Famine 99: The Boy

So thirsty, so thirsty…

Qiu Youqing clutched the cloth bundle to his chest as he ran at full speed.

Fourteen years old this year, Qiu Youqing had never had enough to eat, his growth stunted— barely one meter fifty in height— but he ran like none other, faster than anyone else. And that was only natural, for otherwise Qiu Youqing wouldn’t have survived this long.

The scorching wind slashed across his head and face like blades. The boy’s breath came in the ragged sound of a bellows, his throat feeling as if it were filled with sand, raw and parched from inside out— it felt as if he might crumble with every breath.

His running was labored. The rubber soles of his shoes had melted away a week ago; Old Shen spent his own points to exchange for a roll of heat-proof bandages, wrapping little Qiu’s feet and toes. As he ran, he left a trail of five-toed footprints on the ground. Every step was a curse; his muscles and arid throat burned together, his vision darkening at the edges.

Whump!

At last, Qiu Youqing’s knees buckled and he collapsed before a rock.

His forehead scraped the ground, leaving a long, raw bleeding mark.

Tumbling upright, the first thing Qiu Youqing did was not wipe his blood, but swiftly check the bundle in his arms.
Once sure it was still held safe and sound to his chest, he let out a long breath of relief.

Hoo—
The hot wind roared.

Qiu Youqing staggered to his feet and slumped into the shelter of a boulder, gasping desperately, his chest heaving.

The wind was rising again; surely they wouldn’t chase him through another storm?

So thirsty… truly dying of thirst.

The hot, gritty air scoured his mouth, blackness spinning at the edge of his vision, yet he dared not gasp too hard. He crouched for a long while, tried to swallow non-existent saliva, and unscrewed his water bottle.

To let him search for water, everyone—biting teeth and enduring hunger—managed to pool together half a bottle for him, the very last of their water.

The bottle had long since run dry.

Qiu Youqing, summoning the last of his strength, tipped the bottle upside down over his head, forcing and forcing it. The bottle uttered a stubborn groan. At last, a bead of moisture gathered at the rim, a tiny half-drop, which hung for a while, wavered, and finally fell.

Drip.
The last cooling raindrop burst apart on his cracked lips.

Qiu Youqing pressed his lips together again and again, scraping at the wet spot with his tongue, taking a deep breath.

So thirsty… so tired, such a headache. @For the best novels, visit Jinjiang Literature City

Yet it was all worth it.
Hugging the bundle tightly, Qiu Youqing gave a little squeeze, his face breaking into a small, happy smile.

Old Lin and Old Shen always told the kids: even if you’re starving, don’t steal or rob. Qiu Youqing never believed it. It’s not as if they themselves hadn’t been stolen from before. The food Old Lin worked so hard to earn had just vanished, and he could only bury his head in Old Shen’s embrace and weep quietly, thinking no one noticed, but in fact everyone knew.

So long as you weren’t caught, thieves got away with everything!

Anyway, there were so many of us—stealing now and then wouldn’t make a difference…

This world had taught Qiu Youqing many things—taught by action, not empty lectures like Old Shen’s.

Still, careful as he was, he’d ended up discovered in the end.

At this thought, Qiu Youqing peeked around the rock behind him.

A world of wind and sand, lava rolling beneath, but no one in pursuit.

…

Fortunately, there weren’t any top-ranked players in that group—no one had managed to catch up.

Qiu Youqing perked up again, tightened the bundle one more time, re-tied the cloth with utmost care, and cradled it to his chest once more.

It was wonderful. Qiu Youqing wanted to bring all of this back for everyone. Everyone would be so happy. @For the best novels, visit Jinjiang Literature City

…………
……

“Andersen, how much longer do we have to tail this kid?”
Wang Jianguo yawned, bored out of his mind.

Up above the sandstorm, Andersen lowered the brim of his white-gloved top hat, shaking his head slightly. “Let’s keep waiting.”

“If we approach directly, there’s too much uncertainty. We want to find their settlement, but this little one might have no authority, not able to bring strangers back. And with the sides unknown, if it comes to blows, the others might direct their anger at the kid. We came here in good faith—there’s no need to force anyone to become a traitor.”

With Shi He absent, Andersen was now the number two brain of Team North—an adult now, acting with prudence and empathy.

“So we follow him quietly to their settlement, then see if it’s worth talking to the person in charge.”

“Fine, all up to you. I’m too lazy to think.” Wang Jianguo grinned, leaning back to watch the child amid scattered rocks below. “How long’s he going to rest? Get up and move, boy!”

Andersen gave a wry smile. “He’s just a kid, don’t measure him by your stamina.” He resembled a saber-toothed beast.

Wang Jianguo looked for a moment, smacking his lips. “True enough. Still, it’s rare to see a kid younger than Shi He. When this game first dropped, he probably barely knew how to hold a knife—how’d he get this far?”

“Maybe he lucked out, managed to stay with family.” Andersen said. “Pretty lucky.”

Wang Jianguo grinned. “Yeah, to keep a child alive this long takes more than luck…”

Down below, at the peak of a rock, a buzz-cut head poked up.

Like a desert wild rabbit, the boy bolted off into the sands.

They sprang into action.

Andersen and the scouting team soared after him from the sky.

The child ran on, stumbling against the wind and sand, darting far into the distance.
He sprinted with everything he had, like a wild animal bounding across the wasteland.

Hunched low, his legs pumped furiously, and in all the time that followed, he didn’t stop even once.

Suddenly, Andersen jerked to a halt, brow furrowing. “No. Something’s off.”

“His pace is all wrong.”

“What?” Wang Jianguo asked, confused.

Andersen: “A moment ago he was running slow and steady—distance running, trying to conserve stamina. That means his destination is still a long way off. But now, this is an all-out sprint—what you’d do only when you’re nearly at the finish.”

Wang Jianguo replied, “But we’re so high up—there’s no settlement in visual range at all!…”

“You’re right.”
Andersen sighed and, decisive, said:
“Let’s go down.”

“We… have already been spotted.”

Buzz!

A flash of blue light—and Qiu Youqing skidded to a stop.

There, in the dusty haze ahead, a figure materialized.

Sand whipped through the air, mud caked every surface, yet this person wore a spotless blue tailcoat, a lofty top hat—every inch immaculate, standing before him in polite, almost eerie composure. @For the best novels, visit Jinjiang Literature City

It was Andersen.

When did he appear?!

Qiu Youqing tasted blood in his mouth, his heart pounding in his ears. He couldn’t utter a sound—just scrambled, rolling desperately away, and tried to run in the opposite direction.

Buzz!

Another flash of blue—a burly man appeared, leading a squad of fully armed players, striding out from the sandstorm.
A massive arm swung out, blocking Qiu Youqing’s path.

Wang Jianguo said, “Hey, kid, wait a second—”

Qiu Youqing opened his mouth and bit his hand—hard!

“Jesus!” Wang Jianguo yanked his hand away. “What are you, a dog?!”

Qiu Youqing, eyes squeezed shut, charged forward—until Wang Jianguo grabbed him by the nape and snapped, “Get back here! We’re not gonna hit you, what are you running for!”

Qiu Youqing struggled fiercely but couldn’t make Wang Jianguo’s hand move in the slightest.

Andersen asked, “What’s in the bundle? Is it ours? What did you steal?”

Qiu Youqing clamped his lips shut, dangling in Wang Jianguo’s grip, refusing to speak.

Wang Jianguo frowned, grabbed the bundle, and opened it—only to find it filled with rocks.

“!” Wang Jianguo’s eyes widened.

“Pfft.”
Suddenly, Qiu Youqing let out a hiss and grinned.

“Too late!”

The boy lifted his face; his hair was shorn close in a buzz, his face filthy, clothes in tatters, a fresh red welt spattered across his forehead.

He rubbed away the blood with a swipe, opening his hands with a lively, almost impish air—

“It’s too late! You tried to chase me, but you’re already too slow! Before I even lured you away, I’d already hidden the real goods.”

“It’s been ages now—my people already picked up the stuff and left.”
On the blood-red volcanic wasteland, the boy’s voice was mischievous and delighted:
“Heh. You can kill me if you like. Killing me won’t help you.”

“Now, even if you go back, it’s too late.”
“You’ll get nothing back, and you’ll learn nothing.”

“Sorry.” He said without the slightest regret. “Eat me if you must. I’ll pay you back next life.”

Wang Jianguo exploded. “You little—!”

“……”
Behind his mask, Andersen’s eyes narrowed.

After a moment, Andersen sighed and raised his cane.
“I didn’t want to bully a kid like this…”

“…?” Qiu Youqing blinked, shrinking back in confusion.

The phase magician raised his arm, a flash of blue light flickered in his eyes, and as the cane tapped down—

“But forgive me, sir’s orders must be carried out, so pardon my offense.”

Buzz!

The world collapsed and compressed—countless sparkling shards exploded in Qiu Youqing’s vision, and he screamed, but no sound came out.

After a wild, spinning instant, Qiu Youqing’s eyes flew open, his whole body trembling—

The scenery had changed!

Right in front of him, not twenty meters away, stood the same boulder where he’d rested before.

It was there he’d realized something was wrong, and begun to hide the bundle.

“Eh?! …Hey, hey?”

Qiu Youqing was stupefied.

“W-why?” His dry voice shook. “How—how did you get back…?”

What stunned him even more—

In front of that boulder now sat a middle-aged man and a group of small figures at his feet, a package in his hands.

—The settlement had received his message, picked up the goods, but had not yet left.

“Xiao Qiu!!”

The middle-aged man looked back and, seeing Andersen approach with Qiu Youqing, scrambled hurriedly to his feet.

Andersen and his team landed in front of them.

One look and Andersen knew he’d misunderstood.

The man wore a faded grey shirt, with an old belt holding up threadbare slacks, a thick pair of glasses resting on his worn face, fine wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. Though flustered, his every move bore a gentle, scholarly air—clearly not a brute.

Behind the man, a group of children no older than fourteen gripped improvised weapons, nervous but forming a protective barrier as they came forward.

Their lips were cracked, voices hoarse as gravel, their thirst unmistakable—they hadn’t seen water in who knew how long.

“……” Andersen’s expression was hidden by his mask as he watched them.

The man rushed over, two steps at a time, and thrust the bundle into Andersen’s hands. Without a word, he bowed deeply and said, “I’m sorry, sir, truly sorry!”

“I’m willing to pay with points to compensate you for your loss. I haven’t touched the goods in the bag—please, sir, let the child live. I swear I’ll discipline him once we return—”

Qiu Youqing panicked immediately, his voice cracking toward sobs. “Old Shen, are you crazy? Didn’t my paper crane say it? Take the package and go!”

“Quiet! When have I ever taught you that?” Old Shen rasped harshly.

—The one leading this group of children was not a parent.

It was a teacher.