When we arrived at the market, the streets were still relatively empty. The people from the small towns were dressed so differently from the villagers that they were instantly distinguishable. These people of the old empire, secluded for generations, had become the outcasts of time in every aspect of their lives. Their attire was something I'd only seen in books chronicling the empire's economic history. Will and I stood among the villagers, like two plastic flowers stuck in a patch of weeds.
The list my father left me was densely packed with things I needed to buy. I didn't want to waste time. The sooner I bought them, the sooner I could get out of trouble. As soon as I picked up the book to read, Will would not bother me anymore. This was something he had learned after several setbacks - no one could disturb me when I was reading, not even him.
The grocer showed me the inventory that had been stashed away under the counter for who knows how long. Toothbrushes, cups, towels, combs—most of it old but still usable. Our own supplies had been worn out after two months of wilderness use, and we needed to stock up on spares. I swiped my thumb across the bristles of the toothbrush, waiting for Will to show up and offer his free labor. He seemed to be lingering far behind me; if he stood behind me, he would surely cast a large shadow obscuring my view.
The sunlight grew stronger, and I was almost impatient. Will was definitely not the type to do something behind someone's back. If he had any dissatisfaction, he would express it directly with curse words and fists. If he was really angry, he wouldn't leave me alone. I believe he was more captivated by the fragrant pastries. The boss, who was sitting behind the container and smoking, suddenly stretched out his hand, as if trying to grab something, but there was nothing in front of him to grab. If he hadn't been holding a cigarette, he might have screamed. I looked in the direction of his finger. Will was standing blankly in the middle of the road not far away. The dust that had accumulated in the cracks of the stone tiles for a long time was chasing each other and flying around, spreading a layer of gray gauze lightly in the air.
In front of Will, next to his worn-out sneakers, a thin figure collapsed to the ground. A khaki cloak wrapped tightly around him, his back caked with dust, made him look like a stunted potato. It looked like Will had knocked him over accidentally. My temple throbbed faintly, and I cursed inwardly, carefully moving closer to Will. It had already happened. Running away wouldn't solve the problem, but at least I couldn't stand being seen as the "wrongdoer." Will's face was still filled with shock, and he stood motionless. It was the first time he'd ever been so distracted by knocking over a stranger.
Will, I, and the knocked-down stranger formed an odd triangle in the middle of the market. Several people nearby noticed the commotion and stopped to peer in. My skin felt tingling, like an electric shock. Being so awkwardly exposed in public was something I'd never experienced before. Without a second thought, I reached out to help the unfortunate person. But my palm felt an unusually delicate touch. It was so cool, I almost hesitated to hold it.
Beneath that worn cloak lay a petite young woman with pale golden hair and strikingly bright features. Her features were beautiful, her skin fair and clean, a stark contrast to the dingy, khaki cloak. Her eyes held a captivating depth, a pure cerulean blue, a clear, cloudless sky. My face, reflected in those large, watery eyes, was like a crystal mirror. No wonder Will stood there, stunned. With his limited knowledge, he might not be able to fully grasp this young woman's beauty for a while.
She took my hand and stood up, carefully dusting off her cloak, then thanked me respectfully. This made me feel embarrassed. Will's face returned to the look it had when he first woke up, but it was no longer filled with anger. He hid behind me in silence, his hands hesitantly groping at the sides of his pants, wondering what he was thinking.
The girl thanked me and left. I returned to the grocery store, quickly selected items, and filled two large bags. I paid and asked Will to come and help. It was around seven in the morning when we slowly made our way back. The market looked much the same as when we first arrived. The cross-shaped aisles in the middle of the shops connected to the various small streets, and vendors occasionally tossed rotten vegetable leaves on the street. There seemed to be more pedestrians than before, and the usual bustle of the market finally began to sway lazily, like the yawn of a sleeping beast.
Back at camp, Will and I had just dropped off the supplies at my father's headquarters when Mrs. Walker arrived to take him away. I retreated to my tent and resumed reading the novel. My father didn't show up until dinnertime. As I passed the headquarters, I heard the sound of a tape recorder playing, mixed with the crackling of electricity. This time, I had no desire to eavesdrop. My father was working so hard just to repair the bridge as soon as possible so the team could continue its advance. The thought of this made me feel physically ill, my legs shaking uncontrollably, slightly, but clearly noticeable.
That evening, after dinner, I washed the dishes, and there was no sign of Will. My tent wasn't far away, but when I approached, Will was standing there, radiating a restless aura. The corners of his mouth twitched in a half-smile, and his fingers kept clenching and unclenching. He had completely blocked the door curtain—perhaps to block me—because he always showed this inexplicable excitement when he wanted me to participate in one of his plans.
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