Chapter Forty: Betrayal

Whoosh! The arrow, propelled by the immense force of the metal crossbow string, shot out, slicing through the air with a faint, piercing whistle. In a flash of black, the arrowhead buried itself deep into the trunk of the tree.

Seeing this, Liu Chang hurried over to inspect the results of his shot. The forty-centimeter-long crossbow bolt had penetrated a full thirty centimeters into the tree, with only the fletched end protruding outside. Grasping the shaft, he had to exert himself dozens of times before he managed to pull the bolt out bit by bit.

“What power!” Liu Chang marveled at the deep hole in the trunk and the sap seeping from within. “It’s far stronger than a police handgun. In terms of sheer force, within thirty meters this crossbow bolt is actually more powerful than a military rifle round!”

“Unfortunately, the trajectory’s not as good.” Examining the hole, Liu Chang noticed it was slightly lower than where he’d aimed—proof that the bolt’s path was arched. Because the bolt was so heavy, its trajectory was harder to judge than a bullet’s. And due to that same weight, while it outperformed a rifle round at close range, its power dropped off sharply once it flew past fifty meters.

But in this red mist, where even Liu Chang could barely see beyond eight meters, the issue of fifty meters was something he’d never needed to worry about.

For now, his focus was on testing the crossbow’s properties, mastering its operation, and sharpening his aim for close-range hunting.

Thus the afternoon slipped by, and by its end, the tree trunk was riddled with countless new holes—a testament to Liu Chang’s efforts. Had the tree developed any aggression like those terrifying kin that rooted themselves through the underground world, Liu Chang would have been torn apart by now. But its evolution had lagged behind those monstrous relatives; it was still just a tree, merely a bit sturdier than before.

The afternoon’s practice yielded much. Liu Chang could now string and fire the crossbow swiftly and skillfully, understood the differences between long and short bolts in trajectory and force, and could generally judge his aim within ten meters—everything was progressing smoothly.

As night fell, the thick fog shortened Liu Chang’s vision until he could see less than three meters ahead. At that point, he decisively packed up his bolts and headed home.

He moved through the black-red world, the mist swirling around him like a stewpot, and finally reached the interior of his dormitory.

Arriving at his first-floor room, Liu Chang’s keen nose caught a familiar scent of decay from inside. His heart tightened—where there was the stench of death, there was a corpse, and where there was a corpse, someone had died. And if someone had died in his room, he already had a good guess as to who.

Opening the door, he saw exactly what he expected: on the room’s only bed, a body lay covered by a white sheet—the corpse of an old woman, her form mostly hidden except for her exposed head. Beside her lay another elderly figure, barely clinging to life—his faint breaths scarcely stronger than the stillness of the dead, truly lingering on the verge of death.

Beside the two elders sat the silent single woman, always withdrawn. She perched at the very edge of the bed like a puppet, her face expressionless, neither weeping nor showing sadness, only occasionally wiping the sweat from the brow of the dying man.

Though her face betrayed no sorrow, the grief radiating from her was palpable.

With a sigh, Liu Chang stepped into the odor-thickened room, passed the corpse, and sat on his own bed. A sense of mourning welled up within him. Only last night he’d debated whether to give the two elders his bed, and now one of them was gone. Regret pricked at him—if he’d offered his bed, perhaps he couldn’t have changed their fate, but maybe he could have given them a final measure of warmth.

But then he wondered: if he hadn’t rested well last night, would he have survived the deadly encounters with the giant dog today? Would he even have lived to see the hunt, or be sitting here now?

If given another chance, would he choose differently? This thought plunged him into a spiral of doubt and contradiction.

At that moment, a large hand clapped his shoulder.

Liu Chang looked up—it was Li Qingshui.

“Come on, step outside and have a cigarette with me,” Li Qingshui said, pulling a crumpled pack from his pocket and offering Liu Chang one.

Taking the cigarette, Liu Chang noticed that even the tobacco had grown somewhat moldy in this dreadful world—the once-white paper had yellowed and greened, much like the old woman on the bed.

“Let’s go.”

“All right.”

Without another word, the two left the dormitory, cigarettes in hand.

In the corridor, leaning against the bed, Liu Chang accepted a lighter and lit his smoke. “Do you know when I last had a cigarette?”

“No.”

“When Liu Tao died.” Liu Chang touched the finger-bone necklace on his chest. “The first day the red mist came, he asked me for a cigarette, but I didn’t have one. Later, we both went to the hospital to find medicine for our infected wounds. We found it, I survived, but he died. After I woke up, I lit a cigarette for his corpse.”

He took a long drag, smoke filling his lungs.

“The old woman died today—you feel a bit sad?” Li Qingshui didn’t respond directly, but instead asked another question.

“A little, I suppose, but not exactly sad...” Exhaling, Liu Chang thought for a moment. “More like uncomfortable. After all, I didn’t really know her. It’s just sympathy.”

“Sympathy is the right word. That’s why I brought you out here,” Li Qingshui replied. “I want to tell you: it’s best not to feel sympathy—it’ll weaken your will to survive.”

“Why?” Liu Chang was puzzled.

“Because sympathy for the weak is, at its core, a betrayal of nature.” After a moment’s silence, Li Qingshui uttered words that left Liu Chang stunned.

Sensing he hadn’t made his point strongly enough, Li Qingshui continued, “What kind of world is this now? It’s no longer the human society we once knew—we’ve reverted to the most primitive state of nature. Survival of the fittest. The choice you made last night was absolutely correct. Don’t let this affect your judgment in the future. Next time, don’t let sympathy sway you into making the wrong choice. Those who are destined to be eliminated will be. Don’t let your own mistake drag you down with them.”

Li Qingshui’s words sent Liu Chang into deep thought, and silence settled over the corridor.

“Thank you...” After a while, Liu Chang looked up, forcing a bitter smile. “But if I lose even sympathy, isn’t that a betrayal of my humanity?”

“Don’t get tangled up in something as complicated as ‘humanity,’ or you’ll fall into a philosophical trap. As long as you survive, you’re not betraying yourself, your family, or me, or Fatty, or the little girl. Most of all, you’re not betraying your own life.”

With that, Li Qingshui drew the last of his cigarette, tossed the butt to the ground, and crushed it beneath his heel before turning and heading back inside.