That day, Xie Chi offered no explanation to Wen Zhishao, and Jiang Ciyou found herself without words.
Some things become a mistake the moment they are spoken aloud.
As fate would have it, she received the notification for her final assessment right then. She simply threw a few clothes into a bag and left immediately.
On her second day at the refugee camp, she was assigned to check for any lingering cases of the plague.
"Sister..."
A weak, thready voice drifted from a corner. Jiang Ciyou looked over to see a little girl—nothing but skin and bones—leaning against a crumbling wall. Her belly was distended, swollen high like a balloon ready to burst at any moment.
Severe malnutrition, she realized instinctively. But she had left in such a hurry that she only had a single compressed biscuit in her bag.
The girl took it with trembling hands. She broke off a tiny piece, then paused.
Turning around, she gently shook the figure lying on the ground. "Ah Mei, look, it's a biscuit. Eat this, and you won't be hungry anymore."
A sweet, blissful smile spread across her palm-sized face.
Jiang Ciyou's pupils constricted violently.
The person on the ground was already dead. Flies and maggots were crawling over her skin.
Yet, the girl seemed unable to see it. "If you don't get up, I'm going to eat the biscuit, okay?"
"Fine, don't be mad. I shouldn't have eaten all the tree roots, but I was just so hungry."
"I haven't eaten any of this biscuit. I'll give it all to you, okay? Please forgive me..."
Jiang Ciyou stood frozen in place. Her throat felt like a fishbone was lodged in it—she couldn't swallow it down, nor could she spit it out.
The image of that girl began to blur, overlapping with the shadow of her own mother.
Back then, her mother had held her just like this, forcing the last half of a compressed biscuit into her mouth.
She had said, "Dad didn't take all the rations. Mom has already eaten. Be a good girl, Ciyou. You eat it."
Jiang Ciyou had been starving. She had intended to take just one bite and give the rest back to her mother, but in the end, every crumb had gone into her own mouth.
When she woke up the next day, her mother was nothing but a cold corpse.
Silent tears soaked her cheeks. Ignoring the girl's weak struggles, she picked her up and carried her toward the medical point. Along the way, refugees watched them pass with numb expressions—their eyes gray, lifeless, and motionless, as if they were already dead themselves.
Jiang Ciyou slowly curled her fingers into a fist. She couldn't save her mother, and she couldn't save the smaller child lying in the dirt. But at the very least, she had to save this girl.
Five days later, the assessment ended, and Jiang Ciyou returned to the base.
When she arrived, the base was in the middle of a mourning ceremony. She stood there in a wrinkled combat uniform, her hair messy and loose over her shoulders.
Everyone's expression shifted when they saw her. Standing in the center, Wen Zhishao's eyes flashed with a trace of imperceptible disgust.
"Ciyou, do you realize we are mourning the refugees who died from the plague? Dressing like this is disrespectful to the dead!"
Jiang Ciyou ignored her. She stared at the pristine, barely touched food on the table and suddenly spoke.
"Are you all going to eat this?"
Everyone was stunned by the question, unsure how to answer.
"We gathered here to mourn those who died from famine, war, and plague." Wen Zhishao, dressed in a crisp doctor's uniform and clutching a medical cross badge, looked at her with compassionate eyes. "How could we possibly have the appetite to eat?"
She looked at Jiang Ciyou, thinking to herself: As expected of a child who grew up on the battlefield. No matter how much she is taught, she only thinks of eating like a starving wolf.
"If you're not eating... then what will happen to this food?" Jiang Ciyou's voice was light, as if she were murmuring to herself.
"Throw it away," Wen Zhishao said matter-of-factly. "We have ample supplies. What does a little leftover food matter?"
Jiang Ciyou looked at the faces around her. Just as she was about to speak again, Xie Chi cut in.
"Stop making a scene." Towering over her in his combat uniform, he looked down at Jiang Ciyou. "Apologize to Zhishao."
"I did nothing wrong."
Her knuckles turned white from clenching her fists too hard, but the fire of rage in her heart didn't diminish in the slightest. That little girl had eventually died in her arms—starved to death.
Yet here was Wen Zhishao, using the name of mourning the dead to wantonly waste food.
Jiang Ciyou stared dead at Wen Zhishao's face, articulating every word clearly. "The one who should apologize is her."
Wen Zhishao bit her lower lip, pretending to be magnanimous. "Forget it. Xie Chi, don't force Ciyou. I'm fine."
Just then, a video suddenly flashed onto the large screen behind them.
It showed the very night she had drugged Xie Chi...
On screen, she hugged Xie Chi tightly from behind, her smile twisted and obsessive. "I don't care if the melon is sweet or not... I'll twist it off the vine just to own it..."
Everyone's gaze instantly locked onto Jiang Ciyou.
"That's disgusting. How could anyone do that to their own Shifu..."
"Zhishao is so pitiful. She only cares about saving people. What did she do wrong to be humiliated by Jiang Ciyou like this?"
"We are mourning the dead, and she's engaging in such undisciplined behavior."
Jiang Ciyou's breath hitched.
No, it's not like that.
She already knew she was wrong. She had already given up. She was already redeeming herself...
But her voice of defense was drowned out by the crowd's accusations.
Wen Zhishao also saw the video. Her face turned pale instantly. She cast a sorrowful look at Xie Chi, then turned to leave.
Xie Chi grabbed her by the waist. "Zhishao..."
"Let me go." As soon as Wen Zhishao spoke, tears began to fall. "Xie Chi, I really treated Ciyou like family. But for her to do something like this... Even if I marry you, as long as she appears in front of me, I will remember that scene. I can't accept it."
"Let go. I don't want to... I don't want to hate you and her."
She tilted her face up, the light illuminating her tears, making her look as if she had suffered the greatest grievance in the world.