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墨書 Inktalez
When he saw the action of Liu Squad Leader, I thought he was about to break down. He must have regretted it deeply. However, he knew that his identity as the Archaeology team leader held little authority over me in this situation. The tone of his voice conveyed more despair and helplessness than anything else.
"Liu Xiangrong, you’ve lost your mind!" Zhao Squad Leader's voice was much harsher. He could compromise on the distribution of firearms, even giving a gun back to Liu Squad Leader who had lost one, but he would never allow a weapon to be handed to an Archaeology team member. Liu Squad Leader’s actions were far more serious than simply losing a gun.
Liu Squad Leader's expression was only slightly strained; he didn’t show much sign of tension. I felt even less pressure and said, "Liu Squad Leader’s injuries don’t allow him to carry a gun while crawling through the crevice. I’m just helping him with the weapon; you’re overreacting."
"I’m not going down!" Zhao Squad Leader's voice trembled, his hands shaking with anxiety. I could tell he was struggling internally, deciding whether to resort to force to end this mistake. Xu Xinming looked nervously at Zhao Squad Leader; he was the type of soldier who absolutely obeyed orders and was even less adept at solving problems independently than his squad leader. Being so young, he was overwhelmed by this complex situation.
This was what I feared the most.
I was confident in suppressing and controlling Zhao Squad Leader through momentum and the situation, but I worried that if he became too tense mentally, it could lead to chaos, and that would be a disaster. I let my hands hang naturally away from my body and spoke in the calmest and most composed tone possible: "Zhao Squad Leader, you are currently the highest military commander here, and you are responsible for everyone’s lives. The water we have can only sustain us for one day at most. If we don’t find a water source soon, not only will we face death ourselves, but those injured waiting for our return will have even less hope of survival. Do you want to see the eyes of those waiting for death?"
My words shifted some of his focus away from the gun, and a look of sorrow appeared on Zhao Squad Leader's face.
Seizing the moment, I continued: "We don’t have time left; we must unite as one. There are dangers below the crevice; our real threats have yet to come. Zhao Squad Leader, for our sake and for those injured waiting for us, please lead us down!"
I raised my voice passionately at the end. Later, Xiao Guolin mentioned that my expression had moved him at that moment, though I might have exaggerated a bit in my performance. I admit there was an element of theatrics involved, but I needed Zhao Squad Leader to break free from his extreme tension and make the decision to go down and find water. Once we got past this initial tense moment, his hesitant nature wouldn’t hinder me having the gun.
Zhao Squad Leader paused, his face contorting in pain as thoughts of those unknown injured stirred his sense of responsibility. I quickly exchanged glances with Liu Squad Leader, who slowly approached him and patted his arm: "Once we find water, we’ll return immediately; we can’t let our comrades wait without hope."
Zhao Squad Leader lifted his head, placing a hand on Liu Squad Leader's shoulder and nodded heavily, tears welling in his eyes—whether from emotion or tension, it was hard to tell.
A ray of sunlight fell on my face, and when I looked up, it was already bright outside. Fatty and I had been sitting in the courtyard, where the autumn wind rustled the leaves, for an entire night, talking the whole time. The ashtray was piled high with cigarette butts, and I felt parched and uncomfortable in my throat. Fatty sat across from me in a wicker chair, his round eyes gleaming with mischief, his expression focused as if he were deeply engrossed in our conversation.
"Do you believe what I've told you?" I asked, feeling both exhausted and relieved. After all these years, these matters had only been locked away in my mind; sharing them with others had been a struggle.
"I believe it. Believe it!?" Fatty's tone was strange when he repeated the word "believe." Then he pulled out a crumpled letter from his pocket. "Your letter. Oh, I believe it; I really do."
"What nonsense is this?" I didn't take the letter but stared at him in confusion. "How did my letter end up in your hands? Come clean—don't tell me you've developed a crush on me after all these years and have been stalking me."
Fatty raised his middle finger and cursed, "I don't have that kind of hobby. I went to your house looking for you, and the person renting your place gave it to me along with your current address. Qiangzi, I believe what you're saying; this letter is from Xiao Guolin."
I was taken aback and quickly took the letter from him. As I opened it, my eyes felt dry, so I closed them for a moment before lifting the letter again. The sender was Xiao Guolin, addressed to me at my home. Since I worked and lived at the shop, my house had been rented out. Anyone familiar with me or who had contacted me recently would know my shop's address and wouldn't send it to the wrong place; only those who hadn't been in touch for a long time would make such a mistake. And since that incident, Xiao Guolin and I hadn't communicated at all.
There was no return address, which puzzled me. If I didn't receive this letter, there would be nowhere for it to be returned—this didn't align with Xiao Guolin's usual way of doing things. I hesitated to open the letter right away and checked the postmark; it was sent from a post office in Dongxing, Guangxi. I couldn't help but wonder why he had gone all the way to the southwestern border. I knew some people changed their fields midway through their careers, but for someone who had spent so long buried in research on loess soil, did it really make sense to switch fields?
I thought for a moment before asking Fatty, "Do you know about Dongxing, Guangxi?"
"Why are you asking that?" Fatty replied.
I shook the letter in my hand. "It came from there."
Fatty's expression turned serious. Whenever he looked serious, he resembled someone about to commit murder. In general, his facial expressions could be categorized into two types: one was a fierce look that suggested he was ready to kill, and the other was a grimace that made him appear displeased.
"That's not a good place," Fatty said coldly. "I just came back from there."
From Fatty's experiences over the years, he had been abroad, primarily in the war-torn regions of Africa. No matter where he had fought or returned from, he could never take a legitimate route. He always knew that place was bad, and Dongxing was truly no good either. I couldn't help but feel anxious for Xiao Guolin.
Among our group, I was certainly one of those who participated in the Desert Archaeological Activity. There were no good outcomes afterward. I was quarantined and interrogated for a while, then dismissed from my job and placed under residential surveillance for two years. I dared not inquire about others' situations for fear of attracting trouble or causing issues for them. However, due to my current profession, I still managed to hear some news inadvertently; I learned that some people had mental health issues. Some were dismissed like me but seemed to fare better as they weren't under surveillance. Others had undergone significant changes in their work. One notable aspect was that we were scattered across the country, seemingly with no chance of meeting again. I understood this was intentional, which made me even more reluctant to contact any of them.
Second update: Thank you all for your support. I will gradually increase the update frequency.
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