The prodigal soul has returned; let us have a brief chat.

Thanks to everyone’s concern. Normal updates will resume tomorrow. Today I want to chat with you about what has happened these past few days and share a few thoughts.

There is no need to dwell on the details; I imagine most of you already know roughly what happened. The city where I live was struck by torrential rain, which caused power outages and water shortages, so I have not been able to update recently. First, I want to say I am sorry.

Under this downpour, many deeply moving things happened. When one place is in trouble, aid comes from all directions. What happens around us is far more stirring than anything in the news.

For example, the excavators shuttling people back and forth downstairs every day, the articulated trucks arriving loaded with supplies, the cars soaked in floodwater, the children playing in the water on the roadway.

I can only say that I live in a city that is both tough and stubborn. The impact of this storm here was relatively small, though the stories of flash floods and collapses not far away could still be heard from time to time.

I will not speak of the large-scale rescue efforts in society at large; the news has already said far too much about those. It is not something I can sum up in a few words. I can only say this: I have no regrets about being born into this nation, and for immense kindness there is no need for thanks.

What left the deepest impression on me was actually the twenty-first. Yes, not the twentieth, when the rain in Zhengzhou was at its fiercest and most violent, but the twenty-first.

On the evening of the twentieth, rain had fallen all day, and the road home from work at night was especially hard to travel. In the morning, on my way to work, my car nearly ended up submerged in floodwater already as deep as the hood, which really shook me. But after checking the map, I finally decided to take another route home.

I made it back safely, though not without some danger, and parked the car in the basement. But as soon as I got home, I received a notice saying that the Jialu River near our home might need to release floodwaters that night, so everyone had to be ready to evacuate at any moment. Then came the water outage and the power outage. Some coworkers sent videos showing their entire village moving sandbags and fighting the flood along the riverbank.

At the time, I deeply resented that our residential complex had no organization for such an emergency. Otherwise, we would not have been so anxious at home, powerless and uneasy. Even doing something was better than doing nothing.

Still, what I was thinking in the end was that I might not be able to go to work the next day. I finally fell asleep after two in the morning. Before dawn, because it was still raining, the sky remained dark. It was a little after six. In the dim light, I could see some standing water on the road below, but I did not think much of it, since there was still no water in the complex. By seven-thirty, when the sky had brightened a little, I could finally see that the water on the road was murky and filthy. It was obvious it was not rainwater. I realized it might be river water washed out by the flood release the night before. Looking farther out, I saw that the Jialu River had already overflowed its banks and risen level with the road.

Only then did I begin to feel a little panic. I took an umbrella and walked downstairs to see what was happening. There was no way I was going to work. Not for any amount of money. Then I joked with my wife that at least we lived on a low floor; otherwise, if we were on the thirty-third floor, how would we ever get down? After that, I reached the ground floor.

There were many people there. Although it was still raining, it had become much lighter, which made everyone less frantic. I thought to myself that this would soon pass.

Then I saw that bottled water had become the most sought-after supply. It was not a scene of wild scrambling; people were still fairly orderly as they bought what they needed. Bottled water, instant noodles—before long, one shop after another had sold out completely, leaving only soft drinks.

Fortunately, my wife found a box of instant noodles tucked away in a corner, and she had also happened to order a box of bottled water online before the rain began. That kept me from starving during those days without power or water. I am grateful to my clever and capable wife.

The rain continued all day without stopping, though it had lessened considerably. The floodwater downstairs grew deeper and deeper. In the morning it had reached my calves; by afternoon it had risen to my thighs. But this was not because of the rain itself—it was the river overflowing.

Then some residents argued with the property management downstairs, saying they needed to move their cars out of the basement and onto the residential grounds. They certainly could not be left on the road, and the basement itself was also at risk of flooding. Everyone was worried, and so an argument broke out.

In the end, the owners had to sign a liability waiver before their cars could be parked on a relatively higher step in the courtyard. The waiver was handwritten; I filled one out as well. But when I looked at the long line of cars and then at the few remaining spaces on the ground level of the complex, I stuffed the form into my pocket and left.

At the time, I was thinking that if the river really surged over and flooded everything, parking up there might not make any difference anyway. Worse still, if the cars were packed too closely together and crashed into one another, the damage might be even greater. My own parking space was deep inside, and the underground garage was so large that it might not even be reached by the water. If it truly did flood, there was nothing I could do.

And so I spent the whole night awake. The even heavier rain that had been forecast never came to Zhengzhou; instead, it moved north and fell on Xinxiang. I do not know how to describe what I felt then.

Zhengzhou was fortunate, Xinxiang unfortunate. If both storms had fallen on Zhengzhou, the losses would at least have multiplied by tens of times, because there was truly nowhere left for all that water to go. The rivers had already overflowed; if more rain had come, then only the streets and alleys would have been left to bear it.

And yet, having lived through such a deluge myself, I also felt deep concern for Xinxiang. Their water-control system was already not as strong as Zhengzhou’s, and the situation they faced may well have been even more severe. In an instant, gratitude and guilt filled my heart. Gratitude that the rain had fallen on Zhengzhou; guilt for having such thoughts, and for feeling sorry toward neighboring victims.

Zhengzhou recovered quickly. In just a few days, the accumulated water had been mostly cleared. The most eye-catching disaster was the metro Line 5, but because I was not among those trapped, I cannot offer you a firsthand perspective.

Still, beyond the subway, there were flooded tunnels, flash-flood collapses, and people trapped inside residential compounds for forty-eight hours without food.

Yesterday I went to the company and heard that two coworkers had gone missing, and the police had been called. Fortunately, they were found. They had gone three days without eating, drinking only a little water, their faces pale and their bodies trembling. For a moment, I did not know what to say.

Only then did I realize that the people suffering in this storm were right beside me.

Another coworker raised a question that made all of us think. A road had collapsed. Two people were desperately pulling another person to safety, while many others stood at a distance watching without stepping forward to help. Then the ground where those two rescuers were standing suddenly collapsed as well. All three fell in, and contact was lost. The people standing far away were still filming and watching.

This was a real incident that happened in Zhengzhou, and there was video evidence. He said the people watching were unbearably cold-hearted. I asked him in return: if everyone had rushed in to rescue them at that moment, would the collapse have become even worse? Would everyone have fallen in, with no one surviving? On what grounds could one blame them?

He thought for a moment and said, but those two rescuers were so pitiful, so innocent. They should not have died.

I said, then who do you think should have died?

He said, the first person who fell should not have been rescued. Then those two people would not have died.

I fell silent for a moment, then said: in this disaster, who was supposed to die? If everyone truly thought the way you do, then who would rescue Zhengzhou?

No one in this disaster deserved to die. So those who survived should remember that some admirable, selfless people risked their lives to save you. These people are heroes. They are benefactors.