Chapter 1
"All anchor links are completed——"
"Please repeat the guidelines!"
"Please repeat the guidelines!"
"Please repeat the guidelines!"
Li Rong only then realized that he was distracted, and refocused his attention to repeat the principles that had been recited thousands of times like a spiritual imprint. He endured the pain of particle collapse and reshaping, and recited them word for word in a voice that was compressed into a hideous and hoarse voice by the pain.
“The only rule for an observer is to respect time and escape paradox.”
Thus, the memory was obliterated by time and space, the figure lying on the hospital bed lost its remembered face, and everything here, no longer existed. [1]
"Dad, Dad, he's awake!" He heard the child's cry and struggled to open his eyes to instinctively find the source of the voice.
I felt a cold, rough touch on my wrist. "It will take some time for my blindness to recover. What a good young man! What a sin..."
He fell asleep again in the bitter aroma of the medicine and dreamed of his past.
I dreamed of my mother washing clothes by the stream, humming lulling nursery rhymes in her Wu dialect. The wind blew through the fields, and the wheat harvest was almost here. I dreamed of my father, in armor, collecting the tax he owed, then carrying my infant sister in his arms as we followed a long procession into the unharvested fields. I dreamed of a blood-stained stream. It was clearly the coldest time of the year, and the red water had frozen over. He kept stuffing his mouth with crushed ice to satisfy his hunger, cradling his lifeless brother in one hand, and lay there for a long, long time...
He saw himself being picked up by a man to check his breath, and then being kicked awake and inducted into a team that had just suffered a defeat and was left with only a few people, even though the name on the roster did not belong to anyone and did not represent anyone.
He finally woke up, opened his eyes, and tried to sit up, pulling off the blindfold. He felt the pain in his abdomen and took a deep breath. He remembered that his name was Li He now.
He was a lowly conscript who was picked up from the river bank. Because he was handsome and still a child, he was appointed as a guard on duty in front of the deputy general's tent.
He reached out and covered his abdomen tightly, warm liquid gushing out, and the light stung his eyes as he just opened them. Fortunately, the wound allowed him to stay awake, and he used his bloodshot eyes to see where he was.
The thatched hut blew like a curled-up blanket in the wind, and the stacked beds creaked. Li He dragged himself to the mud wall, leaning against it and letting out a long sigh. He reached out to wipe away his tears. He almost thought he was still at home, in that house where so many dead bodies lay. The bed had just been repaired, and the next crop of wheat was about to ripen. He had clearly been stabbed three or four times in the waist by the barbarians, and when he fell to the ground, his head hit a sharp stone.
The day when he could see his mother, younger sister and younger brother seemed so far away. He rubbed his eyes which were tearful from the sun. He could still see, although a little blurry, but it was better than being blind.
The armor must have been taken off and replaced with old coarse linen clothes. Li He covered his lower abdomen with his palm and recalled the conversation and voices he vaguely heard during his coma. It seemed to be a little medicine boy and a doctor.
There was an itch in his throat, and the sound of what should have been just a momentary cough was amplified. He didn't care about the hand covering the wound, and patted his chest lightly, as if that would stop the coughing.
It was not until the wound on his stomach became extremely painful due to the violent coughing that Li He finally relaxed and muffled the sound in his throat to endure it.
He slowly processed recent events with his drowsy mind. He had followed a group of men who looked more like bandits into battle, and many had died. Their names were still recorded in the household register, written in characters he barely recognized. The dead were circled with a red pen, just for the sake of counting. They never addressed each other by name during headcounts.
It was just a human head. Li He vaguely remembered that the day he was closest to death was a cloudless, beautiful day. Tattered banners fluttered behind him, and the armor he had just stripped from the dead a few days ago barely covered his vital parts. He was drowned in the army, carrying a wooden club[2]. The handle was black with blood and had a chip, but it was the only usable weapon Li He could find. Amidst the rumbling of drums[3] and the faint shouting, he raised his head to take a last look at the azure sky. Clouds were about to descend.
Li He had learned the splattering of blood when a blunt knife plunged into an enemy's neck. Everywhere he looked, he saw crimson droplets of blood, thick with fat, dripping back onto the blade. The weapons he had found were inadequate. The oncoming horses' hooves crushed the fallen soldiers to death, and the barbarian's scimitar stabbed him in the waist, right where the armor was broken.
The pain in his waist and abdomen was dull. The scimitar's blade spurted blood, a pattering sound that washed over him. Li He tightened his grip on the club's handle and struck down through the heavy helmet, but it was of course a futile effort. He was thrown to the ground, colliding with the sharp stone surface. His vision blurred into a continuous red, completely obscuring the blue sky, and his thoughts became drowsy.
The intense pain still surged up. Li He heard a crash outside the house, and yellow smoke was blown straight into the house by the wind. The bitter taste of the medicine lingered around him, and he closed his eyes again.
The child's voice was getting closer. "Dad, Dad—see if he's awake—" Withered hands lifted the straw curtain, and the old doctor fanned the room with a palm-leaf fan to disperse the medicinal smoke that had gathered in the room. A hoarse voice mixed with a thick cough, and he took a ruler and placed it on Li He's drooping wrist. "The pulse is stiff and the essence and blood are greatly depleted. The medicine is still being boiled. Now that the young man is awake, sit up and move around."
The hoarse voice was unclear. Li He opened his eyes and still covered the wound on his abdomen with his hands. "Thank you for your help, old man."
"There's nothing to boil, and ordinary herbs can't cure it. After great calamity comes great blessing—" He lowered his head and followed the instructions, propping himself up and landing barefoot on the ground. Great calamity, great blessing—it's easy to say. Being wounded but not dead is considered escaping, and now he has nowhere to go. Going back to where he came from and facing the death penalty wouldn't be worth it.
Li He stepped on the fine grass debris and slowly began to stand. The child who had spoken earlier offered him a hand to support him. Only then did he see the child's face, obscured by the ash. He was young, but his face was extremely rough and dark. He wiped the ash with his sleeve from time to time, making it even dirtier. Li He thought, if my brother were still alive today, he would be even younger, and certainly not as lovable as the child. Thin and dark, whatever.
The child was at an age where he loved to chat, and he talked a lot to himself, from how he went out to collect herbs and found a pile of dead bodies, to how he had just learned to take pulses from his father and brought back a living person whose pulse was not dead. Li He raised his hand and touched his messy bun, "Thank you very much."
Fortunately, winter was approaching. Otherwise, the dead bodies would only attract mosquitoes and crows, and there would be no useful herbs to be found. The family's livelihood was finally settled. He leaned back on the straw bed, leaning heavily. The child's voice gradually faded, and he kept calling for his father.
Li He was helped up by the old doctor, who said that the herbal medicine was more like bitter water, with the ash floating on the surface swirling around.
His lips touched the chipped rim of the bowl, and the boiling water poured down his throat. He clenched a corner of the linen cloth, and the warmth soothed his aching abdomen for a moment, better than nothing. The pain in his internal organs twisted together, and the herbal ash left a very sour and bitter taste.
Gradually regaining consciousness, Li He lifted the worn bowl with his fingertips and poured the last sip of bitter water into it. "How many days has the old man taken care of me?" The words brewing in his heart burst out from his dry throat, and others could only hear a faint whisper.
"It has been more than half a month since the youngest came back from collecting herbs. Young man, you should not be able to catch up with the original team." The old doctor took back the bowl of medicine and told the boy to wash it. "I am selfish in saving a life. In a few days, it will be time to collect grain. If you can go to the fields, please put your name on the list for me or the youngest." Li He heard a long, turbid sigh and understood the reason.
The old doctor continued what he had just said, "Don't be afraid of being laughed at by the young people. I was originally a family of four sons, but my wife died early. Two of the oldest sons died on the way to serve, and there is still no news of the third son. I am afraid he has passed away." The black sleeves could not wipe away the unshed tears, and a few words were enough to describe the plain story of life and death.
"The youngest is usually the most favored. As for me, I'm afraid that I am too weak to even go out to collect herbs. I have few days left and I have to rely on threatening the younger generation to repay my kindness." He closed his eyes, and Li He heard every word he said despite several pauses.
I have no way of repaying someone who saved me. He had also once listened to a few words while hiding in a private school. My body and hair are the gift of my parents. Li He opened his eyes and looked at the old man who sighed continuously. The smoke from the herbal fumigation had not yet completely dissipated. Since he was not dead, he had to live. The tears that flowed from his fear of the light were wiped away. He could not refuse to repay the favor.
The child had good intentions in rescuing him, and the old man was a compassionate doctor. It was all selfishness, he thought. If possible, he wanted his father back. It had been so long since he'd passed away, and he could no longer remember what he looked like. His mother's face, his younger sister's voice, his younger brother's stature had all faded. It hadn't been that long, and yet he couldn't remember anything even a little while ago. He hadn't even made it to the next winter.
When he was on the move, sleep was hard to come by when he had to stand guard. Closing his eyes, he saw a sea of blood. People lay one after another, the grass flattened to the ground. When the wind blew, nothing moved. The drought was severe, and there didn't seem to be a river nearby. He felt that the most he did was dig holes. The bodies of enemies, colleagues, and others, he threw them in and filled them up.
He wondered at that moment when it would be his turn to be filled in. It was too tiring, too painful, and too far. He'd walked so much, for so long, that he couldn't see the village river or the thick ice on it, nor could he hear the sounds he'd heard before. As for the name, it was something he'd forced upon himself during a headcount check. He liked the word "river" in it and memorized it.
It's good to continue living. Li He closed his eyes again, "Old man, if you can still walk, let's escape further south. My mother's ancestral home is further south. I heard that it never snows there in winter."
[1] My personal worldview: This can be simply understood as using quantum observation states and quantum entanglement to realize a time machine hypothesis, which can only observe in one direction. Respect time and escape paradox.
[2] Shu: A wooden weapon of suitable length and weight for hand-held use. After being modified, it was often used for ceremonial purposes, but there are different opinions on it. Non-professionals should not delve into it. I am illiterate (I am sure)
[3] The drums are beating, and the troops are eager to fight. The country is building a city wall, and I am traveling alone to the south - "Bei Feng Ji Gu"
[4] Song of Pulse. Astringent pulse: slow, thin, and astringent, with difficulty in moving, like a knife scraping bamboo, slow and difficult.
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