After catching his breath for a moment, he picked up the small jar beside him again and looked at the three shiny little stones inside. A smile appeared on his dark face. It seemed that he could exchange it for a few more big buns to eat today.
Looking back, he saw a figure sitting in the shadow of the mountain wall, and then he limped over.
"Hey, old Lark, how's your harvest today?" He greeted, then sat down against the mountain wall, ignoring the gravel and dust on the ground, which he had long been accustomed to.
"Not bad, I found one." The man called Lao Lak was probably in his 50s, with many wrinkles on his face and a hazy look in his eyes. He squatted on the ground, his eyes half-closed, looking at the sunlit area in the distance.
"When will days like this end..." Old Lark uttered slowly, with a sigh and sorrow in his voice.
"Hey, don't think about it. Just live slowly. Live one day at a time." The middle-aged man next to him advised, holding the small jar in his arms as if it were a treasure, leaning against the stone wall, ready to take a nap to get through the hottest time of the day.
"You are quite open-minded, but I am not. I have been dreaming again recently." Old Lark's voice was full of nostalgia.
"What did you dream about?"
"I dreamed of when I was young, around 19, and I was pursuing a beautiful elf lady in Emenas. She was so beautiful and graceful, like dew in the morning light, making people want to get close and touch her."
"What happened later? I remember your wife was the third daughter of the Phoenix family at that time."
"Indeed, my pursuit failed. Later, I returned to Mozwa and followed my grandfather's arrangement to marry the daughter of the Phoenix family. And in a flash, more than 30 years have passed." Old Rak recalled the past, his eyes drifting into the distance.
"But now, I am alone again, without my wife and children..."
"Moreover, I am still a prisoner now, and I have lost all my past wealth and power. I really can't find anything worth remembering that would allow me to continue living..." Old Lark's voice gradually became low.
"When I dreamed about my youth, all I felt was deep despair, because I could never go back..." As he spoke, Old Lark's voice choked with sobs, and two lines of tears appeared on his face.
The man next to him was afraid and patted his back, saying slowly: "I know, I understand, live well, don't think too much..."
"No, you don't understand. At least there are still people in your Shelia family who are not implicated, but I, our Walter family, have no descendants." He buried his face deeply in his palms, and warm tears mixed with black ash flowed from between his fingers.
"Alas..." The man next to him shook his head slightly and said no more.
The two sat like this for a while, and then a soldier in armor and holding a gun came over.
"Which of you is Witley Shelia?"
"It's me." The man in his forties stood up by holding the stone wall.
The soldier looked him up and down, then said, "Follow me."
Witley took the jar and followed the soldier in small steps. In the huge mine, many prisoners squatted in the shadows, looking at the two people walking in the sun, with a bit of numbness and envy in their eyes.
The two men walked to a small house at the edge of the mine. Two warriors in heavy armor examined them before waving their hands and letting them pass.
The soldier led Whitley into the small room and said, "You have half an hour to communicate."
He placed a worn brass clock on the table and withdrew.
Only then did Whitley see another woman in the room. She was probably in her 20s, wearing a simple white cotton dress, standing by the table.
"Are you...Letty?" There was hesitation in Whitley's voice. After all, this girl was quite different from the one he remembered.
The Lettice in my memory was so proud and beautiful, but the girl in front of me had dust and fatigue in her eyes and was dressed simply.
"Yes, Uncle Whitley." A long-lost smile appeared on Lettice's tired face.
"Long time no see." She said slowly, and then asked Whitley to sit down.
In the simple hut, a ray of sunlight shines in through the cracks in the roof and falls on the table. Dust floats slowly in the light. A few quiet cicada chirps can be heard outside the window, highlighting the heat of midsummer.
"Are you okay, Letty? Did they do anything to you?" Willett looked at the girl in front of him with concern.
"I'm fine, because I was still in school when the war broke out, and later the Clansian military let me go. But the other people in my family..." When she said this, Lettice slowly lowered her head and her voice gradually became low.
"I know, I understand. I've been mentally prepared for some things a long time ago." Willett comforted the girl in front of him.
"The family's wealth has probably all vanished, and those friends are probably gone too. Now that I can see a living relative, I'm satisfied." Willett said slowly, leaning back in his chair. The former Master of Magic Sequence 8 is now skinny and his skin is tanned, and his former whiteness is no longer visible.
"Besides you, is there anyone else in your family who survived?" Willett asked with concern.
"No more..." Lettice said with her head down, drops of water falling on her knees.
"Alas...it's just like that..."
"Maybe this is the punishment..." he sighed.
"How have you been lately? Is your life good?" He stretched out his hand, wanting to comfort his only niece, but when he stretched out his hand halfway, he saw the black ash on it and slowly put it down.
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