Chapter 101
Chapter 101
Already suffering from extreme exhaustion and a low-grade fever, Qingshui swallowed the ibuprofen tablet. Almost without a struggle, her consciousness willingly slipped into darkness.
This time, she didn’t have to grit her teeth and force herself into that fractured, shallow sleep.
Nor was her rest torn apart by endless fragments of nightmares, denying her any peace.
This time, the ibuprofen suppressed the aching deep in her bones and eased the tension in every nerve ending, finally allowing her to sink into an almost luxurious slumber.
Even her breathing became slow and steady, as though time itself had eased its pace for her.
Every sound rapidly grew distant and indistinct until it became part of the darkness.
Enveloped in that warmth, Qingshui seemed distinctly aware that she was dreaming.
She was in a dimly lit room.
She found herself sitting on the edge of a neatly made single bed.
The room was quiet and comfortable, with an almost… ordinary sort of warmth.
Someone was speaking beside her.
It wasn’t the relentless mockery, nor the deranged laughter of the Madmen.
It was a soft female voice, tinged with exasperation and concern. The voice sounded distant, yet strangely familiar, so familiar that Qingshui’s heart clenched.
“Qingshui?” the voice called in the casual tone of an everyday conversation.
Qingshui looked around in her dream, searching for its source.
“Qingshui!” The voice rose slightly, carrying a hint of reproach, as if displeased that she hadn’t answered right away.
Qingshui whipped her head toward it.
A short-haired girl stood with her back to Qingshui, not far from the bed.
She wore a simple T-shirt and cargo pants, her posture straight and full of energy. The light traced the gentle outline of her shoulders, neck, and short hair. With the light behind her, Qingshui couldn’t make out her face, but the girl’s vibrant presence was unmistakable.
“I’ve told you, stop acting like you don’t matter,” the girl said with an almost nagging sort of exasperation as she busied herself with something.
“Your own feelings come first, okay? No matter how important the mission is, you still need time to breathe.”
Qingshui said nothing in the dream.
She simply sat on the edge of the bed, staring intently at the girl’s back. Her heart pounded wildly, filling her chest with a sharp ache mingled with an inexplicable warmth.
Who was this girl? Why did merely hearing her voice and seeing her from behind leave Qingshui so… shaken?
Almost cautiously, she rose from the bed and walked toward the girl.
Her footsteps were light, as though she feared disturbing something. She reached out, wanting to take the girl’s shoulder gently and turn her around.
Just as her fingertips were about to brush the fabric of that familiar T-shirt, the girl suddenly took a long step forward, as if she had eyes in the back of her head. She slipped neatly out of Qingshui’s reach and moved to a table.
A few things appeared to be scattered across its surface.
Qingshui’s hand froze in midair.
Still facing away from her, the girl began sorting the bullets on the table, deftly pressing them into a magazine one by one.
“…”
Qingshui opened her mouth, but no sound emerged. She stepped forward again and tried to take hold of the girl’s busy wrist.
With a nimble twist, the girl’s wrist slipped easily out of reach once more. At the same time, she dragged a worn backpack out from beneath the table with her other hand.
As she continued loading bullets into the magazine, the movement of her shoulder and arm carried her another two steps away from Qingshui.
“Here.”
The girl spoke without looking back, her tone natural again and even carrying a trace of smugness.
She rummaged through the backpack, pulled out two neatly folded pieces of clothing, and tossed them over her shoulder toward Qingshui without looking.
The soft clothes landed on Qingshui’s face, blocking her view.
“Didn’t you say last time that you wanted clothes with puppy prints because you thought they were cute?” There was laughter in the girl’s voice as she continued sorting the bullets with her back still turned. “Well, when I went scavenging for supplies last time, guess what? I actually found two of them in a clothing store down some alley. Pretty lucky, huh?”
Qingshui clutched the two pieces of clothing, her fingers tightening unconsciously.
The soft fabric bunched in her palms. Her gaze remained fixed on the girl’s back, and her urge to see that face grew ever stronger.
Everything in the dream was so warm it made her want to cry, yet so indistinct it filled her with panic.
She kept moving closer and changing angles, trying to catch even a glimpse of the girl’s face from the side or through the gaps created by her movements.
But the girl seemed to be playing hide-and-seek with her. She chatted about trivial things while her body kept turning as if by accident.
Every time Qingshui tried, the girl’s face would be perfectly obscured by the light, a raised sleeve, or the simple motion of her lowering her head.
The mounting frustration of having her so close yet still being unable to reach her made Qingshui begin to lose control.
“Stop moving!”
Qingshui finally heard herself speak.
It wasn’t the incoherent mumbling of a dream, but a nearly uncontrollable shout, choked with tears and urgency.
The girl loading the final bullet into the magazine paused slightly.
A soft click sounded as the magazine snapped shut, followed by a brief silence.
Then the girl let out a quiet sigh. There was none of her earlier ease or resignation in it. Instead, it carried an indescribable sense of… farewell.
Still, she did not turn around. In that gentle yet earnest voice, she slowly said, “Take care of yourself, Qingshui.”
Every word tapped softly against Qingshui’s heart.
“I hope you’ll be happy.”
With that, she seemed about to resume what she was doing-or perhaps fade away altogether.
“Don’t move…”
Qingshui’s voice fell to a hoarse, pleading murmur. She walked forward one step at a time, her unblinking eyes fixed on the figure that was about to move again. “Please don’t move… I’m begging you…”
At her plea, the girl truly went still.
She turned slightly sideways and stood within the soft light by the table beneath the window, but her back remained toward Qingshui.
Qingshui stopped as well.
The girl was within arm’s reach. This time, Qingshui did not try to force her around to see her face.
An inexplicably clear premonition told her that if she did, this dream-so warm that she hardly dared breathe-would shatter in an instant, and she would wake for good.
Then let it last a little longer. Let her indulge herself, just this once.
Just once.
She gently reached out toward that warm figure. Then, with infinite care, she wrapped her arms around the girl from behind.
Her arms slipped beneath the girl’s arms and crossed over her flat stomach. Qingshui rested her cheek gently against the straight back beneath the soft T-shirt.
The warmth and peace flowing through that embrace and into the deepest reaches of her soul felt strangely familiar.
That unbearably sorrowful embrace from her dream had carried the same suffocating warmth.
It was so real, so overwhelming, that it nearly drowned her.
Her eyes began to burn uncontrollably as tears welled up, but she fought them back with everything she had. She was afraid that even a single tear would upset the fragile balance of this dream.
It’s you.
Who are you…?
She buried her face deeper against that warm back and whispered in the voice she had possessed within the dream, so softly that it was as though she feared startling a butterfly perched nearby.
“Who are you…?”
The body in her arms seemed to tremble slightly, but the girl neither answered nor moved.
“Why does seeing you make me feel so sad… and yet so warm…?”
Still, there was only silence.
Qingshui asked no more questions. She simply held on with all the strength and longing she possessed within the dream, as though she wanted to engrave the warmth, sorrow, and incomparable solace of this moment into her very soul.
The light dimmed, and her consciousness returned amid the warmth.
Qingshui slowly opened her eyes.
The discomfort from her mild fever had eased. Her body, which had been on the verge of collapse, had recovered some of its strength.
At the very least, she had been pulled back from the brink of “liable to collapse at any moment” into the realm of “able to keep going.”
She turned her head and looked around beneath the bridge.
The others were already prepared to leave. Wen Lianfeng was quietly giving Chu Jingchu some instructions, tracing a simple route through the dust on the ground with one finger.
Guan Yuzhen, Wu Wujie, and Quan Lin stood silently in different positions, their faces expressionless.
Song Yunqing stood not far from her. Her eyes were still somewhat vacant, but they seemed a little more focused than before.
Bracing one hand against the ground, Qingshui slowly sat upright. The movement was much easier than it had been earlier. She rolled her stiff shoulders and wrists.
Guan Yuzhen noticed that she was awake and glanced over. Her gaze lingered for a moment on Qingshui’s visibly improved complexion before she gave a nod.
Wen Lianfeng looked over as well, a question in her eyes.
Qingshui nodded to show that she could continue.
The lingering warmth of the dream remained in her heart as she rose, slung her rifle across her back, and moved to her place in the middle of the group.
Song Yunqing silently stood as well and took her place beside Qingshui.
Wen Lianfeng swept her gaze over everyone. After confirming they were ready, she said quietly, “Let’s go.”
Beneath the overcast sky, the group slipped silently out from under the bridge once more.
Seven figures made their way along the ruined highway without a word.
Walking among them, Qingshui looked at the straight yet exhausted backs of Wen Lianfeng, Chu Jingchu, and the others ahead. She looked at Song Yunqing beside her, still moving forward despite being as skittish as a startled bird. She looked at the companions who had been brought together by chance.
She would fight with everything she had to stay alive.
She would live for all of them, too.
She would survive.
Until she found the answer to her rebirth. Until she reached the end-or until the flame of her life finally burned itself out.