233: Chapter 233 A Lone Shadow Returns Home

The last wisp of wilderness wind, carrying the scent of dust and withered grass, brushed across Ling Ye's grime-streaked cheeks, only to be immediately replaced by the thicker, more foul air peculiar to the city's edge—a mixture of industrial exhaust and rotting domestic waste. He stood on the edge of a loess slope, half-excavated by an excavator and then abandoned. Beneath his feet lay exposed red earth and gravel; behind him stretched the boundless wilderness, and before him lay the low, chaotic sprawl of shantytowns and ruins, spread out like the rotting corpse of a giant beast.

He had left the earthen cave where he had lived for nearly a month at the darkest hour before dawn. He left no attachments behind, taking only essential items: a sharpened steel rebar spear, a pipe cutter, a slingshot improved with rags and twine (along with several carefully selected stones), that old plastic water bottle (filled with filtered and boiled water), a small pouch crudely sewn from rat skin and rags to keep salt and matches close to his body, the last small piece of air-dried rat jerky hard as a stone, and, kept close to his body, the G-7 record paper and that child's map.

He left behind the reinforced earthen cave, the cellar, the untriggered traps, and all traces of his existence. He hoped no one or nothing would discover that place in the future.

At this moment, he looked down at the city's edge ahead. Compared to a month ago, this area seemed even more dilapidated and desolate. Some shanties had been completely razed, turning into new piles of rubble. In the distance, the blurry outlines of large construction machinery (such as bulldozers and excavators) could be seen parked in a certain area, seemingly engaged in some kind of "Cleaning" or "leveling" operation, but the progress was slow, like the final convulsions of a dying giant.

In the air, besides the familiar stench, there seemed to be a hint of a more oppressive, tense atmosphere. The occasional gunfire in the distance was no longer sporadic; it was more organized, short bursts, accompanied by the faint, muffled sound of warnings or commands amplified through loudspeakers.

The "Cleaning" operation, or perhaps the control of The Plainclothes Organization, seemed to have become more profound and heavy-handed.

This was precisely why Ling Ye needed to return. The greater the pressure, the more cracks there might be at the bottom, and the movement and chaos might bring opportunities. Of course, the danger also increased exponentially.

His goal this time was clear: do not go deep, do not get entangled, and do not proactively provoke any side. He wanted to operate on the very edge of the city, in the most chaotic, highly fluid gray zone, like a true drifter struggling at the very bottom, conducting limited activities aimed at obtaining key survival supplies and observing intelligence.

Action Plan: "Infiltration and Resupply"

Phase One: Integration and Observation (1-2 days)

Choosing an entry point: Avoid the area where he had previously been active (northwest of the Old Factory District). Choose the edge of this shantytown, which is currently being "cleaned" or is in a semi-abandoned state, as the entry point. The population here has dwindled significantly, management might be relatively lax, there are numerous ruins convenient for hiding, and it is close to the ongoing construction, perhaps offering a chance to encounter low-level laborers or scavengers to obtain information.

Perfecting the disguise: His current image—dark, rough, ragged, with eyes that are vigilant yet numb—is already indistinguishable from a bottom-tier drifter. But he needs to "detail" it further. Scoop up dirtier soil from the ground, mix it with a little engine oil (found from nearby abandoned machinery), and smear it on exposed parts like his face, neck, and arms to cover his skin tone and scars. Make his hair messier, sticking it with grass clippings and dust. Deliberately add a slight, inconspicuous sway and sluggishness to his walking posture, as if caused by "long-term malnutrition and exhaustion."

Establishing a temporary foothold: In this semi-abandoned area, find a temporary hideout that is more concealed than an earthen cave but more convenient to enter and exit. The ideal location is inside a building ruin that is about to be demolished but still has its internal structure intact and multiple exits, or a hidden corner hollowed out deep within a large garbage heap. Requirements: not easily discovered from the outside, has an escape route, can observe the main external passage, and is relatively dry.

Silent observation: After the foothold is stable, do not act immediately. Spend a day or two through extremely concealed observation to understand the "ecology" of this area. Observe: Who else remains here? How do they make a living? Are there fixed supply exchange points or black markets? How often do the "Cleaning" or "Plainclothes Agents" patrol? What are their patrol routes and patterns? What are the entry and exit times of construction vehicles? Note any snippets of information regarding "searches," "abnormal events," or "new regulations."

Phase Two: Tentative Contact and Supply Acquisition (2-3 days)

Target selection: After observation, choose the marginalized people who look the most inconspicuous and are most likely willing to engage in private trade. For example: an elderly person scavenging alone, a young drifter who looks equally destitute but has agile eyes, a woman picking up waste on the edge of the construction site. Avoid contacting groups or those with obvious organizations.

Contact method: Never initiate conversation. One can "accidentally" appear near the other person's path of activity, appearing to be looking for food or scrap metal that can be sold. If the other party shows vigilance or hostility, immediately stay away. If the other party is indifferent, one can try using the simplest gestures or vague words to show items one possesses that might be of value (such as a relatively intact piece of copper wire, an undeformed soda can, or... a pinch of salt?), signaling to trade for food, medicine, or practical small items (such as a sturdier bag, a lighter).

Trading principles:

Unequal value: Better to suffer a loss oneself, exchanging slightly higher "value" for urgently needed items to avoid disputes and attracting attention.

Fast and concealed: The transaction process must be quick; separate immediately after the exchange, never linger.

Never show sensitive items: Record papers, maps, homemade weapons, etc., must never be exposed.

Medicine first: Anti-inflammatory drugs, painkillers, and antibiotics (if possible) are the highest priority. Followed by high-calorie, easy-to-store food (such as chocolate, energy bars, canned meat), and then practical tools (such as small knives, ropes, water bags).

Information gathering: Under the premise of being extremely natural and not causing suspicion, one can follow the other person's lead, using vague words to agree or express confusion, guiding the other person to say more. For example, if the other person complains that "the soldiers are checking strictly," one can vaguely echo, "Yeah, it's hard to find food"; if the other person mentions "something happened in the east again," one can show a blank or fearful expression, waiting for the other person to explain. Never proactively ask about sensitive topics.

Phase Three: Evaluation and Evacuation

Based on the results of contact and observation, evaluate the safety level and resource richness of this area.

If it is relatively safe and a small amount of essential supplies can be stably obtained, consider extending the use of the temporary foothold slightly, but it must not exceed one week, and observation and activity paths must be changed frequently.

Once one senses increased risk (such as increased patrol frequency, strange faces asking questions, being noticed), or has already obtained enough supplies to survive the next period in the wilderness, evacuate without hesitation, return to the direction of the wilderness, or move to the next planned, more peripheral "gray zone."

The entire "infiltration" process must maintain high vigilance, ready to deal with emergencies at any time (encountering patrol checks, being robbed, being attacked by other drifters). If necessary, some supplies can be discarded, and even limited, quickly disengaging "resistance" can be conducted (focusing on intimidation and creating chaos, avoiding entanglement), then escape with all one's might.

The core of the plan is to blend oneself completely into the environmental background, as inconspicuous as dust, yet as sharp and vigilant as a viper, striking and leaving, never dwelling.

Ling Ye checked his equipment and disguise one last time, confirming everything was correct. Then, like a drop of water merging into the sea, he silently slid down the loess slope and stepped into the city-edge ruins filled with dust, despair, and the scent of danger.

He chose a semi-collapsed brick house that used to be a small shop near several rusty excavators as his first observation point. Most of the roof had collapsed, but a corner against the wall formed a relatively enclosed space due to collapsed shelves and damaged counters, and there was a hidden back window to observe the road outside and the distant construction area.

He spent half a day Cleaning and arranging this corner, ensuring the entrance was hidden, the retreat (back window) was clear, and a simple early warning system was set up.

Then, he began to observe.

As he expected, this area was sparsely populated. Only a very few figures who looked as destitute as him moved slowly among the ruins in the distance, searching. Occasionally, people wearing dirty work clothes but hard hats (some didn't even have hard hats) walked by wearily from the direction of the construction area, pushing carts or carrying tools. Two camouflage-painted military vehicles patrolled slowly along the main road once in the afternoon; the soldiers on the vehicles scanned the surroundings with expressionless faces, but did not stop.

In the evening, Ling Ye saw his first "potential target."

An old woman with a hunched back, graying hair, and clothes even more tattered than his own, carried a huge, bulging, ragged sack. She was slowly rummaging through a garbage pile about fifty meters away from his hiding spot. Her movements were mechanical, her eyes clouded, and she coughed every now and then.

She looked like the most harmless type, and the least likely to attract any attention.

Ling Ye did not act immediately. He continued to observe until the sky turned completely dark. The old woman seemed ready to leave, heading toward a patch of even darker ruins in the opposite direction of the construction area.

He left his hiding spot silently, following from a distance, extremely patiently. The old woman walked very slowly, taking a winding route, and eventually ducked into the depths of a shantytown built from broken wooden planks, tarpaulins, and plastic sheets—an area of extremely low, dilapidated shacks—disappearing into one of them.

Ling Ye memorized the location, did not approach, and immediately returned to his own hiding spot.

The next day, he changed his strategy. He didn't follow the old woman. Instead, during the day, he chose a relatively concealed spot not far from the garbage pile where the old woman usually operated, and "acted" as a scavenger searching for scraps. He deliberately rummaged slowly, looking very "amateurish," occasionally picking up worthless items to inspect, only to toss them away in disappointment.

In the afternoon, the old woman appeared again, as expected. She seemed to notice Ling Ye, this "new face," her clouded gaze lingering on him for a moment before quickly looking away and continuing her work.

Ling Ye continued his "performance," occasionally letting out weak, listless sighs as if from hunger or exhaustion.

On the third day, when Ling Ye "appeared" near the garbage pile again, the old woman seemed less guarded against this "colleague" of hers. The two of them kept a distance, rummaging through the trash separately, without interfering with each other.

Near evening, just as Ling Ye was preparing to "clock out" and leave, the old woman suddenly coughed for a while, then straightened her back. Seemingly casual, she tossed a relatively intact but stain-covered wrapper from a compressed biscuit packet onto the ground near Ling Ye, then glanced at him before quickly lowering her head again, continuing to slowly pack up her sack, preparing to leave.

Ling Ye's heart stirred. Was this... a test? Or some kind of extremely subtle signal of "goodwill" or a "transaction" between bottom-tier scavengers?

He hesitated for a moment, then slowly walked over and picked up the compressed biscuit wrapper. Inside the wrapper, there was actually a tiny bit of biscuit crumb, the size of a fingernail, still remaining!

He raised his head and looked at the old woman. She had already shouldered her sack and started moving slowly, but her pace was very slow, as if... she was waiting for him?

Ling Ye no longer hesitated. He quickly poured the biscuit crumbs into his mouth (dry and hard, but it was definitely the taste of food), then carefully folded the wrapper and stuffed it into his pocket. He then followed her quickly, but still maintained a distance of three or four meters, keeping his head down as if they were just "going the same way."

The old woman didn't turn back or speed up; she simply led him through the maze-like shacks and ruins. After walking for about ten minutes, they arrived at a slightly more open area piled with all sorts of refuse (plastic bottles, scrap metal, old clothes). At the edge of the open space, there was an extremely crude "stall" made of broken oil drums and stone slabs. Behind it sat a middle-aged One-eyed Man with a scarred face and a lean build, squinting his eyes as he sized up everyone who approached.

The old woman walked up to the stall, took a few flattened soda cans and a handful of copper wire out of her sack, and placed them on the stone slab. The One-eyed Man glanced at them and tossed her a small piece of something blackish that looked like some kind of coarse grain bun.

The old woman took it without even looking, turned around, and left. When she passed by Ling Ye, her steps seemed to pause for a moment, and almost imperceptibly, she tilted her head slightly toward the One-eyed Man, then left straight away.

Ling Ye stood where he was and looked at the One-eyed Man. The man was also looking at him; the light in that single eye was cold, scrutinizing, carrying a beast-like cunning and vigilance born from long-term survival in the gray zone.

This was it. A bottom-tier barter "black market" spot hidden deep within the ruins.

Ling Ye's heart rate accelerated slightly. The opportunity had arrived, but the danger was equally immense.

He felt inside his clothes; other than that bit of precious salt and matches, he had almost nothing. He needed to bring out something "valuable."

He walked up slowly and stopped in front of the stall. He didn't take anything out immediately, just silently looked at the One-eyed Man, his eyes a mix of numbness, vigilance, and a trace of that weak hope and fear unique to bottom-tier scavengers when they encounter someone "with connections."

The One-eyed Man didn't speak either, simply using that single eye to look him up and down, his gaze lingering for a moment on his calloused hands, his tattered but relatively sturdy homemade "shoes" (tied together with rags and straw rope), and the faint bulge at his waist (a pipe cutter).

"New here?" The One-eyed Man finally spoke, his voice hoarse and dry, like sandpaper rubbing together.

Ling Ye nodded, not speaking.

"Got goods?" The One-eyed Man asked again.

Ling Ye hesitated for a moment, then slowly pulled the small pouch stitched from rat skin and rags out from his clothes. He didn't open it, just squeezed it, letting the bag make a faint, rustling sound of grains rubbing against each other. Then, with his other hand, he pointed to his own mouth, made a chewing motion, and pointed to the healed but hideously scarred area on his lower leg.

He was signaling: inside this is "food" and "something for healing," wanting to trade for items.

The One-eyed Man's single eye narrowed, flashing with a hint of interest. In a place like this, food and medicine were always hard currency.

"Let's see." The One-eyed Man lifted his chin.

Ling Ye extremely slowly and carefully untied the small pouch, revealing the two items wrapped separately in small pieces of rag: a small pinch of grayish-white, coarsely crystallized salt, and his last few matches. He displayed them for a moment, then immediately wrapped them back up, holding them in his hand, looking at the One-eyed Man vigilantly.

Salt! And fire!

The One-eyed Man's breathing seemed to quicken slightly. But he quickly concealed it, maintaining that cold expression: "Just this much? What do you want to trade for?"

Ling Ye used gestures to signal again: wanted food (pointed to his stomach), medicine (pointed to the wound), and... a sturdy bag that could hold more things (gestured for a large sack).

The One-eyed Man stared at him for a few seconds, seemingly weighing the value. Then, he bent down, rummaged for a while in a tattered cardboard box under the stall, and took out a few items, placing them on the stone slab:

Half a piece of the same blackish, coarse grain bun he had just given the old woman.

A wrinkled but seemingly unopened small plastic bag containing a few white pills, with no markings.

A large, dirty but intact woven bag printed with some supermarket logo.

"Trade or not?" The One-eyed Man asked.

Ling Ye scanned them quickly. The bun was low quality, but it could stave off hunger. The pills were unknown, but they could be the most common anti-inflammatories or painkillers; risk was at his own expense. The woven bag was very practical.

He estimated the value of the salt and matches in his hand. In this place, it might be on the high side. But he had no capital to bargain, and he didn't want to attract more attention.

He nodded and gently placed the small pouch from his hand onto the stone slab.

The One-eyed Man immediately snatched it up and stuffed it into his clothes, his movements astonishingly fast. At the same time, he signaled with his eyes that the items on the stone slab were now Ling Ye's.

The transaction was complete.

Ling Ye didn't delay, immediately grabbing the bun, the medicine bag, and the woven bag, stuffing them into his clothes, turned around, and left without looking back, quickly disappearing into the shadows of the ruins.

Returning to his hiding spot, he immediately checked his "loot." The bun was hard and sour, but it was definitely food. He sniffed the pills; there was no particular odor. He didn't dare to take them rashly, so he put them away first. The woven bag was very sturdy.

The first tentative contact was a success. Although he had given up precious salt and matches, he had exchanged them for food, potential medicine, and a practical tool. More importantly, he had confirmed the existence of this "gray channel," and it seemed he hadn't immediately caused any trouble.

But the One-eyed Man's cold single eye and the oppressive atmosphere of this area both reminded him that this was by no means a place to stay for long.

He needed to obtain more necessary supplies as quickly as possible, and then, before attracting more attention or getting dragged into trouble, he needed to evacuate immediately.

He broke off a small piece of the bun and chewed it slowly. His gaze looked through the broken back window toward the crisis-ridden ruins outside, which were being shrouded by an increasingly thick night. The woven bag in his hand was rough but tough.

A lone wolf of the wilderness had quietly snuck back into the shadows on the edge of the city. The game of hunting, or being hunted, had only just begun.