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墨書 Inktalez
The sea breeze swayed, and Lin Ye drifted.
The first person to get drunk last night had now fully revived, carrying a worn canvas bag as he walked through the woods, occasionally turning back to say a few words to the ladies behind him. Song Yao and Luci supported each other, their cheeks damp with sweat, hair sticking to their temples, struggling a bit as they walked.
"You too, Coast looks decent; why not clean this place up? It's too hard to walk," Luci paused to catch her breath, casually plucking a thick, unnamed leaf to fan herself. She looked up at the dense canopy overhead and sighed, "If this place were developed a bit, it wouldn't be worse than a tourist spot. Just look at this lush forest."
"That's true. If someone had developed it, I wouldn't have been in such a dire situation back then," Jin Bo chuckled, stopping to wait for the two girls to rest. He pointed at the dense woods and said, "At first, I thought it was just a small island, but later I realized it's quite large. Look at where we live; it's flat over there, but look behind us. I don't even know what to call that—mountains?"
"Probably," Song Yao gasped for breath. The morning on the island was still cool; however, the journey up and down was indeed exhausting. Even with her stamina, trekking over mountains was still a challenge.
"Just hold on a bit longer; we're almost there," Jin Bo grinned and took out a water bottle from his bag, handing it to the two women. "I said we should come again another day, but you both insisted on coming early."
"We'll have to come here eventually anyway; it doesn't matter," Song Yao smiled lightly, unscrewing the cap and drinking half before leaving the rest for Luci.
After resting for a few minutes, the three resumed their journey. The island's vegetation was already lush, and with more people around in recent years, it had grown even more vigorously, subtly forming an ecological balance.
This area was referred to by Jin Bo as the back mountain of the island, characterized by concentrated trees and steep terrain. As Jin Bo mentioned, the Living Area they occupied only accounted for a small part of the island; the so-called back mountain was actually the main body of this island. Although it didn't have the treacherous landscapes of larger islands, it was no less impressive—there were plenty of ravines and valleys, and with dense vegetation covering everything, being among them inevitably caused some unease.
As a refuge from the mundane world, Jin Bo had not sent people for excessive development; of course, he also lacked the capacity for any extensive construction or exploration. Besides building accommodation on flat land at Coast, the mountains and forests maintained their original appearance. Initially, there weren't enough people to explore deep into Old Lin's area; later on, when personnel increased, Jin Bo organized an expedition but found little of interest—the mountains remained mountains and trees remained trees. There were no extraordinary sights or encounters as imagined; nature faced these outsiders in its most natural form—offering them some surprises but mostly presenting a tranquil monotony.
Twenty minutes later, they finally passed through a thorny stretch of path and climbed over a protruding boulder. The terrain ahead became flatter; within the woods, signs of human excavation were evident as they had deliberately cleared out a flat area. This flat ground wasn't empty; several mounds rose in a zigzag pattern. Morning light filtered through gaps in the canopy and scattered onto the ground in speckled patches.
Jin Bo stopped walking, took a deep breath; his playful expression faded away and was replaced by an unusual solemnity.
He led the two women to the foremost mound where a wooden tablet made from tree trunks bore the inscription "Shaoshan." There were no photographs or dates of birth and death—no biography.
"Buddy, it's nice of you not to bring old friends here just for show," Jin Bo set down his canvas bag beside his feet and squatted down to clear away fallen leaves piled in front of the tablet that served as an incense holder. He poured out dried leaves mixed with dirt from an old bottle inside and added some fresh soil before pulling out a pack of incense from his bag. He selected three sticks and lit them with a lighter before neatly inserting them into his DIY incense holder.
Song Yao and Luci exchanged a glance, both appearing somewhat dazed. After three years apart, their reunion felt like a meeting across the realms of life and death.
“Shaolian, long time no see.”
Song Yao bent down and pulled out a handful of colorful paper from her bag. Luci cleared a space on the ground and opened a bottle of wine, pouring some onto the stone tablet before them.
“Though it may not mean much, I still want to say thank you.” Song Yao tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as the colorful paper caught fire, burning brightly. The edges curled slightly, and as the flames danced, the paper turned to ash, distorting the air around them. The characters for Shaoshan became vibrant in the flickering light.
“Ginger River is with you too. You protected him back then, and I hope you can continue to look after him for me.”
“Oh, and your comrade Wang Zhongyu—if you see him, please convey my apologies. It was because of us that he lost his life as well.”
“Perhaps you all have already come together.”
“We're all doing well. I hope you are free from worries now. Dust returns to dust, earth to earth; perhaps liberation isn’t such a bad thing.”
“Isn’t it said that those who disappear above will eventually reunite below? I believe that’s true. Maybe it won’t be long before Us meet again. By then, we might not have changed at all.”
“Shaolian, thank you.”
Coast, the small wooden cabin.
Chef Jia stepped outside to grab a dry towel from the wire hanging outside. She wrapped it around her damp hair and turned back to her new tasks. The room was small; unlike the Stilt House, this cabin had a minimalist design—just a wooden bed and a wooden table, leaving it quite bare.
The door was closed, and the shabby window was covered with curtains, making the interior somewhat dim. Wu Wentao sat on the edge of the bed, idly watching two young women busying themselves. He considered leaving but felt too lazy to move, so he simply lay back on the bed, leisurely observing the Ladies at work.
Yang Xiaomeng was displeased, casting a sidelong glance at Old Wu and scolding, "Are you here to supervise?"
"It's fine, don't mind me," Wu Wentao waved his hand, showing no intention of participating in the labor. He looked at the pile of packages on the ground and then at Huihui, who was busy working, saying, "Is it necessary to act like a thief?"
"This is called a surprise; you wouldn't understand," Yang Xiaomeng replied. Having become familiar with this group, she no longer feared Wu Wentao as she once did. She spoke her mind without holding back, showing no respect for the former Field Captain.
Huihui and the Pockmarked Girl snickered from the side as they took out a crumpled wedding dress from the packages, carefully spreading it out on the sheet-covered floor to check for any damage. They handed over any problematic items to Chef Jia, organizing them by size and style.
"Aren't you supposed to be discussing important matters with Song Jiu and the others?" Chef Jia smiled along with them. Although they had only been on the island for less than a day, everyone’s spirits had noticeably lifted, as if they had suddenly shed all their burdens. The feeling of relaxation made them want to run outside and shout.
"There’s nothing urgent at the moment," Wu Wentao said as he sat up. His previously stern face had softened considerably. He sighed, "That kid hasn’t shown up yet; he’s probably still asleep."
"Since you have a rare chance to relax, don’t keep yourself so tense," Chef Jia nodded in agreement. She had been at last night’s bonfire party and knew how much the young people had drunk.
Wu Wentao chuckled awkwardly and said, "What more can I do to relax? Enough of that; you all should get back to what you were doing. I’ll talk to Song Jiu this afternoon and try to wrap things up quickly."
Chef Jia paused at his words, then suddenly realized something. She glanced at Huihui and asked curiously, "Don’t tell me you came here just to keep an eye on Huihui?"
"Am I some old man here just to watch you all play matchmaker?" Wu Wentao laughed in disbelief. Seeing Huihui's expression falter, he felt his words were inappropriate. He cleared his throat and explained, "You all are relaxed now; someone has to stay vigilant. I trust that kid Jin Bo, but there are too many eyes on this island; it’s better to be cautious."
"Thanks for your trouble," Huihui said softly, her lips pressed together. There was a hint of melancholy in her eyes. She understood that her current identity and situation were quite awkward. In terms of personal ability, she hadn’t contributed anything special to the team; she was merely the only existing Antibody left in the world, which was why everyone protected her. Sometimes this protection made her feel grateful; other times it brought guilt. Of course, there was also a sense of loss—at this moment, from others' perspectives, she hardly seemed like a person but rather a precious object.
This feeling indeed made it hard for her to be happy.
What troubled her even more was that this pressure and burden were not something she had chosen to bear willingly.
Many nights, listening to Yuan An and Pockmarked Girl's even breathing, Huihui felt a flicker of resentment deep within her. Just because the past was no longer mentioned did not mean it was forgotten. She still remembered how she became entangled with these people; she recalled the Bright as Daylight Testing Ground, the man who ruthlessly cut off the path for her and her companions, and she also remembered Luci, holding that bloodied man in the fiery tunnel, crying helplessly.
Many nights, thinking of these things kept Huihui tossing and turning, unable to sleep. She was still young, an utterly ordinary girl, struggling to make sense of some events that seemed inexplicable. The weight of these thoughts piled up until her mind felt heavy and foggy, so she had no choice but to empty herself, avoiding those unanswered memories.
Fortunately, time could smooth over many things and bring understanding.
As of today, Huihui had come to terms with it all. Thus, the fleeting melancholy in her eyes quickly faded back to normalcy; she no longer dwelled on those troubling matters.
Yang Xiaomeng and Pockmarked Girl were engaged in lively chatter, oblivious to the fleeting expression in Huihui's eyes. However, there were two seasoned veterans in the room who could read the atmosphere; it was second nature for them.
Wu Wentao exchanged a glance with Chef Jia; the meaning in their eyes needed no words.
Old Wu chuckled helplessly, propping himself up and jumping out of bed to head toward the door.
"Hey, why is the supervisor abandoning his post?" Yang Xiaomeng teased relentlessly, continuing to poke fun at Old Wu, who was trying to be diligent but found himself at a loss.
"You all carry on; I'm going outside for a look," Wu Wentao replied, glancing back at Huihui, who was busy with her head down. There was a kind of calmness and indifference about her that made him feel a twinge of sympathy. Suddenly, their banter lost its flavor; Old Wu shook his head, dismissing chaotic thoughts as he pushed open the door and left the wooden cabin.
The dawn light was just right; the breeze was gentle and warm.
Wu Wentao stretched his limbs. After years of military life, this leisurely moment felt surreal; he wasn't wearing combat gear or carrying a gun, leaving him feeling oddly empty inside. He walked along the lush Saddle Vine toward the bustling Coast. Halfway there, he took in the picturesque scenery—dappled shadows from trees danced around him while the sea breeze carried a hint of saltiness. Underneath a pineapple thorn stood Song the Official, tousled hair and a pipe in his mouth as he exhaled clouds of smoke, completely ruining the island's scenic beauty.
Wu Wentao paused for a moment, looking around as if he had wandered into the wrong place. Seeing Young Man's disheveled appearance made him chuckle unexpectedly; while others arrived on the island filled with joy, this guy seemed entirely different.
"What’s going on here?" Wu Wentao strolled over and caught a whiff of that pungent smoke before snatching the pipe away from him.
"Sunbathing." Song Jiu rolled his eyes, brushed the tobacco off his hands, and stood up, muttering, "What about you?"
"Same as you." Wu Wentao stood beside him, staring blankly at the rocks over by the mangrove.
Song Jiu shrugged and followed his gaze. Against the beautiful backdrop of sea and sky, a muscular man in shorts was chatting happily with two long-haired girls. From a distance, their faces were indistinguishable.
"By the way," Song Jiu's eyes lit up as he remembered something.
"What?"
"When we were on the National Highway, you said you'd tell me about your defection when you had the chance. Since we're both just sunbathing here, why don't you share it with me?" Song Jiu took a couple of puffs from his pipe and winked at him.
Wu Wentao's expression froze; he suddenly felt like giving him a whack on the head with the pipe. In such a leisurely and pleasant moment, who the hell wants to talk about that kind of stuff?
"Fine, if you don't want to talk, then forget it." Seeing his expression, Song Jiu knew there was no hope for gossip. He pouted and leaned back against the tree trunk to sit down again.
"Actually, it's nothing much; it wouldn't hurt to tell you." Wu Wentao sat down next to him, scooping up a handful of warm sand, his gaze flickering with a sense of nostalgia.
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