Chapter 50

Chapter 50

Su Ximu, clinging to his brother and weeping, struggled to comprehend why the world he was slowly growing accustomed to had, in an instant, turned so cruel.

His tears came so fiercely and rapidly that they soaked through 242’s not-so-thick white robe before he could even fetch the small water bucket.

Just as 242 registered what was happening and tried to move, the little one clutched the hem of his clothes tightly, leaving him momentarily unable to stir.

It didn't occur to him that he could simply push the child aside to move elsewhere. In the end, he crouched down and picked him up. But the sobbing child, completely engrossed in his grief, wrapped his arms around 242’s neck and pressed his small face into the crook of his neck.

He was like a little crybaby and a clingy bundle, leaving 242, whose thoughts were already muddled, utterly at a loss, with no other option but to hold him like that.

It was only when Su Ximu, his head spinning from crying, came to his senses that he quickly struggled to get down from his brother’s arms.

His brother was injured. Holding him would make his arms hurt.

His brothers hadn't cried despite their injuries, so he felt he shouldn't cry anymore either. Once his feet were back on the ground, he slowly stopped his tears.

The little one probably couldn’t understand himself how, after not drinking or eating for so long, he still had so many tears left to cry.

On the other side, 243, who had initially been pacing anxiously and even hitting the wall with his arm, gradually calmed down upon hearing the intermittent crying.

It seemed as though he understood the sorrow conveyed in those cries.

In the wasteland world, expectant mothers are uniformly sent to delivery rooms, where specialized equipment assists in childbirth. Newborns there don't need to cry, and they never do.

But tonight, someone was crying for him.

This time, the crying seemed especially intense.

Before going to bed that night, Su Ximu, who had naturally ended up lying between his brothers at some point, stared with his slightly swollen, "walnut" eyes and asked, still confused and upset, "Wh-why is it like this?"

"Who is so mean?"

"Brothers, can you not participate in this terrible event anymore?"

The little one’s thinking was simple: he was now one of the dead in this world too. But he hadn’t participated today, and no one had come for him.

Hearing the voices, 243 turned over and tentatively moved his arm closer.

Su Ximu, strangely understanding what his second brother meant, pushed up his sleeve and, while lying on his stomach, blew gently on the arm.

He wasn’t afraid of the wound that looked like a deep hole; he was just afraid of hurting his second brother.

This time, 243 still slowly fell asleep to the gentle blowing, though it took him much longer to fall asleep than the previous night.

After his second brother fell asleep, Su Ximu suddenly realized that his second brother had extended his arm because blowing on the wound made it hurt less.

Once he reached this conclusion, he perked up again. He then took the arm his eldest brother had placed on his chest and blew on it gently.

The little one didn’t play favorites. After blowing on both his eldest and second brothers’ wounds, he didn’t forget the eldest brother, who was the most like a wooden figure.

When Su Ximu took 241’s arm, he didn’t resist or open his eyes.

He didn’t care whether what awaited him was gentle comfort or sharp pain.

Humans and animals aren’t so different—the longer they are domesticated, the more their nature is worn away.

In the end, what he received was comfort, gentler than gentle.

His brothers were injured and needed medicine applied. He could help apply it, but where was the medicine?

He didn’t know what medicine could be applied to wounds.

And he had no money. He couldn’t buy medicine.

Thinking of the laughter he had heard on the other side of the wall the other day, the little one, who had been too scared to explore new areas by passing through the wall these past two days, mustered up courage in his heart.

His brothers were injured. They needed medicine to heal faster. That’s what his grandmother had told him when he fell and got hurt before.

But the people on this side of the wall didn’t laugh, cry, or speak. He had no way to ask where the medicine was.

There were people laughing on the other side of the wall; maybe they could speak too.

With this thought, the next morning, it was Su Ximu’s turn, who had stayed home the day before, to rush out first.

Before leaving, he didn’t forget to tell his three brothers at home: "Brothers, I’m going to find medicine. You’re injured, so rest at home and don’t go out. Wait for me obediently; I’ll come home after I find the medicine."

With that, he bravely stepped out of the house.

Following the direction from his memory, Su Ximu made his way to the wall.

The little one was quite clever. He deliberately found a spot where he couldn’t hear many voices before attempting to pass through the thick steel wall.

Inside and outside the wall seemed like two completely different worlds.

Having passed through the wall, the child cautiously peeked out from the corner, looking around in confusion.

Just then, an uncle who looked like a robot walked past him.

Su Ximu’s gaze lingered on the man’s arm and left leg, which gleamed with a metallic coldness.

When the uncle had walked past him earlier, he had even heard a sound.

The little one didn’t know that the sound came from the movement of metal joint axes.

After a while, he stepped out from the corner.

Despite his initial adventure and subsequent explorations, the light yellow overalls Su Ximu wore still looked relatively clean. Only the hem of the pants had been slightly torn accidentally in the bear castle.

Because of his attire, when a young, physically intact child suddenly appeared on the street, it drew sidelong glances but didn’t raise suspicions about his origins.

Perhaps Su Ximu was lucky. The small corner he had chosen led to a wide street heavy with the smell of engine oil, alongside which stood a large white building.

It somewhat resembled the image of a hospital in the little one’s mind.

So, he walked toward it.

When he got closer, he realized there was no door to enter the white building—only a large window.

Left with no choice, the little one could only grip the windowsill, stand on his tiptoes, and peer inside.

With just that one glance inside, he blinked and froze.

Inside the large white building were several connected workbenches.

On the workbenches lay many trays.

The white cloths had been removed from some trays, but not from others.

On the trays where the cloths were still in place, there were obvious red bloodstains.

On the trays with the cloths removed, square pieces of meat were laid out in neat rows.

At each workstation, a person held a piece of meat, examining it carefully with a magnifying glass, and would then place it into a machine.

Two seconds later, the person who had placed the meat in the machine observed the display after retrieving it, and said to the person beside them, "This piece of meat is qualified. It's transforming into a hunter. We can recruit it to replace us in conquering that world."

Another researcher said with a light chuckle, "The selective breeding plan from twenty years ago was very successful. The quality of this batch of meat is exceptionally high."

The window wasn't very soundproof. Su Ximu, his hands pressed to the window, could just barely hear the people inside talking, but he couldn’t understand what they were saying.

It wasn’t until one researcher noticed the little one outside the window and immediately opened it, calling out to him, "Hey there, little one, what are you doing here?"

As the window opened, an unpleasant, rank smell drifted out.

Su Ximu tightened his grip on the windowsill, gave a slight cough, but still didn’t understand what the person was saying.

A moment later, he jumped down from the windowsill and, for the first time, turned and ran away without a word, which was very rude of him.

He decided he hated this place. And he hated the people inside.

Because he felt that the meat on the trays must have been cut from his brothers.

If he were a bit older, he would have definitely started swinging at them.

Unfortunately, he was still too small. If he let go with one hand, he'd fall off completely. He couldn’t hit them.

Because of this feeling of hatred, even though this place seemed slightly better than the other side and the people here didn’t hit him, he still wanted to go home.

An hour and a half later, the little boy, who had been lost, finally found his way back to the small corner he had come from, and in his hand, he now held a box of medicine he had obtained.

While lost, he had finally found a pharmacy. He saw an injured person go there to get medicine without paying.

So, he copied the injured person and went to the pharmacy to get medicine too.

Since he wasn’t injured, the pharmacist initially refused to give him any. But then, after looking at him for a moment, the pharmacist seemed to become somewhat afraid and gave him the medicine.

Su Ximu carefully held the box of medicine he had found and scampered all the way home.

Arriving home and pushing the door open, the little one nodded with relief.

His brothers had obediently stayed inside and hadn’t gone out.

Carrying the medicine, he climbed back into the lap of the brother sitting on the floor, carefully avoiding his injured arm, seeking comfort in the warm embrace.

For a child, when feeling insecure, they often seek the comfort of being held.

"Brother, I met some bad people today..."

Those who don’t smile aren’t necessarily bad people.

Those who smile aren’t necessarily good people.

"But I found medicine!" At this point, he proudly held up his prize from the day.

242 blinked but showed no reaction. He simply adjusted the little one in his arms to a more comfortable position—a conditioned reflex he had developed over the past few days.

Su Ximu obediently let his brother adjust his posture, then opened the small box. Inside was a simple spray bottle.

He had seen how the injured person used it—spray it on, and the bleeding would stop. The injured person also seemed to be in less pain.

Eagerly, he rolled up his brother’s sleeve, picked up the small bottle, and clumsily imitated the spraying motion.

The first few sprays produced no liquid, but after pressing several times, a brownish liquid finally came out.

Afraid that the medicine might not be enough or ineffective, Su Ximu sprayed generously until the wound was nearly filled.

The medicine worked quickly.

For the first time, 242 looked down at the wound on his arm, then at the little one in his arms.

He seemed unable to understand why the pain had suddenly vanished.

It worked.

The little one holding the medicine bottle grinned widely. Sticking to the closest one first, he sprayed medicine on his eldest brother before finally going to his younger brother, who was curled up in the corner.

From the moment Su Ximu left that morning, 243 had been sleeping curled up in the corner.

After every collection day, he would remain like this for several days, until new flesh gradually grew over the wound on his arm and the intense pain subsided.

But this process sometimes made him very restless.

Like a horse with a fractured leg, he could feel the pain but didn’t know what to do, so he would keep running, repeatedly aggravating the injury.

If Su Ximu had seen this, he would have stopped him, just like the night before.

But today, he had gone out to find medicine, and 243’s two older brothers clearly did nothing to stop his actions.

Su Ximu walked to the corner, crouched down, and took his younger brother’s hand.

The wound under the sleeve was worse than the day before. The charred injury had torn open anew and was bleeding.

"Little brother, does it hurt?"

243’s eyelashes fluttered.

"It doesn’t hurt, it doesn’t hurt. Hoo~ hoo~" The little one crouching in the corner also blinked his eyes and blew hard on his younger brother’s arm.

He picked up the small medicine bottle, intending to apply the medicine.

As he moved, his slightly red eyes met a pair of dark, numb eyes.

Su Ximu blinked again, his eyes welling up with mist.

243 also blinked, as if looking into a mirror, his usually hazy eyes also clouding over with moisture.

Su Ximu pouted, and large tears plopped down.

The mist in 243’s eyes seemed to accumulate too much, finally condensing into teardrops that slid down his cheeks.

He blankly touched his face, feeling a strange yet familiar wetness.

His gaze remained numb, but his eyes had turned into springs, with endless tears flowing out.

Drip, drip, drip...

After a moment, rain poured down in sheets.

......

"Waa!... Waa waa waa!!"

"Waa!!"

This time, 243 didn't simply mimic like before, as if looking in a mirror.

He pointed at the wound on his arm, tears now flowing uncontrollably as ugly whimpers rose from his throat—like a young beast's cry or a baby's first wail.