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墨書 Inktalez
Chapter One Hundred Eighty-Two: Long Night in the Gobi
A new mound had appeared on the Gobi Desert, the sand still damp, marking a fresh grave.
Chen Zhao Zhou placed the last handful of dirt, set down the shovel, and sat on the ground. Beside him were several bottles of Guizhou Laojiao and some cigarettes. Behind him stood more than ten sturdy men, their expressions solemn and mournful.
"Come, let’s drink a toast to Brother Long. After we finish, you all can head back," Chen Zhao Zhou said as he tore open a bottle and passed it to those behind him. The men stepped forward one by one, raising their bottles in salute before tilting their heads back to gulp down the fiery liquor.
These men were among the first to follow Cheng Long. They had left the desolate Gobi with him, rebuilt Nantang in a remote village in Shanxi, destroyed the Establishment's inland strongholds, and finally returned to this land.
Once the liquor was finished and the smoke cleared, the iron men stood tall in unison, bowing respectfully to the newly raised mound before departing.
Chen Zhao Zhou watched their desolate figures fade away, his eyes slightly moist. After a moment of daze, he gave a self-deprecating smile and stuck three cigarettes into the ground before lighting one for himself. The wind swept by, igniting a dim spark that quickly burned half of it away. The gray ash stood upright for a moment before gently trembling and scattering across the ground.
"I said you wouldn't come back," Chen Zhao Zhou murmured calmly as he lit another cigarette. "But you insisted on returning. Well now, you can never leave again."
The gravestone made from jujube tree bark had yet to dry completely; a faint scent of vegetation lingered. Chen Zhao Zhou carved "Cheng Long" into it with strength and precision.
"Was it unjust?" No one answered him; only his own voice echoed back. The wind began to rise, blowing sand and gravel far away. Clusters of Red Willow and Camel Thorn swayed uncertainly, producing rustling sounds that resembled cries.
"When have we ever suffered such losses?"
"Where else could we go back then?"
"Why did we come back?"
...
Chen Zhao Zhou continued to ask questions one after another as his cigarette burned down. He lit another one and shook the bottle of old liquor that his comrade had drunk from; there was only a little left at the bottom, so he tilted his head back and finished it off.
In the distance, the sky was overcast; somewhere there was likely a torrential downpour. The wind was fierce but dry. Chen Zhao Zhou's lips cracked open, bleeding slightly as the liquor moistened them with a stinging burn. He placed the empty bottle by the grave and opened another one, slowly pouring it out in front of the gravestone. The liquid flowed gently, swaying lightly in the wind and creating rippling patterns.
Footsteps approached from behind and stopped at Chen Zhao Zhou's back. He blinked and curved his lips into a slight smile.
"Come sit over here," he said, patting the ground beside him.
"No," Caroline said, crossing her arms and standing still, shrugging slightly. "I just came to take a look."
Chen Zhao Zhou didn’t insist; he took a swig of his drink and spilled some on the ground.
"Are you going to blame Kenny?" Caroline watched Chen Zhao Zhou's gaunt figure and impeccable profile, feeling a twinge of something in her heart. She realized she had never really paid attention to this guy who always followed Cheng Long around. Looking closely now... he was quite handsome.
"What country are you from?" Chen Zhao Zhou didn’t answer her but asked an unrelated question.
"Huh?" Caroline was taken aback for a moment before replying, "The United States."
"Your Chinese is really good, much better than that Black Man's. Listening to him speak makes me want to punch him," Chen Zhao Zhou chuckled. "I know what you're trying to ask, but there's no need."
"I think you don't know," Caroline pouted and moved closer to sit beside him, looking at his lowered eyelids. "But it doesn't matter; I'm not interested."
"Then why are you here?" Chen Zhao Zhou took another sip of his drink, smacking his lips.
Caroline exhaled a puff of smoke, staring blankly at the two characters on the tombstone for a long time before answering, "Just to take a look."
Chen Zhao Zhou didn’t deny it and fell silent again.
"You were close with him, right?"
"Yeah."
"You understand what I mean?"
"I do, but it's not what you think."
"Oh."
...
"If I die, could you make me a tombstone?" Caroline pointed at the sand pear wood and said, "I saw you carving."
Chen Zhao Zhou glanced at her and smiled bitterly, "If I were still alive, of course I could. What should I write? Caroline?"
Caroline blinked her sapphire blue eyes, tucking a strand of golden hair blown by the wind behind her ear. "I haven't thought of it yet. I'll let you know when I do."
The clock on the wall ticked softly, the hands jumping lightly to mark the exact time for the news broadcast.
Outside, the wind stirred up dust, and clouds obscured the red sun, casting a gloomy shadow over the room that had been bright just hours before. The atmosphere inside was stifling, making it hard to breathe. Zeng Yadong pushed open the window, allowing the wind to rush in.
After more than half a month, they had gathered again, but this time half of them were missing.
At first, Zeng Yadong felt joy upon seeing Ming Junwei and the others enter, but that cheerful expression quickly faded. Ming Junwei, Jin Bo, Xiao Wei, and Wheat entered one after another, covered in blood and grime. Su Lan was the last to come in. Behind them trailed a team of Black Ops, fully armed and standing guard outside the door. Zeng Yadong paused for a moment, peering outside to see no one else in the corridor besides the Black Ops.
Turning back to see the somber expressions on everyone's faces, a bitter taste filled Zeng Yadong's mouth.
The atmosphere was awkward; each person's face bore an indescribable expression as sighs echoed throughout the relatively spacious room. Later, some staff brought in clean clothes and a feast of food while tidying up the room across from them.
Just as Zeng Yadong felt he might suffocate from the tension, Ming Junwei spoke up. He lifted his head and looked at the table filled with long-unseen dishes. "Let's eat."
As soon as he spoke, everyone seemed to spring into action like clockwork. Jin Bo and Xiao Wei were the first to respond, as if suddenly energized, grabbing their bowls and chopsticks with a flurry of movement. Wheat...
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