Mud mixed with gravel and blood was shoveled up again and again, covering the once-lively faces that now lay lifeless, covering the lives that had been cut short without warning.
With every shovelful of earth, muffled sobs rose from the crowd.
Some people repeatedly knocked their heads against the ground beside the gradually filling pit, unwilling to get up. Others stared blankly at the grave, their eyes empty, as though their souls had been buried alongside their loved ones.
The air was thick with despair, the sorrow so heavy it was suffocating.
The scent of freshly turned earth mingled with the stench of blood, forming a nauseating odor.
Pale moonlight fell upon the newly raised burial ground—without even a single gravestone—making the desolation all the more striking.
No one spoke. There was only the sound of the wind and intermittent wails that seemed to come from the depths of the underworld.
They had buried their companions and loved ones, yet the road ahead was still long, and the hardships awaiting them showed no sign of ending. Those buried here today might very well meet the same fate tomorrow.
Cheng Yao sniffed. She had witnessed many scenes of unspeakable tragedy, but even so, death still weighed heavily on her heart.
The heaviest part of death was not the farewell. It was remaining in a familiar world while someone was missing from it everywhere you looked, so that even breathing carried a hollow ache.
…
The next day, the sky was overcast.
Constable Wang led the group away from the ruined temple, dragging their exhausted feet toward the nearby town.
The fear, fighting, and grief of the past two days had drained them of too much strength. With most of them injured, the group moved at an unusually slow pace.
Lead-gray clouds hung low in the sky, pressing down on them just like their mood.
Their wounds throbbed faintly as they trudged onward. Some began to groan under their breath, while others, too badly injured, staggered with every step.
The air of despair was even heavier than it had been at the ruined temple.
After walking for most of the day, hunger slowly began gnawing at everyone’s stomach and willpower like a parasite lodged in their bones.
At last, before sunset, Constable Wang chose a relatively sheltered spot near a stream and ordered everyone to make camp.
Calling it a camp was being generous. The group merely huddled together on the ground, gathering firewood to build a few fires.
It was already early autumn. The mountain wind raged through the area, and the cold and pain left many of them trembling, their faces pale and bluish.
Unable to hold back, someone turned an expectant gaze toward Cheng Yao, who was quietly helping gather firewood.
An old man with a broken leg, supported by his son, spoke in a trembling voice. “Hao Ting’s wife, could you… make some more ginger tea? Everyone’s too cold to bear it, and our wounds are hurting terribly…”
His words prompted quiet murmurs of agreement from the others.
At that moment, Cheng Yao’s ginger tea—which could drive away the cold and seemed capable of easing their pain—had become their only hope.
Cheng Yao stopped what she was doing and looked at the faces filled with pain and pleading. Her heart was conflicted.
She always added water from her spiritual spring to the ginger tea. It truly helped their injuries heal, but she could not use it without limit, especially when someone was secretly following them. If she attracted those people’s attention, it would bring her a great deal of trouble.
Besides, too much unearned kindness could easily breed resentment. She could not keep giving without asking for anything in return.
After a moment of silence, she slowly spoke beneath the crowd’s expectant eyes. “I can make the ginger tea.”
A trace of delight appeared on everyone’s faces, but then she continued, “However, the ginger is mine, and my people gathered the firewood. Starting the fire and brewing the tea will also take time and effort. I can’t give it to you for free.”
Her words were like a bucket of cold water poured over them. Everyone froze.
“Hao Ting’s wife, we don’t have any money…” the old man said awkwardly.
The others lowered their heads in shame.
They were convicts in exile. Whatever little belongings they had hidden away, they had already given to her. They truly had nothing left to offer.
Cheng Yao’s gaze swept over the group. “If you have no money, you can put it on credit.”
“On credit?” Everyone exchanged puzzled glances.
“Yes.” Cheng Yao nodded. “If you drink my ginger tea today, you’ll owe me one debt. Once we reach the place of exile and get settled, you’ll have to find a way to repay me. You can work it off, or give me anything else of value. Of course, if you think it isn’t worth it, or don’t believe you’ll survive long enough to repay the debt, you don’t have to drink it.”
Her words were blunt, even somewhat cold, but they were fair.
She had not taken advantage of their desperate situation by demanding an outrageous price. Instead, she had given them the choice to trade their labor for a chance at survival.
The group fell silent for a moment, then everyone chose to accept.
After all, they had to stay alive before they could have a future.
“Put me down for one, niece-in-law! Write it down! I, Zhan Jianping, will work like an ox and a horse to repay you!” Zhan Jianping, who had lost an arm, was the first to speak.
“Big sister-in-law, count me in too!”
“Me as well!”
Everyone came forward to have their debts recorded.
Cheng Yao asked Zhan Haochen to use a charred piece of wood to write their names and notes such as “One serving of ginger tea owed” on a relatively flat stone slab.
Feng Xianxian twisted and fidgeted, unwilling to sign. She muttered unhappily, “We’re family. Must you really be so calculating? Don’t you recognize our ties of blood?”
Madam Lan, Zhan Jianping’s wife, immediately snapped back, “Listen to yourself. Everyone here is a close relative or member of the clan—who among us isn’t family? Everyone else is signing. Why should you be the exception?”
Someone nearby chimed in, “Exactly! Even brothers keep clear accounts. You’re only the wife of a younger cousin—know your place!”
“Your father-in-law and husband have already signed themselves up, but somehow you’re the only one without the slightest self-awareness!”
Feng Xianxian was mocked by everyone yet again. Her eyes reddened as she turned to Zhan Jinmo, looking wronged.
However, Zhan Jinmo did not even spare her a glance.
Only then did she wipe away her tears and write her name on the stone slab.
This crude “ledger” became a kind of invisible contract in the wilderness.
Cheng Yao would not chase after anyone who failed to honor it. She did not care who kept their promise. What mattered to her were the ones who did.
If they were willing to fulfill their obligations, they would one day follow Zhan Haoting and help him build his future. That was enough.
The mood within the group grew warm and harmonious. Yet in the woods some distance away, two pairs of eyes filled with resentment, jealousy, and hunger were fixed upon them.
They belonged to Shao Yutong and her mother, who had been driven out of the group.
They had secretly followed the others, never daring to stray too far even when the group stopped to rest.
Now, as they watched the tempting aroma of roasted meat and the fragrance of baked yams drift from the camp on the wind, as they watched Cheng Yao surrounded by everyone like the brightest star among them, Shao Yutong dug her fingernails deeply into her palms.
This lesson had made her suffer terribly.
But it would be the last time.
She swore she would never make the same mistake again.
“Yutong, I’m so hungry…” Zhan Yurong rasped, her voice choked with tears.
“Endure it.”
Shao Yutong’s tone was cold, utterly unlike her usual sweet and considerate manner.
Zhan Yurong was momentarily speechless.
But she was used to being spoken to that way and did not take it personally.
She looked at her daughter’s haggard, disheveled appearance, then at the lively camp. Through clenched teeth, she said, “It’s all Cheng Yao’s fault! If she hadn’t interfered, we wouldn’t have been driven out! And now she’s over there pretending to be some kindhearted savior! Just wait… I won’t let her off easily!”
Shao Yutong sounded impatient. “Mother, we should focus on finding a way back into the group first.”
“Yutong…” Zhan Yurong’s face was filled with guilt. “I’m useless. I’ve only held you back.”
“That’s enough, Mother.” Shao Yutong was irritated. “There’s no use saying things like that. Just do as I tell you.”
Zhan Yurong had always done whatever her strong-minded daughter asked, so she hurriedly said, “All right, Tong’er. Whatever you want me to do, I’ll do.”
Shao Yutong was silent for a moment. “Mother, I want to return to the unit one more time.”
Zhan Yurong: “What?”
…
The night grew deeper, and the bonfire flickered.
