Chapter 5: A Kiss in the Storm
Phinex’s POV
The airport’s automatic doors opened, and a cold wind carrying the raw smell of rain swept inside.
I spotted Mom at once.
Mrs. Blanche Will was dragging along the dark-blue suitcase she had used for years. Her pale-blond hair had been tousled by the wind, and the thin-framed glasses she always wore while conducting experiments were perched on her nose.
She was a little thinner than I remembered, but she was still standing there, perfectly well.
Alive. Breathing. Smiling at me.
In my previous life, she had died of hypothermia in the extreme cold. By the time I reached her, all I could touch was her stiff, icy hand…
“Phinex?” Mom called.
I rushed over and threw my arms around her, hugging her so hard that I nearly knocked her half a step backward.
The familiar, faint scent of soap filled my nose. I bit my lip, but the tears still came rushing out.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” She patted my back, her voice soft and steady. “Did Cecilia bully you? I knew it. Anyone who smiles that perfectly can’t be a good person.”
Her last remark made my voice grow even more nasal. “Mom, if you’re so good at judging people, why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“I did tell you.” She corrected me with complete seriousness. “You said that was called gentlemanly conduct.”
As expected of my mother—even when comforting me, she never forgot to twist the knife.
When we got home, I pushed a cup of black tea toward her and said without preamble, “In a month, the entire world will experience an abnormal drop in temperature. Blizzards will continue for a long time. Power, water, and transportation systems will all collapse, and many people will die.”
Mom’s hand stopped as she lifted her cup.
I didn’t tell her about the way I had died.
Instead, I said, “I learned all this from a very influential person, along with some observations of my own…”
The first out-of-season snowfall. The power grid collapsing. Temperatures plunging below minus fifty degrees. Supermarkets being stripped bare.
I presented those memories as conclusions I had reached myself, making them sound as serious as possible.
In truth, the real images were lodged in my throat like shards of broken glass.
“So,” I said, staring at her, “I’ve already converted an old air-raid shelter outside the city into a safe house. You’re coming to live there with me. We’ll stockpile food and water, fuel and medicine. We’ll also grow the cold-resistant crops you’ve been researching.”
Mom was silent for several seconds before reaching out to touch my forehead.
“No fever.”
“I’m perfectly lucid.”
“That makes it even more concerning.”
That was what she said, but there was no ridicule in her eyes—only the caution of a scientist confronted with anomalous data.
I knew words alone would never convince her.
So I took her to the warehouse.
The generator was running, and rows of motion-sensor lights flickered on one after another.
Cases of bottled water, canned goods, freeze-dried food, and grain were stacked almost to the ceiling.
Thermal clothing, sleeping bags, fuel stoves, and medicine had all been sorted into labeled sections.
In one corner sat three cases of chocolate. In the apocalypse, sugar and a little happiness would be just as important.
Mom walked from one end of the shelves to the other. At first, her brows were furrowed. Then her steps gradually slowed.
She checked the generator’s model, cut open a piece of polar-grade winter clothing to inspect its insulation, and finally stopped in front of the refrigerated seed container I had prepared for her.
“Who set the preservation parameters for these seeds?” she asked.
“I followed your paper,” I replied. Then I added, “Mom, I know you brought some of the genetically modified seeds you developed, too.”
She looked up at me, and her expression finally changed.
I opened the trunk of my small car and put a case of bottled water inside.
The instant the cardboard box disappeared, her glasses nearly slipped off her nose.
“The space isn’t full, and the vehicle’s weight doesn’t change,” I explained. “It can store an unlimited amount of supplies. Time inside also seems to be frozen.”
Mom walked around the car twice before making me take the box out and put it back in.
After the third time, she drew a deep breath.
“All right. I believe you’ve encountered something that can’t be explained by current theories. The shelter’s insulation needs to be redesigned. I’ll make a list tonight.”
I smiled.
But I almost burst into tears again.
This time, I had finally secured a future for Mom.
Two days later, Mom suggested that we spend a couple of days at a seaside resort nearby.
“If the apocalypse is coming,” she said, “then all the more reason not to live every day before it arrives as if it has already begun.”
At the resort, we ate steaming bowls of seafood chowder and took dozens of pictures beneath the setting sun.
Mom insisted on printing them out. Electronic devices might not be reliable later, she said, and these memories needed a physical form.
I teased her for being old-fashioned, but after turning around, I secretly printed three extra sets and tucked them into the trunk.
The following afternoon, the sunlight was beautiful.
I changed into a black lace-up swimsuit. It wasn’t made of much fabric, but the cut was exquisite.
In the mirror, my waist looked trim, my long legs seemed perfectly straight, and my damp curls clung to my shoulders and neck.
Even I had to admit that this body was almost ostentatiously beautiful.
I had just left the pool area when I ran into Zangweila.
He stood at the edge of the hotel terrace, the cuffs of his dark shirt rolled up to his forearms as he listened to a business partner describe an expansion project.
His tall figure was impossible to miss in the crowd.
He turned his head, and his gaze fell on me. His entire body visibly paused for a second.
The face that was usually as cold as a winter night actually began to flush from the tips of his ears.
I didn’t understand why, but I still nodded politely. “What a coincidence, Mr. Zangweila.”
His eyes quickly shifted away. His throat bobbed, but his tone was more forceful than usual.
“Put some clothes on.”
“What?”
“There are more than just pool guests here.” He took off his suit jacket and held it out to me as if issuing an order. “Put it on.”
I glanced down at myself.
There was nothing wrong with my swimsuit, and plenty of people nearby were dressed similarly.
“Mr. Zangweila.” Smiling, I pushed the jacket back toward him. “You’re inspecting the hotel, not my wardrobe.”
His expression grew even colder, but his ears turned redder.
I turned away and pursed my lips.
That man was domineering—and inexplicably strange.
That evening, Mom and I were on our way back from the beach to the hotel restaurant.
The sky suddenly darkened, and the sea looked as though someone had poured ink across its surface.
The wind tore sun umbrellas from the ground. People screamed and ran for the buildings.
A typhoon had actually made landfall!
“Mom, hold on tight!”
I pulled her along, but a violent crosswind swept up a wave and slammed it toward us.
The stone path beneath our feet was slick. My hand slipped from hers, and my entire body was swept over the railing.
“Phinex!”
Icy seawater swallowed my head in an instant.
Water rushed into my nose and mouth. I couldn’t open my eyes; all I could hear was a deep, muffled roar.
The agony of my near-death experience from my previous life came flooding back.
No. I didn’t want to die again!
I kicked desperately at the water, struggling to survive.
Suddenly, a powerful arm locked around my waist and lifted me upward.
“Stop moving. It’s me!”
Zangweila’s voice came in fragments, shredded by the wind.
One hand gripped a rescue rope while the other held me firmly in place.
Another wave crashed into us. I instinctively turned my head, and my lips happened to brush against his.
It was brief and soft, with the salty taste of seawater.
His entire body stiffened. Then he pulled me even closer.
When the people on shore dragged us back onto the platform, I was coughing so hard that my lungs hurt.
He knelt beside me on one knee. His soaked shirt clung to his solid chest, and his face was frighteningly pale.
“Phinex, look at me. Are you hurt anywhere?” he asked between breaths.
I turned my head away without thinking.
The image of Cecilia’s betrayal pierced my mind like a needle.
Because of it, any approach from a man made me instinctively bare my defenses and push him away.
“I’m fine.” I propped myself up and sat on the ground, my voice cool. “Thank you for saving me.”
Zangweila’s hand stopped in midair before slowly withdrawing.
His expression returned to its usual aloofness, but his lips were pressed tightly together.
Mom came running over with a blanket. She examined me from head to toe, then gave him a solemn thank-you.
“If I remember correctly… you’re Mr. Zangweila, right? Thank you. I don’t want to imagine what might have happened if you hadn’t been there.”
Zangweila said nothing. He accepted the jacket handed to him by a staff member.
Even though water was still dripping from him, his manner remained as polished as if he had just stepped out of a conference room.
I knew that look in Mom’s eyes all too well.
Young, accomplished, handsome, and willing to jump into the sea to save her daughter at the crucial moment—on a mother’s evaluation scale, he was probably already close to a perfect score.
The crowd gradually dispersed.
After Mom and I returned to our room, she said casually, “That young man seems pretty good.”
“He’s not young, and he’s extremely domineering,” I complained.
Mom gave me a strange look. When I pressed her about it, I still couldn’t get anything out of her.
All I could do was stare blankly at the rain outside the window.
Then I suddenly remembered that, before the extreme cold arrived, there was still an old score I had to settle.
While Mom was taking a shower, I called Dilia’s group of close friends one by one. My tone was so light and sweet that even I found it suspicious.
“The day before Dilia’s birthday party, I’ll take you all to give her a surprise.”
I gazed at the photos secretly taken on my phone—Dilia and Cecilia embracing in secret—and slowly curled my lips into a smile.
“Oh, right. Everyone, remember to take pictures and record videos. We need to capture her expression when she gets her surprise.”
