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墨書 Inktalez
"Cough, cough, this is all nutrition; I can't throw it up." After coughing out a few streaks of blood, Yang Xiaoyou curled up in the corner, covering her mouth with her hand.
Her entire body was twitching and shaking due to exceeding its limits. Sitting there felt almost as difficult as standing up. With her tattered clothes, she looked like a scavenger, and the already damaged helmet on her head had been discarded.
The urgent task was to stabilize her injuries. Fortunately, she usually carried some strange yet practical tools that could help with basic treatment.
"Eleven ribs have cracked, two are broken, and there are internal injuries, ligament strains, and muscle tears. Tsk." After cracking her bones back into place, Yang Xiaoyou felt extremely helpless about her ragged appearance.
The greatest damage she inflicted upon herself was from that last swing. In comparison, the limit release of her cells caused even greater destruction to her body. From internal organs to external muscles, there was hardly a single intact spot on her.
Even her heart had slowed down significantly due to the forced strain.
If she were an ordinary person, she would have probably already succumbed.
Huddled in that corner, it took more than half an hour for Yang Xiaoyou to catch her breath before she could barely prop herself against the wall to stand up.
Her trembling legs reminded her just how terrible her condition was.
"I really have to thank Feng Lin for this. Without her sparring with me from time to time, facing opponents at this level would be impossible. Seriously, encountering these freaks is still a bit too early for me. What’s with that White House Correspondent running around everywhere?" After catching her breath against the wall, her shaking legs finally steadied, and she began to slowly move toward the exit.
Now, her body had only just regained the ability to walk. Fortunately, despite being battered and torn, the surge of violent emotions that had been unleashed was somewhat easier to suppress.
If her body had been in good shape, going berserk like this could have led to unpredictable consequences.
She also needed to find a place to change out of these ragged clothes. Luckily, only her phone and bank card had been destroyed; she still had over a thousand yuan in cash in her pocket. For now, she had hastily dealt with her injuries but needed further treatment.
"Go to the branch? Forget it; I'll just head straight there." After assessing her current state and feeling stable enough to proceed without issues, Yang Xiaoyou entered a nearby clothing store and picked out a cheap outfit.
"I'm so hungry; I need nutrition, sugar, protein." Emerging from the subway station and walking down the street with a somewhat lost expression, Yang Xiaoyou looked pale and unwell.
Her eyes scanned around; she noticed couples enjoying ice cream and friends with lollipops within sight. Finally spotting a convenience store in front of the train station, she quickened her pace.
Just then, Yang Xiaoyou caught a whiff of a sweet aroma that tantalized her appetite. Judging by the scent, it was clear that it came from food high in sugar.
Following the source of the fragrance, she spotted a man dressed like a Xinjiang local sitting on a dilapidated tricycle with a large array of oddly shaped pastries in front of him. From where they were cut open, she could see walnuts and raisins among other dried fruits inside.
Seeing such a large piece of pastry, and feeling the money in his pocket shrink from buying clothes, it seemed more cost-effective to buy this seemingly affordable treat. He could get a lot for the price, and he still needed to save some money for the bus fare later.
With that thought, he halted his steps toward the food stall and walked over to the tricycle instead.
However, for some reason, he felt as if someone nearby was looking at him with sympathetic eyes. "They probably know how sweet this is," he thought. "But the sweeter, the better. If I can find a place to secretly devour this huge piece, it should provide enough energy for a quick recovery." Yang Xiaoyou didn’t pay much attention to those strange gazes; with his keen sense of smell, he could tell from the aroma that this was definitely a sickly sweet pastry.
Only in Xinjiang, with its long hours of sunlight, could such high-sugar treats be made.
"Boss, how much?" Yang Xiaoyou asked, wiping his mouth slightly as saliva naturally pooled in his mouth.
The Xinjiang man glanced at Yang Xiaoyou's attire and replied indifferently, "Ten bucks."
His words were somewhat unclear, thickly accented.
"Alright then, I'll take the whole piece. Please help me cut it," Yang Xiaoyou said after considering the price. He figured he could afford it but felt a bit weak and would need help cutting it.
Upon hearing Yang Xiaoyou's request, the vendor was momentarily stunned, seemingly unable to believe his ears.
"What? You want the whole piece? Which one?" The vendor's thick accent made him sound almost foreign, but excitement lit up his face as he smiled broadly.
"This entire piece, all of it." After gesturing with his hands, Yang Xiaoyou pointed to the entire pastry on the tricycle.
"All of it? You want me to help you divide it?" The vendor was nearly gasping in disbelief. When he saw Yang Xiaoyou nodding, he called out loudly. In an instant, fifteen or sixteen similarly dressed figures appeared from nowhere.
Yang Xiaoyou spoke many languages but didn’t know any Uyghur dialects; he couldn’t understand what they were murmuring among themselves.
At first, he felt a bit wary. Given his current state, if trouble arose and things got physical, it would be quite a mess.
However, seeing that each of them had a strange shovel-like tool and seemed ready to work together to cut the pastry eased his tension slightly. He hadn’t expected cutting this would require effort.
He observed that they needed to use their body weight to press down in order to separate it better. This indicated that the pastry had considerable density and hardness. This realization brought a smile to Yang Xiaoyou's face; the denser it was, the better—ideally like compressed biscuits—since that would provide more nutrition.
"Wait! You can't do this! This is really too much! He's just a kid!" Just then, a young man in his twenties with a similar outfit rushed out from another direction.
At that moment, seeing the crowd had already divided the giant pastry in half, they appeared somewhat angry.
“Nigati, it’s you again? I really shouldn’t have brought you out. You should have stayed in that poor mountain valley for your whole life. I’ve been working since I was your age, and he has no money; his family will always have some!” The vendor shouted loudly in Uyghur, looking quite fierce.
“Our reputation is being ruined by people like you! It’s you who makes others think of us in a bad light. Clearly, only a few are seeking immediate benefits, yet all our people are forced to pay the price. Do you know how long it will take for us to regain trust after our reputation is destroyed?!” A young man, holding several iron skewers and smelling of barbecued meat, shouted back in Chinese. Although his pronunciation wasn’t perfect, he was still clear enough to be understood.
Seeing the two inexplicably arguing and hearing what seemed like warnings and reminders, Yang Xiaoyou felt a headache coming on.
It was just buying some pastries; why did it feel like being scammed?
Feeling ignored, Yang Xiaoyou displayed a deadpan expression and raised a hand to emit a weak sound.
Before he could finish speaking, a fellow who had rushed over grabbed Yang Xiaoyou’s raised hand and started running in a particular direction.
The sudden jolt made Yang Xiaoyou, whose body was already on the verge of falling apart, feel a fiery sensation all over as if he were being roasted. He wanted to forcefully pull away and stop the other person, but considering the possibility of an even more intense tugging, he reluctantly chose to run along with him.
As they ran, he couldn’t help but keep his eyes on the sweet and delicious high-sugar pastries that had been nearly devoured, tears streaming down his cheeks.
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