Chapter 59

Summer sunsets should be a deep rose red—beautiful beyond words, yet fleeting.

But tonight’s sunset glowed an ominous maroon-purple; the balcony faced northwest, where a vast, eerie violet radiance erupted from the horizon’s edge, blooming in twisted splendor.

Gusty winds howled against Luo Quan’s eardrums; flocks of birds and bats shrieked in panic, fleeing wildly into the distance—as if the gates of the Underworld had suddenly torn open in the mortal realm, flooding it with countless demons and chaos.

An indescribable terror clamped like a giant hand around Luo Quan’s throat, making breathing difficult; her pupils lost focus as she sank into memory.

She and Wen Xia had both encountered something similar before—in her past life, it had been May.

“Get back inside!” Junko was the first to snap out of the daze; her usually gentle voice had turned sharp, jolting Luo Quan and Wen Xia back to awareness.

No sooner had they stepped into the room than the floor began to shake; the three women dove under the long dining table, and at that moment, Junko’s phone emitted a piercing, shrill alarm.

This was a feature unique to Japanese phones—triggered during major disasters; many Japanese joked that the alarm sounded more terrifying than the disaster itself.

As the building’s shaking intensified, furniture toppled and tilted; a dull, rumbling roar filled the room, and dust rained softly from the ceiling.

The three women crouched under the table, arms over their heads; Luo Quan and Junko, now calm, wore composed expressions, while Wen Xia looked terrified.

“This building’s so tall—will it hold?” Wen Xia’s voice cracked with tears; they were on the twenty-somethingth floor—there was no way to escape in this situation. If the building collapsed, they wouldn’t even leave behind whole bodies.

“It’s fine—Japanese high-rises are all earthquake-proofed; they can withstand magnitude eight!” Luo Quan paused, then added: “Besides, this isn’t a direct-down quake—side-to-side shaking won’t damage the building much.”

Junko nodded: “Yes, this isn’t especially severe. Five years ago, the Fukushima quake shook worse than this—it was a direct-down quake, and the whole building felt like it was jumping!”

“That’s good…” Wen Xia exhaled slightly, but her heart still trembled with the swaying room, unable to settle for a single moment.

After roughly two minutes, the shaking stopped. Earthquakes are like that—fast to come, fast to go. Outside the balcony, the sky returned to normal color; the birds and bats had vanished entirely. Only the toppled furniture and dust-covered floor proved what had just happened wasn’t a dream.

“We made it…” Wen Xia rubbed her temples; the shock and tension had given her a headache. She’d wanted a drink, but in the kitchen, she found the kettle, cups, and dishes all smashed onto the floor—total chaos.

People reacted to this earthquake swiftly—within five minutes, the internet was flooded with discussions about it.

“7.8-magnitude earthquake off the Ogasawara Islands!”

The news instantly topped Japan’s Twitter trending list; comments quickly surpassed one hundred thousand, mostly messages of safety, with some kind souls urging coastal residents to flee to higher ground to avoid tsunamis.

In Japan, very few die directly from earthquakes—most perish in the ensuing tsunamis.

Yet Japan’s Ministry of Land, Infrastructure, Transport and Tourism’s Meteorological Agency quickly issued a statement: this quake would not trigger a tsunami; citizens should not panic unnecessarily.

Soon after, Japanese TV stations interrupted programming with emergency bulletins, informing the public of the Ogasawara earthquake’s damage.

Though the magnitude was large, no casualties had yet been reported—fortunate indeed.

Tokyo TV, as always, continued broadcasting anime; seeing this, the Japanese public finally relaxed, as if to say: if you’re safe, then the sky is clear.

Due to its unique geography, Japan experiences thousands of earthquakes annually—most are barely perceptible, but strong quakes still occur yearly; the people are long accustomed to them.

Take reporters and journalists: when an earthquake hits, their first instinct isn’t to find cover, but to grab their equipment and point it at crowds, documenting everything.

The most famous case was the Fukushima quake: as Japan’s Prime Minister spoke in parliament, every reporter immediately turned cameras on him, declaring: “We risk our lives today to show the world how Japan’s politicians flee in panic—please pay attention and support us!”

As these media workers put it: “I can’t run—I have a wife and kids. If I die, there’s insurance and compensation. If I run and get fired, my whole family starves on the streets.”

It sounds absurd, even darkly comic—but it really happened. Though most Japanese don’t treat earthquakes with such indifference, compared to people in other countries, they possess far greater psychological resilience.

Thus, domestic attention to this quake was even less than abroad—China’s Weibo, upon hearing the news, was instantly dominated by trending topics about it.

Beyond concern for Japan’s disaster, some worried whether celebrities in Japan were safe—Wen Xia and Luo Quan were among them; both quickly posted Weibo messages to confirm their safety, trending simultaneously and reassuring their fans somewhat.

Originally, this quake caused no casualties and should have faded from public view after TV coverage—but at noon the next day, Japan suffered another earthquake!

“7.0-magnitude earthquake in Kumamoto Prefecture!”

This was completely unexpected: just after the 7.8-magnitude Ogasawara quake, Kumamoto suffered a 7.0-magnitude quake the next day. With the epicenter in a densely populated area, forty-nine civilians died and over a thousand were injured!

This was the strongest quake ever recorded in Kyushu’s history and the deadliest since the Fukushima quake; consecutive major quakes plunged all of Japan under a dark cloud—people feared whether another quake would come, and if it would strike right where they lived.

Their fears became reality—and reality proved even harsher than feared: the day after the Kumamoto quake, disaster struck again.

“6.6-magnitude earthquake in Hokkaido—forty dead, over six hundred injured!”