You Say It's Yours?

The scenery blurred past at breakneck speed, but the terrifying sensation of weightlessness lasted only a second before Song Weishi's feet hit solid ground again.

Her body continued hurtling forward at an insane pace. The world before her was a blank expanse of white, aside from the tint of her goggles. She yanked them off in a hurry—they stayed attached by the strap, flapping wildly against her chest in the wind.

Once the goggles were off, she realized she had fallen into what appeared to be a waterfall. More precisely, a frozen one.

After the initial steep drop, the slope evened out considerably.

She was hurtling down the wide expanse of the frozen falls, picking up speed with every second. Walls of solid ice pressed in on either side, offering no chance to brake. Her body shot forward, wind howling past her ears, her heart leaping into her throat. She was scared out of her wits.

She had never skied this fast, never even ridden in a convertible at such speed. It was like being strapped to a rocket. If any obstacle had been in her path, she would have been smashed to pieces, reduced to nothing but a smear.

The rattling sensation beneath her feet vanished as she glided onto smooth, solid ice. Song Weishi barely managed to steady herself.

Fortunately, there were no obstacles ahead—the river was wide and open, even broader than the one she'd crossed near East Lake.

She didn't know how long she kept going before she finally managed to slow down, coasting to a halt before a small rise. She glanced back—the spot where she'd come down was already a distant speck.

The river stretched out around her, vast and silent as a meadow of dandelion fluff. She stood at the very center of the channel.

The ice beneath her feet wasn't white but a murky gray-black. Beneath it, the river churned with little visible flow, yet Song Weishi could hear sounds like ice cracking.

She knew it was just the ice being frozen solid that produced such noises, but a chill of dread still crept up her spine.

Rubbing her wind-chapped face, she skied toward the shore, found a sheltered hollow in a small slope, and sat down. She pulled out her map.

Trying to figure out where she was—she'd passed through Shangyu City, and this place seemed to be close to the original owner's hometown.

Her finger traced the map downward, tracking the route she'd taken.

It suddenly stopped on a dam.

Song Weishi looked up at where she'd come from. Though it was already far away, she could still make out the snow-buried structures on either side.

A hydroelectric power station. The sluice gates above were completely frozen over. The steep slope existed because dams require a massive drop to generate electricity.

She had plunged straight down that thing. One wrong move and she'd have died. She'd thought her skiing skills were good enough to brake whenever she wanted, but in the face of nature, she was fragile enough to lose her life at any moment.

Even the most seasoned skier can wipe out eventually. At least her luck held—she hadn't died on the spot.

Song Weishi tucked the map away and continued on. At this rate, without the thaw, she'd end up at the original owner's front door before she knew it.

She couldn't shake the feeling that the terrain here resembled the original world. She wondered if their homes were in the same place. In the original world, she hadn't lived here, after all.

She skied slowly now, once bitten, twice shy. She couldn't handle another wild ride like that—her poor heart couldn't take it.

She'd broken out in a cold sweat earlier, and though her base layer was quick-dry, it still felt terrible plastered to her skin, itchy and uncomfortable.

She slid along, removing her goggles. She only put them back on when the terrain got rough.

The goggles were cheap, with plain black lenses—nothing like the clarity of high-quality ones.

Thanks to the momentum from earlier, Song Weishi had already reached the edge of the map.

Snowflakes suddenly began to drift from the sky. Song Weishi looked up as a massive flake landed on her ski goggles.

It never rains but it pours. Today had been one disaster after another. She wiped the snow from her lenses. Though it was only noon, with snow falling, she couldn't continue.

She'd have to find a place to settle down early. Song Weishi slowed to a stop, watching the rolling hills in the distance.

Her ski poles suddenly slipped from her hands. A patch of green appeared before her eyes.

Her legs trembled with excitement, and she nearly collapsed onto the snow.

She hurried toward the shore, using the snow to push herself toward that green.

Summer and winter were divided by a clear line across this land, like a ruler splitting the two regions apart—one side lush and verdant as spring, the other frozen for a thousand miles.

The snowflakes drifting through the air melted into rain as they crossed into that zone, splattering against the dry earth.

The sound of rushing water grew louder ahead. If she hadn't seen it with her own eyes, Song Weishi would never have believed such a marvel existed—as if the two places had been stitched together.

Two patches of land so close together, yet with such radically extreme seasons.

Leaning on her ski poles, Song Weishi pushed hard, and her skis dug into the earth for the first time in what felt like ages, grinding to an abrupt halt.

A wave of heat washed over her, rapidly melting the ice and snow clinging to her. The dry, scorching air hit her so hard it was hard to breathe.

Even the rain that fell on her felt scalding.

Song Weishi quickly stripped off all her skiing gear and stashed it in her space. Having just come from the snow, the transition was jarring. She thought for a moment, then shed her down jacket too, leaving only a tank top and base layer, carefully gauging the temperature outside.

Normally, taking off outer layers would leave her shivering within seconds, and unable to walk after half a minute. But now, even after adjusting, she still felt hot.

It wasn't until she'd changed into a short-sleeved shirt that she finally felt comfortable in the rain. This was summer here—no, scorching summer.

The raindrops were quickly absorbed by the parched, cracked earth. Around her stood tall, lush vegetation, with a winding path just barely visible leading out.

The river she'd come down gurgled forth from the cracked ice at the base of the falls—not much water, seeping out to water this dry, thirsty land.

Strangely, the riverbank here was fenced off with wire mesh on both sides. Such a trickle could never cause a flood. Song Weishi couldn't help but feel puzzled.

Just as she was about to go check it out, a man emerged from the path. He was wearing a garish floral shirt and light shorts. He froze at the sight of Song Weishi, then barked angrily, "Who are you? How did you get in here!"

Caught off guard, Song Weishi was momentarily stunned, but she caught the hostility in his tone. "What's it to you? Is this your land? Why can't I be here?"

The man was furious. He raised the baton in his hand and lunged at Song Weishi. "Get the hell out! This river belongs to our Water Reserve Society! No one gets near it! You dumb bitch, don't make me beat your ass. Crawl out of here if you know what's good for you!"

He swung the baton in one motion, giving her no chance to speak or leave.

Song Weishi flicked her wrist and thrust her steel ski pole forward—it was clearly longer than his baton. He stumbled back with a yelp, hit the ground, and tried to scramble up again.

Song Weishi didn't give him the chance. She swung her arm in a full arc and brought the pole down on him several times, each strike drawing a scream until he could no longer get up.

"Talk! Talk!"

She beat him as she questioned him, until the man was barely conscious, finally curling into a ball to make her stop.

He was crying so hard he couldn't tell if it was blood or tears streaming down his face, both warm as they flowed. "Please stop! Whatever you want me to say, I'll say it all!"

Song Weishi's brain hadn't quite caught up to the situation here. She'd failed to ask the question she meant to ask, so she'd just kept beating him. She'd been wondering why he was so stubborn—seemed she'd forgotten to actually ask anything.

"What's going on here? Why is this place fenced off?"

The man lay on the ground, finally catching his breath. He figured Song Weishi must be some kind of cavewoman—the apocalypse had been going on for months now, and she acted like she knew nothing. But he answered honestly anyway.

The area around the original owner's hometown had seen unprecedented heat when the apocalypse struck. The reservoir had been boiled dry, and the whole city suffered under extreme temperatures. With water this scarce, the river had become the most contested resource of all.

Only the area bordering the frozen wasteland had a stable water source.

So some unscrupulous people had taken over the water source's outlet, monopolizing it from the headwaters. Anyone in the city who wanted water had to pay exorbitant prices.

No wonder it was all fenced off—someone was making money off water.

People who were too poor to pay and too thirsty to endure could only risk venturing into the snow to dig for it.

That explained why the snow on both sides was gouged bare, revealing hard, packed earth. To get deep enough into the snow for water, you needed better gear.

The man on the ground lost consciousness after speaking. Song Weishi didn't let him go easily. From what he'd said, the people stationed here as guards were no good.

If she hadn't been armed earlier, she might not have won that fight. At least he was nice and chubby, wheezing after two steps—no match for her.

She spotted a small hut nestled in the bushes nearby. It was the guards' rest stop, where he lived full-time. The Water Reserve Society brought all supplies in. If no one came by, it was a life of pure leisure—no shortage of food or clothing, just a bit boring.

And it was exactly that boredom that had driven him outside for air, giving Song Weishi her opening.

She stepped inside. The room was a mess and smelled rank. She wafted the air. The furnishings were simple: food hoarded in cabinets, a bed, and lots of water.

The room was small but well-stocked—he clearly didn't go out much.

She noticed the exterior walls had a strange metallic coating, unlike ordinary houses. She had no idea what it was for, but it didn't matter. She didn't linger. After emptying the place of everything useful, she filled the empty buckets she'd grabbed from the hotel with water and stowed them in her space for later.

She had plenty already, but it never hurt to stock up.

Ready to move, Song Weishi set off toward the original owner's home.

What she didn't notice was the camera on the wire fence blinking, capturing her entire violent encounter on film. On the screen, her figure vanished into the unknown. But the monitoring device began to blare an alarm.

A voice called out to the man lying just outside the frame, only his foot visible in the corner of the screen. There was no response—only silence.