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墨書 Inktalez
Act 142: Reunion with Old Friends
Who would have thought that the ten-member Squad that left Roundabout two days ago would return as such a large group?
Ming Junwei and Wu Wentao's forces had suffered considerable losses in the continuous battles, and both sides barely maintained a count of fifty. Jin Bo alone was worth more than the two of them, not to mention he was accompanied by over thirty Cave Indigenous. The group led by Ming Junwei had not slept all night, and now that all problems had been resolved, their tense nerves naturally relaxed. As their spirits eased, fatigue quickly set in, making the entire team appear drowsy, a stark contrast to their earlier vigorous state.
Transporting a large amount of supplies posed a challenge. To avoid wasting time, they could only use horses to carry part of the load while the rest was moved by manpower. After all, Jin Bo's vehicle was at the foot of the mountain and could not be driven up directly. Compared to risking their lives against Zombies and Living Persons, manual labor seemed trivial. The main strength of the three groups consisted of men; whether from the Militia or Foreign Operatives, they were not lacking in physical strength. Moreover, they were transporting essential supplies, so no one complained.
The weather in May fluctuated between hot and cold, and it was even more unpredictable in the mountains. The narrow paths impeded their progress; descending with loads was certainly not as easy as ascending. Additionally, the atmosphere among the team as they descended felt very strange—some were happy while others were worried, and some seemed indifferent, resembling an awkwardly assembled travel group.
Song Yao was concerned about her brother's condition, so she stayed close to a few people. Song Jiu led what remained of his direct line at the front. Jiao Ziqian was severely injured and unable to keep pace with them, so he was assigned to the back. Thanks to Ying Dou Dou's influence, he received decent treatment; Jin Bo ordered that he be carried on a simple stretcher, making him arguably the most comfortable member of the entire team.
Old Lin and Liu Yan forged ahead to clear the path while Luo Yu and Song Yao flanked either side for protection. Song Jiu carried Dream Fan's already cold body in silence. No bullets had pierced him, but gunshot wounds were still gunshot wounds; carrying such a burden inevitably caused his injuries to reopen. Unlike Song Yao and the others who had better resilience, he began to struggle halfway through their journey and had to stop for a rest.
" Brother Jiu, let me help," Liu Yan offered as he approached to relieve some of the burden, but Song Jiu declined.
Thus, the leading Squad fell behind, gradually distancing themselves from the main group.
"You need to pull yourself together," Song Yao said softly as she tucked her messy hair behind her ear while sitting beside her brother. "Dream Fan wouldn’t want you to be downcast."
"I won’t be downcast," Song Jiu replied lightly with a smile, fiddling with a small trinket that Luo Yu had given him, his eyes showing a rare softness. After a moment of silence, he candidly admitted, "I just feel terrible—really terrible."
Song Yao paused slightly; hearing those plain words tightened her heart. She took his somewhat cold hand in hers and gently said, "I understand."
“She didn’t have to die,” Song Jiu spoke slowly as if each word required careful thought. He furrowed his brow in deep confusion.
Song Yao remained silent, knowing that some knots needed to be untied by oneself; no amount of outside commentary would hold any meaning. She had no way of knowing what her brother had been through. Compared to the boy she remembered, Song Jiu had changed too much. What kind of impact would this have on him? Song Yao didn't know and didn't dare to guess. She recalled the transformation of that bald-headed boy, so similar in nature; after the bud in his heart withered, the once carefree optimist became a reckless outlaw, living wildly without regard for consequences, ultimately leading to his own demise.
“How much do you like her?” Song Yao suddenly asked after listening for a while.
Song Jiu blinked, a hint of a smile appearing at the corners of his mouth. “If it weren't for her, I wouldn't have survived my first year.”
“Then what about between you two?” Song Yao hesitated, unsure how to phrase it. She didn't know much about Dream Fan; after all, Song Jiu had only arrived at Roundabout less than a month ago. During that time, he had been busy and hardly had any moments to chat about such matters. However, she had heard plenty of gossip from Pockmarked Girl, and Dream Fan's astonishingly open demeanor had surprised her for a while.
At that time, Song Yao hadn't thought much of it, assuming their relationship was purely physical or perhaps some sort of transcendent romance. But later on, she learned otherwise. Luo Yu's evaluation of her was quite extraordinary, and even Chef Jia and others spoke of Dream Fan without any unusual glances. Although most were curious about her relationship with Song Jiu, no one gossiped about it. According to Luo Yu and several others close to Song Jiu, if he had feelings for anyone, it would undoubtedly be Dream Fan—there would be no one else.
Such matters were difficult to articulate. If one could understand it easily, it was simple to discuss; if not, it became a tangled mess. In the current environment, Song Yao had seen many who completely discarded conventional beliefs, but observing others was different from experiencing it herself. As a woman, Song Yao found Dream Fan's lifestyle attitude very carefree—purely following her heart without constraints. It seemed as if she completely separated her body from her soul; her enviable beauty appeared merely as a vessel for enjoying life, while her soul belonged solely to Song Jiu.
Understanding his sister's confusion, Song Jiu lit a cigarette and took a long drag before saying softly, “Dream Fan is Red Mother's daughter—her biological daughter.”
Song Yao was taken aback and then recalled something; she vaguely remembered that during their confrontation, the woman who had taken Dream Fan hostage mentioned something like “I gave birth to a good daughter.”
“And I,” Song Jiu said with a bitter smile, “if it weren't for Dream Fan, those bald-headed men would have been my fate.”
Song Yao froze for a moment as she carefully contemplated his words; her expression turned somewhat dazed.
With an unusual smile on his face and memories he once tried to forget surfacing in his mind, Song Jiu casually remarked, “Dream Fan is much cleaner than I am.”
There were no further explanations or clarifications; just this simple statement—seemingly devoid of substance—suddenly made Song Yao understand so much more.
“ Jiu Jiu,” Song Yao murmured, her gaze filled with complexity.
Song Jiu maintained a calm demeanor, as if discussing trivial matters. With a hint of nostalgia in his eyes, he said, “She helped me escape. It was winter, and it was particularly cold.”
Sunlight pierced through the dense canopy of trees, casting fragmented patches of light that danced across Song Jiu's face, reminiscent of the snow that had fallen that year, lingering long after it should have melted.
“I took about two months to learn how to walk again. At first, she carried me on her back, then she supported me. We traversed mountain paths, highways, snow, ruins, living people, the dead, zombies, food, water, and clothing.”
“You told me that your brother-in-law brought you back from Beijing to the ancient city while you were asleep. Perhaps you didn’t know what happened during that time, but I was awake; I could see and hear everything.”
“Your brother-in-law was strong and fierce, protecting you; Dream Fan also watched over me in her own way.”
Song Jiu let out a long breath as he gazed at the brilliant ring in his hand. A smile curved his lips as he closed his eyes for a moment before standing up. “Let’s go.”
Song Yao nodded with a smile, her earlier doubts dissipating. She helped him carry the girl’s body and walked beside him down the mountain.
At the foot of the mountain lay a muddy path.
A bus with Henan license plates stood in the middle of a dense thicket. Its front and rear doors were broken, held together by twisted wire barely affixed to the vehicle. The tires and body were caked with dried yellow mud, and several large spider webs adorned the windshield, while darkened bloodstains were conspicuous.
The group ahead had already begun transporting supplies. The bus seats were difficult to remove; the old vehicle rattled ominously as they feared it might collapse under the strain. This area was some distance from where the forest fire raged, situated on the mountainside and temporarily safe from immediate danger. However, zombies had already begun to spread into the area; Wu Wentao's subordinates had detected their presence. An astonishing amount of supplies filled the bus's interior and more were tied to the roof. Despite this, there was still plenty left over; even the donkeys were severely overloaded. To transport everything, some individuals would need to free up their hands to help carry items.
As Song Jiu and his companions arrived late, Ming Junwei and others leaned against the bus waiting for them. Seeing the siblings appear unfazed put Ming Junwei at ease; he assumed Song Jiu must be fine. Although Luo Yu and a few trusted aides did not directly engage in conversation, Song Jiu did not deliberately avoid them either. In fact, his words seemed meant for everyone present. Thus, they had gained some understanding of that past event; knowing Song Jiu bore no grudges allowed them to relax their previously anxious hearts. The remaining emotions were something only Song Jiu could process—others need not intervene.
Jin Bo was quite interested in Song Jiu. Luci was worried that Jin Bo, being carefree, might stir up some unpleasantness, so she discreetly informed him about a few things. The Young Swordsman was not foolish; he had not wasted the past few years. He had no real connection with Song Jiu, so he wouldn’t provoke trouble in this situation.
“What options do we have?” Ming Junwei shrugged helplessly, pointing at a pile of goods on the ground. “It’s a shame to throw it away, but we can’t carry it either.”
“Let it go; we’ve already brought back plenty. Don’t lose big over something small,” Song Yao said, feeling helpless. Without any transportation and surrounded by Zombies, it was wise to know when to give and take.
“How about you guys go ahead? I’ll come back after taking these goods,” Jin Bo said reluctantly, eyeing the food. “I’ll keep watch over these things. If any Zombie dares to reach for them, I’ll chop them up.”
The old acquaintances laughed. The Swordmaster was still the same Swordmaster, undeterred by countless corpses.
Liu Yan and the others had a plan. Earlier, Song Jiu mentioned finding some carts to be pulled by horses. However, they were quite a distance from the highway. Even if they managed to get carts, someone would need to carry the supplies over first. The problem was that once they made their move, the Zombies would surely come running at the sound. If they opened fire here, there would be no hope of returning.
The Small Leader felt regretful; so many supplies were within sight but could not be taken away—it was truly frustrating.
Song Jiu loaded Dream Fan's body onto the vehicle and asked Ming Junwei for a cigarette. Lighting it up, he squinted at the approaching Zombie from the forest and suddenly had an idea. “Can one Zombie carry a bag?”
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