Chapter 48

Chapter 48

242 held up his still-damp hand, using the other to gently push away his younger brother, 243, who was eagerly pressing closer.

Less than five days had passed since District 13’s last cleansing. Coupled with the city’s severe desertification and extremely dry air, the boy’s short, dark hair remained fluffy and dry. His persistent, frantic scrambling made him resemble a wild, anxious little animal.

After a brief standoff, 242, still holding his hand aloft, suddenly felt something was amiss.

He lowered his hand and examined his open palm.

It still felt slightly damp, but the glistening wetness was gone.

242 stared blankly at his hand for a long moment before stiffly lying back down and closing his eyes.

243 noticed his second brother’s actions but showed no reaction. Instead, he took his brother’s hand and turned the palm over.

By now, even that slight dampness had evaporated in the dry air.

Unable to get what he wanted, the boy repeatedly flipped his brother’s hand, emitting meaningless whimpering sounds.

Perhaps due to his younger age, 243 seemed to retain a bit more of a child’s innate curiosity compared to his two older brothers.

But not much.

Seeing that he couldn’t get the water he desired, 243 didn’t pause to wonder where it had come from. Almost immediately, he lay back down on the floor, just like his brothers.

They could hear the unexpected little visitor who had suddenly appeared in their room, but out of habit, they didn’t realize it was something that required a response.

The residents of District 13 had very few daily tasks—almost none.

In this wasteland world filled with factories, they didn’t even need to work, as most factories were fully automated.

As for the delicate products that automation couldn’t handle, the world’s administrators simply abandoned them.

They sustained countless city residents, yet, like the kindest of angels, they never demanded anything in return from many of them, from birth to death.

So, during the remaining time when they didn’t need to go out to find food, most residents chose to return home and sleep.

The food they consumed wasn’t enough to support extensive social activities.

Nearby, Su Ximu, who had thought his brother would speak to him after wiping his tears, pursed his lips.

He thought he might be disliked.

Looking at it another way, if a strange child came to his home and kept talking to him when he was tired and wanted to sleep, he might feel a little annoyed too.

With this thought, the little one looked up and glanced toward the door again. Finally gathering his courage, he took his first step.

He walked to the tin door and pushed it, only to find his hand passing right through.

He tried taking two more steps forward, and this time, his entire body passed through the door.

Earlier, out of fear, Su Ximu hadn’t carefully considered his unusual state. Now, with his emotions slightly calmed, even someone his age realized something was wrong.

Had he… died?

He once nursed an injured bird, even making a nest for it in a small wooden box. But one day, when he went to feed it, the bird had suddenly become stiff and no longer pecked gently at his hand.

He brought the bird to his grandmother and asked what was wrong. Grandma said the bird had died.

Dying meant the bird had gone to a place where no one could see it.

Grandma also said that if he was good and didn’t cry, the bird would be happy knowing it in that place.

Moreover, the aunt next door once told Grandma that ghosts were what people turned into after they died. No one could touch ghosts, but ghosts could touch people.

The little child looked up at the rows upon rows of tin houses. Very few people were outside.

He slowly crouched down, curling himself into a small ball, hiding in the shadow of the eaves.

He whimpered softly, thinking he had guessed right.

He really had died and turned into a ghost.

This was a place only for the dead.

That was why Grandma, Mom, and Dad were gone.

If Grandma woke up today and found him dead, just like when he found the bird dead, she would surely be very sad.

***

After spending ten minutes at the door pondering this profound question, Su Ximu walked around the tin house to familiarize himself with the world after death.

After all, he might have to stay here forever now.

The world after death was truly lifeless.

There was no green grass, no birds, and no people in sight. Everyone stayed inside their little houses.

After touring the area, the little boy in overalls made his way back to where he started.

In that short time, he not only figured out why he was here but also understood why the three brothers in the house ignored him yet didn't chase him away.

Probably because this little house was also assigned to him in the world of the dead.

Otherwise, why hadn’t he ended up in someone else’s house?

Easily passing through the wall back into the room, the little one politely greeted his three roommates: “Hello, brothers, I’m back.”

With that, he blinked his large, clear eyes and, without disturbing his brothers’ pretend sleep, found a small spot to lie down, imitating them.

There was no pillow in the room, so he lay on his side, placing his palms together under his ear as a makeshift cushion.

Initially, Su Ximu intended to pretend to sleep like his brothers, but the events of the day were just too much for a child.

From the moment he lay down and closed his eyes, he hadn’t even counted to fifty in his mind before his consciousness began to fade, and he fell into a deep sleep.

According to some psychological studies, when young children encounter situations they can’t handle, their brains subconsciously activate an emotional protection mechanism.

While exploring outside, the little one easily accepted that he had died and might never see Grandma, Mom, or Dad again.

But once he truly fell asleep, his rest was far from peaceful.

“Grandma…”

“Want… sob… want Grandma…”

The small child’s soft sobs in his sleep sounded utterly pitiful.

After a while, 242, who had been "sleeping" on the ground, rose.

Because his rank wasn't high enough, he wore chains on both wrists. Fortunately, the chains weren’t too short and didn’t severely restrict his movements.

For the first time, the figure of the child in the corner appeared clearly in 242’s vacant eyes.

Su Ximu, who had been lying in a well-behaved sleep moments before, had now shifted to lying face down while crying, still resting his cheek on his arm.

With a clatter of chains,

242 turned over the little one, who was crying in his sleep, revealing his little face, marked with red pressure lines, and his tear-reddened eyes.

A glistening tear fell, *plop*, onto the ground, sending up a tiny splash.

242 turned around, got the small bucket he used to collect his monthly water ration, and placed it beside the little one, who was still dripping tears.

However, even the smallest bucket wasn’t low enough to catch the tears this way.

242 didn't try to lick up the tears because the rules at the District 13 water station stipulated that residents were not allowed to drink directly from the faucet when collecting water.

Besides, the water he had tried to catch with his hands earlier was all gone.

This only cemented 242's understanding that you had to use a bucket to get water.

As they say, necessity is the mother of invention.

Before this, 242 had never needed to think about how to obtain something. But now, spurred by his craving for the water, he finally tried to think for the first time.

Seeing that the "faucet" was producing more and more water, yet none of it was flowing into the bucket, the boy finally squatted down and lifted the child, who was much smaller than him.

He had no idea how to hold a child.

In the wasteland world, babies were tough. They only needed to consume the nutrient solution distributed by the administrators to survive, which also had a calming effect.

Thus, 242 had never been held or soothed by his parents, nor had he ever held his younger brother, 243, who was born later.

He placed one arm under the little one’s head and used his other hand to support the child’s bottom.

Moreover, now the tears from the child's eyes could drip straight into the small bucket below.

And so, 242 sat on the ground, cradling the sniffling little "faucet" in his arms, listening to the soft, steady *plop* of teardrops falling into the bucket.

*Plop, plop, plop…*

Until the little one vaguely sensed being held and gained a slight sense of security, he finally sniffled, stopped crying, and no longer let out the occasional whimper for 'Nai Nai' (grandma).

He turned over in the relatively warm embrace, facing inward, and reached out a small hand to grip a corner of 242’s sleeve.

It was a more secure position for a small child.

The little faucet had run dry; the water had stopped.

242 freed a hand, tipped the bucket back, and drained the small amount of water in one go. This time, the water tasted slightly different from before.

But it wasn’t enough to elicit any reaction from 242.

After drinking, he remained in his current position, not moving again.

Su Ximu woke up feeling like someone was holding him. He rubbed his eyes and happily wanted to call out "Grandma."

Only after calling out did he remember that he was dead now and couldn't see Grandma anymore.

Looking up, he realized it was the older brother in the room who was holding him.

Of the three older brothers in the room, the little one had the deepest impression of the one holding him because the brother was very beautiful.

Now, discovering that the brother was holding and soothing him to sleep just like Grandma did, he couldn't help but like the brother even more.

He wanted to take a fruit candy from his little pocket to give to the brother but found that the candy was gone, having fallen out at some point.

So, the little one, sitting up in the brother's arms, could only say thank you: "Thank you, brother."

Although the brother still didn't react much, perhaps due to like a baby bird imprinting, in the following time, he followed the beautiful brother around like a little tail, doing whatever the brother did.

There wasn't really much to do, though, because he realized that the dead really liked to zone out.

After waking up, the brothers would either lie down and zone out or sit and zone out.

At one point, without meaning to, he accidentally ended up in the neighboring room.

The grandpa in the neighboring room was also zoning out.

He apologized to the grandpa next door, saying he didn't mean to intrude, but the grandpa didn't say anything.

The dead like to zone out, don't like talking, and also enjoy sleeping.

So, it wasn't that the brother disliked him. Everyone was just like that.

Su Ximu thought that perhaps it was because he had just died, so he hadn't yet learned to zone out all the time or sleep all the time.

He also felt the urge to talk a bit.

He was just a kid after all. Being able to sit and zone out with 242 for several hours was already quite impressive.

By the afternoon, Su Ximu couldn't hold back anymore. After telling the brothers he lived with, he went out again.

Afraid of getting lost, he still didn't dare go too far this time.

When he returned, the little one's pockets were already filled with the treasures from his exploration.

Since his older brothers didn't speak, he obediently sat to the side and talked all by himself in a very, very soft voice.

"What's this?" He pulled out the first item from his pocket—industrial waste that looked like diamonds, commonly found everywhere in the city.

Holding up the little diamond-like stone, sitting with his feet pressed together, the little kid asked and answered himself, "It's a little stone."

After saying this, he set the little stone aside and pulled out another item from his pocket.

"What's this?"

"It's a fallen little flower."

In this sandy, haze-filled environment of District 13, only one type of plant that looked like a cactus grows.

It had yellow flowers with five petals.

"So beautiful."

The little one looked left and right, choosing to tuck the small flower into a crack in the floor.

After this round of self-questioning, he quickly took stock of his treasures. Aside from the little yellow flower, everything else was tucked back into his pocket.

In what felt like no time, the sky darkened, and it was time to sleep again.

The three brothers once again lay down side by side, all together.

Su Ximu also lay down again in the spot where he had slept at noon.

In the middle of the night,

242 looked at the little one now curled in his arms.

His younger brother, 243, who had originally been sleeping beside him, had shifted to a spot further away.

He stared at the corner of the little one’s eyes for some time—no more tears were welling up.

After a moment, 242 closed his eyes again. He didn’t push away the little one in his arms.

Author's Note:

Little Mu: Dead people aren't talkative. I'm serious.