When it comes to naming earthquakes, Japan is without rival. Its experience in this field is unmatched.
Thanks to its location at the meeting point of the Eurasian and Pacific tectonic plates, Japan experiences nearly 5,000 earthquakes a year, according to incomplete statistics.
They say long illness makes a good doctor, and Japan has developed a comprehensive earthquake response system. Even so, tremors above magnitude five still occur roughly 1.5 times a year.
No matter how prepared they are, infrastructure shuts down instantly when disaster hits. This time, the Ishikari earthquake's shockwave reached as far as Kitahiroshima. Sapporo, only thirty kilometers away, was even more vulnerable.
So yes, even if the crew had stayed in Sapporo this week, they could have ended up trapped too.
The main building of Ryotei Kuramura had decent quake resistance, but its foundation did not. The ground split like torn black paper, leaving one side of the structure collapsed, the other half barely standing.
Staff inside the control room and logistics were mostly trapped. Some guests blacked out immediately, others huddled trembling in dark corners.
"I'm screwed. This is it for me," muttered Zhou Guowu as he saw the ceiling shadow lurch above him. It had to be the main beam. He regretted everything. Why had he even agreed to this show? Now he might die for it.
Pain snapped him back. The beam had missed, but shattered glass from the chandelier had sliced his arm. He staggered upright, crimson dripping down his skin, his tailbone throbbing from the fall.
The room had become a jagged triangle, the only surviving corner braced by a wardrobe. Wires dangled like slashed arteries, cracked wood beams like splintered bones. The structure felt like a dismembered body.
From above came the creaking of doom.
Creeeak... creeeak...
The ceiling strained under its own weight, the sound like a death knell in Zhou Guowu's ears.
The hotel had two floors. First floor housed the lobby, dining area, and gym. The second was for guests and crew. Cold sweat soaked Zhou Guowu's bangs. He didn't know whether it was from pain or fear.
Looking through a crack in the broken floor, he could see the front desk below.
Driven by the worsening creaks, he took a few unsteady steps. The floor gave out like sugar-glazed candy under his feet.
Bang.
Crack.
Splinter.
"No good. I should wait for help, but this place won't wait," Zhou Guowu muttered. If the wardrobe gave out, he'd be flattened. And he wasn't alone. His pet lizard, housed in a clear plastic box on the wardrobe, was still up there.
"Where's the rescue team? When are they coming?" he shouted. No answer. Just silence.
Clutching the lizard's box, Zhou Guowu cursed everyone under his breath. This was all Zhang Li's fault. That woman was a walking disaster. She had recommended this show.
Zhang Li was his manager—and she was trapped too.
"Stupid iQIYI... choosing this cursed place in this cursed country. No wonder you lose money every year."
He mentally cursed everyone for over an hour until he suddenly heard a familiar voice.
"Zhou Guowu, are you there?"
What the hell?
He thought he was hallucinating. Must be the pain. Why else would he hear the voice of someone he disliked and envied?
"Wait... do I not hate Chu Zhi after all?" His mind spun, but the voice came again, clear and close.
Zhou Guowu looked down and saw him—Chu Zhi, standing on the ground floor.
"I'm here! I'm alive!" he shouted, afraid the voice would vanish if he didn't respond quickly. "Teacher Chu, I'm up here!"
"No rescue team yet," Chu Zhi called up. "But I found an A-frame ladder. I'll set it up for you. Be careful climbing down."
A-frame ladders didn't need support. They were a disaster-prep essential in Japanese hotels because leaning against post-quake walls could trigger further collapse.
Relief surged through Zhou Guowu, followed immediately by fear. What if he slipped? What if the ladder gave way?
"Don't worry. Just move slowly. I've already helped several people down safely."
Chu Zhi's voice again, calm and firm.
"I'll... try," Zhou Guowu said, hesitant. He glanced at the lizard box, hesitated, then left it behind.
Step by shaking step, he descended. When both feet touched the floor, it felt as solid as curling up under a warm blanket during winter break.
"Kobayashi, take Zhou Guowu to the safe zone," said Chu Zhi.
"Got it," said the cameraman. Though he had mostly stayed behind the lens, Kobayashi helped when he could, albeit with hesitation.
He felt obligated to film everything now. Whether it was ethical or not, he told himself both the Yellow River and the Ganges could justify it.
"Let's go, Mr. Zhou," Kobayashi said.
The lizard was still upstairs. Zhou Guowu told himself it might be safer there anyway. He bit his lip and forced the thought aside.
Even in the safety zone, Zhou Guowu kept glancing back. Each time he turned, he saw Chu Zhi hauling the ladder toward another location, gripping a hand-drawn hotel map, heading off to rescue more people.
"Teacher Chu..." he murmured, unsure what he even wanted to ask.
"Teacher Chu is worried about the guests and staff. That's why he's doing this," Kobayashi said.
"But..."
"It's dangerous, yes. Aftershocks could hit any moment. And even without them, this building might collapse further. But because he knows that, he insists on going." Kobayashi seemed to read his thoughts.
Zhou Guowu had assumed Chu Zhi's kindness was fake, just an act. After all, he could act too.
But you couldn't fake this. Risking your life for others, thinking only of them, throwing yourself into danger for no reward... that wasn't acting. That was foolish. Beautifully foolish.
He thought of that girl from university again. She barely had money but still bought him gifts, thinking it would make him love her more.
~ "Did you really think... a gift could fix love?" ~
The safe zone was the open space from earlier. Over twenty people had gathered, including more than a dozen staff members who had been outdoors during the quake and were mostly unharmed.
Chu Zhi had rescued seven so far. Zhang Ning's arm was broken. Cai Jia had a gash on her forehead. Lao Qian's injuries were worst, a thick wooden splinter having pierced his arm.
If Chu Zhi hadn't gotten them out in time, and Dr. Du hadn't treated them, the outcome could've been much worse.
Everyone wore the face of disaster. Earthquakes might not be as lethal as wars, but their destruction was no less terrifying.
Outside Japan's city centers, most homes were made of wood. One reason was that wooden structures caused fewer injuries when they collapsed.
Two hours passed. Chu Zhi had rescued more than a dozen. His bravery inspired others. Uninjured staff stepped up to help.
No one had the right to demand others risk their lives, which was why Chu Zhi's initiative was so extraordinary. Acts like his were why people respected soldiers so deeply.
Kobayashi, his camera rolling, caught every frame.
To the crew, Chu Zhi looked like a selfless hero, risking everything.
Inside, he was grinning.
His system pinged with rewards.
[King of the World](Saving a life equals saving the world. You are more real than a truck driver protagonist.)
Saved 1 life: 1 Personality Coin ★
Saved 3 lives: 2 Personality Coins ★
Saved 20 lives: 5 Personality Coins ★
Saved 50 lives: 6 Personality Coins ★
With the new batch of coins added to his existing total, Chu Zhi had eighteen coins—more than his previous high of sixteen. Each was worth ten million. He had just made 150 million.
The money numbed his pain. He didn't rest. Ladder on his back, arms scraped, breath ragged, he kept going, more energized than ever.
Wouldn't you do the same for ten million a person, guaranteed safety, and good karma?
Night fell.
"Teacher Chu, would you like to take a break? Most have been rescued. Let us handle the rest of the final check," said a staffer in a cat-ear hoodie.
Chu Zhi shook his head. Too tired to speak, but not too tired to keep going.
He had rescued 26 people. Maybe he could push for 50. Including agents and crew, the team had over 70 people.
It was a bold dream.
Reality had other plans.
Sirens wailed. Official Japanese rescue teams had arrived. One group had collapsible cranes and search dogs. Another brought large cases filled with cameras and rock-cutting gear. All wore matching red-orange uniforms.
A loudspeaker blared instructions in Japanese, Chinese, and English: "We have set up temporary tents. Please follow the rescue staff holding blue flags in an orderly fashion."
Four hours had passed since the quake. Ishikari's tremor had affected eleven cities. Even the team dispatched from Hokkaido was stretched thin.
Chu Zhi's early efforts had made all the difference. Thanks to his initiative, many trapped people had been pulled out, injuries treated, and lives saved.
The Ryotei Kuramura group was assigned to Tent 17 in the open lot. Because the hotel had been rented out by the production team, most evacuees were Chinese. Only one staff supervisor remained from the hotel itself.
The area was spacious, but still over capacity with so many people. It was cramped, loud, but safe.