As the Chinese New Year approached, the restaurant was filled with a festive atmosphere.
Almost two months had passed since he had crossed over to this world. Recently, a middle-aged Taiwanese refugee named Lao Chen, who didn’t speak English and had arrived with his family, joined the kitchen staff to assist Nemo.
Lao Chen seemed to be adapting well, and Sunny Jie tentatively asked Nemo if he could give up a couple of shifts for Lao Chen. Nemo readily agreed and even suggested prioritizing overtime hours for Lao Chen during the New Year period so his family could celebrate the holiday properly.
The truth was that Nemo had been craving uninterrupted personal space for quite some time. This arrangement suited him perfectly, and he could even take on some translation work online to make up for the loss of income.
Westlake Restaurant had always served as a kind of shelter, hiring employees who were either political asylum seekers or war refugees. Sunny Jie maintained the principle of offering emergency help but not encouraging dependency. For those who tried to take advantage, the manager’s iron fist was ready to intervene.
The restaurant enjoyed a stellar reputation among immigrant communities in Lone Star City. Its staff was an international mix, and The boss couple even distributed meal vouchers to homeless people and refugees, particularly homeless teenagers, on a regular basis.
Many had warned Sunny Jie that such a business model would eventually lead to bankruptcy, but Sunny Jie didn’t care. After all, the restaurant had already gone bankrupt once before. As long as they hadn’t gone under again, she preferred to live with a clear conscience. Her husband, a self-proclaimed wife-loyalist, fully supported her approach. This sense of compassion and community was precisely what had kept Nemo and Tolya working at the restaurant.
Tolya’s frequent bar visits had earned him good connections with the local Russian gang, ensuring that no other petty thugs dared to demand protection fees from Westlake Restaurant. Employees and regulars had become accustomed to seeing tattooed gang members eating at the restaurant, and this seemed to amuse Tolya’s friends. They admired the manager who had served ten years in a Chinese prison.
Curious, Nemo once asked Sunny Jie how long she planned to maintain her charitable approach. Sunny Jie shrugged, explaining that while the restaurant might eventually return to a more conventional operation, they would continue as they were until the wave of Taiwanese refugees subsided.
During this time, the Global Ranking of Superheroes had expanded to beyond 200. Clearer videos and eyewitness accounts were becoming more common, although many of these individuals only made brief appearances. Nemo avoided thinking about what might have happened to those superpowers.
Meanwhile, what were the Taiwanese people up to? The governor of the New Taiwan Independence State was celebrating their first Chinese New Year as part of the motherland, trying to dispel the shadow of war and divert public resentment by creating a festive atmosphere.
A marathon night market food expo was being held on Ketagalan Boulevard, planned to run until the Lantern Festival. The Taiwanese, as always, enthusiastically joined in, with single-day attendance surpassing one million visitors. It was as if they were blissfully unaware of their defeat.
It was ironic. In 1911, during the Wuchang Uprising in China, the Taiwanese were eating ice cream (there were over 500 ice cream shops in Dadaocheng alone). Over a century later, while the Chinese endured strict rations and ticket-based living, another uprising occurred in Hubei, and yet again, the Taiwanese were enjoying their ice cream—this time accompanied by Tamsui ah-gei, chicken cutlets, and bubble tea. History seemed to repeat itself in strange ways.
Lone Star City still had no prominent superpowers, and local news was predictably dominated by the Grimm Group. From the extravagant opening banquet of its new headquarters to the tabloid-worthy escapades of the world’s richest playboy, the media turned Lone Star’s entertainment section into a quasi-Hollywood showcase.
One day, Matthew Grimm was windsurfing on the coast, the next paragliding by the mountains, always accompanied by beautiful women.
At Westlake Restaurant’s nightly closing, Boss and Sunny Jie would routinely join the staff in clasping their hands together and bowing toward the Grimm Tower. They were genuinely grateful for the tourism boom brought on by the playboy billionaire. TV series were being filmed on location, tour groups were everywhere, and buses had added multiple new routes.
In the midst of all this, Nemo finally decided to leave Lone Star City for a bit.
Although he planned only a one-night solo camping trip in the nearby mountains—an area known for frequent disappearances—his colleagues were unanimously opposed.
Nemo hadn’t been on an outdoor trip in ages and was eager to test his skills. After years of foraging in games, why not practice plant gathering in real life? To prepare, he had even researched the terrain and vegetation of Lone Star’s surrounding areas at the library.
“You’re not secretly planning to join the meteorite gold rush, are you?” Tolya asked, exasperated. He was the most vocal opponent of Nemo’s solo excursion.
Nemo dismissed Tolya’s concerns as jealousy over his freedom and refused to change his plans.
“This city is going to get more dangerous. Didn’t I say I’d come up with a solution?” Nemo said.
“You’ve come up with one already?” Sunny Jie asked, her interest piqued.
“I’ll scout for a safe spot where we can stash supplies like gasoline, bottled water, and non-perishable food. If disaster strikes, we’ll escape the city and regroup there. As long as we’re alive, we can rebuild the restaurant no matter where we are,” Nemo explained, leaning forward with a serious expression.
The group was momentarily stunned. Finally, the burly manager spoke up. “That makes sense.”
Everyone knew that America’s disaster response capabilities had been heavily drained after the Meteor Shower Event. If another catastrophe struck, the government would be overwhelmed. Westlake Restaurant’s members, being able-bodied, didn’t want to take resources meant for the most vulnerable.
“Why the mountains? I told you the forest isn’t safe,” Tolya protested.
“Nowhere is completely safe in the wild, which is why we need to investigate first and familiarize ourselves with the terrain. If Lone Star’s government decides to lock down the city, where will the crowds flock? Where will police block off roads? A new plague? Monsters? Toxic gas? Terrorist attacks? Another meteor shower? A city-wide blackout? And don’t forget, we’re near the coast, so tsunamis are also a possibility,” Nemo shot back irritably.
“He’s got a point,” the manager agreed. He had considered similar scenarios but had kept quiet to avoid worrying his wife.
“Surveying a route can’t be done in one trip. I’m mainly going to clear my head. If I see any suspicious abandoned vehicles, I will retreat immediately and report them to the police, okay? I’ll be back by tomorrow evening at the latest,” Nemo promised. He had even gone through the trouble of getting his driver’s license after losing his memory, which finally convinced Sunny Jie to lend him her car.
“If Nemo is doing this for everyone’s safety, we’ll cover the gas expenses,” the petite woman, who looked far younger than her fifty years, decided after a moment’s thought.
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After repeated reassurances, the Russian reluctantly grumbled, “Next time, you’d better take me with you.”
Sunny Jie gently grasped Nemo’s wrist and said, “Nemo, I don’t know who you were before coming to Lone Star, but everyone says you make people worry. I know you’re resourceful, but please promise me you won’t take any risks on this trip, okay?”
Her small hands were unexpectedly warm and firm. In her mind, Nemo was still just a child.
Nemo was not good at handling gentle persuasion. He rubbed his free hand against his pants awkwardly and mumbled an agreement.
Women’s intuition was terrifyingly accurate—he had indeed planned to test himself on this trip. But Nemo was determined to step out of his comfort zone.
He loaded his camping gear and a filled gas can into the trunk of Sunny Jie’s old Honda and set off for the mountain route he had carefully planned.
※※※
The curly-haired youth lay inside his tent. It was five in the morning, still dark outside.
Dew had gathered on the tent’s roof, and mist blanketed the surroundings. Nemo hadn’t truly slept. This was his first moment of complete solitude since crossing over. Alone beneath the terrifying stars, surrounded by the nocturnal sounds of animals in the dark forest. In this isolation, he interrogated himself.
—What do you want to do? Can you do it? The good people you’ve met since crossing over—what price are you willing to pay to protect them?
Just half a month ago, Nemo had been deeply immersed in the still-smoldering aftermath of the Taiwan Strait War. A mix of regret and a sense of duty drove him to investigate and understand the entire process, eager to put his knowledge to use.
Nemo was setting survival goals for himself after his unexpected arrival. His mental drive to survive overrode physical exhaustion, but it was also an escape from reality. It wasn’t until his Russian roommate reminded him to care more about the world around him that Nemo began seriously researching the Meteor Shower Event.
In a way, if not for the Meteor Shower Event, the military threats from advanced nations toward the CCP would have persisted, and the Taiwan Strait War might not have erupted.
In the massive planetary disaster caused by an unknown cosmic entity, debris disrupted both solar storms and Earth's magnetic field, resulting in a chaotic array of maddeningly irregular electromagnetic pulses hitting the planet. Satellite systems failed on a large scale, and even with contingency plans for a global EMP attack, the U.S. military—heavily reliant on advanced electronic warfare—was left as powerless as if it had been castrated. Even with the emergency launch of numerous low-orbit satellites, it would still take time to rebuild capabilities.
As Nemo delved deeper into the Meteor Shower Event, he finally realized that the disaster was equivalent to kicking the U.S. military in the balls a hundred times over. This gave him some peace of mind about America’s failure to directly confront the PLA in the Taiwan Strait, though he still felt regret. This had become a contest of “who can endure being poorer and more backward.” In this game, the U.S. had no advantage. North Korea’s leader, for instance, was probably grinning ear to ear.
But the U.S. doesn’t like to lose—especially not with its reputation for pettiness. To think they would let it slide was naive. A “forgive and forget” scenario was possible only after they beat you down so thoroughly you couldn’t get back up.
Nemo had met more than one American who expressed frustration at watching Taiwanese citizens relinquish their Republic of China citizenship, quietly lining up to vote for a new governor of the Chinese Independent State. It felt to them as if caterpillars were crawling all over their bodies. America had promised many times to help Taiwan, and they were determined to make good on that promise.
Why didn’t the Chinese and Taiwanese in the past realize that the so-called "Anti-Access/Area Denial" (A2AD) plan by the People’s Liberation Army to prevent U.S. military aid to Taiwan, which is similar to the surprise attack on Pearl Harbor, is actually considered "starting a war"? And once the fighting begins, it would trigger the mutual defense pacts between the U.S. and its allies—such as the U.S.-UK, U.S.-Japan, U.S.-Philippines, U.S.-South Korea agreements, the Pacific Security Treaty (U.S.-Australia-New Zealand), and Article 5 of NATO (an attack on one is an attack on all). Nemo couldn’t be bothered to calculate how many countries would rush to fight the PLA. Surely more than eight.
The aftermath of the meteor shower left the world in ruins, as if a series of nuclear bombs had detonated—some regions lay in a post-apocalyptic desolation, while others appeared largely untouched. In the United States, beyond the major cities, many areas remained isolated, dependent on local networks. Bandwidth and microwave communications were strictly rationed, allocated only to local governments and specific institutions.
A classified document intercepted by British intelligence revealed that Zhongnanhai had plotted to launch nuclear strikes on major Western cities immediately after the meteor shower. Naturally, the CCP officially denied this. The revelation, however, fueled angry Americans’ belief that the Meteor Shower Event was another CCP blunder—like the global coronavirus pandemic. Speculation swirled that the mysterious objects would not have disintegrated had China not covertly launched several JL-3 ballistic missiles from nuclear submarines to destroy them. The resulting explosion caused the catastrophe.
Democratic nations scrambled to restore flights and communications, partly to protect their urban centers and key industries. When Nemo woke up at the airport, the technological gap didn’t initially seem too vast. But he later realized that even urban areas had regions set back decades in an instant—let alone the areas outside cities.
Now, the U.S. lay in a strange, wounded-beast state, preparing for its next presidential election while fiercely debating not whether to go to war but when. They continued their “acknowledge but don’t recognize” stance on Taiwan’s autonomy. The U.S. military was active in the First Island Chain again, under the guise of “freedom of navigation” and “military exercises.” The U.S., poorer and more chaotic than before, urgently needed unity and revitalization. The old saying was true: Once the cannons roar, gold flows freely.
In Washington, the government was frantically probing the status of superhumans worldwide while engaging in a meteorite research race against the CCP. The U.S.’s broader affected regions meant a greater variety of samples, Private funding is unrestricted, allowing for a broader range of research to be explored without limitations. Underground experiments flourished.
This, however, didn’t signal a sudden shift in the CCP’s respect for human rights. Much like their relentless fixation on chip manufacturing, many of these projects eventually collapsed after consuming vast amounts of government funding.
“Taiwan won’t remain as the Chinese Independent State for long. Western countries will definitely want to reclaim TSMC and its supply chain, especially since Taiwan miraculously avoided the meteor shower’s compound disasters. Winter is coming—time for China to fracture! God bless.” Alone, Nemo gazed upward as he spoke. Though he had no religion, praying to Jehovah might be more effective in the U.S., he thought.
“Also, it’d be nice to find a meteorite fragment. I could use a little luck.” The curly-haired youth clenched his fist, motivating himself. He’d even brought aluminum foil—proper packing would mitigate radiation exposure.
As dawn broke and the dense mist receded, Nemo packed up his sleeping bag and tent, then ventured deeper into the forest. His figure blended into the blue-green woods, the interplay of light and shadow.
Taiwan has a mountainous terrain, with the mid-level mountains being damp and foggy. The forests around Lone Star City are perfect for him to practice observing the environment and adapting to the battlefield. Although the herbs and edible plant species may differ, the accumulated experience can still be transferable. Simply put, it’s a way to build courage while familiarizing himself with survival gear. Once he’s in combat, military skills will be taught naturally, and at worst, as long as he survives, he’d pick up something useful.
For now, Nemo wasn’t considering joining the U.S. military. If the Taiwanese independence war occurred sooner than expected, being tied to a military contract would hinder his freedom to act.
As a seasoned online gamer, the curly-haired youth valued the principle of gradual leveling. Fulfilling one’s professional role was paramount, and exploring the map solo was fundamental to survival. Nemo had overestimated his capabilities—spending just a day and night in the forest, without hunger or thirst, left him already longing for rooftops and running water.
Wanting comfort wasn’t a bad thing, was it? After all, war breaks people. There was no need to drive himself to insanity before the fighting began. Maintaining mental agility was essential to prevent cracking under pressure too early. Maybe next time, he could try a 20-hour fast in the wild, gradually increasing the difficulty to acclimate his body and mind to stress.
But—he really wanted fried chicken cutlet!
If Nemo were in Taiwan now, he’d definitely join the crowd outside the Presidential Office, eating his fill before coordinating with the U.S. military. When he got back, he’d mix batter, tenderize some chicken breasts, and fry up some cutlets to thank Sunny Jie for lending him her car. It’d also be a chance to show his colleagues what real Taiwanese hard currency looked like!
Nemo continued forward. There were no glowing mushroom rings or mysteriously vanished equipment. The path underfoot was just a managed hiking trail through sparse woods. He resolved to press on; it wasn’t time to turn back yet.
He quickly learned that balancing foraging with environmental observation limited his progress.
A flash of white near the roots of a tree caught his eye. Nemo’s eyelid twitched. It was an unconscious human body.
A tall, naked man lay face down on the ground, his face buried in one arm, black hair covering one side of his face. Whether he was dead or alive was unclear.