The group had established their camp near a small circular plaza. According to the weathered billboard by the plaza, it was once a venue for sporadic performances of ethnic dances and acrobatics. However, the date emblazoned on the billboard was from the previous summer, suggesting that perhaps due to dwindling profits, they had been unable to secure performers since.
At the intersections of the various paths surrounding the plaza, figures could be seen strolling, likely patrols. Several bonfires flickered on the grassy expanse encircling the plaza, and behind one, three RVs were parked, drawing a larger crowd. It was towards this gathering that Old Li led Jing Lan.
Two men were engaged in a heated discussion. One, a lean, middle-aged man, had just extinguished a cigarette beneath his heel. He cast a fleeting glance at Li Shuwu and Jing Lan’s approach, yet displayed no discernible surprise.
His interlocutor was a robust young man, his strikingly handsome face framed by sharp, chiseled features. He wore a vibrant plaid shirt, a beer can clutched firmly in his hand.
“Xiao Yu,” Old Li announced, “this is someone who just made their way here. I believe they’re trustworthy.”
While it wasn’t immediately clear who Li Shuwu was addressing, the diminutive “Xiao” in the name unequivocally indicated he was speaking to the young man.
“My name is Jing Lan,” he introduced himself simply. “Jing, as in tranquil, is my surname, and Lan, as in ripples or waves.” He then proceeded to recount the general experiences of the past few days, finding no compelling reason to conceal anything and thus largely adhering to the truth.
The man the elder had called “Xiao Yu” nodded intently as he listened. When Jing Lan reached the part about encountering what they suspected was a ‘vampire blanket’ with his companions at Old Feng’s house, Xiao Yu interjected with keen interest, “Has anyone ever sighted such a creature before? It sounds rather intriguing, doesn’t it?”
Recognizing the distinctive Northeastern accent, Jing Lan felt a flicker of displeasure that his harrowing, life-or-death ordeal was being treated as a mere anecdote. Yet, his intuition assured him that this man harbored no ill intent and that a productive conversation could continue.
“Much like zombies, it’s essentially a creature of legend,” Jing Lan explained. “Perhaps akin to the fox spirits in your Northeastern folklore.”
The gaunt man beside Xiao Yu chimed in, “If such a thing truly exists, it sounds far more formidable than any zombie.”
Xiao Yu, however, disregarded the man’s comment, prompting Jing Lan to continue his narrative.
Jing Lan harbored a deep reluctance to recount the tragic death of his dear friend, Ling Yechen. However, having alluded to it previously and with her absence palpable, he felt compelled to offer an explanation. He carefully chose his words, endeavoring to simplify the harrowing account.
“Hold on,” Xiao Yu interjected. “There’s no need to speak of anything you’d rather keep to yourself.”
Jing Lan’s gaze fixed intently on Xiao Yu, but the younger man averted his eyes, offering a faint smile before continuing, “Still, I find myself curious: what brings you rushing to this particular place?”
A fresh wave of apprehension suddenly washed over Jing Lan regarding this man. Consequently, he merely stated, “I was aware this was a scenic area and believed it would be safe, so I sought refuge here.”
Xiao Yu chuckled heartily twice, then pulled over two folding chairs. “Let’s sit and talk,” he suggested. “This isn’t a police station, after all, and I can’t compel you to reveal everything. However, I also have no desire to be evasive myself. I genuinely wish to recruit capable individuals to fortify our team.
“Of course, whether you choose to remain with us is an entirely separate matter; that’s for you to ponder. Should you decide to stay, however, it would be best for us to speak frankly and openly. Nevertheless, it’s understandable that survivors in these times would naturally be wary of one another.”
This fellow, it seemed, was far more approachable than Jing Lan had initially anticipated. Yet, given their possession of firearms and ammunition, Jing Lan knew he could not yet afford to lower his guard entirely.
Maintaining a facade of composure, Jing Lan inquired, “I will certainly give that due consideration. First, however, I must ask: where did you acquire your P22 pistols?”
Xiao Yu let out a dry chuckle, then clapped Jing Lan on the shoulder. “Smuggled,” he confessed. “Getting caught would mean a decade in the slammer. But with no one left to enforce the law, I can blurt it out as I please, haha!”
He offered no explanation as to why these firearms had been smuggled. Whether this omission was an oversight or a deliberate act of concealment remained unclear.
“What purpose do these firearms serve?” Jing Lan pressed, deciding to pursue the question.
“For amusement,” Xiao Yu replied, taking another sip of beer. Noticing Jing Lan’s incredulous expression, he quickly added, “Though that’s not the whole truth. I once consulted a master here, seeking insight into our family’s fortunes. The master, however, sidestepped my question entirely, instead foretelling a ‘bloody calamity’ at the start of this year and advising me to procure an abundance of ‘instruments of killing.'”
“Weren’t you concerned that a business rival might have instigated you to commit illegal acts, only to then report you?”
Xiao Yu set down his beer can, clapped his hands together, and laughed. “You see, your mind is quite sharp as well,” he remarked. “That master has rendered us great assistance in the past; he would certainly not seek to harm us now.
“But my own mind is hardly dull,” he continued. “Now, it’s my turn to pose a question: if your sole intention was to find a scenic spot for refuge, why didn’t you head to Wild Horse Cave? It’s considerably closer to Mount Meng and also a less frequented attraction.
“Aside from individuals like myself, who frequently traverse this region for business, and natives such as yourself, few others would even be aware of its existence, would they?
“You wouldn’t have gone to such lengths to reach this particular location unless there was something extraordinary here, would you?” He then turned to the lean man beside him. “Hey, Second Uncle,” he queried, “what are the distinct features of this scenic area?”
“Oh, ethnic song and dance, primitive forest survival experiences, and various outdoor sports,” Second Uncle replied.
Evidently, this group was unfamiliar with the area, surprisingly unaware of the seaplanes stationed here.
Xiao Yu clearly wouldn’t believe Jing Lan had made the journey solely for the sake of encountering ethnic minority women.
He thus resumed his scrutiny of Jing Lan, who met his gaze with a languid, unhurried expression.
“I have but one more question,” Xiao Yu stated. “Will your purpose in coming here in any way compromise the interests of our team?”
“No,” Jing Lan replied without hesitation.
Truthfully, absconding with their seaplane would undeniably constitute the appropriation of an exceptionally valuable resource.
However, Jing Lan surmised that this group was likely entirely unaware of the seaplanes housed within the park.
This struck Jing Lan as somewhat illogical. He distinctly recalled seeing promotions years ago announcing the development of a seaplane sightseeing project here. Yet, upon mentally reviewing the billboards around the plaza, he found no mention whatsoever of seaplanes.
Perhaps a more dismal possibility loomed: the seaplane project had simply been canceled, rendering his journey futile. After all, civilian airspace management in China was notoriously stringent, and the approval process for seaplane and hot air balloon tourism projects was inherently intricate, making delays in implementation far from uncommon.
Regardless, the discovery of a survivor team here, armed with firearms and of considerable size, offered a temporary assurance of his safety.
Yet, the tormented face of his dear friend flashed through his mind, swiftly followed by the agonizing thought of his cousin possibly starving atop the teaching building, sending a wrenching pang through Jing Lan’s heart.
Under any circumstances, he knew he had to devise a plan to rescue her.
Receiving Jing Lan’s assurance, Xiao Yu burst into hearty laughter, retrieved a can of beer, and tossed it to him. “Excellent, excellent,” he declared. “Consider this a welcoming gift. Don’t look down on it; you won’t find many more where that came from.
“Oh, by the way, my surname is Leng, and my given name is merely Yu,” he added. “However, I’m quite a bit older than you, so you’d do well to call me ‘Ge’ – Brother – in casual address. I am Leng Jiangli’s son, the chairman of Gaoleng Industrial Group. Ah, but of course, such titles are utterly meaningless now. See how our two surnames, when combined, coincidentally form the word ‘calm’? Heh heh, it almost feels like a divine premonition. You should spend the night in our RV tonight; I have a good feeling we’ll get along splendidly in the days to come.”
Jing Lan, disinclined to retire for the night immediately, merely expressed a desire to meet the other members of the team. “Be my guest!” Leng Yu responded, making no further move to detain him. Jing Lan then walked away alone, and had not gone far when he was suddenly hailed. It was the Japanese teacher, Ye Yin Fengqizi.
“Jing Lan-kun,” she began, “I have a query for you. Were you just discussing ‘vampire blankets’ with Leng-kun?”