125: Chapter 125 The Gate Remains Unyielding

The yellow line behind the warehouse door had already spread to half the height of a person.

It no longer looked like the easily visible boundary on the ground, but rather a thin, glowing film clinging between the shelves.

Whenever a cardboard box, storage bag, or medicine cart passed by, the film would tremble slightly, as if it were assigning a number to every item.

When Chen Fu sat in the driver's seat of the forklift, Lin Zhao was still outside the door.

"You come out," Lin Zhao said.

"The shelves aren't jammed."

"I'll go in and jam them."

"Do you know how to drive this?"

Lin Zhao was choked by the question.

Chen Fu started the forklift, and the fork arms slowly lifted. He didn't look at Lin Zhao, only staring at the row of shelves in the deepest part where the storage boxes were kept.

"The third row cannot fall," he said. "Inside aren't tickets, but photos and keepsakes. If they get crushed, no one will be able to tell whose is whose."

"You're still worrying about that now?"

"The more it is 'now,' the more it must be taken care of."

Chen Fu drove the forklift into the edge of the yellow line. When the wheels pressed over the ground, there was no sound of rubber friction; instead, it sounded like a bus pulling onto a wet platform. The broadcast rang out from the warehouse ceiling.

"Substitute passengers, please board."

Chen Fu ignored it.

He shifted the first row of shelves half a meter, then used the fork arms to brace against the second row of steel frames. The aisle originally left between the shelves was blocked off by him bit by bit, and the yellow line was cut off by the steel frames, winding around to both sides.

Tang Zhiwei was outside directing the evacuation.

The wounded from the medical area, the Candidates in the observation room, and the ordinary people temporarily settled there were walking out along the passage dragged out by the Tyrannosaurus King. Zheng Xiang led the street coordinators to confirm one by one; whose medicine wasn't taken, whose phone was forgotten in the ward, whose elderly family member was unsteady on their feet—there was someone watching over everything.

No one knew if the Safe House could be held.

But at least for now, no one would turn back for a pair of slippers, half a box of medicine, or a photograph.

Xu Minglan was the last person to come out of the medical area. She saw Zhao Haiming still sitting on the corridor chair, clutching a prescription list, refusing to move.

"Let's go."

Zhao Haiming shook his head: "My daughter is still inside."

"She has already boarded."

Zhao Haiming looked up abruptly.

"Which one?"

Xu Minglan handed him his phone. On the screen was a voice message his daughter had just sent: "Dad, I'm at the intersection with Uncle Zheng and the others. Don't wander around."

Zhao Haiming stared at that voice message, his eyes turning red instantly.

He stood up and followed Xu Minglan out.

In the warehouse, Chen Fu parked the forklift sideways in the narrowest aisle.

The yellow line hit the front bumper of the forklift, and the vehicle body shook violently. The dashboard went completely dark, then lit up the next second with a row of carriage seat numbers.

One to thirty-six.

Chen Fu glanced at it, reached out, and slapped the dashboard off.

"Don't assign seats for me."

Lin Zhao stood outside the door, his voice tight: "Come out!"

Chen Fu did not turn back.

The row of shelves in the deepest part was shaking. Behind it was the critical opening connecting to the main line of the warehouse door; once it collapsed, the yellow line would rush directly out of the Safe House.

He backed the forklift up and wedged the rear of the vehicle tightly against the shelves.

"Sister Tang."

Over the walkie-talkie, Tang Zhiwei immediately replied: "I'm here."

"Are all the people out?"

"Two more to go."

"Who?"

"Luo Ping and an elderly person with limited mobility."

Chen Fu was silent for a moment.

"Make Luo Ping carry them."

Tang Zhiwei seemed stunned on the other end.

Soon, Luo Ping's panting voice came through: "I'm already carrying them! Don't rush me!"

Chen Fu heard this, and the corners of his mouth twitched.

"Alright."

The yellow line tightened abruptly.

The rear wheels of the forklift were dragged half an inch off the ground, and the entire driver's cabin tilted forward. Chen Fu pressed hard on the brakes, the seatbelt digging into his chest painfully.

"How about now?" he asked.

Tang Zhiwei did not answer immediately.

She was confirming whether the last two people had left the Safe House.

At the end of the corridor, Luo Ping stumbled across the edge of the Guardian Lamp with the elderly person on his back. Zheng Xiang grabbed them and shouted into the walkie-talkie.

"They're out!"

Tang Zhiwei's voice finally sounded.

"Everyone is out."

Chen Fu closed his eyes for a moment.

"That's good then."

In front of the forklift, the yellow line swallowed half of the fork arms.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The reversing alarm rang incessantly in the warehouse.

Chen Fu was trapped inside the yellow line.

After Chen Fu braced the shelves, Tang Zhiwei did not let everyone immediately retreat far away.

She knew that once the Safe House was completely empty, the abnormality would make it even easier to write this building as an ownerless platform. So, she left behind the few people with the most stable Guardian Lamps, moving the lights to the outer corridor, as if leaving a path for the evacuees that wouldn't lead them astray.

Xu Minglan was responsible for watching the wounded and Zhao Haiming, while Li Xi stayed outside the safety line with a few children. Zheng Xiang counted the people back and forth; by the third count, he discovered a little girl was missing.

She hadn't been taken away.

She had turned back to find her schoolbag.

Zheng Xiang's expression changed instantly. Just as he was about to rush in, Luo Ping ran out from the other side, with the schoolbag hanging on his back and the child held in his arms.

"She said her mother's photo was in the schoolbag," Luo Ping panted heavily.

Zheng Xiang took the child, wanting to scold but unable to bring himself to do it.

"Next time, call for help first."

Luo Ping nodded, his face as white as paper.

The yellow line jerked violently inside the warehouse door. Chen Fu's forklift was dragged forward, and the storage boxes on top of the shelves began to fall.

Lin Zhao stood outside the door, watching the silhouette inside being cut intermittently by the gray-white light. He heard Chen Fu call his name.

"Lin Zhao."

"I'm here."

"The blue box I mentioned earlier, the key isn't on my waist."

Lin Zhao was stunned.

Chen Fu coughed inside, as if choked by dust.

"It's in the second drawer of my workstation. Don't make Sister Tang search for ages."

At a time like this, he was still worrying about where the key was; Lin Zhao's chest felt tight.

"Come out and get it yourself."

Chen Fu didn't reply.

The Guardian Lamp outside was suddenly blown by the wind until it was almost against the ground.

Tang Zhiwei listened to the sound of the forklift being dragged from outside the door, suddenly recalling when Chen Fu first joined Torch, he had only asked one question: whether the storage boxes needed to be waterproof. At the time, no one thought this silent warehouse keeper could do anything significant.

Now, he sat alone in the vehicle, relying on his familiarity with the shelves, aisles, and weights, wedging a rule behind the door.

This shouldn't be written as heroism.

Tang Zhiwei knew very clearly that Chen Fu just knew better than anyone else what would get crushed if something fell, and who would be killed if a certain door opened.

Precisely because of that, it was even more painful.

She picked up the walkie-talkie, her voice very low: "Chen Fu, listen to me. The people outside have all left. You don't need to hold on for another second."

There was no answer from inside.

After a moment, Chen Fu finally said: "I know."

But the sound of the forklift's engine was still there.

He did not release the brakes.

No one outside the door had gone far. They stood behind the Guardian Lamp, listening to that forklift being dragged by the yellow line bit by bit, until finally, even the sound of the engine became intermittent.

Luo Ping stood at the end of the corridor, listening to the sound of the forklift fading away bit by bit, and suddenly wiped the sweat from his back. He did not approach the warehouse door, only turning back to confirm that the elderly person and the child had already passed the Guardian Lamp. What Chen Fu had given them was not just an exit.