Chapter 130

Chapter 130

Wen Lianfeng sprang to her feet without the slightest hesitation. “Let’s go!”

No one questioned her. Chu Jingchu was the first to leap into the van, with Qingshui right behind her. The silent middle-aged woman started the engine.

The van tore out of the warehouse and into the night.

The radio was still on. Voices kept coming through the hiss of static.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

They could all hear the gunshots over the radio, along with curses, droning engines, and the shriek of the wind.

Then came the sound of shattering glass.

The van raced through the darkness as everyone listened in silence. Then…

BOOM!

A deafening explosion erupted from the radio, and the world went completely silent.

Xu Wenlie had used a grenade to take those Madmen down with her.

The van kept moving, carrying a full load of food and four silent passengers on the long journey home.

Little by little, they drew closer to the shelter. They circled around again and again, slowly making their way toward the iron gate.

It had already been opened for them.

The Director stood just inside, with more than a dozen survivors behind her. Every one of them was armed, and all eyes were fixed on the van as it slowly rolled in.

The van came to a stop.

In the faint light of dawn, the survivors could see that it was covered in blood. Dried blood stained the doors, the tires, and nearly every other part of it.

Their expressions did not change. Only when they saw the back packed to the brim with food did a glimmer finally appear in their eyes.

They swarmed forward and began unloading the supplies. No one asked about Xu Wenlie.

Everything returned to normal.

Everyone emerged from the underground storeroom and went back to their rooms, resuming their duties. Those on patrol continued patrolling, those reinforcing the shelter continued their work, and those who could rest went to rest.

Qingshui, Wen Lianfeng, and Chu Jingchu returned to the small hospital room as well. By the time they lay down, dawn was close. They barely spoke, simply curling up beneath their blankets and trying to recover their strength.

The room remained quiet for a long time. Long enough for Qingshui to force herself to fall asleep, yet it did not seem long before she woke again.

She had no idea how long she had slept. Her body was still weary, but she could not get back to sleep.

She sat up and glanced to either side. Wen Lianfeng and Chu Jingchu were still asleep, so she quietly got out of bed, opened the door, and slipped outside.

The corridor was silent except for the occasional footsteps and murmured voices in the distance.

She wanted to find something to do. Anything would do, as long as it filled the emptiness in her mind.

Just after rounding a corner, she abruptly stopped. Soft voices were coming from the room beside her, gentle and soothing.

Qingshui quietly peeked inside.

It was Wu Wujie.

Big Guy was crouched in front of several patients. They wore hospital gowns. Some were playing with toys, some sat on the floor, and others merely stared blankly at him.

There was a tenderness on Wu Wujie’s face that Qingshui had never seen before.

This was the man who had swung a pointed shovel on the highway, the man built like a wall. Yet now, his every expression was gentle, as though he were comforting a group of frightened children.

“It’s all right,” he said softly. “I’m here. I’ll keep you safe.”

Qingshui stood in the doorway without moving.

Wu Wujie seemed to sense something. He looked up, and his gaze met hers. Some of the tenderness immediately vanished from his face. He rose and walked toward the door.

“You’re back?” he asked quietly.

Qingshui nodded.

Wu Wujie stepped into the corridor and gently closed the door behind him. The two stood there in silence for several seconds.

“I made an arrangement with the Director,” he explained. “The woman who used to care for these patients and I will work in shifts. She watches them during the day, and I take the night shift.”

Qingshui looked at him.

“Surprised?” Wu Wujie suddenly asked.

“I used to be a kindergarten teacher.”

Qingshui’s eyes widened slightly.

A kindergarten teacher?

Wu Wujie seemed to understand the look in her eyes. He leaned against the wall, his gaze darkening.

“I’ve always loved children,” he said. “After I graduated, I started working at a kindergarten. I stayed there for eight years.”

He paused. “And then…”

“I made the wrong choice.”

“That day, a group of women came to the kindergarten. They said it was chaos outside and that we couldn’t stay there. They said they wanted to take the children somewhere safe. I believed them.”

He lowered his eyes.

“But once they got inside… those children… so many of them died.”

His fists slowly clenched, then relaxed. “I was the one who got them killed.”

Qingshui looked at him. His face was filled with grief. She wanted to say something, but in the end, she merely raised a hand and patted him on the shoulder.

Instead, Wu Wujie asked her another question. “You’re still heading north after this, aren’t you?”

Qingshui nodded.

Wu Wujie was silent for several seconds before saying, “I… won’t be going with you.”

“I want to stay here,” he said. “I want to stay and care for them. Protect them. For as long as I can.”
“You could call it… atonement,” he said. “They’re not those children, but… being able to care for them and protect them makes me feel a little better, at least.”

Neither of them spoke again, and silence spread through the corridor. Finally, Qingshui nodded.

“All right.”

She turned and continued on her way.

When she stepped out of the main building, she was greeted by a rare expanse of clear blue sky. The sun was hidden behind the clouds, letting through only a faint glimmer of light.

Qingshui stood in the courtyard, watching the people bustling around her.

Some were reinforcing the walls, while others were taking stock of their supplies. Every one of them was alive, and every one of them was fighting to stay that way.

She didn’t know how much longer this place would survive.

None of them knew that the Madmen would only grow more numerous. They would crawl out and spread across every inch of the land. How long could this little Psychiatric Hospital and its crude traps hold them back?

She didn’t know.

But she hoped this place would survive forever.

“Qingshui.”

A voice came from behind her.

Qingshui turned around.

It was Ye Que. The Short-haired Girl stood there, her face pale and deep shadows beneath her eyes. She looked troubled.

Qingshui knew what she wanted to ask.

“Xu Wenlie,” Qingshui said. “She… didn’t make it back.”

“She stayed in contact with us over the radio until the very end. She lured away the helicopter, along with a horde of Madmen. And then…”

“She detonated a grenade.”

Sorrow crossed Ye Que’s face. Her lips moved, but no words came out. In the end, all she said was, “I understand,” before turning and walking away.

Qingshui remained where she was, watching Ye Que’s retreating figure. She didn’t know where to go or what to do.

Then a figure at the edge of her vision caught her attention. It was Song Yunqing.

The girl stood a short distance away, wearing an old coat that clearly didn’t fit and holding a pair of binoculars. She looked much better than she had a few days ago. The blood had been washed from her face, and she no longer looked like a shadow on the verge of melting away.

When she noticed Qingshui, she paused. “You… haven’t rested?”

“I’ve had enough rest,” Qingshui replied.

It was the truth. She had only slept for a few hours, but that was enough for her.

Her gaze fell on the binoculars in Song Yunqing’s hands.

“Are you going on watch?”

Song Yunqing nodded. “Yeah. They confiscated everything I had, but they do let me handle blades… so all I can do is stand watch.”

Qingshui was silent for a moment.

“I’ll come with you.”

Song Yunqing glanced at her but didn’t refuse.

One behind the other, they climbed the stairs to the rooftop.

Song Yunqing raised the binoculars and began scanning their surroundings.

Qingshui stood beside her without speaking.

The atmosphere was awkward, as though an invisible wall stood between them. They were only a few feet apart, yet it felt as if an entire world separated them.

After a long while, Song Yunqing suddenly spoke, almost as if she were asking the question in passing. “What do you think… is the point of being alive?”

Qingshui turned her head slightly and looked at her. She had heard that question far too many times.

For some reason, everyone seemed to love asking her that.

But she didn’t know the answer.

She never thought about things like that. Being alive was simply being alive, like breathing, like a beating heart, like eating when you were hungry and sleeping when you were tired.

Did it need a reason?

So she simply asked in return, “Do you need a reason to live?”

“I do.” Song Yunqing fell silent for a moment before continuing slowly, “I think… most people probably do.”

“People need something to hold them up, something that keeps them going. Family, friends, every moment of happiness… They’re all reasons to live.”

Song Yunqing continued. She didn’t seem to care about Qingshui’s answer. It was as though she simply needed to unburden herself, and once she began, the words came on their own.

“I used to hear my brother and sister-in-law’s voices in my ears all the time. They would curse me and call me a bitch. They said I was the only one who survived, that I didn’t deserve to live.”

Her voice was calm, yet filled with such profound sadness.

“After I killed them, I lost any desire to keep living. My whole family was gone, and I didn’t know what reason I had to remain in this world. If all I could do was scrape by among a horde of Madmen, I figured I might as well die and get it over with.”

“But then…”

Something flickered in her eyes.

“The Director spoke to me.”

“She said…” Song Yunqing murmured, “that it wasn’t about who deserved what. This world was what drove people to become this way. And…”

She paused. “I was simply ill.”

Song Yunqing lowered her head and looked at the binoculars in her hands.

“She said being ill wasn’t a crime. Staying alive wasn’t a crime either. And suddenly, I thought… maybe this is enough, as long as I can still be of some use.”

She would just carry on like this, making do with being alive.