The World Ends In 27 Days

The artificial sunlight across Xiling’s residential walls began fading at seven in the evening.

Outside, smoke concealed the setting sun, and the municipal temperature remained at 80 degrees. Without the changing wall panels, Zeyu wouldn’t have known that night had arrived.

The last public traffic camera had failed, leaving Xiling’s exterior cameras as their only direct view of the world.

One showed the empty administrative entrance.

Another watched the concealed western road, while the others provided excellent views of scorched rock, concrete and a hillside hidden beneath smoke.

Zeyu leaned back in his chair. "We spent millions on a surveillance system that allows me to watch the same rocks from 14 different angles."

"The cameras show whether anyone is approaching," Jingwei reminded him.

Zeyu gestured toward the empty surveillance feeds. "No one is approaching. They’d catch fire before they reached the first rock."

Jingwei remained unmoved. "That doesn’t make the cameras unnecessary."

Zeyu accepted that Jingwei would never appreciate the difference between practical surveillance and something worth watching.

Since the municipal network was gone, he searched for information through news broadcasts, emergency radio channels and social media. Xiling’s protected satellite connection remained stable, although most of the information reaching them originated outside Yunzhou.

National broadcasters continued covering the Heat as a severe but temporary weather event. The anchors stood before maps filled with red warnings and repeated instructions to remain indoors.

Officials discussed strained electrical grids, emergency water distribution and the possibility of temporarily relocating residents from damaged neighborhoods once temperatures permitted travel.

Nobody mentioned what would happen if the temperatures never permitted it.

Social media was less controlled.

Some people posted photographs of indoor thermometers beside complaints about electricity prices.

Others accused the weather service of inflating its readings because their balconies couldn’t possibly be 80 degrees. One man claimed the government had manufactured the emergency to justify power restrictions.

Thousands agreed with him.

Another video showed a family eating melted ice cream by candlelight. The mother laughed while the children complained about the taste. A caption beneath the video promised that they would remember the night the power went out forever.

The video had been posted three hours earlier.

The account hadn’t updated since.

"They think this is going to become a story they tell later," Zeyu said.

Qinghe looked up from the medical supplies he was arranging on the dining table. "Most people assume there will be a later."

Zeyu had always made that assumption himself.

His company had survived recessions, recalls, lawsuits and factory accidents. Every crisis had ended with reports, compensation and people returning to work.

Even the problems that destroyed someone’s life became numbers inside a quarterly review.

He opened his corporate network.

The number of unread messages made him stare.

Regional managers had submitted reports about heat-damaged vehicles, closed factories and interrupted deliveries. Insurance departments wanted photographs of warped components.

Finance wanted to know whether delayed shipments should be recorded against the current quarter.

One executive had requested an emergency meeting for eight the following morning to discuss how the Heat might affect production targets.

Zeyu opened the message twice to make certain he had read it correctly.

"Apparently, I have a meeting tomorrow," Zeyu announced.

Shichen glanced toward him. "Will you be attending?"

"I’m considering it." Zeyu continued reading the message. "The factory has no power, half the staff can’t be contacted and the roads are melting, but we need to discuss production targets."

Shichen lifted one eyebrow. "You should ask whether the Heat qualifies as an excused absence."

"That might undermine morale," Zeyu replied.

Hanchuan heard their conversation from the communications table and looked over. "Close the companies."

Zeyu lowered his phone. "They’re already physically closed. No one has admitted that the work has stopped."

"Then admit it," Hanchuan ordered.

Zeyu canceled the meeting and issued a company-wide suspension of operations. He authorized emergency pay for every employee, although he had no idea how many remained alive or how long the banking system would continue functioning.

Money had always solved his problems because every problem had possessed a price.

Now the transfer confirmations felt like promises made in a language the world was forgetting.

Across the room, Hanchuan issued similar orders through his companies.

Jingwei had already recalled his security teams from all nonessential assignments before the temperature reached 60 degrees, while Shichen’s construction sites had closed during the lightning storm.

Qinghe’s hospital was the only workplace that couldn’t stop.

His phone hadn’t remained silent for more than a few minutes.

Zeyu avoided looking toward him whenever it rang.

Zhiyi replaced the dead municipal camera map with Xiling’s internal systems display. Cooling, air filtration, water reserves and power generation filled separate sections of the wall.

The primary cooling loop remained below half capacity, but the intake temperature had risen steadily throughout the afternoon.

"We need monitoring shifts," she stated. "A failure detected within five minutes creates fewer secondary failures than one detected after an hour."

"Two people awake at all times," Hanchuan decided. "One watches the systems and one watches communications and security."

Jingwei moved beside the table. "I’ll take the first watch."

"So will I," Zeyu offered. "You can monitor the rocks while I find something interesting."

"You’ll monitor the communications channels."

"That was what I meant."

Qinghe closed the medical case and approached them. "The watches need to rotate. None of you can remain awake indefinitely because you’ve decided sleep is inefficient."

His gaze settled on Zhiyi, but she didn’t appear to notice.

Hanchuan, on the other hand, did.

"Zhiyi and I will take the second watch," he said. "Shichen and Qinghe can take the third."

"That gives everyone four hours," Qinghe replied. "It will work tonight. Tomorrow, I want a schedule that includes meals, exercise and uninterrupted sleep."

Zeyu looked around the shelter designed to preserve their lives through four years of Heat. "We’ve been underground for less than a day, and you’re already giving us a bedtime."

"I’m preventing five people with control problems from destroying their health during the first week."

"Only five?"

Qinghe smiled gently. "I included myself."

The schedule went into effect at eight.

Hanchuan took Zhiyi to eat before their sleep period, although she continued looking back at the temperature display until they entered the eastern corridor. Shichen inspected the cooling system one more time before retiring. Qinghe left water and electrolyte supplements beside Zeyu’s station as though he expected him to dehydrate while sitting indoors.

Soon, only Zeyu and Jingwei remained in the common area.

The wall panels dimmed to a simulated night sky. No stars appeared because Zhiyi had programmed them to match the actual conditions outside, and smoke covered everything above Xiling.

Jingwei watched the exterior cameras while Zeyu moved between emergency broadcasts.

The official language changed slowly. Expected service restorations became anticipated repairs. Temporary outages became extended disruptions. Residents were still told to remain calm, remain indoors and wait for further instructions.

At ten, the city stopped publishing temperature updates.

Zhiyi had anticipated that possibility and linked Xiling to automated weather stations throughout the region. Several had failed, but enough remained active to trace the Heat around Yunzhou.

Zeyu watched their readings as the hours passed.

At eleven, the nearest station recorded 78 degrees.

At midnight, it still recorded 78... and that was after the sun had been gone for five hours.

Zeyu checked the exterior sensor at Xiling. The temperature at the air intake had risen to 68 degrees rather than falling with the darkness.

Zhiyi entered the common room before her watch began. Hanchuan followed carrying two cups of coffee, one of which he placed beyond her reach until she accepted a bottle of water.

Zeyu turned the display toward her. "Is it supposed to stay this hot overnight?"

Zhiyi compared the readings with the record from her previous life. Her eyes moved between the two sets of numbers before she enlarged the original nighttime temperatures.

"It fell below 60 degrees on the first night," she told him.

The automated station refreshed.

79°C

That wasn’t supposed to happen.

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!