The two months spent in the ship's cabin was the worst two months in Chu Lui's memory. It was not only because of the days with the lack of lights or the endless waiting and hope, but it was also the bountiful loneliness; the loneliness that fed on his confidence, his rationality, and his hope. If he was not holding onto the belief that he would find them, he might have become as numb as the other people and start to feel nothing.
Perhaps they were not even human now, they were just living bodies.
Brother San took a branch and started to fold it, piece by piece.
"I found out something." Brother San suddenly raised his head and told Chu Lui. As to how he found out—what method he used, Chu Lui would not ask further. Tang San was Tang San after all; if he did not have a trick or two up his sleeves, it would have been impossible for him to be alive until now. He must have a lot more enemies than friends, or perhaps this person did not have friends at all.
