Chapter 2 Finally Encountering Living People: This Isn't the Apocalypse
The sun rose and moved, kingfishers sang mournfully, and sunlight filtered through layers of leaves, scattering across the ground and onto a tiny human figure on it. The figure's chest was flat; it was no longer breathing.
The light spots gradually moved from the corpse's body to its eyes.
Ji Mingran's eyes snapped open, her gaze sharp. She sat up abruptly, looking around warily.
Then, he looked bewildered and lost in thought.
It wasn't the familiar expanse of yellow sand, nor was there the scorching, choking air.
Here, ancient trees reach for the sky, lush and verdant, their shadows swaying gently. Large patches of broken wood and fallen leaves remain on the ground, all bearing the marks of a battle.
The mutant from last night has not been found, nor has the expected mega-mutant.
Ji Mingran looked down at his body and saw that he was still a short, childlike figure.
After last night's fight, the young body was covered in bruises, and its left leg hung limply and twisted, likely due to a broken ankle.
The slightest movement sent a throbbing pain through my entire body, but thankfully the splitting headache subsided after my memories returned.
She didn't leave the illusion?
Or perhaps... the memories from last night resurfaced in my mind.
Is she really dead?
"You're not dead." A cold voice came from behind.
Ji Mingran looked up.
The young man sat leaning against a tree, sword in hand. His features were stunningly beautiful, like a celestial being from a painting. However, his black robes made his face appear gloomy and pale, his pupils as dark and lifeless as a night pool, and his entire being exuded an aura of cold indifference.
The lush green leaves tumbled down lightly, their tips swirling, and gracefully landed on the boy's fair and prominent collarbone.
He stared at Ji Mingran, his face expressionless.
Ji Mingran's eyes widened slightly.
Who is this?
Was it the "human" who attacked the mutant with her last night? Or was it a mutant? But it never attacked her.
Ji Mingran frowned. Was his inability to escape the illusion related to him?
"You are...?" she asked in a hoarse voice, "a person?"
The term "mutant species" is not as concise as the word "human".
With difficulty moving and a severely injured throat making it hard to speak, Ji Mingran chose the simplest way to try and find out the truth.
“The ghouls only eat people. I am naturally a human.” The boy said slowly, “Last night, that ghoul still had the strength to struggle and fight back, but a cultivator passed by and it ran away. The cultivator chased after it. There is no one else here except you and me.” After a pause, he added, “Ordinary people could not survive such an attack.”
She died, and now she's alive again. This isn't an illusion. Ji Mingran made a swift conclusion.
It wasn't just based on the boy's fragmented words. After the headache subsided, the memories of death that surfaced in her mind last night became even clearer, and she couldn't deny it.
Such a wonderful thing as being brought back to life! Ji Mingran was stunned: "A living person." She crawled towards the boy on both hands and feet.
How many years has it been?
Regardless of whether they were healthy or disabled, male or female, young or old, good or evil, she never saw a human being again during the years she wandered and struggled to survive in the apocalypse.
She had a strange excitement about seeing rare and exotic animals—no, seeing her own kind.
Gazing at the strange child crawling towards him on all fours, a dangerous glint flashed in the boy's eyes, and his fingertips silently gripped the hilt of his sword.
The two were already close, and Ji Mingran climbed about ten steps to reach the boy.
His brows were slightly furrowed, his eyes were tightly closed, and his lips were pale and bluish, making him appear as fragile as if he would break at the slightest touch.
Ji Mingran was not afraid of the black sword that was about to be drawn.
She moved closer to the boy.
His eyelashes were thick and long, and the gaze beneath them was cold and sharp, though not lifeless or dull.
Although the air was filled with the smell of blood, it was pleasant and did not reek of rotting corpses.
With all its features intact, it looked much better than the average person, far surpassing any mutant.
Living with mutants every day and killing them on sight, her nerves have become numb. Sometimes when she sees an unusual mutant species, she will pause for a moment to observe its features, and at one point she even felt that not all of them were unsightly and smelly.
This made her worry several times that she might be gradually assimilated. After all, only mutants would accept the appearance of mutants.
It seems she still maintains the same aesthetic sense as others of her kind.
With a wide grin, Ji Mingran said in a hoarse voice, "Do you know the way? Let's go first."
The boy looked away and remained silent.
There was no response. Ji Mingran hadn't been in contact with living people for a long time and didn't know how to react for a moment. But she immediately recalled the books on interpersonal communication that she had read hundreds of times when she was bored during the apocalypse.
She had been separated from human society for too long and worried that if she encountered a human group one day, she would not be able to stand on her own, so she made ample preparations.
Having read a book a hundred times, she was confident that she could become a likable person.
Honesty is a virtue that everyone admires.
She forced another harmless smile and greeted him sincerely and earnestly: "You're dying soon, aren't you?"
"What do you want?" The young man's eyes flashed with coldness as he drew his black sword forward.
Ji Mingran sat up straight, ignoring the sharp blade held against his neck, and said softly, "Lead the way, and I'll try my best to save you once we get out."
"Do you have a way to save me?" The boy's eyes were deep and unfathomable.
Ji Mingran shook her head. She had just arrived here, was small and disabled, and there was indeed nothing she could do at the moment.
"Nonsense." The young man glanced at her coolly, sheathed his sword, leaned against a tree trunk to stand up, and then handed the sword hilt to Ji Mingran.
What does this mean?
He agreed after being scolded; I don't think the book mentions this situation.
Ji Mingran looked up, startled, then used his hand on the hilt of his sword to help him stand up, and asked to confirm, "Together?"
"Hmm." The boy did not sheathe his black sword. "You have difficulty walking, use this for support. I'll help you from the side."
"Okay." Ji Mingran breathed a sigh of relief. Reading a book a hundred times is indeed true. Although books cannot cover everything in detail, they can explain all the principles. The principle of "honesty" was applicable and applied correctly this time.
She can now confidently and boldly integrate into the community.
The boy supported Ji Mingran silently the whole way, his body swaying and staggering as he struggled to stay upright. Ji Mingran's condition was also not optimistic, but looking at the lush greenery around him and the survivors beside him, he felt a sense of wonder and joy, and the pain seemed insignificant.
The two staggered along, stopping and starting, for more than four hours before finally emerging from the forest.
The melodious bells rang out as the town of Nakamura quietly leaned against the setting sun at dusk.
An old man, wearing a straw raincoat and leading an ox, walked slowly forward.
The toddler with pigtails sat on the back of the ox, peering curiously at the two of them. "Those two are so strange, Grandpa."
The old man didn't even glance at it, his withered hands forcefully pulling the ox along. "Shh! It's getting dark, let's hurry home."
Ji Mingran looked at the scene before him, stopped in his tracks, rubbed his eyes, and then rubbed them again.
"What?" the boy asked, turning his head to her.
Ji Mingran shook his head to indicate that it was nothing.
It's really nothing, just a corner of ordinary life.
After thirty years of desolate silence in the apocalypse, she finally heard human voices responding.
As they approached the town's entrance, Ji Mingran suddenly remembered the town's name.
Fengsheng Town.
It was as if my body reflexively knew where to go.
Enter from the west gate of the town, walk through three street intersections, turn left at a sweet water shop, go straight and then turn right, go around into a narrow alley, continue walking in, and stop at the very end.
A small patch of yellow mud ground was enclosed by a wooden fence, with scattered firewood piled on the ground. A little further back, a dilapidated wooden house stood, teetering on the verge of collapse.
The door wasn't locked; it opened with a push.
The room was sparsely furnished: a table, two wooden stools, two earthenware jars and a wooden cabinet next to them, and a wooden bed a little further back. That was it.
At least it's clean and habitable.
Lift the wooden lid of the earthenware jar; there is water inside.
The two exchanged a glance, remained silent, and tacitly scooped up a ladle of water and drank it one after the other. Then they went to the bed together and lay down.
They were severely exhausted and desperately needed rest.
Ji Mingran was not worried that the boy would harm him, otherwise he could have easily taken action against him on the way.
The most urgent task is to restore physical strength.
Overwhelmed by long-suppressed fatigue, she closed her eyes and instantly fell into a deep sleep.
The night grew darker.
The boy opened his eyes and turned his head to look at the girl beside him.
There were no lights inside, only the faint moonlight streaming in from the window. The girl's sleeping face appeared peaceful and serene under the gentle moonlight.
He witnessed firsthand how the sleeping child had suddenly fallen onto the grass in front of the bushes where he was hiding the night before, bleeding profusely and dying instantly.
This is the usual way the ghouls kill: five fingers piercing the heart, then smashing and throwing the corpse. Two heavy blows, and no one can survive, let alone a child.
Soon after, she sat up and quietly hid in the bushes.
Not only did he hide, but he also unusually dared to fight the ghoul.
Later, she finally succumbed to her injuries and stopped breathing. He was so badly wounded that he could barely move and lay beside her body all night.
They also observed the corpse all night.
The body, which should have been cold and stiff, folded up again as dawn broke. After a long while, the small head slowly turned, gradually turning towards the direction where he was sitting, and stopped.
Hollow and numb, a desolate and lifeless scene in his eyes.
Kids? Who would believe that?
Reaching out and poking the "child's" face, the skin was not stiff and had elasticity; it was not a corpse, but a living person.
I've heard of wondrous treasures and magical arts that can bring the dead back to life, as well as evil arts like possession and body stealing. I wonder which one she belongs to. If it's the former, I might be able to save myself.
However, she was not seen using any magical artifacts along the way, and her residence was so dilapidated that there was no sign of any rare treasures. It was most likely that she was possessed by an evil cultivator.
Those who practice heresy will stop at nothing to achieve their goals, and it is common for them to use a few clever words to gain the trust of others.
The boy's dark eyes were like a deep pool in the forest, without a ripple, faintly revealing a sense of desolation. His pale fingertips touched the girl's neck, and the skin where they touched sank deeper and deeper.
The girl stirred in her sleep, raised her hand to grasp his fingertips, but continued to sleep with her eyes closed.
It appears to be an unconscious action.
The boy's figure froze for a moment, when suddenly a muffled clap of thunder sounded outside the window.
A faint smile appeared on his pale face as he turned and lay flat on the bed.
He placed his hands on his abdomen, adjusted his posture, lay down properly, closed his eyes, and let his consciousness sink into darkness.
A sharp chill rises from the internal organs, a sign that the corpse poison is taking effect.
Since they're going to die anyway, leaving behind a menace is kind of interesting.
I wonder if she would eat human flesh, and I wonder if he would be able to leave with a complete corpse.
—
Ji Mingran didn't know whether he was awakened by the thunder or by the memories flooding his mind.
She sat up and cleared her mind.
The original owner of this body had lost both parents at a young age, and shortly after her seventh birthday, her maternal grandmother, who had raised her, also died. The neighbors regarded her as a jinx; for every death of a family member, several would move away, leaving no one to help her. With no means of survival, the girl had no choice but to go into the mountains to gather herbs, where she encountered something that appeared to be a mutated species and perished.
At this moment, her soul transmigrated into the girl's body.
The girl looks exactly the same as she did when she was young. It's such a coincidence, and strange indeed.
Before he could think further, the sound of raindrops grew louder, and Ji Mingran looked ahead.
Suddenly, water started leaking from the roof.
As the rain intensified, the roof became like a sieve, leaking rain everywhere.
The house was already small, and almost all of the existing furniture and belongings were damaged. Fortunately, the roof above the bed was more sturdy than in other areas, leaving them with a barely dry spot.
Despite the commotion, the people around him remained completely still. Ji Mingran reached out and pushed them, feeling a chilling coldness seep into his palm.
She quickly looked down and, in the occasional flashes of lightning, noticed that the boy's face was deathly pale, his lips were black, and his body was trembling slightly.
Ji Mingran hesitated for a moment, then reached out and tore open the boy's upper garment.
A large chunk of flesh was torn from my left shoulder to my chest. I don't know what method was used. The bleeding has stopped, but the wound is festering and indistinct, so deep that the bone is visible.
The wound was more serious than she had suspected.
Despite his severe injuries, he still helped her walk a long stretch of mountain road, which suggests he had some means of protecting her life.
But... Ji Mingran looked at the trembling body in his arms.
In any case, he couldn't let him continue to get soaked in the rain and catch a cold, which would only worsen his condition. Although he knew it wouldn't help much, it was better than nothing. Ji Mingran wrapped himself in the thin, tattered blanket on the bed and held him tightly, using his back to shield him from the drifting rain vapors.
The house turned into a waterfall, the person in my arms froze to death, and I was seriously injured, mute, and had a broken leg.
We need to get through this night first.
Ji Mingran tried to stay awake, but gradually fell into a deep sleep.
The sound of suona horns, children's cries, banknotes flying, neighbors pointing fingers... fragments of the original owner's memories kept flashing in the dream.
"The poor little thing is so pitiful. I'll give you a discount on this coffin, 15% off, how about that?"
In her dream, the original owner's memories surged and intertwined with her own, vague figures overlapped, and a melodious voice echoed repeatedly.
Ji Mingran was suddenly awakened from her dream. She looked out the window and saw that it was still dark and the room was wet.
I reckon I didn't get more than a few hours of sleep.
She remembered who the person speaking in her dream was.
There was a coffin shop in town that offered a full range of funeral supplies, as well as various exorcism talismans. The prices were reasonable and the quality high, making it a very popular business. The shop was run by a clerk, and although the original owner had visited several times, he had never seen the owner.
At that time, the original owner visited the shop again to deal with his grandmother's funeral arrangements, crying his eyes out. The owner, who was rarely seen, happened to be in the shop, standing behind him, and said that he felt sorry for him and would give him a discount.
The owner's surname is Jiang. He likes to tinker with mysterious things, and strange and bizarre things often appear in the shop.
The townspeople called Boss Jiang a "monk".
The boy said that the people chasing things last night were "cultivators".
The person in my arms was still as cold as ice. I ran my fingers down from the top of their head, found the high bridge of their nose, and continued to check their breath. They were still breathing.
I was bitten by that thing that looked like a mutant, and I don't know if I'll mutate too.
If it mutates, will it infect others? Could this place turn into another apocalypse?
Ji Mingran still feels lingering fear about the human mutations he experienced in his previous life.
After putting the person inside and tucking the bed in tightly, Ji Mingran jumped off the bed, stepped through the puddles to the large vat, groped around for a bit, and then drank two mouthfuls of cold water.
The cool sensation instantly dispelled my sleepiness.
She found ropes used for binding firewood and tied the person on the bed up tightly.
After thinking for a moment, she tore off a strip of cloth from her clothes, crumpled it into a ball, stuffed it into the boy's mouth, and whispered in his ear:
"I'm going out for a bit. Try not to die before I come back. If you do die, die peacefully, and remember not to go out and bite anyone."
As an honest person, she should keep her promise and try her best to save the person.
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