On the morning of December 31st, Harvest Church, South District of Daqiao.

Emlyn White, wearing a priest robe, stood in the kitchen, occasionally throwing different herbs into the large iron pot and stirring it.

After all the materials prepared in advance were put in, he waited patiently for another ten minutes before scooping up the inky black liquid with an iron spoon and putting it into the glass bottle and glass cup next to it.

48, 49, 50... Emlyn glanced at the empty iron pot and counted the prepared potions.

After confirming the quantity, he picked up the large tray and delivered bottles of dark green liquid to the hall.

Inside the hall, most of the prayer chairs had been removed, and the floor was covered with tattered quilts, in which lay plague-infected people, either sleeping soundly or groaning in pain.

Emlyn and Father Utravsky worked together, each holding a portion of the potion and began distributing it from two directions.

The first person in line was a middle-aged man with a sallow complexion. He half-stood up, took the potion, and gulped it down.

Handing the bottle back, he said to Emlyn gratefully:

"Father White, thank you so much, I feel much better and have some strength again!"

Emlyn raised his chin and replied disdainfully:

"This is just a very small thing, it's not worth being thankful for, you are so ignorant."

After saying this, he increased the speed of dispensing the medicines.

Ten minutes later, he returned to the altar of Mother Earth and complained to Father Utravsky:

“You should find two more volunteers!”

Father Utravsky did not respond. He looked at the patients and smiled gently:

"In another two or three days, they should be fully recovered."

"How did you know?" Emlyn tilted his head in surprise.

Father Utravsky lowered his head with a kind face, looked at him and said:

"Herbs are one of the domains of the Mother Goddess. As her followers, although we are not in the path of 'Earth', we still need to understand basic common sense."

Emlyn sighed:

"I'm not interested in religion and don't know much about it."

Although I have often copied the Holy Scriptures of Mother Earth in recent months... He added inwardly with a hint of resentment, and then said casually:

"Father, I didn't expect you to accept nonbelievers. Only two or three of them are believers of the Mother Goddess."

Father Utravsky smiled nonchalantly:

"They are also lives, innocent lives."

Emlyn was stunned for a few seconds, exhaled, and said:

"Father, I have found a way to deal with the psychological suggestion. Maybe I will leave here soon."

Wait, why did I bring this up? I was actually touched by him. What if he locks me up in the basement again? Emlyn suddenly became nervous.

Father Utravsky's expression did not change at all. He looked down at Emlyn and said:

"In fact, you don't need to find a way. After a period of time, the psychological suggestion will naturally disappear, and you can freely choose whether to come to church."

"Wait a little longer, and I'll become a devout believer of the Mother Goddess, no, the Mother Goddess of the Earth!" Emlyn blurted out.

Father Utravsky raised his eyebrows and said in a slightly surprised tone:

“I am not forcing you to change your beliefs.

"The psychological hint I left is just for you to return to the church every day, hoping that you can fully appreciate the preciousness of life and the joy of harvest."

“The only effect of the psychological suggestion is to make me return to the church?” Emlyn’s expression froze for a moment.

Father Utravsky nodded calmly:

"Yes."

"..." Emlyn opened his mouth slightly, and slowly and mechanically turned his head to look at the altar, at the holy emblem of life of the "Mother Earth Goddess", as if he had turned into a puppet in an instant.

…………

At dusk on December 31st, at 2 Narcissus Street, Tingen City.

Benson entered the house, took off his hat and coat, and laughed:

"I have already booked a second-class steam train ticket to Backlund on January 3rd."

Sitting in the restaurant, Melissa said with a few newspapers spread out in front of her, looking a little worried:

"Benson, the air in Backlund is too bad. A few days ago, tens of thousands of people died of poisoning and diseases caused by the heavy smog..."

"This is truly a regrettable and sad thing." Benson walked towards the restaurant and sighed, "But both the House of Representatives and the House of Commons have passed the report of the Air Pollution Investigation Committee. There will soon be corresponding legislation to regulate the emission of smoke and wastewater. What will greet us is a new Backlund. You don't need to worry too much."

At this point, he smiled sarcastically:

"Just now when I came back from Iron Cross Street, I found that many factory owners or their employees from Backlund were recruiting people there. They said that due to the smog and the plague, the factories there were short-handed, so they were willing to promise working hours and minimum wages that would be much better than the current prevailing standards, hehe."

"You think it's impossible?" Melissa asked sharply.

"As more and more people flock to Backlund, it is doomed to be impossible to achieve unless the upper and lower houses can pass corresponding bills and make direct regulations." Benson spread his hands and pointed at the dining table. "Okay, we should welcome the New Year."

There were three sets of knives and forks, three empty china plates, and three cups on the table.

Of the three cups, one was beer and two were ginger beer.

…………

December 31st, evening.

Audrey, dressed in her best, stood in the lounge, waiting for the New Year's Eve party to begin, but her expression did not reveal the excitement, joy and delight of her upcoming coming-of-age ceremony.

In front of her was a newspaper with the following words:

"...According to preliminary statistics, more than 21,000 people died directly in the smog, and the subsequent spread of the plague took away nearly 40,000 people, including young children and strong young men and women..."

Huh, Audrey couldn't help but close her eyes.

At this moment, her father, Earl Hall, and her mother, Lady Catelyn, knocked on the door and praised in unison:

"You are more beautiful than anyone else tonight, baby, it's time to go out, the queen is waiting for you."

Audrey exhaled slowly, smiled elegantly and brightly, and accompanied by her father and mother, she walked out of the lounge and into the party hall.

She walked all the way to the front platform, and amidst the astonished gazes, she handed her hand wearing elbow-length white gauze gloves to the queen.

The queen took her by the hand and walked to the edge of the platform to face all the guests.

After a pause, the queen smiled and said:

"Although this is a dark period in Backlund's history, we still have a gem that can illuminate the entire city. Her wisdom, her beauty, her character, and her manners are all impeccable.

“Today, I will formally introduce her to you.

"Ms. Audrey Hall."

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Outside the floor-to-ceiling window, fireworks rose into the sky, exploding into one dreamy light after another.

On the last night of 1349, Audrey officially came of age socially.

…………

Afternoon of January 3, 1350.

In a newly opened cemetery on the outskirts of the East District,

Klein used divination to find the graves of old Kohler and Liv, mother and daughter.

This is not a tomb in the true sense, but a cabinet for storing urns, one after another, row after row, layer upon layer.

Klein stood there and saw that not only was there no portrait or epitaph on old Kohler's cabinet, but even his name was missing.

Similar situations are not uncommon. There are too many unclaimed ashes of relatives and friends who cannot be found. No one knows what their names were, what they looked like, or what experiences they had. No one is interested. Only the numbers on the cabinets can distinguish them.

Klein closed his eyes, pulled out a piece of notepaper, shook it into a piece of iron, and carved a word on the cabinet door:

"Khloe."

Then he added another line of epitaph:

"He was a good worker. He had a wife and two children. He worked hard to live."

He retracted his wrist and shook it. Klein, who had black hair, brown eyes and a thin face, let the paper burn in his hand, as if to commemorate all the souls here.

Instead of directly helping Daisy, who had lost her mother and sister, he wrote an anonymous letter to reporter Mike Joseph, describing the girl's plight in detail in order to avoid implicating her with his own affairs.

Reporter Mike had met Daisy, knew her story, and had enthusiastically promoted the establishment of a corresponding charity fund. Therefore, Klein believed that he would help Daisy get more assistance so that she could complete her basic education and find a stable job to support herself.

Taking two steps back, Klein looked around, taking in the victims whose names and photos were all that was left, and even that.

He raised his head, exhaled slowly, turned around, and left the cemetery.

On the steam train to Backlund, Melissa was concentrating on her textbook, while Benson quickly started chatting with the passengers around her.

"It's too expensive, too expensive, 10 soli, half a pound!" A middle-aged man under 30 sighed from the bottom of his heart, "If it weren't for the fact that I couldn't buy a third-class seat and a boat ticket recently, I wouldn't have spent this money at all. This is equivalent to my salary for most of the week!"

"Indeed, too many people went to Backlund after the New Year." Benson agreed.

The middle-aged man put away his distressed expression and said expectantly:

“Because they promised 21 soli a week and promised to work no more than 12 hours a day, we signed the contract!

"Once I have rented a house and received my first paycheck, I will let my wife come to Backlund. She should be able to find a good job that pays 12 or 13 soli a week. It is said that Backlund is very short of workers! By then, our combined salary will be more than one and a half pounds a week, and we can eat meat regularly!"

"Your wish will definitely come true. The king has signed an order allowing the law that stipulates minimum wages and working hours to be implemented." Benson gave a sincere blessing and then smiled. "That place is the 'Land of Hope'."

Woo!

The steam train arrived at Backlund with countless people full of hope. It was still light in the sky, the fog in the air was much thinner, and the gas lamps hanging above the platform were no longer lit early.

Benson experiencedly protected his sister and wallet, carried his suitcase, and followed the crowd out of the station.

Suddenly, they felt a gaze sweeping over them at the same time.

Following the trail, Benson and Melissa saw a young gentleman with neat black hair and dark brown eyes.

The gentleman wearing gold-rimmed glasses clicked his hat and looked past them into the distance.

Benson and Melissa also looked away, looking towards the pillars spewing smoke in the street garden, looking forward to seeing Backlund's underground transportation.

Klein, carrying his suitcase, walked past them with an expressionless face and a straight body. He faced the large crowd that was pouring into the "Land of Hope" and the people who were apprehensive but had beautiful expectations, and entered the departure station.

These are the worst of times, these are the best of times.

(End of Part 2)