I didn't know how to react for a moment. His look gave me a vague sense of foreboding, and a feeling of tension, stronger than any prank I'd ever played, kept coming back to me.

"Andrew..." Will ran towards me quickly, but his words were not as decisive as his actions.

"What's the matter?" I asked.

"Come and see!" he stammered. "Look over there!"

He seemed to reach out and point, but his arm barely rose before it dropped stiffly again, like an old machine lacking lubrication, its parts working against the grain of its brain. His legs also moved of their own accord, trembling as if to take a step forward. But to me, it was just a couple of twitches, like a puppet's strings. Finally, he relaxed, his whole body relaxed, and he turned and walked away slowly. It was obvious he was imitating my methods, asking me to follow him.

My tent was near the edge of the camp, where, like the villagers, they had installed a wooden fence. It was just a few shriveled sticks, unconnected. Will led me past the tent. The ground at the edge of the camp wasn't paved with flagstones, but rather a patch of semi-dried mud. This mud seemed to remain permanently sticky, regardless of whether it was rainy or sunny. Slender sticks were inserted into the mud, and the exposed areas showed large patches of soil. The people had taken great pains to ensure these sticks were firmly planted.

About a hundred meters outside the camp, a simple path led into the forest beside the village, hidden among the weeds. One had to look closely to spot the narrow strip of land not completely covered by the weeds. Will stared intently at the path, his breathing slow and deep, like a whale surfacing for air after a long dive, a clear longing evident within him. As for what he longed for, I knew it all at once. Only one person walked the path. A solitary, thin, ochre-colored figure, she clutched a faded cloth bag, seemingly filled with something. She wore no hood, her sun-kissed blond hair flowing lightly behind her. Though her back was to us, her beautiful face quickly captured my gaze. Even now, I'd only seen her twice, yet I felt the inexplicable awe she evoked. It couldn't be called love, nor even curiosity about the opposite sex. If anything, it was more like the intellectual thirst for answers to a profound puzzle. However, Will likely never developed such a thirst for knowledge, so his attraction to the young girl was questionable. Under normal circumstances, I would have ridiculed Will, calling him a lustful brat. But seeing his rapt attention, a silent wave of unease washed over me, my throat clogging like a hard-to-swallow dark bread, unable to utter a single sound.

I almost guessed what he was going to do. This was truly something he couldn't do on his own. Without my help, even if he tried his best, it wouldn't be possible. He even had a reason for it, but it sounded so lame. It might have been better if he'd just told me straight out. Maybe that would have made me feel better.

"Andrew, look, she's not from the team, and she doesn't dress like the villagers..." He paused and continued, "I don't think there's something right about her. She might be an enemy spy."

"There's no spy," I said. "She's just a little girl."

"How do you know? What if she is? I remember seeing a TV report about children being used as spies, because they don't attract attention..." He spoke faster and faster, his tone becoming increasingly unassailable. It was obvious he had convinced himself. "We have to follow and see."

"You're overthinking it." I tried to change his mind. "It's almost dark. Do you want to be scolded by your mother again?"

"I'm not afraid!" He suddenly growled in a low voice, "What about you? You just follow your father's ass! I know you, June..."

"Shut up!" I yelled back without thinking, louder than he was. The rage simmering within me frightened me. He could say anything except this. This was the only thing he couldn't say.

How on earth did he know? That day, as I emerged dejected from my father's study, Will was just watching me from the sidelines. The feeling of being deceived washed over me like a flood. My body was freezing cold, but my cheeks were burning. I had to regain the upper hand. The initiative had to be mine. It would be better for both of us. It would be foolish to hand the steering wheel to Will.

"What are you planning to do?" I asked him. "Follow her and see what happens next? Throw frogs at her? Is that your plan?" It was his subsequent actions that mattered. I had to make the right judgment to ensure things didn't go as badly as they could. That would be a crime.

Suddenly, the white mark on the underwear reminded me. The secret fantasy of a thirteen-year-old boy. He didn't think it was a crime.

"We just need to confirm her identity. Isn't that what you're good at?" In his eyes, anything that requires thinking is what I'm good at. "If she's a Tubbs spy, we'll go back and tell your father."

Spies, spies! There aren't enough damn spies in the world. I want to grab his ears and tell him that all those fucking Tubbs spies are being whipped in the Imperial Agents' dungeons. This is completely wrong, and even more crazy to put it into action. There's not even a shred of truth in it. Admit it, Will, you just wanted to rape that girl. Sooner or later, you'll be castrated, and I'll celebrate with champagne.

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