Zheng Wanqing wrapped herself tightly in her fox fur coat and sat in the car. She looked out the window at the bleak and desolate scene outside with a serious expression. The street seemed to have been maliciously splashed with dirty water, with mottled ice chips, and it was chilly under the dim sky.
"Madam Young Marshal, we can't go forward." Uncle Zhou stepped on the brakes, his face full of anxiety and helplessness, and pointed his finger at the chaotic scene ahead.
Zheng Wanqing was about to say "take a detour" when she heard a sharp cry. She looked in the direction of the sound and saw an old woman slumped on the side of the road, holding a baby in her arms. The baby's face was bruised and purple, and it was motionless with its eyes closed. The old woman trembled as she wiped the baby's face with her sleeve, but she couldn't wipe off the frost on her face.
Zheng Wanqing pinched her fingertips into her palm: "Uncle Zhou, how much food is left in the trunk?"
"Just two bags of flour, for..."
"Give them all to her." Zheng Wanqing pushed open the car door. The cold wind mixed with snow rushed into the car, making her shiver.
Seeing this, the deputy seat guard, Elder Chen, also got out of the car and followed silently, his rough hands always on the Mauser rifle at his waist.
Zheng Wanqing wrapped herself tightly in her fox fur coat and squatted down in front of the old woman: "Auntie, take these first."
The old woman took the flour with trembling hands, her turbid tears froze onto her wrinkled face, "Madam, you are so kind... I kowtow to you..."
"No!" Zheng Wanqing quickly supported her, but her touch was cold. "What's wrong with the child?"
"I've had a fever for three days... I don't have... no money to see a doctor..." The old woman choked, and the baby in her arms whimpered weakly, like a dying kitten.
Zheng Wanqing touched the child's forehead and found it was terribly hot. Without hesitation, she took off her mink scarf and wrapped it around the child: "Uncle Zhou, please take them to the hospital."
"But the young commander..."
"Human lives are at stake." Zheng Wanqing said firmly, "Just let Lao Chen follow me, and you go do the work."
After the car drove away, the snow fell heavier and heavier. Zheng Wanqing trudged through the snow, one foot deep and one foot shallow. The street lights in the British Concession were on, and the Christmas tree in front of Gordon Hall was decorated brilliantly.
The colorful lights illuminate the surrounding snow as if it were daytime, as if this is a dream world isolated from the world. The colored lights sway gently in the biting cold wind, refracting the crystal clear ice edges into dreamy colorful spots, as if weaving a beautiful fairy tale.
On the terrace of the Astor Hotel, Xie Yun stood with one hand in his pocket, with tiny grains of snow on the fur collar of his military coat.
He stared at the cheerful scene across the street, where foreign children wrapped in thick wool scarves were laughing and chasing each other to the melody of Jingle Bells. Their nannies were holding gilded porcelain cups, and the rising steam blurred their carefully painted faces.
When Zheng Wanqing walked into the box, Xie Yun was leaning on the leather sofa with his eyes closed.
Before she sat down, the shrill voice of the lady sitting next to her, mixed with the smell of perfume, drifted over: "Did you see the news this morning? A starving woman cut off her arm to exchange for food. Tsk, tsk, these reporters love to write these horrifying stories..." The sandalwood fan snapped shut, "On a big holiday, you've ruined the mood."
Zheng Wanqing's steps paused slightly, and an irrepressible anger and sadness surged in her heart. She closed the door of the box to block out the noise outside.
Outside the window, the colorful lights on the Christmas tree cast brilliant and dazzling halos in the falling snow, forming an absurd and heartbreaking contrast with the miserable appearance of the refugees she had just seen at the city entrance, huddled in simple thatched huts, wrapped in rags with frostbite.
These two worlds are only separated by a short street, but there seems to be an unbridgeable gap between them. On one side is the luxury and happiness of heaven, and on the other is the suffering and despair of hell.
"Is it cold on the road?" Xie Yun opened his eyes without knowing when, and his voice was tired and gentle. He noticed that her fox fur coat was wet by the snow, and frowned and said, "Are you coming from the road?"
Zheng Wanqing briefly told him about what happened on the road. Xie Yun put the woolen military cap in his hand on her head and said with a frown: "It's not very lively in the city recently. Don't do this next time."
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