Volume 1, Chapter 4: Mourning the Thousands I Never Spent

The moment she got home, Lin Yuyu wanted nothing more than to collapse onto the floor.

But right now, neither her dirt-smudged face nor her parched, aching body would allow her to do so.

After a moment’s thought, she forced herself to push through the exhaustion and dragged her weary frame into the bathroom.

She fetched a basin and stepped inside it.

Scooping water from the nearby storage bucket, she drank her fill before beginning to pour it, ladle by ladle, over her body.

Only when the water around her feet rose above her ankles did she cross her legs and settle into the basin, absentmindedly scooping water to sprinkle over her hands and skin.

As she scrubbed, her thoughts drifted to the uncertain future.

The technology of this planet was only marginally more advanced than that of her original world, yet the environmental degradation was far worse.

Air pollution, water contamination, soil degradation—these afflictions manifested under countless names, worsening relentlessly with each passing day.

Though the original inhabitant knew nothing of the underlying principles, she understood one grim fact: the sea level was rising steadily, and the landmass was shrinking by the day. What had once been vast continents were now fragmented into countless islands, large and small, carved up by encroaching waters.

People had been forced to scatter across these isolated islets.

Yet humanity, true to its reputation as the most adaptable species, soon embraced island life, proudly identifying as islanders. Each island was given a distinctive name, a unique identity.

But the respite was fleeting.

Radiation began to stain the air, viruses infiltrated the seas, flora and fauna mutated—once again, the environment on which humanity depended was gravely damaged.

Worse still, the habitable land continued to shrink at an alarming rate.

When the islanders realized their islands would soon be drowned beneath the waves, panic spread.

Those on the smaller islets scrambled desperately to relocate to higher, larger islands.

But by then, the distances between islands had stretched into the tens of millions, even hundreds of millions of kilometers—far beyond what any islander’s resources could traverse.

They could only gaze helplessly at the endless ocean.

Gradually, pride in their home islands faded. The islands lost their names, reduced to cold, impersonal designations.

Despair seeped into the hearts of all.

Lin Yuyu clicked her tongue and shook her head at the thought. It was pitiful—but she had already guessed how the story would unfold.

Sure enough…

The great families and conglomerates soon stepped forward, draped in rhetoric about the survival of the human race, the need for unity, the idea of humanity as a single community. They donated money and resources, cooperating with the state to fashion massive ships capable of crossing the vast oceans, resistant to intense heat and radiation, impervious to seawater corrosion.

The gesture seemed noble beyond measure.

Yet in the end, only a dozen or so ships were constructed—a mere drop in the ocean compared to the billions of hopeful souls.

Though they claimed to have gathered every available resource, contributed every scrap they could muster, Lin Yuyu remained skeptical.

If they were truly so selfless, people wouldn’t have to scramble so desperately to save up money and supplies to buy those exorbitantly priced tickets. And the original inhabitant wouldn’t look so prematurely worn out.

Sigh… From today onward, saving points to exchange for passage would become Lin Yuyu’s central focus. After all, a lone human could not survive at sea.

And the island beneath her feet was said to have only a few years left.

Time was short, the task immense.

Just thinking about it was overwhelming.

For Lin Yuyu and all the ordinary people on this island, obtaining a ticket to a higher, safer island was both crucial and daunting—yet utterly indispensable.

After all, it was their only chance to survive.

But dwelling on it was futile now.

When she first entered, Lin Yuyu had only glanced around briefly before taking in every detail of the original inhabitant’s small dwelling.

The rent was ten points a month, and the tiny room measured just over ten square meters.

After placing a bed and a cabinet, only a narrow passage less than half a meter wide remained. The sole advantage was an independent bathroom.

Besides a worn-out sheet on the bed, a neatly folded set of faded old clothes, a modest grooming kit, a large water bucket, a basin, and a drying rack, the room held nothing else.

Compared to Lin Yuyu’s rented apartment on Blue Star, it felt desolate to the point of dizziness.

The original inhabitant’s personal ID terminal was missing; she’d have to go out tomorrow to replace it.

She had no idea how much that would cost…

Given the meager belongings, Lin Yuyu feared she might not even have enough to pay for a new terminal.

As these thoughts swirled, a pang of sadness crept in for the eighteen hundred credits still untouched in her Blue Star bank account.

Her family was gone, and she didn’t know who would inherit what little she left behind.

Though insignificant, it was still money.

Lost in these musings, Lin Yuyu leaned against the bathroom wall and fell into a deep sleep.

Thankfully, the basin was shallow and not filled with much water; otherwise, she might have choked on it while dozing.

Meanwhile, tens of kilometers away, inside a cave…

A starfish crawled into the cavern, happily making its usual early morning and late evening journey to the innermost little nook.

Suddenly, it caught an unfamiliar scent in the air.

Frozen mid-motion, one of its arms hovered in the air.

Someone had intruded into its home!?

After a long pause, it hesitantly lowered the arm and continued crawling toward its resting place—the pool of shallow, clear water.

“Let them come,” it seemed to think. It was just a little starfish; what harm could it do to humans?

Better to wash up and sleep…

Though this was the thought, the starfish flickered underwater, shifting from sandy hues to a dark gray that perfectly matched the pool’s bottom, hiding itself without a trace before peacefully settling down to rest.

Meanwhile, tossing and turning in bed, unable to sleep, was probably Lu Qingyu—the one who had been startled awake in the dead of night.

Until the next morning…