81 The Journey to Find Family (Part Two)

If she hadn't truly felt the pain of her nails digging into her own arm, Mo Yu would never have believed what her eyes were seeing. Even now, she refused to accept the reality before her. The scene was so vivid—reaching out, she could touch the filthy rags that barely qualified as clothing. The air was thick with a stench that made her stomach turn. But how could the person lying on the wooden bed before her possibly be the family member she had always held so dearly in her heart? She had always believed her family could live freely and comfortably even without her by their side; that even far from home, without power or influence, they would never lack food or clothing. Yet now, that person lay silent and still before her, as if mocking the terrible mistake she had made.

It was as though everything before her was a resounding slap, echoing loudly—smacking Mo Yu's face with merciless force.

Wasn't it her father, the veteran of countless business battles, lying before her now? Even without a tailored suit or polished shoes, those familiar brows and eyes, the large hand that once gently patted her small head—all still carried the warmth of days gone by. This man, covered in dirt from head to toe, was her father! The father who had seemed so great in her eyes, now... now!!!

Mo Yu was at a loss for how to react; she wished time would simply stop. She was afraid—afraid that her very breath might disturb the silence, afraid that the wind might blow, afraid that someone would tell her the person lying on this battered wooden bed was gone. The courage she once had, fearless of heaven and earth, seemed to have vanished; now, she was only a daughter, unwilling and unable to face the truth.

"Do you know this man?" Scarface and Qing Xuan lifted the curtain and entered. Scarface felt uneasy—he had brought this little mistress here without understanding the situation, thinking one looked formidable and unafraid, while the other was dressed in rags, barely clinging to life. If she was displeased, he might pay dearly for it... Scarface scared himself with his own thoughts, growing increasingly anxious as he watched Mo Yu stand there in a daze, unmoving. He almost believed the man was just some worthless beggar, and he stepped forward to drag the dying figure away.

At that instant, time seemed to freeze. Just as Scarface was about to touch the filthy sleeve of the "beggar," the little mistress, silent until now, finally spoke.

"If you dare touch him, you won’t even know how you died."

Mo Yu’s bloodshot eyes glared fiercely, her whole being radiating a strange mix of resentment, anger, and sorrow. Scarface was stunned, quickly withdrawing his hand, utterly bewildered.

"Let’s go," Qing Xuan said, producing a cigarette and handing it to Scarface. "Let’s step outside for now." He patted Scarface’s shoulder, and before Scarface could react, dragged him out the door. Qing Xuan felt sympathy for Scarface, but it was of no use.

Scarface was confused. Only after leaving the room did he realize—turns out, the little mistress knew the beggar. Why hadn’t she said anything earlier? He thought he’d done something wrong. Then, changing his mind, he felt wronged. He hadn’t done anything to offend her; he’d brought news in good faith, yet ended up at fault! The more he thought about it, the more frustrated he became, wishing he could go back and have it out with her—even if he lost and was beaten, it would at least be satisfying.

"Here." Qing Xuan tossed a lighter to Scarface, who caught it reflexively and only then realized he had a cigarette in his mouth. Smoking was a rare treat—he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had one, as if it had been in another lifetime. Scarface decided not to let Mo Yu off so easily, so he pocketed both Qing Xuan’s cigarette pack and lighter.

Qing Xuan didn’t mind; he didn’t smoke himself, and Scarface had indeed done a great service this time, so he gave him the cigarettes generously.

"Father!" Once everyone had left, Mo Yu finally burst into tears. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed forward, her upper body draped across the bed. Her small, pale hands clung desperately to the man’s dry, rough hand.

"Father! Father..."

Perhaps stirred by the sound, the fingers of that parched hand trembled slightly, but Mo Yu did not notice.

"Xiao Yu, *＃＆＃％..." The man parted his cracked lips, and though his throat was dry, some words emerged. The sound startled Mo Yu so much that she jerked her head up, and a glimmer of hope sparked in her once lifeless gaze.

It was her fault—long years of longing and the shock of their sudden encounter had led her to assume the worst, to believe her father was already gone. She hadn’t expected such a grave misunderstanding.

"Father!" He was alive! If he was alive, there was hope! If he was alive, she could save him! In that instant, Mo Yu was filled with renewed vigor, springing up from the ground.

...

During treatment, Mo Yu covered her father’s eyes with a black cloth—not to hide her powers, but to prevent her differences from frightening him.

Besides severe external wounds, her father’s bodily functions were deteriorating; even two ribs in his chest were broken. His condition was dire, but fortunately, they had met in time. Mo Yu expended great effort, but managed to treat most of his injuries. What could be healed was healed, but his body still needed cleansing and rest. Mo Yu stepped out to call Qing Xuan and Scarface, who were chatting outside, asking them to carry her father on the bed back to her current dwelling. She herself planned to follow the address her father mentioned before he lost consciousness in search of other family members.

"I—I’ll go with you," Qing Xuan said, gripping Mo Yu’s hand tightly. He knew she wanted to face this alone, but couldn't help himself.

"No." Mo Yu turned to him with unwavering resolve in her eyes. Yet, seeing Qing Xuan’s determined gaze, her expression softened. She knew well his good intentions, but she still wanted to face this herself.

Mo Yu turned and squeezed Qing Xuan’s hand firmly. "You know my father can’t be left alone. The reason I won’t let you leave is because I trust you."

"I understand." Qing Xuan’s face was dark, his words obedient but his heart dissatisfied.

"If I don’t return by nightfall, find me at this address," Mo Yu whispered, then gently kissed Qing Xuan’s ear. "Wait for me at home."

Qing Xuan’s cheeks flushed, and he and Scarface carried Mo Yu’s father home, grumbling all the way.

Mo Yu’s lips finally curved into a faint smile. Just days after entering the city, she had found her family—was it truly heaven’s favor?

The address her father gave wasn’t far from Scarface’s tent, but it was in the most dangerous, filthy part of the city—a place already ordered to be isolated. The danger and squalor, as well as the quarantine, stemmed from two reasons: first, everyone living there was trouble—thieves, murderers, arsonists, all far beyond the limits of decent society; so the authorities had to isolate the area. Second, after isolation, those unable to enter the city for various reasons usually ended up there. That place was no longer under state control, had its own rules, and even its own leader.

Scarface had explained all this to Mo Yu as "private advice" before she left, even stuffing a bundle of grappling ropes into her hands, insisting she’d need them. Mo Yu might not trust Scarface on other matters, but he’d been in this city longer than she had and had more information; in this, she gave him her full confidence.

On her way, Mo Yu thought about many things. She had no idea how her family had fallen to such a state, but it was clear their lives had been unbearably hard.

The path wasn't long, but it felt like the end of the city. The buildings before her resembled scenes from a post-apocalyptic film—towering, endless walls. Outside the walls stood several platforms that could be raised or lowered, and above the walls, two rows of automated wooden guns: one facing outwards, one inwards.

Mo Yu was lost in thought when a dazzling beam of light shone on her—it was a searchlight. She stood still, letting the light fall on her, not hiding. Soon, two soldiers emerged from the nearby building, carrying wooden guns and dressed in camouflage.

Mo Yu raised her hands above her head to show goodwill.

"Who are you?" One soldier lifted his gun and kept his eyes on the scope. "Unauthorized personnel aren't allowed here."

"I know. I have a badge," Mo Yu said loudly, reaching into her pocket while enduring the threat of infrared beams sweeping over her body. She tossed her "work badge" onto the ground before the soldiers.

The badge was given to her by Old Hu of the Suicide Squad—it was genuine, impossible to fake. One soldier picked it up and examined it closely, then passed it to the others. They realized this girl wasn’t some reckless child, but a true expert in the apocalypse. This recognition made them all lower their guns, their attitudes changing instantly.

While not overly friendly, they at least showed respect.

"Miss, you can’t go in here. You’d best leave," the same soldier spoke, seeming to be their leader.

"I know it’s forbidden, but my family is inside," Mo Yu replied, aware that every place had its own rules, but also knowing that, in the apocalypse, everything could be bought: a pack of cigarettes, a barrel of oil, a knife, a bundle of fresh vegetables.

In the end, Mo Yu managed to "persuade" them to open a back door for her.

"Miss," the leader said, "it’s easy to get in, hard to get out. You may not rescue your family—and you yourself might never leave."

"I won’t fail," Mo Yu answered confidently. "Besides, when the time comes, won’t you have to help me?" She handed him a bottle of Maotai and a bundle of vegetables.

"Ah, it’s all up to you!" he said, tossing her a set of ragged clothes. "When in Rome..."

Mo Yu took the clothes, gazing at the slowly descending platform, a smile of determination spreading across her face.