"Joyce, come here," her mother urged.
Joyce was pressed against the huge glass of a doll shop, her brown eyes filled with longing as she gazed at the many exquisite dolls inside.
Unlike the other dolls, the blonde, blue-eyed doll in the display window had neither a brilliant smile nor sorrowful tears; it simply had a calm expression, observing the outside world.
Yet, Joyce was drawn to it; those blue eyes seemed to possess magic.
Joyce thought that if those eyes were smiling, it would be very cute.
"Joyce!" her mother forcefully pulled her away, then picked her up.
She was in a hurry to go back and make dinner for her husband, fearing she would be scolded if she was late again.
Clinging to her mother's neck, Joyce reluctantly stared at the doll until it was out of sight before burying her head in her mother's embrace.
Feeling a jolt, Joyce struggled to open her eyes.
Her vision was blurry, as if blood had dripped into her eyes, and the back of her head ached terribly; every breath was excruciating pain.
Seeing the blurry blonde hair in front of her, Joyce weakly lay on the boy's back.
It was difficult to walk while carrying someone, but he still took every step steadily.
Her chin rested on his shoulder; she was too weak to open her eyes again, but she used all her strength to lean close to the boy's ear and said, "Xiao Yaba, I'm sorry..."
"I..."
"I... caused you trouble."
Joyce's voice was very soft, so soft that even right next to the boy's ear, he could barely hear her.
Almost there, they would reach the camp soon.
He carried Joyce to a tree in the camp, carefully propping her against it, then ran to get water.
He held it to her mouth, but Joyce had no strength to drink.
She slowly shook her head, not even having the strength to remain seated against the tree.
Seeing her about to fall to the ground, the boy dropped the water in his hand, spilling it all over, and steadily caught Joyce, holding her in his arms.
The boy's embrace was cold, and Joyce shivered slightly.
Seeing her discomfort, the boy wanted to adjust her to a more comfortable position, but he froze when his hand touched her head.
There was an indentation at the back of Joyce's head, and looking at the fresh red blood on his hand, his dim blue eyes seemed dazed.
Joyce was about to give up.
Such an injury should have killed her quickly, but she held on for a long time, long enough to finally see the boy.
Seeing Joyce's mouth opening and closing, the boy lowered his head and leaned closer.
"I... wanted to get you... some meat."
"What they ate... was human... flesh."
"I'm... sorry."
A long silence was her only response.
Ah... she almost forgot, he couldn't speak...
A cold drop fell on Joyce's face, followed by more.
She laboriously opened her eyes wide, her blurry vision looking up at the dark sky.
Is it raining?
She thought Xiao Yaba was crying...
Suddenly, Joyce's vision returned to normal, and she saw the complex expression on the boy's face.
For a moment, she didn't know how to describe it—was it confusion, incomprehension, sorrow, or anger?
Their gazes met, letting the rain beat down.
Rain streamed down his cheeks, dripping from his chin onto Joyce's face.
At this moment, the boy didn't know what his feelings were; he only felt a bitter ache in his heart, a feeling he had never experienced before.
For the first time, he so vividly felt his heart beating violently, each beat accompanied by a painful palpitation.
No matter what the pain, it had never made him utter a sound.
His throat was dry, throbbing with pain, and with a few difficult gasps, he spoke.
"Why... did you?"
This was the first time he had spoken since he could remember, and it was in such a scene.
Joyce's brown pupils widened, then she smiled with relief.
"So... you can speak.
Then... I can't call you... Xiao Yaba anymore."
"You... cough..."
"Can you tell... me... your... name?"
He had never had a name, so he could only shake his head, but in Joyce's eyes, it meant refusal.
That's right.
She was dying, what did it matter if she knew?
Joyce's vision turned white, and she could no longer see the boy's face clearly.
In a trance, she seemed to return to her familiar small town.
In the familiar glass display window of the shop, the blonde, blue-eyed doll was gone.
She was very disappointed, it was probably bought.
Leaving the shop, a familiar sight appeared next to a trash can—it was the doll.
She excitedly ran over, picked it up, and looked at its damaged body and dirty face.
Without disgust, she still carried it home with joy.
Aspiring to be a fashion designer, she washed the doll clean, mended its damaged body stitch by stitch, and sewed the outline of a heart for it, but she hadn't had time to fill the heart with its proper color.
The doll was then discarded by her father, who scolded her for wasting the family's needles and thread, and she herself was sold by her father to human traffickers.
Joyce closed her eyes and never opened them again.
He laid Joyce on the ground.
The noisy person would never make a sound again.
The boy didn't understand what this inexpressible bitter feeling was; it was just a stranger he had known for a few days, yet he was so overwhelmed.
He picked up a stone and started digging in the damp soil, but finding it difficult, he abandoned the stone and dug directly with his hands.
Sharp pebbles in the soil occasionally cut his palms.
It took a huge amount of time to dig a pit barely large enough to accommodate Joyce.
At least bury her.
His ten fingers were abraded, and he was somewhat exhausted.
He used all his strength to lift Joyce with both hands, carefully placed her into the pit, and then cupped soil in his hands, sprinkling it little by little until Joyce was completely buried.
Looking at the small mound of earth, the boy's blue eyes seemed soaked with rain, glistening with moisture.
His wet blonde hair hung limply as he whispered, "I don't understand."
...Komatsuse lay by the bed, idly playing with her chestnut-colored short hair, her brown eyes watching Yoizumi, who was still unconscious on the bed.
Even in his sleep, Yoizumi's expression remained tense.
Why isn't Yoizumi waking up yet!
He's been asleep for a month already!
Is it really okay to sleep like this? If he weren't still breathing, Komatsuse would have thought Yoizumi was dead.
Suddenly, Komatsuse caught sight of his slender fingers moving out of the corner of her eye, and she quickly leaned in to look.
They really moved!
The long-sleeping man opened his eyes in the dim room.
Yoizumi met Komatsuse's brown eyes, which were filled with surprise.
Komatsuse unconsciously shed tears of excitement, her voice choked with sobs.
"Welcome back, Yoizumi."
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