"Wangqiu, why are you out here?" Seeing this, the middle-aged man forgot all about Shen Luo, tossed aside the rubble in his hand, and hurried over to meet him.
The man called Wangqiu seemed seriously ill, unsteady even on his feet. Only after the middle-aged man supported him did he stop and look toward Shen Luo.
His gaze swept over Shen Luo several times before he spoke.
"Young brother, our family has suffered misfortune as well. We fled here to treat my illness, and we truly do not have much food left. We managed to catch a little game a few days ago. If you do not mind, come share some with us..."
"Wangqiu..." the middle-aged man called out urgently.
"Times are hard, and no one has it easy. Saving a life can at least earn us some virtue," Wangqiu said, shaking his head gently.
"In this godforsaken state of the world, what damn use is virtue..." The middle-aged man looked bitter.
"Thank you," Shen Luo immediately said with a cupped-fist salute.
"Come, follow us inside." Wangqiu spoke, then turned toward the inner courtyard with the middle-aged man supporting him.
Shen Luo shifted his gaze slightly and looked around the courtyard. The corner of his mouth curled up in a faint smile.
Following the two men ahead of him, he passed through the collapsed central courtyard and arrived at the relatively intact rear courtyard, heading toward the main house glowing with light.
As he reached the door, Shen Luo wrinkled his nose slightly. He smelled an indescribably strange odor: a damp, decaying stench mixed with some inexplicable fishy, rank scent. It was deeply unpleasant.
Once inside, he saw a bonfire burning in the middle of the dilapidated room. Three or four people sat crookedly around it, all lifting their heads