Several dozen days had passed, though autumn had yet to arrive, the chill in the air was already palpable. Each day, Song Yuneian tuned into the radio, noticing a significant reduction in the number of stations. Frequencies he used to frequent now fell silent, likely overrun by the undead, he surmised.
Surviving broadcasters reported from their locations, announcing the onset of snow. Nuclear winter had arrived; vegetation withered, sunlight veiled by nuclear dust, its warmth seemingly forever elusive. A gentle reminder: the snow and rain of nuclear winter carry radiation; refrain from venturing outside!
Closing the radio, Song Yuneian stood by the window, gazing upwards. All that met his eyes was a somber canopy of clouds, the once azure sky and billowing clouds now absent.
Returning t
