From the depths of his memory, he retrieved a water jug, pouring its contents into a battered pot to heat some water, just enough to warm his chilled body. At the same time, he toasted a slice of flatbread. The two of them, though weary, managed to scrape together a modest breakfast.
When it came time to divide the food, Maria persistently refused to take more bread, insisting that Zhao Lun eat it instead. "Only after eating will you have the strength to work," he urged, though she remained steadfast in her generosity, and eventually, Zhao Lun relented, accepting the bread.
The road, still damp from the rain, was muddied, and their shoes were no better than paper. Every step they took sank deep into the wet earth, filling their shoes with a gritty mix of mud and sand. With each stride, their feet grew heavy, and before long, the soles were caked with the cold, slippery earth.
The soil was icy to the touch, and strewn within it were sharp, jagged stones, making walking barefoot perilous. They were both wearing shoes, but every so often, they stopped to scrape off the accumulated mud, dreading the next step.
The air was heavy with the freshness of post-rain, its moisture mingled with the pungent smell of damp earth and the faint saltiness of the nearby sea. In the distance, the roar of the tide could be heard—deep, thunderous waves crashing relentlessly against the coastline. The waves were enormous, powerful enough to drag someone into the abyss. The wind, too, was fierce and biting, able to knock a person off balance, its chill piercing through their thin garments and chilling their bones.
Maria, fragile and delicate, was particularly affected by the harsh wind. Her pale face betrayed the toll it had taken on her, and her steps grew erratic, her body swaying unsteadily. Zhao Lun, concerned that she might catch a cold, urged her to go back to their shelter, but she stubbornly refused. In the end, he had no choice but to find a sheltered spot, urging her to stay close to an old, broken barrel, lest the wind blow their few possessions away.
The closer they got to the shore, the stronger the wind grew. Zhao Lun felt as though he might be swept away at any moment. He dared not venture too close to the edge, instead seeking refuge in the lee of large boulders where he could work in relative peace.
The tide was receding, and with a little luck, Zhao Lun knew he might be able to find some edible treasures—fish, clams, shrimp—things he could use to sustain them. His mind, though, was too preoccupied with the cold to focus solely on the task at hand.
The day was cold, the wind fierce, and his clothes were insufficient to keep him warm, making it a struggle to endure. The thought of finding food gave him a glimmer of hope, and when he could no longer bear the biting wind, he retreated to a pile of rocks, rummaging through the jagged stones, hoping to find crabs or other small creatures hiding beneath.
The shoreline was littered with such piles of debris, each a potential home for small crabs. With some persistence, Zhao Lun knew he could gather a decent haul of these little creatures.
Despite his protests, Maria insisted on joining him in the search. They continued scouring the area until the sun had climbed to its zenith. Finally, with their baskets filled, they began their trek back, their stomachs rumbling with hunger.
The sun, now playing peekaboo behind the clouds, bathed the landscape in shifting light. The wind had softened, and the waves had calmed somewhat. By the time they returned to the grass hut, they were bathed in sweat, the warmth of the afternoon sun more than welcome after their earlier ordeal.
They cleaned the food in a basin and, without giving much thought to its flavor, set about steaming and cooking it. The two of them ate hungrily, unable to wait, their hands too eager to bother with the heat of the food. Aside from the hard shells, they consumed everything, devouring it until there was nothing left. Their bellies were full, their faces flushed with the satisfaction of a hard-earned meal.
After a brief rest, Zhao Lun took the opportunity to bring the remaining belongings out into the sun to dry, guarding them against the damp. Maria, ever the dutiful companion, helped him.
Their firewood was nearly gone, so they scavenged some more from the surrounding area, drying it in the sunlight. This respite allowed them to rest for a while, the warmth of the day a rare comfort.
Zhao Lun, while grateful for this moment of peace, couldn't shake the growing sense of anxiety gnawing at him. The situation was dire, far removed from the idyllic life he had once dreamed of. So many issues loomed over them, threatening to crush their fragile existence.
There were many problems that needed to be addressed.
First and foremost, the drop in temperature marked the arrival of autumn. Maria, too thin to endure the cold, needed proper clothing for warmth. The grass hut, barely habitable as it was, would soon become a death trap if they did not find a way to insulate it against the encroaching chill. He needed to secure proper shelter before the weather turned colder.
Second, they were on the brink of starvation. Without bread or any reliable source of food, they relied on the sea to provide. If they failed to find food, they would surely go hungry. This, too, was an urgent matter that needed to be solved.
But perhaps the most difficult challenge of all was the hostility they faced from others. If Zhao Lun could overcome that obstacle, the other problems might seem more manageable. But how could he face this? With no allies, no support, and no reputation to speak of, it felt as though the world was against him. He was just a boy with no foundation, an outsider without a voice.
The afternoon waned, and the sky began to darken, clouds rolling in once again, a thick fog descending over the horizon. Zhao Lun, having rested as best he could, packed away the drying things and, once more, gathered his tools for another foray to the shore.
Maria, reluctant to stay behind, once again joined him, now fully bundled against the elements. Her small figure, draped in layers of old clothes, resembled a little bear waddling along beside him.
Despite her discomfort, Maria donned the layers, not out of choice, but because Zhao Lun insisted. With the wind still fierce, this time, he came prepared, armed with a salvaged fishing net, patched and barely usable. He had also crafted simple traps from bits of wire he had scavenged from the trash, hoping to lure fish into them using leftover crab shells as bait.
The hours passed, the clouds continuing their game of hiding and revealing the sun. As the tide rose once more, Zhao Lun began packing up, the water slowly creeping over the spots where they had set their traps.
This time, their efforts bore fruit. They had managed to catch five fish, resembling sardines, an octopus, seven crabs, and several small shrimp. These would be enough to feed them for a few meals, perhaps even two. Maria, upon seeing their bounty, jumped and skipped with joy, her eyes shining with admiration for Zhao Lun.
His spirits lifted as well, though a sense of melancholy lingered in his heart. It was still not enough. But for now, they had food, and that was a small victory.
"Brother, you've become even more amazing!" Maria cheered. "Tonight, we can eat fish!" she added eagerly. "And soup! Oh, Maria can eat her fill tonight!"
Zhao Lun smiled at her infectious enthusiasm, his heart warmed despite the circumstances. They returned to their shelter, and as dusk fell, Zhao Lun quickly prepared their meal. With no lights, the surrounding area was cloaked in darkness, and the simplicity of their circumstances hit him hard.
The wind howled outside, and the flames in their small fire flickered erratically. In the small pot, the soup bubbled and boiled, the smell of the meal filling the air. Maria hummed a little tune to herself, her voice light and carefree, lifting the atmosphere.
The meal was quickly devoured, both of them too hungry to care about the lack of seasoning. When it was all gone, Zhao Lun sighed in satisfaction, though his heart was still heavy. He set the pot aside, carefully adding water to the remaining fish bones to make stock for tomorrow.
The night grew cold, but the fire kept the worst of it at bay. The crackling flames drove away the darkness, as well as any predators lurking nearby.
As the day wore on, fatigue took over. Maria, her stomach full, started to nod off, though she refused to rest until Zhao Lun did the same. Her head drooped, and she nearly collapsed in exhaustion. Zhao Lun, too, was weary, but he couldn't rest until everything was tidied up.
By the time the camp was settled, it was late, and sleep proved elusive. The day's hardships, the weight of his thoughts, and the crushing reality of their existence kept him awake. The only comfort was that his injury had healed, though it seemed trivial in comparison to everything else.
The fire burned low, casting flickering shadows. Maria, in a deep sleep, was curled up against him, her tiny form pressed into his side.
In the dead of night, Zhao Lun awoke, feeling something stir. The fire was dying, and the cold wind began to creep into their shelter. Maria, shivering, burrowed deeper into his arms. Zhao Lun rose to tend the fire, adding more wood and water to the pot, trying to stave off the chill.
As he settled back down, his mind began to wander. The wind outside howled like a wailing ghost. A ghost? He thought to himself. Could it be?
The feeling of dread washed over him, a strange sense of foreboding creeping through his bones. There, through the fire's flickering light, Zhao Lun could see something—no, someone—outside their hut.
Blackness enveloped the night, endless and suffocating, and the more he stared, the more he felt something unsettling in the darkness. He couldn't look away, though every fiber of his being screamed at him to turn his gaze elsewhere.
What was that?
In the distance, he saw faint, ghostly blue lights drifting in the air. For a moment, his heart stopped.