"Grab him."
Adam Dale collapsed to the ground in terror, unable to comprehend what was happening. The soldiers seized Charlie Chen and searched him, finding some money on his person.
"Sir, what crime have I committed...?"
"This is the evidence."
On the coins, there was a marked sign. Charlie Chen, trembling with fear, watched as the army-issued rations always carried such marks. At that moment, Charlie saw the innkeeper take some money from a soldier.
"What should be done with a fugitive? Speak..."
The officer raised his whip, pointing at Charlie Chen. By now, Charlie's face had turned ashen; he trembled violently, his clothes stripped off, and the bandage on his shoulder was torn away, revealing a clear arrow wound.
"Execution... on the spot... but I..."
Adam Dale's mouth hung open, eyes wide in shock, hand outstretched as the sword pierced Charlie Chen's abdomen. Blood poured out, and then the officer ordered Charlie to be hung at the entrance of The Wayfarer's Inn, shouting to the surrounding crowd of old, weak, and sick: anyone who reports a deserter will be rewarded.
The state of Qin was powerful, and the Chu army was retreating on all fronts. Years of conflict with other states had left Chu devastated, the nation in rapid decline. Manpower was scarce, and many common people would rather flee to the mountains than fight. Those conscripted received armor and weapons immediately, often with no training, and were sent straight into battle.
Every day, countless soldiers deserted. Rumors spread that the Qin army was about to invade, that Chu would fall. The Qin soldiers were fierce, fearless in the face of death, infamous for their bloodlust. Clad in light armor and cowhide helmets, the armies of the Six States lost their morale at the mere sight of these tiger-like troops.
Most importantly, Qin had several formidable generals. News from all directions reported only Qin victories. Among the states, those with status and reputation outwardly professed loyalty, but secretly, they were already aligning themselves with Qin.
Adam Dale sat quietly beside the statue, saying nothing, watching as Charlie Chen hung outside The Wayfarer's Inn, the ground stained with bright red blood.
Adam Dale felt an inexplicable sadness. It was the first time someone had been so kind to him. In just a few days, Charlie Chen had told Adam stories and taught him many new words. For some reason, Adam remembered every one of them clearly.
As he thought about it, Adam Dale's tears began to fall.
It was late at night. Everyone inside and outside The Wayfarer's Inn was resting. Adam wiped his tears, then slowly walked toward the pole where Charlie Chen hung, and began to untie the ropes.
Amid the commotion, Charlie Chen's body was lowered. The innkeeper and his staff came out.
"What are you doing? Are you trying to get yourself killed, boy?"
Adam Dale panicked, stammering as he pointed at Charlie Chen.
"Dead... bury him..."
Adam Dale's peculiar way of speaking, combined with his timid, stammering manner, made many people laugh. As one staff member walked by, Adam dragged Charlie Chen's corpse, but suddenly the staff member stuck out his foot and tripped Adam.
Laughter erupted all around. Soon, someone stepped in to restrain Adam. He didn't understand why people treated him this way, covering his head in fear as several people kicked him. Adam cried out in terror.
At that moment, the innkeeper intervened and looked at Adam.
"Boy, if you want to bury him, we won't stop you. But I'm short-handed here. You have to stay and work—for a lifetime, understand?"
"A lifetime... how long is that?"
Adam asked timidly.
"A lifetime, of course. Ha, he's just a fool."
The innkeeper laughed heartily, and Adam Dale laughed along, nodding. His frail body dragged Charlie Chen's corpse step by step into the wilderness, where he began to dig a grave with his hands. He spent the entire night burying Charlie.
Three months passed quickly. Winter was approaching, and the war finally stabilized. Both armies withdrew, but supplies were scarce, and every day The Wayfarer's Inn was crowded with people.
"Adam, fetch some water..."
"Adam, bring this over."
With constant shouts, Adam worked diligently, running around The Wayfarer's Inn without complaint. He seemed to like it here; people treated him well, he never went hungry, and could eat guests' leftovers. Adam was content with everything here.
Adam's appetite was huge. In just three months, he had grown a whole size, almost as tall as an adult. The once skinny, hollow-eyed boy was now hardly recognizable.
All the heavy and tiring work at The Wayfarer's Inn fell to Adam alone. Now, he was in the backyard by the well, hauling water—dozens of buckets in a row. The daily water supply was all fetched by Adam.
"Adam, when you're done, remember to chop firewood. It has to be ready before mealtime, or you'll go hungry."
Adam grinned foolishly. After finishing, he bowed to the statue; people who saw him said he was simple-minded.
Tonight, there were more guests than usual. After chopping firewood, Adam started the fire early. The inn was packed, and Adam sat off to the side, eating.
"Adam, hurry up! When you're done eating, help the guests wash their feet."
Adam nodded happily. Suddenly, a fit of coughing broke out among several guests in the middle. They wore fur coats and looked like hunters, but their faces were pale, and they coughed to varying degrees.
The next day, things grew strange. When Adam woke up, he found the innkeeper, staff, and guests all looked unwell—chilled, pale lips, weak bodies. Only Adam was fine, working until nightfall and still caring for everyone.
The next morning, things got even worse. The sick grew more severe, and Adam had no idea what was happening. The innkeeper ordered Adam to prepare medicine. The people in The Wayfarer's Inn were vomiting and suffering from diarrhea. Adam worked tirelessly, but anyone who saw the scene fled immediately.
It was the plague. The Wayfarer's Inn had become the epicenter, and by the third day, people had started dying.
After burying two corpses, Adam returned to his chores.
At that moment, several people arrived carrying torches and barrels of kerosene. They began pouring oil all around The Wayfarer's Inn.
This plague had no cure. Upon hearing the news, the local magistrate sent men to burn everything within several miles and kill anyone infected.
This was the best way to stop the spread at the time. The newcomers kept their distance, covering their mouths with wet cloths. The hundred people inside The Wayfarer's Inn realized something was wrong, but as soon as they stepped outside, a hail of arrows rained down. The air filled with screams.
Adam returned to find The Wayfarer's Inn engulfed in flames. He was stunned, and the soldiers noticed him.
"Sir, there's a child here."
The officer approached Adam with a blade, but after sizing him up, saw that Adam wore little, yet his cheeks were rosy and he didn't look sick.
"Child, don't go near there. The people inside are infected. Go home quickly."
Adam wanted to say something, but then saw the soldiers pouring kerosene throughout the surrounding forest. The winter woods quickly caught fire.
When the soldiers left, Adam found a spot away from the smoke and stayed there for several days. Luckily, he always hid a few things on himself. The fire raged for three days and nights, and because of the plague, no one passed by.
In those three months, Adam learned many things.
"They're gone. I'll go find Mom."
Adam smiled as he spoke and walked off happily. He didn't know the way, but saw the soldiers following a main road.
He walked for three or four days, finishing all his food and growing thirsty and tired, but there were no villages or shops in sight. Along the way, Adam saw many people, bags in hand, all looking as hungry as he was. He tried to beg for food, but got nothing.
It wasn't just The Wayfarer's Inn—many places had outbreaks of plague.
Finally, he reached a place called Deer County, but the city gate was closed. At the base of the wall, a crowd of starving people stretched out their hands, wailing and sobbing, trying to get in. The soldiers on the wall stared coldly at them.
"By order of the magistrate, no outsiders may enter due to the outbreak."
A military officer on the wall shouted the order repeatedly. The people below pleaded that they weren't sick, but the gate stayed shut. Some had no strength left to shout, sitting outside, wailing and crying.
Adam was among the crowd. He was starving, having eaten almost nothing for three days. He crawled up, looking around, and a thought came to him: Deer County was surrounded by mountains, and the city wall ended at the cliffs. He considered climbing in.
He quickly gave up the idea. Someone actually tried it, but was immediately shot dead by arrows.
Night fell. No matter how the people outside begged, the gates stayed closed. Soldiers with torches guarded the wall, ready to shoot anyone who tried to climb over.
Adam leaned against the wall, starving nearly to death, but he didn't want to die. He inched along, hoping to find any opening to get inside.
Once night fell, the winter cold meant death for those outside. The starving began to collapse.
Then, something happened. Some people stripped the dead of their clothes and threw the bodies onto the fire to roast.