The sound of the Bolenggu ceased with the body that fell, and a malicious cackle echoed down the corridor. Xiaoyu’s hands trembled as he bent down to look at the old man, but the sight of the person lying on the ground froze the blood in his veins.

There lay Huagu, impaled in the back by the sickle, curled up in a heap, twitching intermittently like an epileptic patient foaming at the mouth. Where was Uncle Ou? Where was the old man? Only Xiaoshu and Ali stood nearby, eyes wide, glaring furiously at Xiaoyu.

“I, I…” Xiaoyu wanted to defend himself, but couldn't formulate an explanation. The indignation in Xiaoshu and Ali’s eyes clearly branded him a murderer, pinning him to the pillory of unforgivable shame. Ali even pointed a finger at herself, bristling with anger, looking ready to lash out with a kick.

Just as chaos erupted, blurring friend and foe, Xiao Hei suddenly darted out from somewhere, let out a couple of meows toward Xiaoyu, scrambled up his trouser leg in two or three swift motions, and settled onto his constantly trembling shoulder.

Xiaoshu and Ali exchanged a glance and suddenly calmed down, their angry gazes smoothing back into their usual expressions. It was as if that small, inky-black kitten was a witness to Xiaoyu’s loyalty; as long as the creature hadn't abandoned him, there was still hope for their friend.

However, after that moment, everyone fell silent. No one wanted to speak, all simply staring blankly at the pitiful Huagu, sighing helplessly for her fate. After a long pause, Xiaoshu broke the silence, asking, “Why were you holding the sickle just now, determined to force your way toward Huagu and strike her down?”

“I…” Xiaoyu gazed at the disastrous results of his own actions, unable to utter even half a sentence. He wanted to say he hadn't struck Huagu, but the dead old man, yet he didn't want to reveal the truth of his temporary death and revival to Xiaoshu. He considered explaining how Old Man Ou had led him to see his false mother, but feared being pressured by the others to abandon his desire for eternal life. Old Man Ou had indeed struck a nerve; Xiaoyu had long prepared himself to cling to life, but hesitated to face it, terrified of being dragged onto the moral judgment stand and subjected to slow execution.

“Waaa… Auntie…” Ali collapsed onto the floor, covering Huagu’s face with her right hand, yet not daring to touch the paper-white skin. Death was clearly imminent, and a terrifying atmosphere permeated the area around Huagu.

Xiaoyu stood dumbfounded for a long moment before stammering out, “I thought I was attacking the old man just now. The old man’s shadow filled my vision; he cornered me and demanded I use the sickle on him…”

These words fell into the air as if unheard. Ali remained weeping near Huagu, while Xiaoshu stared blankly at the blood on the floor. Time seemed to have frozen, with no sense of progression visible.

After a while, Xiaoshu finally raised her head, speaking with a touch of sorrow: “Do you have any water left?” Her tone carried neither the expected rebuke nor the past trust; it was as if a stranger stood before her. She and Ali were asking this stranger for a humanitarian favor to secure the last sliver of hope for Huagu.

Xiaoyu hastily unslung his backpack, yanked the zipper open, and emptied its contents onto the ground. A dented military canteen clattered out. The memory of feeding water to Xiaoshu from that very canteen in the cave washed over him, and he finally sank to his knees, sobbing uncontrollably.