April 8th on the doomsday calendar marked humanity's ninety-eighth day on the wasteland, leaving an eleven-day countdown before the long winter arrived.
Only two days remained until they hit the hundred-day milestone of being suddenly ripped from the civilized world and thrown back into the savage wilderness.
Starting at six in the morning, the temperature dropped slightly once again.
The newly risen Chaoyang in the sky offered as little warmth as a refrigerator light.
Like most ordinary days, this day brought no visible improvements in the eyes of the surviving humans. It caused no ripples in their stagnant lives.
They still had to work at sunrise and rest at sunset, repeating the exact same tasks they finished yesterday just to struggle for survival.
To them, tomorrow and the future were still luxurious concepts.
But shifting the view to the basin, this day brought a "small" change.
