Chapter 70
Chapter 70
The rusty iron door shifted with a faint scrape, the sound unusually clear in the silent room.
Lin Hao sprang nervously to his feet. Even though he knew it was probably his teammates on the other side, he couldn’t help feeling tense.
Knock, knock, knock.
Three evenly spaced knocks.
Then Qingshui’s voice came from outside. “It’s us.”
Lin Hao let out a quiet breath of relief. He hurriedly moved the heavy objects barricading the door and pulled it open.
The three people outside looked even more battered than he had imagined.
Qingshui stood in the middle. Her mask was gone, and her face was smeared with dirt and covered in small cuts, the blood already dried against her skin.
An Xiaolin and Ji Feifan leaned against each other. Both looked as though they had rolled through blood and mud several times, and they were clearly badly injured.
“Get inside!”
Lin Hao stepped aside.
The three quickly slipped into the room, and Lin Hao immediately shut the door and barricaded it again.
Chen Yuhui had already managed to make her way over, her eyes filled with concern.
“Are you all right?”
She and Zhou Yaping handed them the water they had prepared. An Xiaolin and Ji Feifan practically snatched it from their hands, collapsed onto the floor, and tipped their heads back to gulp it down.
The cool liquid slid down throats tainted with the taste of blood, easing their churning nausea and dizziness enough to clear their muddled minds a little.
After taking a moment to catch their breath, they got straight to work. There was no time to waste.
At Qingshui’s signal, the three of them dragged the heavy containers into the middle of the room.
They opened An Xiaolin’s first. It had no latch or lock; the container itself was simply a sturdy, sealed iron drum.
They pried open the drum’s lid with a knife, revealing tightly packed blocks of individually wrapped military compressed rations.
Beneath the rations was a neat row of drinking water. Beyond that, the government had included a surprising variety of supplies.
Tampons, multipurpose military knives, batteries, candles…
Everyone’s eyes stung even more at the sight.
Next, Qingshui and Ji Feifan removed all the weapons from the other two containers.
The room fell silent for several seconds as everyone stared at what lay before them. Only the sound of their ragged breathing remained.
Including the one in Qingshui’s hand, there were four pistols in total. Beside them were several neatly arranged magazines, clearly divided into shorter pistol magazines and longer rifle magazines.
There was also a row of ammunition packed in metal boxes.
In addition, they had four gas masks, four walkie-talkies, and four grenades.
Sharp-eyed Lin Hao spotted several long objects wrapped in oilcloth at the bottom of the containers.
He carefully took them out and unwrapped the oilcloth. “These are…”
Chen Yuhui was already rapidly scanning an instruction manual she had found inside one of the containers. She read the key information aloud in a low voice. “…Rifles. Disassembled. Assembly required according to the guide.”
An Xiaolin and Ji Feifan immediately leaned closer to study the manual with her.
Qingshui said nothing. She carefully examined the parts laid out before her, running her fingers over the cold metal as if rapidly fitting the pieces together in her mind. A moment later, she began.
Her movements were astonishingly smooth, each part fitting precisely into place in her hands.
Suddenly, Qingshui paused.
Something felt… a little different.
She frowned slightly and considered it for a moment before quickly adjusting. In less than ten minutes, a fully assembled rifle had taken shape in her hands. She pulled the charging handle and checked the weapon’s action while it was unloaded, then repeated the process and swiftly assembled the second rifle.
“Q-Qingshui… You know how to assemble guns?” Chen Yuhui couldn’t help asking in a hushed voice as she watched Qingshui’s practiced movements. Her tone was full of disbelief.
She knew Qingshui was surrounded by mysteries, but every time Qingshui displayed another extraordinary skill, the shock felt just as fresh.
Qingshui merely nodded without explaining. She placed the two assembled rifles on the floor and swept her gaze over her companions sitting around her.
“Come here.”
They exchanged glances, then hurriedly gathered around.
Qingshui picked up a magazine and held it out for everyone to see. “This is a magazine.”
Then she picked up a cartridge and displayed it in her palm. “This is a pistol round.”
She demonstrated how to load it. “Line the round up with the opening of the magazine, then press down with your thumb to compress the spring. Load them one at a time. A full pistol magazine holds eight rounds, and a full rifle magazine holds thirty. Keep your hands steady while you’re loading. If a round goes in crooked, it’ll jam.”
Chen Yuhui copied her, pinching a round between her fingers and trying to press it into the magazine. But the moment she applied force with her thumb, it slipped away.
Qingshui reached out, steadied her wrist, and adjusted the angle.
Understanding dawned on Chen Yuhui’s face. “Tilt it a little?”
“Mm-hmm.”
Only after everyone had more or less learned how to load a magazine did Qingshui pick up a pistol and push the fully loaded magazine into the grip with a soft click.
“When you load the magazine, push it in firmly all the way. That sound means it’s locked in place.”
She emphasized again, “Remember, unless you’re sure you’re going to fire, never put your finger on the trigger. The safety is here. Flip it this way before you shoot.”
Everyone stared at the gun in her hands, their eyes filled with a mixture of nervousness and excitement. They knew that from this moment on, they finally had something to rely on to survive among the Madmen.
Seeing the excitement in their eyes, Qingshui hesitated before handing over the pistol. Then she looked down at the weapons on the floor.
First, she pulled a rifle and several matching magazines toward herself. As the group’s primary combatant, she needed to maintain the strongest firepower.
Next, she picked up two pistols and handed them to Chen Yuhui and Lin Hao. “Your main jobs are support and keeping watch. Pistols are better suited for close-range defense.”
Chen Yuhui’s leg had yet to heal, limiting her mobility, while Lin Hao needed to operate the drone and keep an eye on Zhou Yaping at all times. Rifles would likely be too much of a burden for them, and they would need more training before they could use one effectively.
That left one rifle and one pistol.
“I’ll take the rifle,” An Xiaolin and Ji Feifan said almost simultaneously.
They looked at each other, each seeing the same desire and determination in the other’s eyes. A rifle’s longer range and greater firepower meant they could confront threats from a safer distance. It offered a stronger sense of security as well.
Qingshui looked between them and shook her head. “More firepower won’t necessarily improve your chances of survival. Neither of you even knows how to use a gun yet.”
After considering it for two seconds, she pushed the remaining rifle toward Ji Feifan. “A rifle has a longer range, so it’s better for providing fire support from a distance.”
She explained, “If I remember correctly… you know how to use a bow, so a rifle should suit you better. Xiaolin’s fighting style has always leaned more toward close combat, so a pistol is a better fit for her.”
An Xiaolin pressed her lips together. She knew Qingshui had made the most rational assignment. She glanced at the rifle in Ji Feifan’s hands, suppressed a flicker of instinctive envy, and nodded. “Okay.”
She reached out and took the pistol. It felt heavy in her hand, its metallic chill seeping into her skin, yet that cold weight somehow made her feel a little more secure.
Qingshui gathered three of the grenades beside herself.
She, An Xiaolin, and Ji Feifan were the main frontline fighters, so the grenades needed to remain concentrated among the assault force.
She gave the last one to Chen Yuhui and Lin Hao. “Use it with caution.”
“There are forty-eight packs of compressed rations. Lin Hao gets twelve. An Xiaolin, Chen Yuhui, Ji Feifan, and I each get nine. Any objections?”
Everyone shook their heads.
“Conserve your ammunition. Don’t use the guns unless absolutely necessary,” Qingshui warned them one last time, her voice stern.
Everyone nodded solemnly.
“Next, I’ll continue teaching you how to use them and how to coordinate tactically,” Qingshui added.
They nodded again like obedient students.
“For now,” Qingshui said, her voice softening slightly, “get some rest.”
A rare look of confusion appeared on Ji Feifan’s face. “We’re… resting already?”
He lowered his gaze to the cold weapon in front of him. “I never thought the first time I held a real gun would be under circumstances like these.”
There was no excitement in his voice, only a bitter sense of absurdity. Given the choice, he would have preferred to go his entire life seeing such things only in movies, television shows, and shooting ranges.
Qingshui didn’t respond. She had already picked up a pack of compressed rations and torn it open, eating in silence.
The taste was familiar, instantly stirring certain memories. She ate quickly, swallowing it in a few bites. Then, hugging her rifle and backpack to herself, she curled up in the shadows of a corner and closed her eyes.
The others each found a relatively comfortable spot to sit or lie down.
Only then did An Xiaolin and Ji Feifan belatedly realize that every part of their bodies was screaming in pain.
Lin Hao watched them grimace as they carefully adjusted their positions, then ventured, “Um… why don’t you take off your coats and let me have a look? I helped Chen Yuhui clean and dress her wounds earlier…”
An Xiaolin and Ji Feifan exchanged a glance but did not refuse.
Under the dim light, Lin Hao began carefully examining and treating their visible injuries.
For a while, the only sounds in the room were their stifled groans of pain and the rustling of Zhou Yaping trying her best to pass Lin Hao the medical supplies.