Everyone around was just as stunned as I was.
The sudden incident had already caught us off guard, but what shocked us even more was Suo Tian’s abrupt move.
It took everyone quite a while to react, and we quickly rushed over to lift Lili up, placing her on a cleaner patch of ground while Bruno checked her injuries.
At that moment, I was deeply grateful that I had insisted on bringing the medical supplies.
The pain was so intense that Lili nearly fainted several times.
At first, she was screaming nonstop, but when Wang Jun kept reminding her not to attract the walkers, this strong woman bit down hard on her lip, not letting out another sound.
Tears streamed from the corners of her eyes.
I didn’t dare guess whether the tears were from the excruciating pain, or from the icy despair inside her heart.
I had witnessed scenes like this twice before, and I had personally experienced it myself.
I knew very clearly what kind of pain this was—bone-deep, unbearable, something no ordinary person could endure.
I crouched down and held Lili’s free hand tightly.
The moment I touched her, she clutched my hand as though grabbing onto her only support, her fingers trembling.
Bruno quickly finished cleaning her wound, applied anti-inflammatory medicine, and wrapped it securely with bandages.
In the end, no matter how much Lili forced herself to stay conscious, her body simply couldn’t hold on anymore.
After so many injuries one after another, she finally passed out.
We—Han Xue, Yangyang, Zhang Qicong and the others—took off our jackets to lay on the ground so she could be placed on top of them.
Then we lit a fire beside her.
No matter what, we would not continue the journey until she woke up.
Wang Jun—her husband, the man she should have been able to rely on for a lifetime, the father of her child—didn’t say a single word of comfort.
Even when we were taking off our jackets to keep her warm, the person who should have been closest to her simply sat far away holding the baby.
Even Song Meijing took off her coat and laid it over Lili.
But Wang Jun? He stepped back to the very edge of the group.
Suo Tian didn’t comment on the way we handled things.
He simply squatted next to Zhao Qiuting’s body and studied it with Bruno for a while.
Then he wiped his dagger against the ground and slipped it back into his coat.
I boiled a full bowl of milk over the fire.
Once Lili woke up, no matter what, she needed to drink it.
We had nothing else to replenish her strength.
As for Wang Jun, that scum wouldn’t even spare an extra spoonful of milk powder for Lili.
Counting on him was about as useful as digging her grave early.
Zhao Qiuting’s body still lay there on the ground, twisted in a strange posture under the tree.
Her eyes had already been closed by Suo Tian, but no one went near her.
Everyone just watched from a distance—just like when she was alive, when they treated her like a monster.
Zhao Qiuting was actually a pitiful girl.
From the moment she and her classmates hid in the school cafeteria, her tragic fate had already been sealed.
Weakness—in body or in spirit—meant damnation in this world.
Once you are weak, you’re doomed to fall, beyond all saving.
Yet among the weak, she had been one of the stronger ones.
She had somehow survived until Shu Guang rescued her from the hell that should have claimed her life.
But Shu Guang himself fell, unable to protect itself, much less her.
She had lived cautiously beside Song Meijing and Wang Jun for so long, like walking on thin ice, every step calculated.
For someone as selfish to the core as Wang Jun to tolerate her—a human time bomb—she must have used every ounce of strength she had just to stay alive.
From the wary, startled girl I first met in the hospital, to the moment she blocked Suo Tian at the door and said, “Don’t go. Sister Lili is giving birth,” I realized—without noticing when—it was no longer fear I felt when I looked at her.
It was pity.
And heartbreak.
Her “crime” was nearly the same as Rongrong’s, and yet unlike Rongrong, she never received anyone’s tolerance or understanding.
It wasn’t her fault, nor anyone else’s.
Maybe this was simply her fate—perhaps this was just how Heaven had arranged it.
Sometimes destiny is so unfair that it leaves people speechless.
And maybe… maybe I’m only able to speak so calmly because the one who was bitten this time wasn’t me.
But isn’t that how people are?
We can never truly think from someone else’s perspective—not completely.
While the group quietly waited for Lili to wake up, Zhou Wen, who had been silent all this time, suddenly stood up and walked toward Suo Tian.
Then, in a voice not loud but clear enough for everyone to hear, he said,
“Leader Suo, if I remember correctly… that little girl’s condition is similar to the one lying on the ground, isn’t it?”
He pointed at Rongrong, who was being held in Yangyang’s arms.
At those words, Shen Feng’s expression stiffened.
He turned to look at Zhao Qiuting’s body lying not far away, and after a long pause, his gaze shifted toward Rongrong.
I raised my hand and patted his shoulder, staring at Suo Tian, waiting for his answer.
After Zhou Wen’s question hung in the air for quite a while, Suo Tian finally replied slowly,
“…What are you trying to say?”
Hearing that, Zhou Wen cleared his throat and adjusted his posture slightly before speaking:
“I don’t mean to target anyone—especially not the child. I just want to voice the doubt in my heart. After all, it’s already extremely difficult for us to survive here in the mountains. If we still carry hidden dangers with us, our chances of survival will only become slimmer.”
After he spoke, he looked around at all of us.
Seeing no one respond, he continued:
“The girl who just passed away has clearly been with you all for a long time. Since you all allowed her to stay up to now, that means she hasn’t shown any abnormal behavior during this time, nor caused any real harm to the group.”
He gestured toward Zhao Qiuting’s body, then turned his gaze to Rongrong again.
“But today, everything suddenly changed. Considering what happened yesterday and last night, it’s not hard to guess that this may have been triggered by extreme emotional shock. I’ve also heard that this girl had bitten someone before. If that’s the case… then her situation is very similar to Rongrong’s. Following that line of reasoning—could it be that Rongrong might also…”
Zhou Wen was someone who knew how to speak.
Harsh truths, once filtered through his tone and pauses, sounded gentler—yet still made everyone understand exactly what was at stake.
“The kid bit someone before? Like Qiuting?”
Liu Rumiao looked at Rongrong, surprised.
Even Song Meijing glanced at Rongrong in shock and asked Suo Tian, “When did that happen?”
Suo Tian looked back and answered, “Not long ago.”
“If that’s the case, then we should try to isolate the child,” Wang Jun spoke up.
“Otherwise, the risk to us is too great. Who knows when she might suddenly lose control? If someone else gets bitten, that’s a loss we can’t afford.”
Rongrong was old enough to understand the general meaning of the adults’ conversation.
Hearing each person speak one line after another, fear and caution spread across her entire face.
She shrank into Yangyang’s arms, peeking timidly at whoever spoke, as if hoping someone—anyone—would defend her.
“This Qiuting girl really was strange,” Lao Si muttered with a frown.
“I remember Dr. Shu Guang mentioned something about her before, but we didn’t think much of it. But seeing it today… it’s terrifying. How could a normal person bite down so hard that she tears off a chunk of flesh like that?”
“That’s right. If that little girl is the same, then we need to find a way to control her,” Sister Liu agreed, glancing at Rongrong with a hint of fear and disgust.
“It’s already hard enough traveling like this. If we have to worry about someone snapping at any moment, then how are we supposed to sleep at night?”
My group—Xu Shu, the others, and I—remained silent.
After all, their concerns weren’t without reason.
No matter how much we sympathized with Rongrong, we couldn’t completely ignore the danger she might bring.
Suo Tian had been standing silently off to the side the whole time.
Even after hearing everything they said, he didn’t speak.
It wasn’t until people from the group in black-clad also began voicing doubts that he finally swept his eyes across everyone and said calmly:
“Rongrong is fine.”
When I heard this, I noticed that everyone who had spoken earlier frowned almost at the same time.
The meaning in Suo Tian’s words was obvious—he was rejecting all of their doubts and intended to protect Rongrong to the end.
“Leader Suo,” Zhou Wen said, sounding clearly dissatisfied with Suo Tian’s stance, “since we’ve been traveling together all the way, we at least need to consider the safety of everyone. After all, the ones who stay closest to Rongrong are two toddlers who don’t even understand anything yet.”
As soon as Zhou Wen said this, nearly half the group voiced their agreement.
But Suo Tian simply looked at Zhou Wen with that same calm expression.
When the noise died down, he spoke again:
“If you think it’s dangerous, or if you’re not satisfied with how I do things, you can leave. Rongrong is fine. I’m only saying this once.”
This sentence made it very clear that he was no longer pleased.
The people who had joined in on the complaints fell silent immediately.
Heads lowered. Eyes shifted.
Everyone slipped back into silent observation.
Zhou Wen was a smart man.
A normal person, after being shut down like that, would feel embarrassed or would harbor resentment.
But after hearing Suo Tian’s cold, threatening words, Zhou Wen merely smiled, shrugged, and walked back to Taozi’s side, saying lightly:
“Then we’ll go with what Leader Suo says.”
When the crowd quieted, Yangyang wiped Rongrong’s tears and handed her to Suo Tian.
Suo Tian held her and whispered something to her.
Whatever he said, Rongrong’s little face scrunched up—crying and smiling at the same time as she wiped her tears with her sleeve.
I stood and walked over.
The moment Rongrong saw me, she immediately pretended to fall asleep in Suo Tian’s arms, afraid I might take her away.
I gave her a small swat on the backside—not too hard, not too light—and let out a laugh.
Then I looked at Suo Tian, though I didn’t know what to say.
We sat there in silence for a while.
I could feel him looking at me for a long time.
Then suddenly, he freed one hand and took mine.
His black-and-white eyes fixed on me, and he spoke slowly:
“Chen Yang… there are many things that can’t be explained. Because no one would believe them.”
— The end of the Chapter–
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