() Light.

It's the first word that took me a long time to think of when I opened my eyes.

It took me a while to figure out that the word was a Swadia, not a Wiki word.

My mind was in a slow motion, and it took me a long time to look at anything and say its name. I don't know how long it has been, the feeling of emptiness crawling all over my chest and abdomen, as if I felt that feeling of emptiness in my abdomen after not eating for a long time.

Light.

I looked at a pillar of light coming in through the window.

Dust flew inside the pillar of light, like 10,000 jīng spirits. The scene was familiar, and I must have woken up somewhere, in some afternoon, and saw dust flying through the pillars of light in the windows.

The past many days have been like an extremely long-term dream, dreaming of the sea at the beginning of the world.

I seem to have comprehended a lot of truths, but I can't recall any of them now. Only a few fragments of thought remain in my mind, as if a philosopher had written a psalm in the most messy of sentences.

Oak barrels are made of oak, and it makes sense. The stars are bright, and for good reason. I should go home, who said that? Beira.

I remembered a woman named Bella, who was dressed in black sè clothes and wore a black sè cloak, and when she saw people, she opened her eyes and said nonsense.

Bella, Bella let me go home.

My home is Varankov.

Valankov? No, that's where Giovanni wetted the bed for the first time, but not mine. Giovanni, who is this? Oh, this is my lord, but not my lord, because he did not grant me land.

He had three thousand soldiers. Thinking of this, I suddenly felt a wave of sadness. I was alive, and that feeling should have been joyful, but now there was only a glimmer of pity left. Because so many people died. Many more will die. What happened to those three thousand soldiers?

One of the soldiers sang a spiritual song to me, asking Valkyrie to guide me into the Valhalla. But I didn't comply, and I survived this afternoon.

I woke up once in the morning.

At that time, two thin old men of Salander were throwing a strong soldier in. The soldier must have weighed more than the two old men combined, and the soldier was policing around the village while I was being carried to the village in an ox cart. This is not a village. This is the monastery of the Creelians, who call it the mosque, and these farmers are just tenants who rent land around the mosque.

The imam was the first to die.

The kind old man stood in the yard with his hands behind his back and muttered, followed by a yellow-haired dog.

When I entered the temple, he came and blessed me with peace. Press my forehead to read the words.

He blessed everyone who was sent there, and he was always in contact with the sick, so that his own illness broke out the most. The clergy suffered the most casualties, and the chanters, law reciters, imams, and even the wandering Salander monks all died in droves. They don't worry about their safety at all and always extend their hands to desperate patients. Treat the patient as a brother. And then died with his brother. It was once feared that the death of the monk would cause a collapse of faith, but now it seems. Instead, these Creelians and Salanders became more religious: death revealed the purity and devotion of the clergy.

Fourteen of the seventeen men who maintained the mosque have died, and only three of the eight women have died.

Women seem to be more resistant than men. In particular, almost half of the Salander women who prayed at night under the veil survived. It was believed that this was a hint from Allah, so people dressed themselves in women's clothes and prayed alone like women, and this ridiculous imitation was soon stopped, and the imam, the old man, would never allow such a thing to happen.

The next day, the old man fell ill.

Before that, he sat patiently on the edge of my meadow and examined my wounds. He wiped my neck with a small bottle of flower oil, and the cool sensation made me suspect for a moment that I was close to healing.

"The xìng of flower oil is dry and clean," he explains, "while the xìng of sweat is wet and dirty." Neutralization only. ”

His beard trembled, and he sneezed, and I saw blood splattering on his white beard. The old man motioned for me to sleep peacefully, although I couldn't sleep well because I was coughing, "I'll come back tomorrow to check on you." ”

He didn't come back the next day, and a few days later he died.

At first, someone brought me stiff and smelly cakes, but then all that was left was water. This little bit of water is not enough, and all of them weakly stretch out their hands, trying to grasp the light, want to grasp the water, want to grasp the irreversible loss of life.

The collapse of order comes when all the imams of the mosque are dead.

Some ninja monks finally couldn't stand the torture and fled with the scriptures and valuable artifacts, leaving behind hundreds of people waiting to die.

There were people around me who struggled to find water to drink and something to eat, but they never returned. I kept lying in the corner, recalling everything over and over again. It's a strange experience, like being in a completely non-existent position and watching yourself make decisions. If I had to do it all over again, starting from the river, I might not have been as naïve as I had been, I would have been much smarter, and I would not have been taken advantage of like this by the Earl. At the same time, I will not fail to make friends, my own will be my own, and other people's will be given to others, so that I can get followers.

In this era, children are not suitable, and boys should die and be reborn as men.

After a bout of tinnitus, I found that I had been open for too long, my eyes were dry, and then tears welled up. I don't know how long this intermittent consciousness lasted, I didn't starve to death, i.e. I must have eaten within a few days, I don't remember. I have a kettle on my right hand with half a jug of stinky water in it. It took me a long time to think about whether to drink it or not, and finally I realized that there was nothing dirty water to hurt me, so I picked it up and had to hold it in my arms for a while, and when I had regained my strength, I brought it to my mouth and drank it.

The water is so sweet, as sweet as the first drop of rain in a hundred years in a thirsty desert.

I straightened up and found that my pants had already been soiled with feces and urine. In the beginning, the Salanders would be in charge of cleaning up, but when they died, no one cared.

It took me half an hour to take off my pants, barely wipe myself clean, and get ready to go out and see if there's anyone alive. At this time, a gust of wind made me shiver, and in the past, when I was not so weak, I liked this cool breeze the most, but now I was blown by it and almost fell. I took off a pair of trousers from a dead man, and untied the headscarf of another Salander, and barely put them on. These pants are mine, no one will come to me to ask for them, its owner family is all dead, I know it well, they are talking to me, slowly dying. The first to die was the miller merchant in these trousers, who died with spasms and trembling, and his chest was like a bulging skin, and the last to die was the miller's eldest son, who sighed and died when he found himself alone.

What the order in the middle is, I didn't notice. Sometimes I think a guy is dead, and after a while he starts talking again. Someone who was cursing and cursing people and sounding like a god just now, but then they didn't make a sound for a few days, and then they were dragged out and thrown away. I just remember who was the first person to die in each family and who was the last person to die. It wasn't until later that there were so many of them that I couldn't tell the difference, and at that time, I was at the height of my illness, and after that, everything fell into chaos and finally fell into darkness.

Until I was woken up.

Light.

Until I remembered the word.

Strangely, the first word that came to mind was a Swadia word. Someone seems to have helped me find my family, is it Giovanni? No. Or is it someone else? I can't even remember the name.

I don't think of the big truths that I realized that I couldn't think of were this kind of useless information.

A Creelian man left behind a walnut cane, and before he died, fearing that someone else would take it, crushed it under his leg. I took a lot of effort to get it out. The crutch was polished to a shiny finish, and the wooden bones looked like they had been oiled.

There were dead people everywhere, inside the cupboards, under stools, on the edge of the stairs, on the beds.

As I walked to the next room, a whispering Creel couple slowly looked up at me, but ignored me. The man's eye sockets were deep, his mouth was full of blood, and he might die immediately, but the woman next to him couldn't tell that she was sick, so she probably stayed here to accompany him.

Family affection is so strong that it seems that even death can only retreat.

This is what I have seen. In the beginning, many families moved to the mosque, volunteering to help care for sick family members and to obey the imam's instructions. Every day, there are people who are busy, as if they can build a dam to resist a flood, as if they can dig a ditch to fill the farmland, as if they can work together to survive this disaster, but most of these people are dead.

It's all late.

The collapse of my family relationship was the hardest part for me to bear. The man who abandoned his wife and children and ran away was initially spurned by everyone, but then the people who spurned him also fled. The most many people say before they die is curses, cursing their loved ones who have abandoned them. I don't have much to say at this time, I've been abandoned many times, and I don't know who my relatives are.

Step by step, approach the door.

The gate was so bright that a chongdong that I thought was gone forever swelled up in my heart, a chongdong called hope.

I opened my mouth and walked slowly into the light.

The afternoon light had dimmed, but it was so warm.

I walked out the door.

The smell of rotting corpses has diffused, and the dome of the mosque that used to shine has faded.

The blood-red sky was blowing a desolate wind, and ten thousand crows were hovering in the distant sky, too far away to hear the sound, and it looked very grotesque.

All the places are quiet.