Saturday lunch at my parents' apartment smelled like chili oil and nostalgia.
The hotpot pot bubbled in the center of the table, steam fogging the windows. My father hovered with a ladle, insisting everyone take "just one more" piece of meat. My mother fussed over side dishes. The local news murmured in the background.
Danny showed up late, as usual, hair damp from a rushed shower, laptop bag slung over his shoulder.
"Sorry, sorry," he said, dropping into a chair. "We pushed a hotfix this morning and—"
"No work at the table," my mother scolded. "You can code after you eat."
He grinned. "Yes, ma'am."
Ryan was already fishing for fish balls in the broth. Lily was scrolling on her phone surreptitiously under the table, thinking I didn't notice.
Alex poured tea, sliding my father his favorite cup without asking.
For a moment, it was easy to pretend nothing was wrong with the world.
Then the news anchor's voice cut through the familial noise.
"—images have been circulating online of strange lights in the night sky over several major cities. Experts suggest these may be related to ongoing ionospheric disturbances, but stress there is no immediate danger to the public—"
My mother clicked her tongue and muted the TV.
"Always something to scare people," she said. "Eat, eat. Before it gets cold."
I watched the silent footage replay on the screen: grainy videos of greenish curtains of light flickering over skyscrapers. Comments scrolling fast: #alieninvasion #worldending #nofilter.
Lily caught my eye, then glanced at the screen, then back to me.
"You saw that too?" she murmured.
"We'll talk later," I said softly.
She nodded, face shuttering.
My father, oblivious, lifted the ladle.
"Evie, more meat," he said. "You're too thin. Alex, you too. Working too hard, both of you."
"We're fine, Dad," I said, but accepted the extra slice anyway.
"So," my mother said, eyes bright. "This countryside place you're buying. Tell us everything."
There it was.
I set my chopsticks down.
"It's about an hour and a half out," I said. "Near the old mines. Good soil. River access. Lots of trees. I thought… it might be nice to have somewhere quiet. For weekends. For when you and Dad want to get away from the city."
Her face softened.
"You did this for us?" she said.
"Partly," I said. "Partly as an investment. But mostly… I think it would be good to have options. If something happens here."
Danny snorted.
"You sound like those prepper guys on YouTube," he said. "What, you think society's going to collapse because the sky's a little weird?"
"Danny," my mother chided. "Don't make fun of your sister."
"I'm not," he said, holding up his hands. "I'm just saying, if the world ends, my app won't matter anymore, so I might as well enjoy the grind while it lasts."
He grinned, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. He'd seen the same videos. Read the same headlines.
"Humor is a coping mechanism," the System noted dryly.
[FAMILY MEMBER: DANNY SHEN]
[ADAPTABILITY: HIGH]
[DENIAL: MODERATE]
[SURVIVAL PROBABILITY (ASSISTED): 78%]
"I don't think the world's going to end," I said, choosing my words carefully. "But I do think it's…smart to have a place with clean water, land, and some distance from the chaos. Natural disasters, power outages, anything."
"You've been reading too many disaster novels," my father said, but his tone was fond. "Still, countryside is good. I grew up in the country. Your mother too. Maybe when you're all tired of your city jobs, we'll go and grow vegetables together."
He laughed, imagining a retirement fantasy.
He had no idea how close that was to my plan.
"Speaking of vegetables," my mother said, brightening. "Will there be space for a garden? I've always wanted to grow my own chili peppers again."
"There will be plenty of space," I said. "Actually, I was thinking… once things are set up, maybe you could move there. At least part-time. Less pollution. Fewer stairs."
She waved a hand.
"Oh, I'm not that old," she said. "And we have friends here. The market. Your mahjong aunties."
The System pulsed.
[RELOCATION RESISTANCE: 64%]
[RECOMMENDATION: SLOW ACCLIMATION]
"Not now," I said quickly. "In a few months. Just… keep it in mind."
She eyed me.
"You sound serious," she said.
"I am," I replied.
We ate in relative silence for a few minutes.
Then Lily spoke up.
"Grandma," she said, "if Mom buys a farm, can we have goats?"
Ryan's head snapped up.
"Goats?" he squeaked. "For real?"
My mother laughed.
"Why not?" she said. "When I was your age, we had chickens and ducks and one very bad-tempered goat."
"See?" Lily said. "Grandma approves. We should all move. I'll run the goat division."
Ryan thumped the table, eyes shining.
"I'll build a space base on the farm," he declared. "We'll be the first farm in space."
Alex chuckled.
"Ambitious."
As they spun fantasies about goats and treehouses and "space farms," the tension in the room eased.
I let them talk, adding comments here and there, painting the base in gentle colors: sunsets, fresh air, a big kitchen, a garden.
I didn't mention reinforced walls. Or watchtowers. Or how many cubic meters of storage we'd need for water if the river turned poisonous.
Later, as we were leaving, Danny pulled me aside in the hallway.
"Hey," he said, voice lower. "You really think things are going to get…bad?"
I studied his face.
"In our lifetime?" I asked. "Yes."
He shifted, uneasy.
"And this land thing," he said. "It's not just a retirement dream, is it?"
"No," I said. "It's a contingency. A serious one."
He blew out a breath.
"Alright," he said. "You've got this look in your eye like when you told me to sell that stock before it crashed. I'll trust your crazy. Just… tell me when it's actually time to pack a bag, okay?"
Warmth spread through my chest.
"I will," I said.
The System chimed.
[DANNY SHEN – TRUST LEVEL: INCREASED]
[EVACUATION COMPLIANCE LIKELIHOOD: 82%]
[+10 SURVIVAL POINTS]
SP: 115.
As we stepped out into the hallway, the muted TV in the living room flickered.
The same silent footage of green auroras played again, looping.
The sky above the city, already changing.