They Showed Up

--- [An ordinary person's story of survival in the wasteland] My name is Xu Nian, I am seventeen years old. In the year 2065 of the lunar calendar, the sun broke down and humans moved three hundred meters underground. There is no sun here, just daylight tubes and strict management of the system. Survivors in Area F work hard to collect fluorescent mushrooms every day in exchange for contribution points. If the contribution points are not enough, they can step into the gray door. I wanted to live a normal life: live, not get voted out. Until I met a man in the archives. He wore the most common gray uniform in Area F, and his cuffs were worn white. He squatted on the ground and fed a ball of gray-green light with paper ash. The amber eyes were illuminated by the warm yellow light and looked very quiet, as if they were waiting for someone who would never come back. He said to me: "Xu Nian, remember that you are not alone." Then he disappeared. The words are still there. I remember him. I met another young man with gray eyes in the pavilion. He is a child formed from the memory of the death of two lovers. Without an anchor, not recognized by the world. He called me "sister", made a garland of star moss and put it on my head, and stayed with me through the most difficult period of time. Later, he became lighter and lighter, as if he was melting into the light. He left a ray of light that warmed my chest. "Nian Nian, every time you miss me, I will come back." I thought I would never meet anyone again, until I met another person in the dark corridor. A production pacesetter recognized by the system in Area C. His eyes were very dark and could never let in the light. But when he looks at me, the darkness will light up. He gave me velvet shadow cats, knitted me red mango clothes, accompanied me to secret places to watch the majestic sunrise, and personally picked the blue thorn hearts in dangerous areas for me... The system gave him honor: he was "optimized" and replaced bit by bit into a machine. He grew heavier and rustier, and went to a place where I could no longer see him. Every night at 23:47, the gift he gave me will light up once to remind me that he is still there... The light and shadow of the bract mushrooms were still dangling in front of the bed, accompanied by hoarse, bloody moans in the living area. It's almost dawn. Tomorrow... I have to continue working... This is a crisis-ridden apocalypse, a huge pasture woven by the system, and a dark and oppressive three-hundred-meter cage that cannot be escaped. Thirty-seven thousand flashing names, the wave of shadows gathering the resentment of the forgotten... Who caused the shocking tragedy? Or is it the last tragedy of mankind in the wasteland? The earth was shaking, darkness was surging... But I always remembered that they had lighted up. They will stay on. "Go to the Origin Nest, we will wait for you there..." --- Intention: In a world where forgetting has become the norm, remembering is a kind of resistance and a kind of love.