Could it be that it’s going to rain?

Seeing how hot and stifling it was outside, Zhuang Xiao simply lay back down in bed.

But just as she drifted off, the alarm on her wristwatch buzzed.

Time to get up—she’d agreed to go to the wheat collection zone with Yan Ming today. It was the last day of the harvesting event.

Miss it, and she’d have to wait until next year.

When Zhuang Xiao stepped out of her bedroom, Huo Xiao came out at the same time.
“Huh? Why are you up so early?”

Weren’t Huo Xiao and Yan Hu not going today?

The two of them had been completely drained from building the house over the past few days and needed a break. Yan Ming had even mentioned that to her, so she hadn’t expected Huo Xiao to join.

Besides, she’d gotten used to scavenging on her own lately.

“I’m going too,” Huo Xiao replied.

He’d kept an energy stone close to his body last night before sleeping, and his condition had recovered nicely. He felt more than capable of going out to harvest.

Besides, he couldn’t let Zhuang Xiao keep going out alone.

These past couple of days she hadn’t gone far, so he hadn’t been too worried.
But now they were heading back to the wheat zone, and that always set his nerves on edge.
The girl had good luck, sure—but that luck often came with a side of danger and excitement. It made people nervous.

Zhuang Xiao looked closely at his face—his complexion was rosy, eyes clear.
Didn’t seem like anything was wrong.

Fine then, let him come.
After all, everyone in the household had to pitch in if they wanted to get that fan and fridge.

The heat really was getting unbearable.

They said the temperature could go beyond 60°C. She didn’t even want to think about how that felt.

The two of them got ready and left for the North Plaza to meet up.

The three met up at the plaza but ended up taking two different trucks.

This time, Zhuang Xiao didn’t see Scarface and his crew around either.

By the time they neared the wheat collection zone, the sky had lightened—but it was dark and overcast.

“Do you think it’s going to rain? Look at the sky…” Zhuang Xiao whispered to Huo Xiao beside her.

Before Huo Xiao could answer, a middle-aged woman nearby chimed in, “No way, no way. If it’s going to rain, our watches will alert us.”

Zhuang Xiao found the voice familiar. She turned to look—
Oh, wasn’t this the same auntie from before? The chatty duo?

What a coincidence to run into her again.

Though… where was her husband?

Zhuang Xiao wasn’t close with her and didn’t feel comfortable asking, so she just stayed on the rain topic.
“Forecasts aren’t always accurate though, right?”

“Doesn’t matter, as long as the rain isn’t too heavy it’s fine. Plus, cloudy days have less solar radiation—perfect for working!”

As she spoke, the auntie even showed off her outfit. “I’ve got my raincoat on already, a little rain won’t bother me.”

Zhuang Xiao turned to Huo Xiao. “We didn’t bring raincoats… what should we do?”

Huo Xiao smiled slightly and patted his bag. “I brought them.”

Then after a pause, he added, “Two of them.”

Of course—local guy perks. She still had a lot to learn.

But no matter how well you plan, the weather doesn’t always play along.

Two hours after they arrived at the wheat zone, the wristwatches all issued a yellow alert—a heavy rainstorm was expected by 3:00 PM.
All trucks broadcast the same message:
Everyone in the wheat zone must return to the convoy by 10:00 AM—no exceptions. Anyone late gets left behind.

Zhuang Xiao checked her watch. 8:30 AM.
She still had 90 minutes.

She estimated she could reach the meeting point in about 30 minutes. That gave her just under an hour to keep harvesting.

When she looked up again, she saw Huo Xiao coming toward her, tossing wheat heads into a sack without even testing them.

She glanced around.
Chaos was starting to ripple through the wheat lines.

People were grabbing whatever wheat they could, no matter which row it came from.

Shouts and curses echoed from the wheat fields, mixed in with the loudspeaker announcements.

Zhuang Xiao froze for a second before Huo Xiao reached her. “Grab whatever you can and head back.”

Even as he spoke, his hands didn’t stop—every wheat head in sight went straight into his sack.

Zhuang Xiao followed his lead, quickly stuffing wheat into her own bag.
But as it got heavier, she moved slower and slower.

Worried she’d get into conflict with someone, Huo Xiao stopped and waited for her.

When he saw her bag was about as full as she could manage, he led her straight toward the convoy.

Too many untested wheat heads meant people might get denied entry to the truck.
If the guards got pissed off, neither you nor your sack would make it back.

This sort of thing happened often. Everyone knew it.
But greed was hard to control.

There were always those who wanted to gather just a little more, clinging to hope.
But the more you picked, and the later you arrived, the less likely you’d get a seat.

Huo Xiao, as a former mercenary captain, would never make that mistake.

Otherwise, he would’ve died a thousand times by now.

Sure enough, they arrived early. Only a few people were there.
Among them, they spotted the teen Yan Ming.

As they boarded, the guards clearly stated:
Maximum two sacks per person.
Any more, and you could either stay behind, or toss the extra. Your choice.

Break the rules, and you don’t get on.

The three of them boarded the same truck.
Huo Xiao had one full sack. Zhuang Xiao only half.
Yan Ming had one and a half.

Someone else tried to board with three full sacks.
The guards made him toss one.

At first he resisted, argued, even shoved the guard.
But in the end, force won out.
He reluctantly threw one sack away.

The truck quickly filled up. Wheat sacks were crammed under every seat.
People sat on top of them—every bump risked throwing someone off the truck.

Just before departure, Zhuang Xiao noticed that the sacks tossed aside were being picked up by the guards and loaded onto their trucks.

She sat on top of the high pile of wheat sacks.

The wheat fields were swarming with people, many rushing to the edge of the fields.
Some still bent over, cutting wheat in the distance.

All for survival.

“Jie, your speed’s not cutting it. You really gotta train more,” Yan Ming said, smug and delighted that for once, he’d picked more than his sister.

Zhuang Xiao replied, “Quantity doesn’t guarantee quality.”

Yan Ming: “……”

For some reason, his mind jumped to their last time picking mulberries.
He suddenly felt awful.

“Brother Huo, look at my sister… she’s crushing my fragile little heart,” Yan Ming complained with a pouty teenage voice.

Zhuang Xiao looked at this grumbling boy—scruffy face, stubble and all.

And somehow, she didn’t feel so great either.