The wilderness was silent, save for the occasional cry of a bird.

  In the distance, the village showed no rising smoke. Elena knew the villagers had all fled.

  Along the roadside, Elena stopped frequently to pull stalks of mugwort. It was a potent remedy for wound infections, but it was best kept fresh. Once wilted, the leaves would be too dry to yield the juice needed to treat Roan's wound.

  Elena was truly starved. She felt her pockets, only to realize she had given the chestnut cakes to Arthur last night. When she left the house in such a hurry this morning, she hadn't even brought a single snack.

  "What's wrong?" Roan asked softly, seeing her frown.

  "Just hungry. Aren't you?"

  "I am!"

  Roan had been so consumed with worry for his siblings that he hadn't noticed his stomach. Now, at Elena’s mention, the hunger hit him all at once.

  In the small puddles of the roadside rice fields, frogs leaped and crucian carp struggled in the shallow water.

  "Let’s eat fish."

  Roan dropped his bundle of firewood, preparing to head down into the water.

  "Wait, you're injured. I'll do it."

  Elena stopped him, kicked off her shoes, and waded into the water herself. The puddle was connected to a ditch; she only needed to build a "dam" with mud and bail out the water with her hands. A dozen small fish were soon trapped with nowhere to run.

  They were small carp, only about two fingers wide.

  They couldn't hope to get full on them, but it would hold off the hunger for a while.

  Roan burned the entire bundle of wood. He skewered the gutted little fish on wooden sticks and roasted them over the fire. Soon, the aroma filled the air.

  When they ate, Elena picked the largest, fleshiest ones. Roan, however, preferred the tiny ones—the smaller, the better.

  Elena used a taro leaf as a bowl, meticulously picking out the bones before eating.

  Roan’s eating style was rough. He popped a whole small fish into his mouth, bones and all, swallowing after just a few chews.

  What a thick-skinned, rugged man, Elena thought.

  After their "meal," Elena crushed a stalk of mugwort and squeezed the juice onto Roan's bandage.

  "Who did you learn that from?"

  Roan seemed unable to believe a girl from the city knew these rural healing skills. Elena didn't feel like explaining; she just gave a dismissive "Tch."

  Seeing the lingering worry on his face, she comforted him softly: "Don't worry. Lucy has a sister with a mental disability and she takes great care of her. Lucy will look after Sofia."

  Hearing this, Roan’s expression finally relaxed.

  They continued their journey. Without the firewood, Roan walked with ease.

  "They said your father became a Commander over there. How did that happen?" Elena couldn't help but ask.

  "I don't know..." Roan thought for a long time. "When he left, he was only a Major. I didn't expect him to become a Commander in just three years... I wonder how my mother is doing..."

  Three years could change a lot. For Elena, she never would have imagined three years ago that she would be living her life a second time.

  She fell into a long silence.

  "What about your family, Elena?"

  "Me? Heh."

  Resentment flickered across Elena’s face. Roan saw it and didn't dare ask more. He wondered why she got angry so easily just from a question about family.

  Then he remembered. Last time, when Elena argued with her fiancé, she mentioned her mother had sold her for a mere 300 pesos.

  Perhaps that was why she was upset.

  They walked for another hour and arrived at an abandoned village. Roan recognized the direction; five more kilometers and they would hit the main road.

  If they were lucky enough to flag down a truck, they could hitch a ride back to Beldora.

  But Elena couldn't walk any further.

  She rolled up her pant legs. Roan saw her ankles were starting to swell. He decided they would stay in the village tonight and move on tomorrow.

  Staying in the village was a good option. The villagers had fled, but there was still grain in the houses, and chickens and pigs that couldn't be taken away.

  "We’ll help them feed the livestock and eat a bit of their grain for the night. Seems like a fair trade."

  Elena found a clean courtyard and decided to stay there.

  The owner of this place clearly loved life. There were sunflowers and canna lilies, and the vegetable patch was neatly tended. Even the pigsty was a two-story design; the waste dropped into a biogas pit below, which piped gas into the kitchen for fuel.

  Elena wanted to cook, but Roan firmly refused to let her move.

  His injury was on his forehead, not his feet. Moving around to cook was easy for him.

  Being a healthy person taken care of by an injured man made Elena feel somewhat indignant.

  Roan didn't cook first. He boiled a basin of hot water for Elena.

  "Soak your feet. I'll boil more water after you're done." Roan moved the basin and the hot pot in front of Elena all at once.

  His movements were clumsy, but his concern for her was genuine.

  After soaking for half an hour, the circulation returned. Elena’s feet felt better; though still swollen, she could walk naturally now.

  Roan’s cooking was truly terrible. Boiled greens, boiled radishes, boiled beans... The farmer's garden was full of vegetables and there was plenty of water, but did everything have to be boiled?

  And he used way too much salt.

  Elena truly regretted not cooking herself.

  But having been hungry for half the day, she still ate until she was stuffed.

  After dinner, they decided to go for a walk—mainly to feed the chickens and pigs of a dozen or so households.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  By the time they finished, the sun had begun to set.

  "This dinner was a bit too early," Elena thought idly, lying on a bed adorned with a few girl's trinkets. Before she knew it, she had fallen asleep.

  Antonio attended the mobilization meeting called by Bernardo. Nearly 100 people were there—five Division Commanders and Vice-Commanders, nine Brigade Commanders, plus Battalion Commanders, Chiefs of Staff, and so on.

  The two Division Commanders, Ramon and Dimitri, both had a Vice-Commander sitting beside them. Only Antonio sat in a Commander's seat despite being a Vice-Commander.

  Bernardo had made his own decision: if the police could not quell the "rebellion" by midnight, he would send at least two brigades into West Gate Street.

  Bernardo used the word "rebellion," which was vastly different from the President’s office.

  Antonio remembered the President’s emergency statement: "Skyrocketing grain prices are the primary factor behind the West Gate incident. Relevant departments have been ordered to crack down on grain hoarders and stabilize prices for essential goods."

  But now, Bernardo had taken it upon himself to label it a rebellion.

  "So, who are the rebels? How do you define them?" Ramon asked mockingly.

  At the same time, he glared at Antonio with a look of utter contempt, as if saying: Look, this is the intellectual level of a pervert.

  Antonio ignored Ramon. He casually scribbled a line in his notebook; his general intent was to show that he was taking the meeting minutes very seriously.

  "Whoever follows the Communist line is a rebel!" Bernardo’s eyes went wide, his chest heaving as he slammed the table. "Those proposing to seize farmland in the name of the state at low prices and redistribute it—if they aren't rebels, what are they? That’s what Communists do—steal your money, steal your wife, take it for themselves... and they call it 'common use.' Well, 'common use' is still stealing!"

  Ramon had the air of a man who didn't care about being an officer anymore and just wanted to speak his mind: "Hmph. I think those opposing reform are the rebels. The streets are full of starving poor people, while big landlords hoard land, merchants hoard grain, the wealthy hoard cheap mines, and arms dealers who can't sell weapons are itching for another war with the other side. I see these people as the traitors—they’ve betrayed the citizens!"

  "Who are you talking about?" Bernardo stood up, pointing at Ramon—his own subordinate who dared to talk back. His face was flushed red with fury.

  "Who am I talking about? Whoever has a guilty conscience knows! Whoever received 10% of a mining company’s shares knows!"

  Antonio: "..."

  Ramon craned his neck, going toe-to-toe with Bernardo: "As long as I am Commander, I will never agree to using my soldiers against the people!"

  "Insolence! Bind him!"

  "Who dares?" Ramon drew his pistol and aimed it straight at Bernardo. He had actually smuggled a weapon into the meeting.

  "Easy now, easy, Brother Ramon," Commander Dimitri stepped in to play peacemaker. "Put the gun down before you speak. How can you point a weapon at the Chief? However, I agree with your point. Someone in our military ranks receiving 10% of a mining company's shares is indeed against the rules."

  Teaming up against me, are we? Antonio thought secretly.

  He stood up abruptly and said flatly, "I am the one who received the 10% mining shares. I’m going to find the Army Chief of Staff right now to resign and take the blame."

  Seeing Antonio say he was going to resign, Bernardo became even more agitated. He pressed his forehead against the muzzle of Ramon’s gun and screamed, "Shoot me then! Shoot me dead! Go on, shoot!"

  Just as everyone tried to intervene, Bernardo suddenly moved. He dodged to the side and threw a punch at Ramon’s temple, snatching the pistol away.

  "Take him down!"

  At the command, several Brigade Commanders rushed forward. They pinned Ramon—who had broken the rules by bringing a weapon and defying his superior—to the ground and bound his hands behind his back with a belt.

  What awaited him were likely charges of illegal possession of a weapon, threatening a superior, and rebellion.

  Ramon was hauled away by Bernardo’s guards.

  Antonio watched everything with an expressionless face. Once the dust settled, he sat back down.

  Bernardo coughed, cooling his temper. Once his breathing steadied, he said mildly, "Alright. Antonio, discuss it with Dimitri. See which of your divisions will carry out the pacification mission tonight."

  Dimitri’s face was ashen. He had just offended Antonio, but now the old man was speaking to Antonio with a grandfatherly tone.

  He seemed to realize he had made a terrible mistake.

  "Let Commander Dimitri handle it," Antonio said, looking at Dimitri. "I need to think about how to explain this 10% mining share business to Commander Ricardo. Commander Dimitri executing this mission is a perfect chance for him to earn some merit, isn't it?"

  Antonio looked at Dimitri, and Bernardo followed suit. Dimitri seemed to be under immense pressure; he nodded mechanically, as if forced.

  The meeting adjourned.

  Antonio returned to his office. He took his notebook and, using a red pen, recorded the names of the three Brigade Commanders who had rushed forward to bind Ramon.

  Vivienne and Madame Rosalind were still chatting when the front desk announced there was a call for the Madame. The lady happily went to take it.

  Moments later, a commotion broke out by the reception area: "The Madame has fainted! Quick, help her! Madame! Madame Rosalind!"

  It was an emergency. Vivienne had no choice but to call her driver and rush Madame Rosalind and her maid to the hospital.