"Ah! He's awake! Dad! He's awake!"
A clear and joyful child's voice rang out.
Song Heping painfully turned his head, seeing a little girl about seven or eight years old, wearing a faded old dress, leaning on the bedside. Her eyes were as clear as the Helgan River, looking at him curiously with a hint of timidity.
Her hair was sowhat dry and yellow, her small face thin, but her eyes were bright.
Soon after, a slim middle-aged man with a weathered, dark face hurried in, holding a chipped coarse clay bowl filled with steaming thin wheat porridge.
"Allah bless! You finally woke up!"
The man's voice was hoarse, with a heavy local accent, but his tone was filled with concern. "Don't move, you're not badly hurt, but still very weak. Here, drink sothing first."
This man was Faris, and the little girl was his daughter Sayina.
With Faris's careful assistance, Song Heping managed to swallow a few sips of warm wheat porridge.
Bland and almost gritty, but to a throat dry and sore, and a stomach empty and aching, it was like sweet spring water.
"Was it you... who saved ?"
Song Heping's voice was as hoarse as sandpaper scraping.
Faris showed a simple, honest smile on his face: "Sayina found you while she was gathering firewood by the river and dragged you back here. I'm Faris. This is Uelda Village, not far from Wolge Town."
He paused, his smile turning bitter.
"The war... has destroyed everything. There's nothing good at ho, just this small amount of wheat..."
He gestured to the bowl, his eyes filled with weariness and helplessness towards the endless disaster.
"Are you a rcenary?"
Faris cautiously probed Song Heping's identity.
Song Heping looked down at his clothes.
The clothes were still on.
But they were combat uniforms.
He imdiately understood Faris's concern and reassured him: "I'm with a defense company, you could say I'm a rcenary, but I'm not here to get involved in your war. I'm here to rescue a friend trapped in Ashala Town."
Faris said: "Ashala Town? It's full of the 1515 people there."
Song Heping said: "Yes, yesterday I almost died in their hands."
He didn't reveal more.
After all, he couldn't discuss the CIA and MI6 with the man before him.
Whether he could even understand was one thing, but it might also bring trouble.
However, Song Heping believed few people liked organizations like the 1515 militants.
Sure enough, Faris's eyes lit up: "You fought against the 1515 people?"
Song Heping could already sense from his eyes that Faris's friendliness towards him had increased a bit.
"Yes, I was injured, fell into the river, and was brought here by the water."
"Oh! That must be Allah's blessing. My daughter thought you were a corpse when she saw you, but luckily, you lifted your head slightly at that ti, and she realized you weren't dead, so she ran ho to tell ."
"Thank you. I will rember your life-saving grace."
Song Heping was indeed very grateful to Faris.
Otherwise, it was hard to say if he would have died in the wilderness, and who knows what consequences would have ensued if anyone else had found him.
Maybe Faris didn't even know who the Oriental man before him was, thinking Song Heping was just being polite.
He was very curious why Song Heping was fluent in Arabic.
The two started a sowhat casual conversation.
Faris was evidently very talkative, perhaps worried that if the conversation stopped, the atmosphere would beco awkward.
He began to ramble about what the village used to be like, the relatives who died in the war, and the hardships of survival.
Every word was like a heavy stone pressing on Song Heping's heart.
This was not his war, and he could leave at any ti.
But for these ordinary people, it was a hell they couldn't escape.
Song Heping listened silently, feeling a slight energy slowly returning within.
He must contact the outside world as soon as possible.
And he must leave as soon as possible.
Staying here wouldn't do the village any good.
Too many people wanted him dead, too many wanted to know if he was truly gone.
Without finding his body, or even verifying his DNA, the heads of top intelligence agencies would not be at ease.
"Brother Faris."
He interrupted the other.
"Where... around here can I make a call? I need to contact my friends; they must be looking for ."
Faris's face looked even more bitter: "A phone? The communication facilities here were bombed last year. Now to make a call, you have to go to the black market on the east side of Wolge Town, where a rchant secretly does business with satellite phones, but..."
He shook his head: "It's more than eight kiloters from our village, and the road... isn't safe. Also, the call charges are very expensive, extrely expensive."
He appeared helpless.
Eight kiloters...
Not very far.
But the road isn't safe, and that's true.
Must find a good route to prevent any surprises along the way.
Now all he had was a butterfly knife, having ditched everything else. Until he could contact Jiang Feng and the others, the best course was to stay as low as possible.
So, he decided to leave the village early the next morning, avoiding the longer the night, the more dreams, and drawing more trouble.
The next morning at first light.
Song Heping felt sowhat rejuvenated. Though each step tugged at his wounds with intense pain, he couldn't wait any longer.
He refused Faris's suggestion of resting a bit more, took 500 US Dollars from the waterproof pouch on him to give to Faris as thanks, and prepared to set off for Wolge Town.
He put on a ragged but clean local man's robe Faris found for him, concealing the traces of his tactical gear, and accepted the scarf Faris offered him, covering his head and face.
After this disguise, at least from the outside, it was hard to tell he was a foreigner, so he left with peace of mind.
To conceal his tracks, Song Heping deliberately avoided the main road, choosing instead the small paths near it.
Having left the village for less than a kiloter, Song Heping climbed a low sand ridge to observe the route to Wolge Town to the south and plan his next steps.
Suddenly, his eyes narrowed, and he quickly lowered his body, laying flat on the sand ridge like a sand lizard.
In the distance on the sandy road, three worn ard pickups were kicking up billowing yellow dust, speeding towards Uelda Village.
Song Heping's vision was excellent, and today's weather was also good, so he could clearly see the pickups' beds crowded with ard n holding various rifles, with their heads wrapped in cloth or wearing tattered helts, weapons reflecting ominous light under the sun.
"Damn!"
Song Heping's heart suddenly sank.
At tis, in such a place, an ard convoy heading straight for a small village, it's never good!
Robbery?
Forcible conscription?
Or worse?
Could they be searching for him?
A dilemma imdiately presented itself.
Stay or go?
If he pretended not to see any of this, he could completely use the cover of the terrain to avoid them and continue heading to Wolge Town to find a phone.
But Faris and his daughter saved him, provided him with food and shelter.
If he just left, what would happen to this fragile village, to that kind father and daughter?
There was no certainty.
If these guys are indeed searching for him.
Then Faris and his daughter would surely suffer.
Though he never liked ddling, Faris and his daughter were his saviors.
This matter couldn't be ignored.
Song Heping didn't hesitate any longer, a cold determination flashed in his eyes.
He abandoned his plan to head to the town, turned around, and using the rolling dunes and sparse shrubs as cover, stealthily made his way back towards Uelda Village as quickly as possible.
A life owed must be repaid!
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