If Ming Xiaoyu had encountered such a setback ten years later, perhaps tears wouldn't be his recourse. Yet, in this very moment, crying was the only outlet he could find. Watching Hua Gu's convulsing body, he finally understood that a life merely clung to and abandonment by all were inseparable companions; choosing to survive meant accepting the agony of universal betrayal. If he, like Hua Jinlan, were to forge eternal life upon the skulls of the innocent, how would Elder Sister, Xiao Shu, Old He, Ali, Wenshu… look upon him? Perhaps this scene right here was a preview.

The kettle gurgled as it rolled to Ali’s feet, only to be snatched up by Xiao Shu, who was a step closer. She picked up the kettle, held it close to her ear, and gave it a gentle shake; a rattling sound echoed from within the thick stainless steel.

“There’s still a little left,” Xiao Shu managed a slight smile. Gently lifting Hua Gu onto her stomach, she gripped the handle of the scythe, took a deep breath, calmed herself for a brief moment, and with a sharp tug, pulled the blade free from her back. Blood immediately jetted from the wound, nearly three inches long, staining Xiao Shu’s hand and sleeve crimson. Ali fumbled in her backpack, produced a towel, folded it several times over, and pressed it firmly against the injury.

“Well done, that should stop the bleeding,” Xiao Shu declared, giving Ali a thumbs-up of praise. Ali merely nodded, wholly focused on tending to Hua Gu’s wound.

Only Xiaoyu stood frozen nearby. He reached out as if to help, but a sharp, disapproving glare from Xiao Shu instantly checked him, scaring him into retreating back to his spot by the wall.

Once the bleeding was finally stanched, Xiao Shu settled Hua Gu into a prone position on the ground. She unscrewed the kettle cap and let the precious water drip, drop by drop, onto the wound. After only a few drops, the injury began to seal; the reddened muscle tissue on either side merged inward from the opening, until finally, save for a faint, pale red scar, there was no trace that a scythe had ever struck there. Still, Hua Gu remained unconscious, eyes tightly shut, her lips trembling intermittently, as if she had sealed herself off entirely from this cruel world.

“Auntie…” Ali gently shook Hua Gu’s body, receiving no response. Two scalding tears escaped from the corners of her withered eyes.

After a long silence, Xiao Shu finally spoke. “She doesn’t want to wake up. This world is too harsh for her.”

“Auntie, I’m here too, sob…” Ali spread her legs and sat heavily on the ground, weeping sadly while softly caressing Hua Gu’s ashen-white, paper-thin face with her small hand.

Xiao Shu cupped Ali’s hair with one hand and murmured softly, “Good girl, you must always remember: for as long as you live as a person, you must hold onto a person’s conviction. Auntie took care of you for a while; when she needs help, you must take care of her, too.”

“Mm.” Ali nodded vigorously, engraving Xiao Shu’s maxim into her heart, thereby taking up the heavy responsibility of caring for Hua Gu.

Having exchanged this understanding, Xiao Shu hoisted Hua Gu onto her back, with Ali guarding the way ahead. Before they had taken more than a few steps, she suddenly turned back to look at the dazed Xiaoyu and asked lightly, “Are you coming back with us, or staying here? Can you at least point us toward the way out?”

Hearing Xiao Shu speak snapped Xiaoyu back to reality. “I’ll guide the way. We’ll take Auntie back together.” He scrambled to gather the items he had scattered on the ground, stuffing them back into his backpack. Seeing the blood-soaked scythe lying abandoned on the ground, he reached for it, but then heard Xiao Hei—the small black cat on his shoulder—let out two soft meows. He quickly retracted his reaching hand, hefted his bag, and hurried to catch up with Xiao Shu and Ali.

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