Chapter 116: Twenty-Four Degrees

Zeyu allowed the phone to ring twice more before answering.

The warmth left by the movie remained in the common room, but no one laughed now. Jingwei understood what might be waiting on the other end of the call. Shichen returned the lights to their ordinary setting, while Qinghe moved the empty dishes aside in case Zeyu needed the table.

Zeyu accepted the call without transferring it to the communications wall. "Mom, before you begin, is anyone injured?"

Tang Meixiu’s irritation came through the speaker clearly enough for everyone to hear. "Why would you ask me that? And have you finally decided to read any of the messages I’ve been sending you?"

Zeyu lowered the phone and opened their conversation.

Forty-three unread messages waited beneath her name.

He had silenced most notifications when the emergency alerts began. Messages from his mother had disappeared beneath corporate reports, security warnings and government announcements.

"I’ve been busy," Zeyu told her as he returned the phone to his ear. The excuse sounded inadequate even to him.

"You’ve been busy for three days?" Tang Meixiu demanded. "Too busy to tell your mother whether you’re alive? Your sister was ready to call every hospital in Yunzhou."

Her voice contained none of the fear he had heard from Hanchuan’s parents or Jingwei’s family. There was also no static disrupting the connection either.

Zeyu transferred the call to the communications wall.

Tang Meixiu appeared in a brightly lit room with uncovered windows behind her. Her hair had been styled, she wore a light blue dress and the glass in her hand contained ice that wasn’t melting faster than she could drink.

Beyond the windows, an unfamiliar city continued beneath an ordinary evening sky.

Zeyu stared at her. "Where are you?"

Tang Meixiu’s anger gave way to disbelief. "I sent you the hotel address twice. I also sent our flight information and the location of the private terminal where you were supposed to meet us."

A weather display beside the window showed 24 degrees.

A cool 24 degrees.

Zeyu rose from the couch and moved closer to the wall. He had spent the last several days watching temperatures climb beyond anything Yunzhou’s infrastructure could survive. The sight of open windows and pedestrians wearing jackets seemed less believable than the indestructible car in the movie they had just watched.

"You left the country," Zeyu said as the meaning of the image finally reached him.

"Three days ago," Tang Meixiu confirmed. She set down her glass and folded her arms. "Your father noticed that half the people he knows were reserving private aircraft. Then several government officials sent their families abroad without announcing any travel plans. He decided we weren’t waiting to discover what they knew."

Zeyu glanced at the unread messages still displayed on his phone. "You left without me."

"We tried to take you," Tang Meixiu corrected, her anger returning. "Your father sent a car to your apartment. You weren’t there. I called you, your assistant and the Song Motors office. No one knew where you were."

For weeks, Song Guowei had watched his son purchase fuel, modify vehicles and transfer equipment between company properties.

Zeyu had refused to explain why. His father hadn’t believed the world was ending, but he had concluded that Hanchuan’s group possessed information he didn’t.

Tang Meixiu leaned closer to the camera. "Your father said Pei Hanchuan would never remain somewhere dangerous. Since you had attached yourself to him for the entire month, we assumed you were leaving on one of the Pei family’s planes."

Zeyu looked over his shoulder at Hanchuan. "Apparently, I’m attached to you."

Hanchuan showed no interest in defending either of them from the description.

The relief Zeyu felt was so sudden that it weakened his legs. His mother was safe. His father, older stepsister, younger sister and niece were all outside the affected country. They had power, water and access to food that hadn’t been stored years in advance.

Zeyu returned to the couch. "Show me everyone."

Tang Meixiu carried the phone through the suite. The camera passed an untouched dining table covered with takeout containers, a television broadcasting ordinary evening news and a balcony door left partially open to admit cool air.

Song Guowei sat near the windows with a laptop in front of him. He acknowledged his son with a brief nod before returning to a financial report, apparently treating the destruction of their home country as another market disruption requiring management.

Song Jiayi occupied an armchair nearby. She had changed into hotel clothing and was reading messages on her phone while her daughter slept beside her beneath a thin blanket.

Yinuo emerged from another room carrying several shopping bags.

The bags stopped Zeyu’s attention.

While people in Yunzhou fought over bottled water, his younger sister had spent the afternoon shopping.

Yinuo noticed his expression and looked down at the bags. "The stores are still open here."

Her explanation carried an apology for something that wasn’t her fault.

Behind her, the television shifted from a local weather report to footage of Yunzhou. The foreign news presenter stood beside images of collapsed power lines, packed government shelters and bodies covered along the edges of a road.

A banner beneath the footage described the Heat as a national catastrophe.

Then the broadcast moved to sports.

Zeyu watched the transition in silence. Their country’s world had ended. Everywhere else, it was a story occupying six minutes before the next scheduled segment.

Tang Meixiu returned the phone to its stand. "Now tell me where you are. We reserved another suite for you, and your father has already contacted the embassy. We can send the plane as soon as you reach an airport."

"The airports are closed," Zeyu told her, his relief becoming heavier as he realized what his mother still didn’t understand. "No private aircraft are being allowed to depart."

Tang Meixiu dismissed the restriction with a small movement of her hand. "Commercial flights may be canceled, but we own the plane. If our pilots refuse, your father will hire someone else."

Jingwei opened the current international restrictions on his tablet and sent them to the communications wall beside the call.

Every civilian airport in the country had suspended departures. Runway temperatures exceeded operational limits in the worst regions, and the government had grounded private aircraft to preserve fuel and prevent uncontrolled evacuations.

The land borders had also closed.

Neighboring governments had stopped admitting their citizens after thousands of people attempted to cross without authorization. Foreign ports refused ships originating from the affected coastline. Several countries had suspended visas and announced temporary entry bans until the cause of the temperature event could be understood.

The disaster ended at the border.

So had their freedom to leave it.

Tang Meixiu read the restrictions without accepting them. "Your father has government contacts. Hanchuan has even better ones. There must be someone who can authorize a single flight."

Hanchuan regarded her from beside Zhiyi. "Authorization inside the country won’t give the aircraft permission to land anywhere else. Every surrounding government has closed its airspace to incoming flights."

For the first time since answering the call, Zeyu saw fear enter his mother’s expression.

Song Guowei closed his laptop and joined her. "How long are the restrictions expected to remain in place?"

Zeyu couldn’t tell him four years. He couldn’t explain that the current temperatures weren’t the peak or that surviving the Heat would only bring them closer to the Flood.

"No one has issued a reliable timeline," Zeyu told his father carefully. "Extend your stay. Find longer-term housing and don’t return because the temperature falls for a few days."

Song Guowei’s expression revealed what he thought of the advice. "This cannot continue indefinitely. Once the emergency passes, the borders will reopen and you can join us."

Zhiyi sat beside Hanchuan without correcting him.

Their earlier lives had taught her that the Heat would not spread evenly across the planet. Some countries would experience ordinary seasons while theirs burned.

The people outside could send sympathy, money and advice, but borders would remain stronger than compassion once accepting survivors threatened their own stability.

Yinuo picked up the phone and carried it onto the balcony.

The city opened behind her.

Cars moved along illuminated streets. Pedestrians crossed beneath storefront signs, and customers occupied tables on a restaurant patio across from the hotel. Someone walked a dog. A cyclist waited at a traffic light.

No one was running.

No one was dying because the air touched their skin.

Yinuo turned the camera toward the ordinary world her brother could no longer reach. When she faced him again, the fear in her expression had nothing to do with her own safety.

"How long before you can come here?" she asked.

Zeyu looked beyond her at the open restaurants, moving traffic and people making plans for tomorrow.

For the first time since the Heat began, he understood that the world hadn’t ended.

It had simply continued without them.

"I don’t know," Zeyu admitted.