Chapter 153

Chapter 153

After a night of flight, the donkey cart never stopped, and no one following behind dared to pause.

The hemp rope had cut his shoulders raw, and the pain had gone numb. His heavy legs felt like they were filled with lead, repeating the same motion—lift, step, lift, step.

Footsteps thudded, wheels rolled, the moon slowly dimmed as the sky gradually brightened.

Only when the donkey cart stopped under a pair of knife-like stone cliffs did the fleeing crowd finally slow to a halt.

Dizzy and lightheaded, panting mixed with coughing, everyone’s throats made a hoarse, wheezing sound like a bellows.

They couldn't hold on anymore, dropping baskets, tossing poles, and ditching carts. Groaning, they leaned on their knees or plopped down on the ground. Some stood, some lay down, ignoring the sharp rocks digging into their backs or any snakes or bugs hiding around, collapsing to catch their breath, their hearts pounding like drums, each beat hammering in their ears.

When they suddenly stopped, sweat poured even faster. Their flushed, burning faces felt like it was raining sweat, streams of sweat sliding past their temples, soaking into their hair, and trickling into their ears.

Having stuff in their ears was uncomfortable, but their bodies were too exhausted to even lift a hand to dig it out. They could only shift a little, letting the rocks grind into their backs.

Qing Xuan lifted the wooden curtain, and Xiao Heizi shot out like a rocket, his short, thick legs moving nimbly as he ran into the crowd to find Zhu Shi and the others. He circled them, rubbing his dog head against one ankle, then nudging another's straw sandals, his tail wagging wildly.

“Woof! Woof woof!”

“Don't bark, don't bark—don't bring anyone here!” Zhu Shi pulled a handkerchief from her chest to wipe her sweat, too tired to even talk.

Wang Shi, carrying her daughter who'd slept the whole way, climbed down from the donkey cart with Qing Xuan's help. She looked around, spotting the two peaks standing like knives, and asked, “Is this Two-Blade Mountain?”

Qing Xuan jumped down from the cart shaft and nodded. “Ahead is the bandits' turf. Uncle said to wait here for them. Auntie, take a breather.” Riding the cart saved them from running, but it was still bumpy—mountain trails full of dirt slopes, potholes, and stuck wheels—making it a real pain.

Wang Shi nodded. Before the village was attacked, they'd agreed: the others would stay behind to hold off the enemy, while the cart took the villagers ahead.

Two-Blade Mountain was bandit country. In past years, merchants often got robbed here. After running half the night, even an iron man would give out. The old man had told them to find a hiding spot in Two-Blade Mountain and lie low. If they survived, they would catch up as soon as possible.

Though worried, there was nothing to do but wait it out.

Carrying her daughter, she went to find the village elders. The old men were past their prime, and this mad dash had nearly killed them. Now they lay on the ground, rolling their eyes and gasping, their throats rattling. Their grandsons, terrified, were crying nearby, making it look like a deathbed vigil.

Wang Shi was startled, thinking they were about to kick the bucket, and rushed over. “What's wrong? You okay? Still breathing?”

“Fine, fine.” Zhao Shanao's eyes kept rolling back—he didn't mean to, but he couldn't stop them. “Just tired. Rest a bit, and I'll be fine.”

“Nothing serious. Feeling great, can still run, still kick.” Li Laiyin wasn't rolling his eyes, but he couldn't close his mouth, gasping after every word.

The other two were in the same boat, having been dragged along the whole way. Now their feet and armpits were killing them. Old bones and limbs, after such an ordeal, would take four or five days to bounce back.

Wang Shi, who'd ridden the cart, didn't feel that pain, but seeing their pale, exhausted faces, she knew they were totally wiped out. She told them to rest easy, not to worry about anything, and left the rest to her.

Taking charge, she carried her daughter and paced back and forth, calling out, “Don't just rest! First, check if your family's here. If anyone's missing, speak up!”

“Don't be careless. If someone's lost, I'll send the cart back to find them right now!”

“Don't put it off—the longer you wait, the worse it'll get. Find problems early, fix them early, and rest easy!”

Those who'd taken off their straw sandals and were rubbing their sweaty feet immediately turned to look for their families.

For a moment, the forest was filled with shouts of “Shuanzi, Laizi, Erdan, Gouzi, Xiaohua, Xiaocao,” and the like.

Oh my god, during the escape, they'd been too focused to notice who was beside them, just running blind. Now that they'd stopped, they realized the faces around them were all unfamiliar. Their sons and daughters were missing, their mothers-in-law and fathers-in-law were gone. Not a single familiar face in sight.

Terrified, those who'd been too exhausted to move scrambled to their feet, running back and forth to find their kids.

Old Lady Zhou was also yelling, “Da Tou! San Tou! Where are you? Answer me! Don't get separated!” Afraid of being caught by the Wuling villagers, she'd unleashed unprecedented potential, leaving her family behind and sprinting from the back to the front.

Not seeing her husband or grandsons, her breath, which had just steadied, grew ragged again as she scrambled up.

Zhou Datou heard her and came over, relieved to see his grandmother was safe. Too tired to complain about her running ahead, he went back to tell his grandfather that Grandma hadn't been lost—she'd just left them behind.

Whose grandmother could run that fast? In the blink of an eye, she was gone!

Half an hour later, the noisy crowd finally quieted down. After checking, no one from any family was missing. Everyone had worked together, helping and pulling each other along, so even the old and young had made it without being left behind.

Li Dahe and his men went back and forth, checking and confirming this good result, and Wang Shi let out a huge sigh of relief.

The main road wasn't a good place to rest. Once everyone had caught their breath, the scouts who had scouted ahead returned. They found a hidden patch of forest nearby, led people in to drive away snakes and insects, and by the time the sky was fully bright, the exhausted group could finally rest in peace.

They were all tired, but none could sleep.

With heavy eyelids, they stared unblinkingly at the edge of the forest, hoping to see familiar figures.

Those left behind to hold off the enemy were the village's strong men—someone's son, someone's father. Until they saw them, no one could truly relax.

After the exhaustion came endless fear, their hearts hanging in the air, unable to settle.

“Mom…”

“Don't worry. Your dad's strong. He'll be fine!” The woman cut off her daughter's unfinished words, not sure if she was saying it for the child or for herself.

He'll be fine, she repeated in her heart. He must be fine. He must.

She believed in her man.

…

Old Man Zhao and the others arrived in the afternoon.

After the fight, the men had used up a lot of strength. Once they left the village and were sure no one was chasing them, they didn't rush the rest of the way. They walked and rested, taking most of the day.

The lookout came back saying he'd seen people, and the joyful voice dispelled the gloom that had hung over them all day. The forest instantly came alive.

Women who had fallen asleep from exhaustion were jolted awake, pulled by their sons and daughters toward the main road. An old man slapped his thigh, wanting to run over and see if his son was okay, but his wife held him back to guard their belongings. He could only stare at their retreating backs.

He was about to tell them to come back and report as soon as they saw him, so he wouldn't worry, but before he could speak, a loud wail rang out. The sorrowful sound came through the forest, making his hands tremble as he instinctively ran over.

The main road was crowded. In the center lay two people—one stiff, limbs cold; the other not yet stiff, but with fresh and old blood caked on his abdomen, clearly breathing more out than in, on the verge of death.

The woman who had interrupted her daughter that morning, insisting her man was fine, now collapsed onto the stiff corpse, wailing.

Beside her, her daughter clutched her father's clothes. Her fingers accidentally touched his skin, and the unnatural rigidity of the dead made her jerk her hand back.

Her expression was dazed, her lips trembling violently. Big tears fell like beans, but she seemed unaware.

How could it be… hard and cold…?

Why did her dad's arm feel like this?

She opened her mouth, tears streaming, but no sound came out. Her small face twisted in confusion, disbelief, helplessness…

Dad loved to hold her. When he did, his arms weren't like this.

She looked up at the aunties and grandmothers around her. Some avoided her gaze, some covered their mouths and cried, some looked at her with pity… She, she didn't want them to look at her like that. At that moment, she even wished they would make the annoying faces they used to make in the village when they called her a little girl.

Why are you looking at her like that?

Her parents love her dearly; she’s not pitiful.

“Dujuan, don’t be sad. If you want to cry, just let it out. Don’t hold it in.” A woman, unable to bear it, feared she’d bottle it up and get sick. Those with experience knew that great grief or joy, if suppressed, could easily lead to sickness.

Old Mrs. Du and Old Man Du’s limbs went weak. The elderly couple moved slowly, and from a distance, they heard their daughter-in-law’s wails. Their hearts dropped, a bad feeling washing over them. They silently prayed nothing had happened—prayed it wasn’t their family, that she must have misheard, that it wasn’t their daughter-in-law’s voice.

Pushing through the crowd, all their relief shattered the moment they saw their son’s pale, ashen face.

Old Mrs. Du’s legs gave out, and she fell flat on the ground.

“My son—!!”

…

Old Man Zhao found his daughter and pulled her behind a tree where no one was around.

“Dad.”

Zhao Xiaobao had woken up to learn that the donkey had carried her and her mother all night, while her father and brothers stayed behind in the village to buy them time and would arrive later. Even though she was young, she could tell everyone was down, their minds fixed on those left behind.

Seeing her father and brothers safe, she hadn’t had time to rejoice before she spotted Dujuan’s dad lying stiff as a log on the ground. She had seen corpses before—when refugees came into the village, many had died, and she had once glimpsed the stiff bodies in the sheds. They looked just like Dujuan’s dad.

Except not as filthy; Dujuan’s dad was much cleaner, his face and body carefully tidied up.

“Xiaobao, your Uncle Youliang is hurt. His belly got cut open. He’s lucky—after a whole day, he’s still hanging on.” He was afraid the man wouldn’t make it, with his guts hanging out. But whether it was the medicine working or the heavens not ready for him yet, they had traveled cautiously, afraid to rush and jostle him to death. “Could we give Uncle Youliang a slice of your peach?”

He was out of ideas. As long as the man was still alive, he had to try, no matter how futile. It was a human life.

Du Shitou had been wounded in the chest, pierced clean through by a curved blade. His insides were ripped out and stuck to his clothes. By the time they checked his breath, he was already dead—beyond saving.

Hearing the woman’s desperate cries outside, his heart felt heavy and tight.

He did his best to keep an eye on everyone, even glancing around while fighting. But he only had two eyes, and people were too far apart; he couldn’t reach them in time to help.

Casualties were bound to happen. They were all just flesh and blood—who could say they’d make it?

Everyone knew that, but their hearts still ached, their throats tight.

Zhao Xiaobao looked up and saw her dad’s eyelashes were wet.

She bit her lower lip, and with a small hand, a clay bowl appeared, neatly holding several slices of freshly cut peach of varying thicknesses. She said sadly, “Mom had Xiaobao cut the peaches early this morning, waiting for Dad and brothers to come back.”

“Mom said peaches are good things. If they’re not needed, that’s for the best.”

“But if they can be used, Xiaobao isn’t stingy. Dad, take them all for Uncle Youliang to eat.”

Dujuan, her mother, grandmother, and grandfather—they were all crying so sadly. She didn’t want Uncle Youliang’s parents and children to cry anymore.

A kid without a dad—how pitiful that is.

Zhao Xiaobao clutched her father’s clothes tightly, breathing in his sweat and the smell of blood. It wasn’t pleasant, but it made her feel so safe.