Chapter 25: The Deep Pit

Greyhound and his three underlings stood frozen in place.

Not far away, Johnny—known as Brother Johnny—was watching them work under an umbrella. Unsure why they were dazed, he called out and shuffled toward the foul-smelling burial site.

Roused by the voice, Greyhound kicked the corpse into the pit.

"Hurry up, fill it with dirt, and throw the pork in!"

He tried to drown out the dull thud of the body hitting the bottom with his shouting, but the sound seemed to have legs of its own, drilling with agonizing precision into his ears.

That was impossible. It had to be a mistake, a trick of the light!

Perhaps that poor wretch just happened to look like him. Damn it, how unlucky!

The underlings crowded forward to haul the meat. Satisfied, Brother Johnny stopped and beckoned Greyhound over.

"Good job. This was handled properly. I’ll take some of the maritime business from Jamie and hand it over to you—he’s been acting restless lately..."

Amidst the roar of the excavators, Greyhound nodded and bowed, yet despite climbing another rung in the organization, he felt no joy. The bizarre sight from moments ago hung over him, a heavy, suffocating lump in his chest.

Brother Johnny patted his shoulder with satisfaction and walked over to the edge of the pit to inspect the progress.

Greyhound followed, hunched over, the face playing over and over in his mind.

For some reason, he suddenly felt an itch on his neck, and it took every ounce of his self-control not to scratch it.

The shovel loader was highly efficient; the mountain of soil piled by the pit was soon filled in. Greyhound watched the scene, lost in thought.

He had heard rumors from the boss of the second-to-last district on the easternmost edge of the continent—tales of superhuman mercenaries, pistols capable of piercing mountains, and mysterious creatures that haunted the twilight hours...

"Alright, done. Leave the loader here; other brothers will come later to clean this place up!" Brother Johnny stomped on the fresh, level soil. It wasn't packed down, and the heavy rain would settle it eventually, but that was for others to worry about. Who would come to this place in the middle of the night to dig up this pit? "Go to the chemical plant and change your clothes. You worked hard today, you've all suffered. Everyone gets a reward when we get back!"

And so, these criminals congratulated one another, excited to have resolved such a major headache for the organization, and walked toward the still-intact ruins of the chemical plant, whispering among themselves.

In the filled pit, Shi Rang was entering death.

When the second wave of earth and stone poured down, he was in the middle of shoving aside the body that had fallen on top of him.

Just as he tried to climb over the soil as he had before, the earth buried him up to his waist.

In the precious moments that followed, he struggled to twist his body, managing to pull one leg free, only for a mountain of dirt to come crashing down.

Soil and rock, mixed with the hard, bony meat of the pigs, slammed down from several meters above. Human remains, pig remains, and the debris of the earth were compacted in the pit, pressed tightly into the deep darkness.

The immense pressure quickly swallowed the precious gaps between the remains. At first, Shi Rang could maintain a pocket of air in front of his face, but after a few seconds, his head was forced down as if it were about to be crushed. He desperately used his hands, still able to move near his head, to claw at the soil, searching for any void.

Just as he was about to suffocate, his twisting head bumped against a hard object.

It was a whole pig, its hollowed-out abdomen facing downward, forming a stable structure with other bony pieces of meat that happened to lock in place above his head. The soil was not like water; it did not fill every space, and he managed to catch another breath.

One breath. Two breaths.

Shi Rang’s wide-open mouth could take in no more air.

The soil reached a lethally compact density, pinning his entire body below his arms. With the protection of the pig carcass, it wasn't enough to crush his bones, but it squeezed his lungs, preventing them from expanding.

How far was he from the surface?

Two meters? Three?

In a darkness deeper than a moonless night, Shi Rang clawed futilely at the soil near his chest, trying to keep himself alive for a few more seconds.

The area near his feet seemed to loosen, and his entire body was pushed upward ever so slightly—had that really happened, or was it a hallucination?

He couldn't tell.

Asphyxiation set his face ablaze. Even though he had swallowed dirt, his mouth remained agape. His hands gave up on digging himself out and reached helplessly into the earth beyond the protection of the carcass, searching for a pocket of air.

Like a memory, like a hallucination before death, Shi Rang felt a breeze brush against his face.

In the darkness, he saw Ying Shang’s face. She was smiling from the depths of his memories, her eyes full of happiness.

...After they had visited the house on a whim, both he and Ying Shang had been captivated.

They were destined to never afford a proper wedding; aside from a few friends, they had no family or guests to invite. The wedding ceremony eventually became a simple dinner with friends, followed by a short "honeymoon"—a day trip to the attractions in Yunling City, gone and back within the same day.

But that house was different. It was a comfortable two-bedroom apartment, spacious and well-lit. Though it was a resale, the renovation was tasteful and didn't look old at all. They fell in love with it at first sight; it would have been the perfect celebration of their marriage. After discussing the payment with the landlord, Ying Shang had even asked a friend from the art studio to create a rendering, designing a renovation plan that required no major changes, depicting their respective workspaces-cum-bedrooms and a balcony filled with plants—the possibility of going to bed after working late without disturbing each other.

They were tired of constantly moving, of drifting from one rental to the next.

Even after leaving the Second District, leaving their hometown, deep down, Shi Rang always felt that renting was different from owning.

That would have been a house that belonged to them, a warm and cozy little home.

But money was always the inescapable problem.

Shi Rang hadn't slept well for days, constantly calculating the high student loans, assistance loans, and living expenses in his head, trying to scrape together a down payment—or even just the first deposit—from the meager leftovers of their salaries.

In the end, he realized it would take twenty years, or perhaps forty—depending on the financing plan—before they could ever reach their dream and truly own a home.

And the house wouldn't wait for them that long.

The gap between ideal and reality pained him. But thinking of rent, utilities, commuting costs, food, wedding expenses, and loan interest, he had no choice but to abandon the plan.

Slowly, Ying Shang stopped excitedly showing him the renderings or talking about moving into their new home. She buried herself in teaching, volunteering for advanced training at the studio, working harder than ever, painting until the early hours every day. Whether he worked overtime or not, he could always see the light spilling from under the door of her workspace after turning off the lights. When he woke up, she would be asleep beside him, her dark circles never fading.

She never wore her disappointment on her face, nor did she burden Shi Rang with her bad moods, but he knew that didn't mean she wasn't sad.

He couldn't even legally get a marriage certificate with her.

To let the one he loved be disappointed time and time again—he was the most useless husband on earth.

Months later, Ying Shang suddenly snuck into his room and stood beside Shi Rang, who was hunched over his desk writing documents.

She had wanted to keep it a secret, but her joy was impossible to hide. Finally, she offered him a key with both hands.

It took Shi Rang a moment to understand what it was. "You took out a loan? Didn't we agree to pay off the tuition first—"

"Did you forget about the charitable foundation?"

Ying Shang's face seemed to glow with joy. She lunged forward, laughing, and hugged Shi Rang tightly.

"I passed my artist certification half a month ago. The grant finally arrived—it's truly a huge amount of money!"

"It’ll only take ten years, a thousand a month. We can do it! We have a home!"

Yes, she never cared whether he was useful or successful, because they were family, because they loved each other...

In the darkness years later, a faint current of air drifted into Shi Rang’s nose and mouth.

His eyes, already dimming, flickered. His outstretched hand opened, and with his very last strength, he grasped the key.