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墨書 Inktalez
In front of the bar, a long table was set up, filled with chairs and equipped with bowls and chopsticks, bustling with people coming and going.
To the left of the supply distribution bank was the kitchen, which had once been a renowned Seafood Restaurant. Its antique decor exuded an old and eerie charm at night, while the flickering flames from the bar cast a mottled red hue on the porch's columns. Inside, bright lights danced like daylight, and the spacious kitchen was crowded with people. Occasionally, men and women from the Militia hurried out, carrying steaming dishes to serve at the tables.
The restaurant's gas pipeline had broken down. Ming Junwei found it troublesome and replaced the gas equipment, scouring all the restaurants in town for gas canisters, filling an entire car wash with them. There were several liquefied gas plants on the outskirts of the city. Initially, Ming Junwei had his sights set on those, but due to some reasons, his troops stationed in the ancient city clashed violently with the Gaoyang Division. They remained at a stalemate for a long time, unwilling to back down. In a fit of rage, Ming Junwei blew up the liquefied gas plant, causing a massive explosion that devastated a large part of the suburb and attracted a terrifying horde of Zombies, indirectly leading to another outbreak of Pathogen Zone and Zombie Tide, which forced Gaoyang's group onto the city walls.
That was all in the past. Lin Daozhang had mentioned that there had been a large-scale Zombie outbreak in the city, and calculating the timeline, it coincided perfectly with Ming Junwei's explosive incident.
Blowing up the liquefied gas plant in a fit of rage sounded thrilling, but the consequences it triggered were far from pleasant. Setting aside the Zombies and Gaoyang for now, cooking became a significant hassle. Fortunately, Ming Junwei's group had been on the move for quite some time; although their outdoor survival experience was lacking, they managed well enough in this desolate city. Without liquefied gas, they still had charcoal and firewood.
Thus, this once high-end Seafood Restaurant had devolved into a roadside eatery. After two or three years, its elegant porch had become blackened by smoke from the kitchen.
Chef Jia had used liquefied gas at Riverside Camp; initially, it was quite convenient. However, as more people arrived, small pots and stoves could no longer meet demand. So he replaced them with larger equipment and built a big stove to prepare meals for over a hundred people in minutes using shovels and large pots. After moving from the riverbank to Roundabout, Chef Jia resumed his old profession, donning his slightly yellowed chef's robe and tall hat while tying on an apron. With a knife in one hand and a ladle in the other, his status rose sharply.
A large crowd gathered outside the kitchen—Ming Junwei, Song Jiu, and others among them—staring through fire-lit refractory glass windows at Chef Jia as he worked alongside Effie and Guli to create delicious dishes from various stored foods.
Previously, Roundabout did not have dedicated chefs; staff rotated cooking duties with varying degrees of skill. Later on, Yinuo took charge of cooking for a while. During that time, Roundabout's hens laid many eggs. Yinuo took it upon herself to change things up for Roundabout’s diners by moving into the kitchen. For some time afterward, a dish called Egg Sauce became immensely popular at Roundabout; it was served at every meal from morning till night. Eventually, however, Roundabout’s residents grew weary of it; although they lived better than those Survivors scraping bark off trees, eating Egg Sauce every meal for an entire month made them long for something different.
Song Jiu and others were unaware of Egg Sauce's fame; seeing how Militia members looked at Chef Jia with admiration piqued their curiosity. They couldn’t help but wonder if there was really so much food in storage that just frying a few dishes could cause such excitement.
While those outside harbored various thoughts, those inside faced immense pressure.
With ample supplies at Roundabout and more personnel than at Riverside Camp—especially since there were no large stoves here—they could only use three small pots to cook one by one. Effie was Chef Jia’s protégé; Pockmarked Girl’s skills were likely similar to Yinuo’s. The three of them were busy inside and out; they initially wanted to call upon Roundabout’s women for help but found that most only knew one cooking technique each. The more people there were around, the more chaotic it became; thus they decided to clear out the area and handle this banquet themselves.
During this time, Song Jiu mentioned Chef Jia’s winemaking skills. Upon hearing this, Ming Junwei’s eyes lit up as he sneaked downstairs to busy himself for a while before returning with a jar of homemade wine in hand. Proudly inviting Chef Jia to taste it brought him some relief amidst his hectic work; he stepped out to take a sip before heading back into the kitchen with the jar.
“Ahh! A fellow connoisseur,” Ming Junwei exclaimed excitedly as he rubbed his hands together with admiration shining in his eyes. “You can tell you’re a chef who understands wine.”
Just as Ming Junwei finished speaking, flames suddenly shot up three feet high from the stove. Upon closer inspection, it turned out that Chef Jia had poured wine into the stove.
Ming Junwei’s excitement froze on his face.
Chef Jia removed his tall hat to fan himself before carrying out the empty wine jar with a smile: “Just right—the fire isn’t strong enough; this jar of alcohol will be perfect for stir-frying.”
Ming Junwei felt speechless, his face burning with embarrassment. Luci, Song Yao, and the others couldn't help but chuckle, giving Chef Jia enthusiastic thumbs up.
After nearly two hours of bustling in the kitchen and using up a large amount of ingredients, they finally filled the long table to the brim. Chef Jia, adhering to the principle of the head chef, told Ming Junwei that they didn’t need so many dishes; it was too wasteful. However, Ming Daxia insisted on filling the table completely, showing no concern for ingredient consumption. Since the owner had spoken, the head chef had no choice but to comply. Although the ingredients were somewhat monotonous, there were plenty of seasonings in the kitchen. People from all corners of the world sat on either side of the long table, with dishes from various regions spread out before them. The evening breeze was refreshing, and the aroma of food and wine filled the air. A couple of firecrackers were set off, and a few couplets were hung up; it felt just like celebrating the New Year.
As everyone took their seats, Ming Junwei occupied the main position at the table, with Song Yao and Luci on either side. Yinuo and Xiao Wei sat beside them, while graduate students lined up along both sides. The Song Jiu team sat further down, with Luo Yu and Dream Fan sitting closely next to him. Fake Taoist and Liu Yan were thrown into a pile with Militia. Jiao Ziqian lay elegantly on a hospital bed nearby, having an extra table set up beside her. Each dish was served with two scoops into a pot, accompanied by a cup of Ming Junwei's homemade wine—both bitter and pitiful.
Looking at the lively faces around the long table, Ming Junwei felt a bit tipsy even before he had started drinking.
“Everyone,” Ming Junwei tapped on the table and stood up with his wine glass in hand. He scanned the crowd; a hint of indescribable emotion appeared on his weathered face. He wanted to say something inspiring but hesitated, feeling that nothing would be appropriate. After pondering for a moment, he simply said, “Eat well and drink well; we won't leave until we're drunk.”
The crowd seemed accustomed to Ming Junwei's way of speaking. Upon hearing his eight-character toast, they burst into laughter—some whistled while others shouted for Ming Ge to say a few more words; some clapped foolishly while others had already picked up their chopsticks to dig in.
Ming Junwei smiled as well; his smile carried a bitterness understood only by a few but vanished in an instant as he said, “We've all worked hard today; no more nonsense—let's eat and drink freely. As per tradition, let’s raise three glasses first.”
The crowd stopped laughing and seriously raised their glasses.
“The first glass is for our departed companions.”
The crowd fell silent and drank it all in one go.
“The second glass is for our new friends who have joined us.”
They drank again.
“The third glass is for ourselves.”
With three glasses downed, a wave of warmth surged from their stomachs, instantly filling their bodies.
Song Jiu and her group were seasoned veterans; they understood the bitterness and laughter contained within those simple three sentences and three glasses of wine, so they drank with particular seriousness.
The night sky over the city was bright with stars; the dark heavens were dotted with brilliant glimmers. The wind was chilly, and silence enveloped everything.
The atmosphere was always like this, entering the Low Valley and then climbing towards something new. Song Jiu had been observing the group at the Roundabout; they were not as sorrowful as he had imagined. These people truly understood the essence of life and death, treating each day as a gift. The heavy mood quickly dissipated, just as Ming Junwei had said. Everyone opened up to eat and drink, regardless of gender, engaging in lively conversation and laughter, indulging in drinks without a care for tomorrow's troubles. It was a display of camaraderie among a group of greenwood heroes, which he admired deeply.
In contrast, the group of Riverside Women that Song Jiu brought along seemed to dampen the mood. He held no grudges against them; their different circumstances inevitably led to different mindsets. If they stayed here long enough, they would adapt.
After several rounds of drinks and dishes, many were full and exchanged goodnights before leaving the table. The Roundabout had two accommodation areas: one was a karaoke venue, and the other a budget hotel. The crowd dispersed in an orderly fashion, the noise gradually fading away, leaving only Ming Junwei and Song Jiu, the two leaders, still seated firmly.
Around a dozen people sat at one table, all having eaten their fill. They set down their chopsticks, some smoking while others caught their breath, engaging in casual chatter.
Effie, perceptive as always, guessed that it was time for some serious discussions between the two groups. She and Pockmarked Girl began to clear away the leftover food and prepared to leave. To Effie, she was still an outsider compared to Luo Yu and Dream Fan; thus, she often felt reserved in such situations.
“Sit down; what’s the rush?” Song Jiu called out as he sat up.
“Ah,” Effie paused slightly, feeling awkward and unable to say much. She and Pockmarked Girl sat back down.
“There are no outsiders now,” Song Jiu said while looking at Ming Junwei.
“Yeah, pretty much,” Ming Junwei replied as he stubbed out his cigarette and sat up with an inexplicable sigh.
“Thank you for your medical assistance and your generous hospitality,” Song Jiu expressed.
“Not at all,” Ming Junwei nodded. “And thank you for your timely help and this feast.”
The two leaders simultaneously pulled out two rows of sanitary balls with a disdainful hiss.
“Well now, with no outsiders around, you two have really put on airs,” Luci chuckled lightly and shook her head helplessly. “We know you’re the bosses; can we just talk normally?”
Both Ming Innkeeper and Song Innkeeper felt their faces flush with embarrassment as they exchanged awkward smiles, unsure of what to say next. It wasn’t that they were trying to act pretentious; it was just that aside from Song Yao in the middle, there wasn’t much camaraderie between the two groups.
“Let’s have Us take over,” Luci suggested with a smirk as she raised her glass towards Chef Jia and others. “First of all, we must toast to this brother-sister reunion, right?”
“Absolutely,” Xiao Wei and the others chimed in unison while Luo Yu smiled brightly from across the table, raising her glass for a hearty drink.
“Secondly,” Luci smacked her lips, her expression turning strange. After a long pause without being able to continue, she could only awkwardly set down her glass and spread her hands, saying, “You all go ahead; I don’t know what else to say.”
Song Jiu lowered his head and chuckled lightly. After some consideration, he looked up and said, “To be honest, I’m still a bit confused. Finding my sister here feels like a dream.”
Ming Junwei appeared thoughtful and didn’t respond immediately. He said, “Song Jiu, you and your people should stay.” After a moment, he added, “Of course, it’s not just because of your relationship with Yao Yao; you should understand what I mean.”
“We’ve already caused trouble; staying too long might lead to more issues,” Song Jiu admitted candidly. “Those people came for me today and inadvertently involved you all.”
“No,” Ming Junwei replied with a grim smile as he lit a cigarette. “What I’m saying is precisely this: those people are our common enemies.”
Luci and the others exchanged glances, wondering how a family reunion had turned into a war council.
“Brother Ming, can we not talk about this today? It really kills the mood,” Yinuo pouted, muttering, “Let’s discuss it during the day.”
Ming Junwei chuckled in disbelief and waved his hand. “True enough; let them talk about it. Come on, let’s drink some more. Once we finish, we can rest. We have plenty of time to chat later.”
Song Jiu nodded in agreement. In truth, he felt the same way. Fighting side by side in an emergency didn’t mean they could sit together and bare their souls, especially for those like them who had been struggling in the Sea of Corpses for so long. Easing the unfamiliarity and building trust required time, not just a bond of kinship.
With both leaders having nodded in agreement, the others had nothing more to say. Luci’s group was fine since they were on their home turf, but Luo Yu and her companions were different. With Song Jiu saying nothing further, they felt stifled but finally breathed a sigh of relief when they realized they could disperse.
Luo Yu and Chef Jia were led by Luci to their new residence while Ming Junwei stayed put, leaving Xiao Wei and Liu Yan to keep him company over drinks. Song Jiu didn’t mind; he got up and followed Song Yao out. He had too many questions bottled up inside him and was eager for answers.
Song Yao lived on the third floor of a budget hotel in a simply decorated standard room. The room was lit by candlelight with warm illumination filling the space.
“Do you want to take a shower?” Song Yao asked as she closed the door and opened the window. The bed was covered with a thin blanket that carried a faint scent of femininity.
“I think I’ll just wash up in my own room,” Song Jiu replied with a smile as he pulled out the notebook he had tucked away all day and handed it to Song Yao. “I found this at your cake shop; there was also a picture frame that seems to have been left at the bar.”
Song Yao paused in surprise as she took the notebook and gently flipped through it before putting it away in a drawer. She didn’t say anything, but Song Jiu noticed her eyes were slightly red.
“You’ve been here all these years; why didn’t you go back to get it?” Song Jiu asked casually as he settled into an armchair.
"Let it go, bringing it back will only add to the sorrow." Song Yao forced a bitter smile, turning his back to Song Jiu as he took off his coat.
Song Jiu furrowed his brows. He noticed that the bullet wound on Song Yao's back had already begun to heal, the tender new flesh contrasting sharply with his fair skin. After returning from Roundabout, Song Yao had cleaned the wound; now there were no traces of blood, but the sight was even more horrifying than a bloody mess.
"Don't rush me, I'll tell you everything one by one," Song Yao said as he put on his pajamas and sat at the edge of the bed, looking at the young man before him, his thoughts almost drifting away again.
Once upon a time, there was someone like him who sat beside him, looking at him with eyes full of concern.
Similar yet different; that person always wore a smile, never had a frown between their brows, was carefree and brought warmth that could dispel the cold.
And none of these traits belonged to Song Jiu. They were like two sides of a coin—similar in age but completely different in essence.
The candlelight flickered, casting shadows that danced around them.
Song Yao sighed deeply, his fingertips brushing against his brother's cheek gently as he began to recount those past memories.
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