Deming watched Hu Dingxiang, who was sitting only a few feet away, his heart beating faster, a frantic drum against his ribs. Seeing Hu Dingxiang's smiling face, a mask of feigned innocence, he could still vividly hear the chilling chuckle of the boss, a sound that haunted his nightmares. He wanted desperately to get up and leave, to flee this new, subtle form of captivity, but he knew that his chances of running away were slim, his injured leg a constant reminder of his vulnerability. He knew, with a dawning clarity, that he had to find a good opportunity to escape from these two bad guys, the one who enslaved him and the one who had, unknowingly, participated in his violation.
"You…" Deming murmured, his lips trembling, his gaze fixed on Hu Dingxiang.
Hu Dingxiang gave Deming a blank, innocent look, his smile unwavering. "What's the matter, cousin?" he asked, his voice smooth, devoid of malice.
Deming looked at Hu Dingxiang without blinking, studying his face intently, searching for a flicker of recognition, a sign of the boss. He was taken aback by the uncanny resemblance, the perfect mirror image. "You... look like me... like me?" he whispered, confusion warring with terror.
"My mother once told me that I have a cousin who looks similar to me," Hu Dingxiang said politely, his voice steeped in a plausible, carefully constructed lie. "We were born two hours apart. My uncle died, and the child was lost shortly after. I have been searching for the child for these years, hoping to reunite our family. I just want to know what your last name is, if you remember."
Deming knew, with absolute certainty, that the story Hu Dingxiang had just told was a complete fabrication, a cruel lie to cover up his true, sinister intentions. It wasn't that he didn't want to give Hu Dingxiang his surname, but that he genuinely didn't remember it, his past erased by trauma. "I don't remember," he said, his voice small, empty. "I don't think I have one."
"Maybe you are the lost brother I have been looking for," Hu Dingxiang smiled at Deming, his expression too sweet, too innocent. "How about you accompany me to Mountain Village and ask my mother to confirm? She would be overjoyed to see you."
"I will consider it," Deming replied, a flicker of forced compliance in his voice, his mind already racing for an escape.
Hu Dingxiang, satisfied, took out two oranges from his sleeve and handed them to Guozhao Zhiqiang. "For you, Zhiqiang," he said, a casual gesture of false camaraderie.
Guozhao Zhiqiang took the oranges, his expression unreadable. "Dingxiang, wait," he said, his voice low, a command.
"What's wrong?" Hu Dingxiang smiled at Guozhao Zhiqiang, his face a picture of innocence.
"I'm sorry about what happened last night," Guozhao Zhiqiang said, his voice tinged with a deep, internal guilt, oblivious to the twin deception. He stretched out his hand and gently wiped a speck of invisible dirt off Hu Dingxiang's beautiful, perfectly dust-free face, an act of tenderness and atonement.
"Thank you, Zhiqiang," Hu Dingxiang softly chuckled, his eyes gleaming with a malicious triumph, seeing Guozhao Zhiqiang's continued misunderstanding. He slowly walked back to his corner, a faint, satisfied smile still playing on his lips, staring at Guozhao Zhiqiang and Deming.
Deming knew, with a terrifying certainty that settled deep in his bones, that even in his sleep, he would never forget that soft, chilling laughter. He wanted to escape, desperately. The boss had once told him that this man, Zhiqiang, and the boss himself, were "very good friends." They had both hurt him, both humiliated him. He was nothing more than a plaything, used for entertainment between the two. He hated them very much. And now, he could finally put names to their faces. The boss who had tortured him for nineteen years was called Hu Dingxiang. The man who had ruined his innocence, the one who had held him with such deceptive tenderness, was called Zhiqiang.
Guozhao Zhiqiang, unaware of the storm brewing in Deming's mind, peeled an orange and handed one of the segments to Deming. Deming took the orange, his movements mechanical, and started eating, forcing himself. Guozhao Zhiqiang looked at Deming, smiling softly at what he perceived as an "innocent" face, still clinging to the illusion.
Tam Kun was grilling two fish by the crackling fire pit, the aroma filling the air. He suddenly looked startled, his eyes widening. "Look over there, you two!" he exclaimed to his siblings. "Senior Brother... he…"
Tam Liang, who was grilling other fish, asked, his voice curious, "What about him, Ah Kun?"
"He smiled!" Tam Kun said, utterly surprised, pointing towards Zhiqiang, a rare sight.
Tam Qiu looked at her two brothers, a knowing expression on her face. "Mind your own business, unless we're going to eat burnt fish for dinner," she admonished, keeping them focused.
At midnight, as the embers of the fire pit glowed faintly, Guozhao Zhiqiang released Tam Kun and Tam Liang from watch, sending them to rest. Hu Dingxiang, ever the manipulator, also chose to sit in front of the temple with Guozhao Zhiqiang, playing the part of a watchful, concerned friend. Since leaving Tam Village, they had never had a real chance to talk to each other, so the two took advantage of this quiet opportunity during the night watch, a calculated strategy by Hu Dingxiang to continue his facade. They began their conversation, their voices low.
"Brother Deming," Weici whispered, her tiny voice soft, close to his ear, her spectral form unseen by the hunters.
"Who is there?" Deming softly whispered back, startled from his feigned sleep.
"It's me, Weici. I'm right next to your left ear," she replied, her voice comforting.
"Sister Weici, please help me," Deming pleaded, his voice thick with desperation. "I want to leave here. Please help me escape from them."
"Okay," Weici said, her voice resolute. "Pick up that log and put it where you sleep, to replace yourself."
Deming checked, his eyes darting around cautiously; everyone was sound asleep. He slowly, carefully, reached for a log that hadn't burned completely, its rough surface cool against his hand. He put it by the wall, exactly where he had been sleeping.
Deming then slowly, silently, hid behind the broken Buddha statue, his heart pounding. He watched, with a mix of awe and grim satisfaction, as the log suddenly shimmered, transforming into the exact same posture as he had been sleeping against the wall, a perfect, magical replica.
"Get moving, Brother Deming," Weici quickly urged, her voice a soft, insistent push.
The next morning, everyone woke up, stretching and yawning, ready to leave. They immediately noticed Deming sleeping strangely against the temple wall, his posture stiff and unnatural.
"From last night until now, Brother Deming's posture hasn't changed," Tam Kun remarked, his brow furrowed with confusion. "How can he maintain this posture for so long? It's impossible."
One of the juniors, oblivious, said, "Brother Deming must be too tired from his injuries."
"No matter how tired," Tam Kun argued, shaking his head, "maintaining a posture like that for such a long period of time is quite torturing, almost impossible for a human body."
The other juniors also agreed, murmuring in confusion.
Tam Liang looked at Deming, then looked around, realizing something was amiss. "Where is Senior Brother Zhiqiang?" he asked, sensing his absence.
Tam Kun looked at Tam Liang, then shrugged. "He talked about making a stretcher to carry Brother Deming, since his leg is still bad."
Tam Qiu looked at her two brothers, a knowing look in her eyes. "Ah Kun, wake him up," she instructed, suspicious.
Tam Kun cautiously touched Deming's left shoulder. "Brother Deming, wake up," he said softly. Deming did not answer. Tam Kun shook him vigorously a few times, a little harder. "Brother Deming, wake up!" Then, with a sudden, unsettling lurch, Deming's body fell heavily to the right; it was just a piece of wood, a crude illusion.
Tam Liang quickly looked around, his eyes wide with shock. "Where is he?!"
"Tsk... Senior Brother is going to be very angry now," Tam Kun frowned, scratching his head, realizing the implications of the escape.
The early morning sun had just risen from the bright red horizon, painting the sky with fiery hues. Weici, in her large ant form, the size of a pony, carried Deming gently on her back, her movements surprisingly smooth. "Brother Deming," Weici said, her voice a soft hum, "if there are people, I'll become a little ant and crawl into your sleeve. I don't want to face any hunters."
"It sounds good. Thank you, Sister Weici," Deming replied, his voice filled with gratitude, finding comfort in her presence.
"Stop calling me Sister Weici. Simple Weici is good enough," Weici instructed, a gentle correction.
"Okay, Weici," Deming said, a small smile on his face.
"Where do you want to go, Brother Deming?" Weici asked, looking over her shoulder at him.
"I don't know. I have nowhere to go," Deming confessed, his voice tinged with lingering sadness. "I just want to stay away from those people, from the boss and the man."
"They were nice to you, especially the hunter," Weici pointed out gently, a hint of confusion in her voice. "They helped you deal with your wound, cared for you. So, is there any problem with them?"
"I have been a prisoner in a dark dungeon since I was six years old," Deming said, his voice raw, recounting his trauma.
"What?! Really?" Weici exclaimed, genuinely shocked, her antennae twitching in surprise.
Deming nodded, his eyes distant with memory. "I escaped by mistake. The others treated me well, but two of those people, the boss and the man, wanted to put me back in that dark dungeon again. I couldn't fight them. I could only escape from them."
"Then do you have a place to go now?" Weici asked, her voice filled with concern.
Deming shook his head. "Anywhere far away from them would be good enough for me," he whispered, his only desire to escape his past.
"How about we go to Waterfall City?" Weici suggested, her voice bright, offering a grand adventure. "I heard that the mayor there treats everyone equally, regardless of their background. No one dares to make trouble in Waterfall City. Then, from there, we can go to the Wasteland. Then we go to visit 'The Wall of Heroes,' a place of legends, then we can visit the Friendship Bridge, and look at the outside of Immortal Valley. If we are lucky, we might even see a centaur. It's far to the north, a long journey."
"It sounds like a good plan," Deming smiled, a genuine, joyful expression finally gracing his face, imagining the vast, unknown world. "It would be a very exciting adventure!"
"So, do you agree?" Weici asked, eager for his acceptance.
Deming nodded happily, his heart soaring with newfound hope. "Yes! A thousand times yes!"
"Waterfall City, here we come!" Weici chirped excitedly. She began to hum, a soft, pleasant melody. "Brother Deming, do you mind if I hum while we travel?"
"Not at all, Weici," Deming replied, his voice light. "It sounds very pleasant, a song of freedom."
"Well, then I will continue to hum," Weici smiled, her melody now full and joyful.
When the sun rose fully on the horizon in the early morning, casting long, warm shadows, Weici carried Deming on her back. The black ant, the size of a pony, carrying a man on her back, hummed softly and crawled steadily along the lonely dirt road, heading towards the distant promise of Waterfall City, a new journey towards an unlikely, but heartfelt, friendship and freedom.