Hibernation spared no one.
Governor Tian had gone down. A regional leader responsible for the daily needs of tens of millions of people, and he had simply fallen asleep.
Nuomi had gone down. With her extraordinary intelligence, one in ten thousand, she had fallen asleep too.
Xiao Mo had gone down. What hadn't he seen? Who hadn't he dealt with? He understood the ways of the world down to his bones. It was no use.
Huang Xueli had gone down too. Sharp-minded and keenly perceptive as he was, he still hadn't escaped.
And there were all sorts of other people, from every walk of life.
Whether you were a business tycoon worth trillions or a homeless person reduced to living on the streets.
Before Hibernation, everyone was equal.
The only difference was whether, after you went down, there was someone beside you to care for you-someone willing to do it.
That was how Chinese people were. Over thousands of years, what disaster, what hardship hadn't they endured? The Yellow River flooded; they endured it. Plague struck; they endured it. Wars raged for hundreds of years, and still they endured. The skill passed down by their ancestors was to fight like hell to stay alive, to find a way to keep living.
Some people shut themselves inside their homes, sealed the doors and windows, and refused to go out unless absolutely necessary. They stockpiled half a room full of rice, flour, grain, and cooking oil, cooked three meals a day themselves, and even stopped accepting deliveries.
There was another kind of person too.
Since things were like this anyway, they might as well enjoy every day they had. They sat in restaurants before tables full of food, clinking glasses and drinking until their faces and necks flushed red. Were they drowning