In the early morning, at the foot of Mingdao Mountain, Yu and another man had set up a temporary camp. They sat staring blankly by the campfire.
Neither had slept a wink. They had lost many companions overnight and had nearly been killed by thugs themselves. A mix of grief and terror made sleep impossible.
The man took out his phone and typed: (Yu, it's just the two of us now. What are we going to do?)
Yu: (Zhao Yu, we have to keep trying to live, if only for the sake of those who died.)
(...You're right.) The man named Zhao Yu nodded. (Those thugs' jeeps are full of supplies. It's enough to last us a long time.)
After seeing Zhao Yu's message, Yu thought for a moment before typing back: (I plan on taking the majority of it up the mountain as a gift. You know as well as I do that we wouldn't have survived without their help.)
