White Moonlight 10

The two men had been in pursuit for over half an hour. Yi was so exhausted he could no longer walk, his knees hitting the ground as he gasped for air. Ren’s stamina seemed to hold up better, though he too could only stand and pant.

"That son of a bitch! He must have heard us behind the haystack. Dammit, we can't let him get away!" Ren reached down to pull Yi up so they could continue, but Yi stopped him immediately. "He’s the director! He has money and power! Do you—you—damn—well want to die?"

Yi’s gasping slowly subsided, but he began to cough—a hacking, racking sound that grew louder and more visceral, echoing with a bone-chilling intensity. Ren tried to lift him again, but Yi stayed planted, his hands clawing into the dirt like talons. His fingers sank a full centimeter into the soil as his breathing and coughing grew more erratic.

"Yi, what's wrong? Are you okay?!"

Yi didn't answer; he only continued to cough and wheeze. His face turned a deep, congested purple, and the veins on his forehead bulged. Suddenly, a spray of bright red blood erupted from his mouth. With his remaining strength, he shoved Ren aside, sending him stumbling to the ground. Then, as if a valve had been opened, blood gushed from Yi’s mouth in a torrent. His hands lost their grip on the earth, and he collapsed face-down.

Horrified, Ren scrambled up and flipped Yi over, shaking his heavy, limp body. In a flash of desperation, he remembered an old emergency technique and pressed his thumbs hard into Yi’s philtrum.

After several long, agonizing minutes, Yi finally regained consciousness. Before Ren could speak, Yi looked at him with unfocused eyes. "Go... don't worry about... me. It’s the plague. There’s no saving me... go, it’s contagious!"

Ren held Yi’s head in his hands. "It’s just like what A-Biao’s wife said. I never thought..." Yi murmured, blood bubbling from his lips. "I really feel sorry for A-Biao. He and I..." Yi seemed to want to say something important, but Death grew impatient. After a few more spurts of bloody foam, he went silent for good.

Watching Yi die so miserably from the plague, Ren felt as if he were breaking down. A crushing sense of terror, helplessness, and loss consumed him. What was he to do now?

Should he call an ambulance? He pulled out his phone, only to find he had no signal.

Should he find someone to help? He looked around at the endless fields; there was no one to call upon, and the earth offered no answers.

Should he keep pursuing the director? The thought of the man ignited a fresh fire of rage in Ren’s chest. They hadn't managed to tie him up, and instead, he had caused his brother’s death, on top of everything else. Ren’s resolve hardened: he would find the director first.

The dirt road ahead stretched out long. Over the next hour, he encountered several forks, but Ren stuck to the original path—the one bathed brightest by the silver moonlight. Instinctively, he felt that only by following the path lit by the moon could he find the tracks of the car and, ultimately, the director.

After some time, the road vanished, and a village appeared ahead. Ren had lost track of how long he had walked or how far he had gone. His strength was failing, and the pre-dawn wind was biting and cold, eroding what little resolve he had left.

He decided to find a house to stay in for the night. Dragging his weary body, he entered the village.

At this hour, the villagers were likely asleep. How could he find someone willing to take him in?

As he scanned the farmsteads scattered before him, he noticed one house encircled by a strip of long red cloth. Scrawled on the fabric in white paint were the words: "Occupants have returned from G City; no contact or association with this household allowed." Under the white moonlight, the words stood out with unsettling clarity. The image of Yi’s gruesome death seemed to be projected onto that red cloth, sending a chill down Ren’s spine.

It seemed this village was also suffering from the plague. Without a second thought, he bypassed the house and continued down the alleyway. Just as he began to despair, he spotted a glimmer of light. He focused his eyes and realized another farmhouse was still lit. Overjoyed, he hurried toward it.

Seeing no red cloth, he knocked on the door with relief. An elderly man, bare-chested, opened it. Ren explained his situation, and the old man led him into the courtyard without a word.

In the yard sat several wooden planks. They looked familiar to Ren, and just as he was about to ask, the old man spoke. "Don't mind them. I’m the village carpenter; I’m making a coffin."

Ren managed a stiff smile and followed him into the main room. They chatted briefly, and Ren learned the man lived alone. When the plague broke out, his wife had taken their children back to her parents' home, but he had stayed behind, unable to abandon his business.

The old man’s sincere tone put Ren at ease. He brought out some leftovers; although they were cold, Ren devoured them ravenously. The old man went back to the yard to finish his work, while Ren lay down in a side room.

Ten minutes later, just as Ren was drifting off to sleep, he felt a sudden cramp in his stomach—likely from the cold food. He scrambled up to find a restroom. The old man was still working in the courtyard, and as Ren hurried out, clutching his pants, the old man gave him a knowing smile and pointed toward the back of the main house.

When he reached the outhouse, it reminded him of the dry toilets back home. After a noisy relief, Ren felt much better. But as he turned to leave, he spotted a roll of red cloth discarded near the wall. His curiosity flared.

He carefully unfurled the cloth and was stunned. In the white moonlight, he recognized the familiar fabric and the chilling slogan: "Occupants have returned from G City..."

Ren didn't dare look further. He dropped the soiled cloth and scrambled over the wall, fleeing the house.

The image of Yi’s tragic death flooded his mind, and the terror of the plague surged back.

Why did the old man lie?
Was his family infected?
Who was the coffin for?
Had he been infected too?

Questions swirled in Ren’s mind like a stirrer in a cesspool, leaving his thoughts in total chaos.

He vaulted out of the yard and ran like a madman toward the fields. Having walked so far only to find he hadn't escaped the shadow of the plague, Ren felt utterly hopeless. Without realizing it, he found himself on a hillside behind the farmland.

He sat on the ground, overlooking the landscape bathed in white moonlight—the fields and the village houses laid out before him.

Having seen the prosperity of the city, it had been a long time since Ren had sat so quietly in the countryside, lost in thought.

He remembered his childhood—how, whenever the moon lit the earth, he and his friends would run wild through the fields. It was as if everything under the moonlight belonged to a playground in another world. In that playground, even a withered stalk of wheat could be an extraordinary toy, and a clod of dirt could serve a wondrous purpose. The moonlight held a magic that turned the mundane into the miraculous, and every child enjoyed the joy it brought without a second thought.

But now, this same white moonlight had led him down a road of no return. Yi was dead, the car was lost, and the director was likely somewhere else, packing his bags.

As he drifted in thought, a cold wind snapped him back to reality. Ren sighed. It was time to go—it was time to head home.