Chapter 59
Chapter 59
Chen Yuhui shifted slightly, tugging at the wound on her leg. She immediately sucked in a sharp breath.
Her heart was racing, and her breathing quickened involuntarily. She looked around the crude prefab building at the construction site, praying that Qingshui and the others were safe.
In the corner, Lin Hao was staring intently at the drone’s control screen, his profile taut with concentration.
Chen Yuhui glanced at the wound on her calf, then at the grim-faced Lin Hao beside her, and closed her eyes.
After a long moment, she asked, “…How’s it going?”
“Much better than I expected,” Lin Hao replied without taking his eyes off the control screen. “Even with the earthquake, most of the buildings in the city weren’t affected. Everything’s going smoothly for Qingshui and the others.”
“That’s good.”
Lin Hao gave a distracted grunt. From the corner of his eye, however, he saw her lips pressed into a thin line, her lower lip bitten so hard it was almost bleeding. His hands paused for a moment.
“Don’t overthink it. They didn’t go in there just for you. They did it for all of us.”
He paused, his gaze still fixed on the shifting images on the screen, and lowered his voice. “Besides… we’re teammates now, right? Qingshui said that at a time like this… we can’t abandon a single one of our companions.”
An indescribable tangle of emotions colored his voice. “After all… in this godforsaken world, if we don’t even have something to hold on to, how are we supposed to keep going?”
“…Yeah.”
Chen Yuhui tugged at the corner of her mouth. She pressed down on her thigh, trying to suppress the violent spasms in her leg muscles.
“Ugh…”
Agonizing pain burrowed through her bones and spread into every limb. She doubled over, her jaw clenched so tightly that she forced down every cry threatening to escape her throat. All that remained was her ragged, distorted breathing.
Cold sweat trickled down her temples, drop after drop splattering against the floor.
A warm hand came to rest against her forehead, gently wiping away the sweat.
Chen Yuhui raised her trembling eyes.
It was Zhou Yaping. At some point, the little girl had crouched beside her. Holding a small piece of tissue, she carefully wiped the sweat and involuntary tears from Chen Yuhui’s face.
There was no fear on the little girl’s young face, only deep concern.
“There, there. It won’t hurt,” Zhou Yaping said in a soft, childish voice, her large, round eyes brimming with worry. “You’ll be okay, Big Sis.”
Chen Yuhui looked at her, and the aching tightness in her throat intensified. She shook her head and tried to put on a reassuring smile, but the corners of her mouth were too stiff.
“Yeah. I’ll be okay.”
Her voice was terribly hoarse, trembling despite her efforts to suppress it.
Lin Hao exhaled. The images on the screen showed no immediate danger, but for some reason, he couldn’t shake the restlessness gnawing at him.
He looked at Chen Yuhui’s paper-white face and the way she was struggling to hold herself together. After a moment’s hesitation, he tried to distract her with conversation, deliberately making his tone more casual.
“If I remember right… you’re from this province, aren’t you?”
Chen Yuhui looked at him in surprise, confusion flickering in her eyes. “How did you know?”
“I heard it from Li Wei’an, a junior at our school.”
The words left Lin Hao’s mouth before he could think, and the moment they did, he froze.
Li Wei’an was already dead. Bringing her up now was no different from rubbing salt into everyone’s wounds.
His hands continued piloting the drone, but his lips pressed into a hard line.
He cursed himself inwardly. Idiot! Of all the things you could’ve brought up!
“…I am. Other than Qingshui, I think all of us are from this province.” Chen Yuhui fell silent for a moment before answering quietly. Her voice was calm, betraying little emotion.
Lin Hao breathed an inward sigh of relief and followed the thread of the conversation, blurting out without thinking, “Oh. Then where’s Qingshui from?”
“Qingshui…” Chen Yuhui frowned as though trying to remember. “Her ID says… Yuncang Province.”
Lin Hao was using the drone to scout the roads. He responded automatically, even slipping into his usual teasing tone. “That’s a strange way to put it. What do you mean, ‘her ID says’? Could she be from somewhere else-”
“She has amnesia,” Chen Yuhui said softly, cutting him off mid-sentence. “She doesn’t remember anything beyond the information on her ID. But… the way she speaks and the food she likes… none of it really matches someone from Yuncang.”
…Amnesia?
“What?!” Lin Hao whipped around, astonishment written all over his face. “That rumor at school about someone losing her memory in a car accident… that was Qingshui?! How come Li-”
Once again, his words stopped halfway.
Li Wei’an had never mentioned it to him. But he did vaguely remember a friend once telling him about a freshman who had forgotten everything after a car accident. Apparently, she often behaved in ways that made her stand out and was something of an oddball.
At the time, he had half-jokingly cursed the whole damn education system. The girl had forgotten everything, yet they had still shoved her into school.
He had never imagined that girl was Qingshui.
“…But when you really think about it, I guess it’s not that strange if it’s Qingshui.” Lin Hao murmured, turning his gaze back to the screen. “Somehow, it feels like anything could happen to her.”
“Is that so?” Chen Yuhui asked softly.
Realizing he had spoken his thoughts aloud, Lin Hao gave an awkward cough and hurried to explain. “Ahem. I didn’t mean anything by it. I just think Qingshui is… kind of special.”
“I know.” Chen Yuhui coughed, her gaze drifting away. “Qingshui has always been… ‘strange.'”
And yet, there was something wonderfully extraordinary about all that strangeness.
…………
“You really are so weird.”
Chen Yuhui rested her chin in her hand and stared helplessly at Qingshui, who was sitting across from her. With an almost reverent expression, Qingshui quickly ate the food on her tray.
Her table manners weren’t crude. In fact, she ate rather quietly. But her intense focus and sheer appetite were impossible to ignore.
Chen Yuhui finally couldn’t hold back and muttered, “Were you a starving ghost in your past life or something?”
And that was far from the only bizarre thing about her roommate.
She didn’t know how to use a smartphone. She looked completely baffled by traffic lights when crossing the street. She didn’t even know she was supposed to bring textbooks to class… Sometimes, Chen Yuhui genuinely wondered whether her roommate had lost her memory or, in some sense, her mind.
The thought amused her so much that she quickly raised her cup to hide the smile tugging at her lips.
Beside her, An Xiaolin looked deeply concerned. When Qingshui neatly polished off yet another bowl and started on what had to be her umpteenth serving, An Xiaolin finally couldn’t take it anymore and caught her by the wrist.
“Q-Qingshui… Your stomach won’t be able to handle it if you eat this much,” An Xiaolin said in her soft voice, summoning her courage to offer the warning.
Qingshui stopped and looked up. Beneath her long lashes, her eyes now held genuine confusion and even a hint of… hurt?
“I’m not allowed to eat?” she asked evenly, instantly making An Xiaolin feel as though she had done something terribly cruel.
“Uh, that’s not what I meant…” An Xiaolin panicked and hurriedly waved her hands. “I’m just worried you’ll overeat and feel sick…”
Qingshui turned to Li Wei’an, the Dorm Leader sitting across from her, and sought confirmation. “Dorm Leader, I’m not allowed to eat?”
Holding back a laugh, Li Wei’an explained gently, “Of course you are, Qingshui. Xiaolin is only worried that eating too much will leave you bloated.”
Chen Yuhui leaned closer as well and asked curiously, “Seriously, you ate that enormous serving all by yourself… How do you feel right now?”
Qingshui considered the question carefully, then answered, “I still want more.”
An Xiaolin: “…”
Chen Yuhui burst out laughing. She quickly poured Qingshui a cup of warm water and slid it over. “All right, all right. Maybe you were just born with a huge appetite. This is my first time meeting someone who can eat so much in real life.”
The mood had only just relaxed when the phone Qingshui had left on the table suddenly lit up. It looked like she had received a message.
Qingshui put down her chopsticks and picked up the phone. Her movements were noticeably clumsy, and she even hesitated while unlocking the screen. Yet once she opened the messaging app, her fingers flew across the keyboard with remarkable ease.
Chen Yuhui immediately narrowed her eyes.
There it was again.
That strange disconnect. Qingshui fumbled with electronic devices, yet she was unbelievably proficient at certain skills.
She lacked even the most basic common sense about everyday life, yet sometimes her judgment and reactions were shockingly quick.
She usually seemed quiet, even a little slow, but every now and then, she would inadvertently reveal an extreme degree of vigilance.
The girl was an endless mystery.
“Is that your counselor, Qingshui?” Li Wei’an asked, leaning over to look.
Qingshui hesitated, then nodded and turned the screen toward them. A brief exchange was displayed on it.
Counselor: “Qingshui, a teacher reported again that you came to class without your textbook this morning. Remember to bring your Management textbook this afternoon.”
Qingshui: “All right.”
Li Wei’an stared at her. “…Didn’t I remind you, Qingshui? I know I told you before we left this morning!”
Qingshui looked back at her, her eyes clear and candid. “You did. I remember.”
Chen Yuhui finally lost it. Pointing at Qingshui, she laughed so hard her shoulders shook. “Li Wei’an, look at her! She agreed so seriously, but she didn’t take it to heart at all! Hahahaha!”
Li Wei’an put a hand to her forehead, unable to keep herself from laughing as well. “Honestly… I give up, Qingshui!”
Seeing Qingshui’s still-calm and faintly confused expression, An Xiaolin pressed her lips together and began to giggle too.
Carefree laughter filled the space around the little dining table.
Sunlight streamed through the cafeteria windows, warm and bright.
Those ordinary days, those carefree peals of laughter… Recalling them now, in an apocalyptic night steeped in blood and death, they seemed as distant as a beautiful dream she no longer dared hope for.
Chen Yuhui closed her eyes and fiercely forced back the hot tears welling in them.