeling from the sudden shift. Xiaoqiang noticed their hesitation and said, “You’re not officially part of this orphanage. You can decide for yourselves. If something happens, we won’t be able to protect you.”

Huang Tingting hesitated only a second before picking up a pistol. The brother and sister exchanged a glance, then each took one too.

“You three don’t know how to shoot. Later, Nuonuo will teach you.”
Nuonuo—the little girl from the orphanage who once shot better than Xiaoqiang himself.

“Everyone stays here for the next few days. If you leave, we can’t reach you. When it’s time to evacuate, we won’t wait.”

He pulled out his twin blades. “Dad, help me sharpen these after dinner.”

Old Wang nodded, took the blades, and nearly dropped them—his hand jerked under the sudden weight. He glanced at his son, surprised, but said nothing. He’d always known about Xiaoqiang’s training gear, the weighted vests, the grueling routines—but never realized just how strong his son really was.

Xiaoqiang continued. “We’ve got four cars. Drivers sleep in the cabs tonight. Everyone else sleeps in the东风箱 (Dongfeng box) cargo holds. Until things clear up, we’re not staying in the house anymore.”

“Tingting, can you drive the Airola?”

“No problem. I’ve driven solo plenty of times. Should be fine.”

“Mm.” After making sure everything was covered, he added, “Don’t look so down. Even if the sky falls, I’m tall enough to catch it. What are you scared of?”

Yingzi whispered, “What if you suddenly bend over?”

*Thump. Thump. Thump.* A sharp knock on the head.

“Ow! Why’d you hit me?” Yingzi yelped.

“Because you’re killing the mood. Enough chit-chat. Let’s cook. We need food before anything else. I’m heading into town.” With that, he climbed into the car and drove off toward the township office.

On the way, he saw people laughing and chatting freely. He pulled over and asked, “Hey, what’s got you all so happy?”

The man turned, grinning. “The state sent a team down—telecom base station crew. They’re fixing the lines here. Soon, we’ll have regular phone service again.”

“Oh wow, that’s great news,” Xiaoqiang said, though inwardly he frowned. *Just restoring signal won’t do much right now. Gotta figure something out myself.*

They chatted a bit more, then Xiaoqiang drove on into the city. In his mind, he kept replaying every stretch of road he’d passed through lately. Finally, it clicked—a spot that matched his memory. About two kilometers into town, a right turn 400 meters ahead—he remembered it clearly. That was where a bomb had exploded. A lot of people died there. He decided to check it out closely. If he ever had to run, he wouldn’t do it blindly.

He pointed the car toward the blast site, turned on the dashcam, and kept his phone recording. Then he sat still, watching. It was still light out, visibility clear. Not worried yet.

As the sun began to set, nothing changed. No movement. No signs. After an hour, Xiaoqiang drove back to the orphanage.

He grabbed Old Wang, Dafu, Xue Bin, and Nuonuo. They headed out to the valley shooting range.

Only two sniper rounds remained on the target stump today. Xiaoqiang gave Xue Bin a sly look, then reached out and touched the rifle twice—like a kid teasing a dog with a treat. Xue Bin flinched, stepped back two paces, clutching the rifle like a guard dog protecting its bone.

“You only get two shots today,” Xiaoqiang said, grinning. “Your sniper rifle’s calling you.”

Then he walked away, heading to practice. Xue Bin stared at his back, then at the rifle, crouched down in front of the stump, slowly merging what he’d read in books with real-world instinct.

*Bang. Bang.*

Two shots. Both nine rings.

“Too bad,” Xiaoqiang called out. “Only one chance left.”

Back at the orphanage, after dinner, some practiced shooting, others familiarized themselves with their blades. Only Xiaoqiang was asleep.

At 4:20 a.m., Xiaoqiang opened his eyes. This time, he didn’t have to shout. Everyone was already gathering.

He climbed the stairs, watched the mist rise around him like flowing water. Another day of training began.

As the fog thickened, the energy inside him grew heavier—thick as syrup. Each breath felt like something seeping in from all sides. Each exhale carried something out. Every cycle made his body feel clearer, as if every cell was breathing with excitement.

Today’s swordplay was different. After endless mimicry of book techniques, he finally managed to weave those moves into his dual-blade routine. He could now strike from unexpected angles, the circular arcs of his blades growing denser, forming a wall of steel—impenetrable.

Right now, his offense and defense were leagues beyond where he’d been when he first picked up the blades. If he had to rate it, he’d say he’d leveled up—from Level 0 to Level 1.

As the mist thinned, Xiaoqiang sheathed his swords and stood still. He checked himself—still sticky, still stinking worse than before. He rushed downstairs, showered, changed clothes. Lucky he hadn’t worn the weighted vest yesterday; otherwise, he’d have had to wash again.

After breakfast, he drove back to the same spot he’d observed the day before. Turned on the dashcam and phone, waited.

Soon, a government worker approached, waving. Wanted to clean up the bodies. Xiaoqiang talked it over with him. The man nodded and moved on to another area.