Adding a physical thruster wasn't really a big deal. In an emergency, the bone dragon could suddenly stretch and retract to create a burst of force, launching someone a few meters away. It was meant to help when you were stuck in a tight spot.
Things like that were the kind of backup you hoped you'd never need, but Jing Shu couldn't take chances. She was about to spend several months away from home, and she had to plan thoroughly. What if an earthquake hit while she was gone? Her family needed to know exactly what to do, and she had to prepare things in advance, like trackers and emergency distress devices for everyone.
She'd thought of plenty of methods. Like using jet equipment to escape quickly, but come on, you couldn't exactly bring rocket launchers to work or the market. She also considered tying people to hydrogen balloons to float them out, but that'd take at least dozens of kilos of hydrogen. Way too much trouble. That trick might work for herself, though, so she decided to prep it as a backup.
All those pre-apocalypse earthquake guides were useless now. Like hiding in a bathroom because it was less likely to collapse, not jumping from a building, waiting for rescue teams. None of that worked anymore.
In the apocalypse, there were no rescue teams. Once a building collapsed, you were buried. Nobody came to dig you out, unless scavengers showed up later to strip your corpse for clothes.
So if an earthquake hit, your only hope was to grab a bedsheet or rope and jump. That was the only shot at survival.
If outside protection was a must, Jing Shu wasn't the type to leave things vague. She even drew up diagrams, planning to build extra safety gear with Grandpa Jing when a real quake came. She was sure he'd put his back into it when the time came.
And besides physical defenses, there was one little trick to predict quakes.
Science still couldn't forecast earthquakes, but over the past year, every quake had been accompanied by thunder and lightning. People said quakes always brought storms, but that wasn't really true.
Thunder and lightning were weather. Earthquakes came from the earth itself.
What actually happened was different. Every quake was preceded by a deafening rumble that rattled your eardrums, like a massive iron hammer slamming into your chest. And outside, blinding flashes lit up the night.
That wasn't thunder or lightning at all. It was earthquake light and earthquake sound, phenomena tied to the tremors themselves.
Put simply, if the world around you suddenly turned bright as day, don't hesitate. Run, as fast as you possibly can. Three or four seconds later, the deafening roar would explode, and if the sound was painfully loud and the light terrifyingly bright, you were close to the epicenter. That meant you had to sprint like your life depended on it, because in just two minutes, the ground would rip open. Massive cracks would swallow the land, tearing and crushing everything around.
There was time to reach open ground, but most people froze and got swallowed alive before they even realized what was happening.
Jing Shu decided she had to teach her family this method. A few more quakes, and they'd gain experience. She herself had lived through hundreds, enough to tell by sound and light whether it was worth running. She wasn't always right, but she was accurate eight times out of ten. Still, she never underestimated the danger. No matter the size of the quake, her rule was simple: get far from the epicenter, stay on open ground. That was the safest choice. Well, except for the risk of the ground splitting beneath your feet as you ran.
Oh, and she also dug out all the earplugs, earmuffs, and protective films she'd hoarded before the apocalypse. They couldn't block sound completely, but they cut it by more than half, which was enough to protect her ears. More importantly, it meant she could finally sleep. Otherwise, those thunderous roars went on all night, like explosions right by your ear. Who could sleep through that? A shock like that could scare someone into a heart attack.
In her past life, she didn't have proper gear, so she'd stuffed rags into her ears. After months of that endless roaring, she'd gone half-deaf. Later, people had to shout just to get her to understand.
By the third year of the apocalypse, conversations went like this:
"What? What did you say?"
"What's the cafeteria serving today?"
"Oh, I'm not eating."
"You said mushrooms?"
"Yeah, I already ate."
Everything was mixed up, never matching. That's why protecting her ears was essential.
As for supplies, her biggest harvest this year was filling most of her Cube Space with cooked food. Almost everything had been disguised and processed, so it'd be easier to take out later.
Grandma Jing's silkworms had produced enough silk for another set of clothes. Jing Shu had stashed away plenty more silk in her space. Once the big quake hit, raising silkworms wouldn't be possible, so Grandma Jing and Zijin could handle clothing production then.
Her tobacco had been harvested twice. With Grandpa Jing's help, she'd turned it into cigars. Combined with the ones stored in her space, there still weren't many. They sold out instantly at auctions for 500 each, almost rivaling blood mushrooms in value. She planned to grow another batch.
The cotton she planted had been fluffed into usable fiber. Zijin wanted to weave cloth from it, but it was all half-manual work that strained the eyes, so progress was slow.
Daily necessities were already covered. The real question was what to bring on her trip to the US, and how to bring it. She couldn't expose the secret of her Cube Space. Someone like Yang Yang, who noticed the tiniest details, would spot something off immediately. She couldn't just keep pulling items from her pockets like some stage magician.
So whatever she brought, she had to actually carry. Still, it was smarter to prepare a backup plan.
Weapons, food, survival gear, those were non-negotiable.
She handed a bulletproof vest to Zijin, asking her to remodel it into a thick cotton coat like the ones in the northeast. Zijin spent three days sewing, then looked at her with a weird expression. "This coat weighs over ten kilos. Wearing it feels like strapping an iron block to your back. If it rains and it soaks up water, Boss, I can't help thinking of that story about the donkey carrying a sponge across the river."
Jing Shu sighed. "…Fine. You and your big mouth. I'll use it my way."
Wearing that twenty-kilo armored coat gave her an unmatched sense of security. She ate, slept, and lived in it without taking it off. Naturally, the bulletproof helmet had to stay too, but she'd modified it into a cowboy hat style. It was all part of her permanent outfit now.
Her strength was one of her few natural advantages, so she had to use it well. The next day, she got Grandpa Jing to forge steel greaves and wrist guards, sewing them into her clothes to create a "leather-steel" blend that fit her body perfectly. The weight was just right, and she didn't even feel it.
For emergencies, she could still wear the combat suit Yang Yang had given her. But for everyday life, this armored outfit with double-layer protection kept her safety at the top.