Halfway through the circuit, Zhong Qingye's ankle was suddenly grabbed by a pale arm. The two of them stopped, and upon closer inspection, they discovered a woman imprisoned in the prison who was as angry as a silk thread. [] Zhong Qingye
Ye originally thought she wanted to beg her to save her, but the woman shook her head without hesitation. After looking closely, she found the little boy sitting in the shadow corner who was also covered in bruises.
"You want me to save your son?" Zhong Qingye asked.
The woman nodded strenuously and lay on the ground struggling to hold Zhong Qingye. She looked like she was dying, but her swollen purple eyes were flashing like flames, full of tears, shining brightly in the dim environment.
Zhong Qingye didn't know how to answer her for a moment, and tilted his head slightly, looking at the child who said nothing. The child suddenly turned around. Their eyes met, and Zhong Qingye was surprised to find that the eyes of this child who was no more than 10 years old actually had...
A clear day.
There was no fear, no confusion, no surprise. The black crystal eyes were like a dead object, looking at her calmly, without even the slightest disturbance.
Inexplicably, Zhong Qingye suddenly felt worried about this look.
Before he could speak, the child had turned his head away and continued to clumsily and carefully wipe the blood on the woman's face, as if nothing else was important.
There was a sudden pain in his ankle. Zhong Qingye immediately came back to his senses and saw that the woman seemed to be using her last strength to hold on. She raised her head and shook it slightly. Her big tears immediately fell down without hesitation, dripping on the cold green skin underneath her.
There was a soft sound on the stone slab.
It could be seen that the woman was trying very hard to speak, but it seemed that she no longer had the strength. Her white and dry lips moved slightly, and immediately opened several holes, and bright red blood suddenly poured out and mixed with the pale lips.
on, like the finest carmine paste.
She struggled to kiss Qingye, her lips stubbornly moving, over and over again.
Zhong Qingye had received lip reading training from the Military Intelligence Department, and it was easy to read what she wanted to say based on her lip shapes. But she did not speak, nor did she stop the woman from trying her best, squatting there quietly.
, the pupils gradually lost their original luster, and the whole person was as alive as a stone sculpture.
The woman kept moving her lips, talking over and over again, but only three words.
Please...
The child sat quietly next to his mother, his pale fingers covered with bright red blood. He lowered his head and played with the viscous liquid. Even though the woman beside him was losing her last life bit by bit, he still
He didn't make any sound, and he didn't even say a word to comfort his mother.
Perhaps he knew that this was his mother's last sense of survival.
The woman's clear tears, the thick blood, the child's expressive face, and the pale eyes suddenly solidified into a long-lasting oil painting at that moment. The color was dim, mottled and incomplete, but it became eternal. It was also like a smooth long piece of oil painting.
The mirror seemed to look through them into the long past.
That period of time that was like a nightmare was buried in Zhong Qingye's heart, like a black and white silent film that was repeated over and over again during the long sleepless night.
In the dirty and dark dungeon, her father's lifeless body was lying next to her, and her mother hugged her injured and curled up into a ball. The darkness made people forget the passage of time. She kept sleeping and waking up, and then fell asleep again, over and over again.
, it feels like being isolated from the world by time, and I don’t even know if I am still alive.
She only remembered the darkness. Every certain period of time, her mother would put something smelly to her lips and scold her in a stern tone that she must eat it. She was afraid of why her always loving mother would have such a hellish mood.
Mouth, swallowing those things with tears in his eyes, again and again until numb.
At that time, she didn't know what those things were, and she was instinctively afraid to think about it carefully, because she still remembers that her mother's fingers when handing things over were constantly trembling, and her roaring voice was filled with overwhelming destruction.
breath.
The fishy stench lingered between her lips and teeth, and the viscous liquid continued to corrode her throat. During that period of time, Zhong Qingye lost the ability to speak and could only instinctively curl up to resist the cold and darkness everywhere.
She didn't know how long she had been locked up there. The darkness was as thick as a puddle of stagnant water, and everything was cut off. She chewed numbly as her mother brought things to her mouth at regular intervals, and listened to her mother hugging her tightly.
The hand trembled slightly in the darkness.
At that time, besides scolding her that she must eat clean, the only thing her mother could say was: "Live, live, must live..." These words kept echoing in the darkness, from the gnashing of teeth at the beginning, to later
Gradually calming down, and finally becoming indifferent, each sentence was like a hot iron plate, firmly imprinting the belief brought by these words deep in her bone marrow.
Live, live! Must live!
This is what her mother said to her, and what she said to herself.
Until one day, the mother finally stopped talking, as if she was asleep. Long-term darkness will make people lose the ability to fear, and the breath of air gradually appeared. She curled up quietly, her mind went blank, and
Like a corpse.
Then, the door of the dungeon was opened, and the dying woman was dragged out. She was again exposed to the light that she had forgotten for an unknown period of time, and her pupils were stabbed to the point of aches and pain. Before the door was closed again, she once looked back.
, the dungeon was filled with filth, with two half-rotted and swollen corpses huddled together, and pale live maggots were constantly wriggling in the blackened carrion.
She held her head and screamed hysterically. Her empty stomach spasmed for a moment, and the sound of vomiting was earth-shattering.
That year, she was six years old and was imprisoned in a dungeon for ninety-eight days, surviving on the flesh and blood of her parents.
Suddenly there was a strong grip on the shoulder blades, Zhong Qingye woke up from the nightmare in an instant, the dark clothes were soaked with cold sweat all over his body, his pupils flashed with fear, and he looked at Qi Mo behind him at a loss.
Qi Mo frowned and looked at this abnormal girl. The calm strength was conveyed inch by inch from the fingers holding her shoulders, which made people feel reassured.
"Don't be afraid." Qi Mo said.
Zhong Qingye's pupils shrank unconsciously, he turned his head away, covered his face with his palms, and his dull and vague voice flowed out from between his fingers: "I'm not afraid."
I have forgotten what fear is, starting from the first bite of human flesh.