When the Head of the regiment arrived at the rescue station, the first thing he saw was a large group of children, clustered in threes and fives. The canteen’s chairs had been arranged into several rows with traces on the ground showing they had been dragged; clearly, the staff had done this intentionally so the children could eat at the same time.
The consolatory team, made up of women, was chatting with every child, seemingly trying to help alleviate their moods.
Some children were sitting in a circle, with a caregiver in the middle speaking in a language they could understand, sharing amusing stories from their own childhood. At one point, when a particularly hilarious incident from their past was mentioned, causing the other workers to burst into hearty laughter—some truly amused, others perhaps trying to lighten the atmosphere.
But what was eerie was that while the adults laughed heartily, the children watched them with expressionless faces, as if the joke was not funny at all.
After laughing for a while, the workers realized the problem, and the laughter became increasingly awkward, forced chuckles making the atmosphere a bit strange.
"You guys..." A young girl poked the child in front of her, but he just looked at her and paid her no mind, turning back to the food in front of him.
All the children were the same, shoveling food from their bowls into their mouths as if they hadn’t eaten in generations.
Their food was simple: a bowl of porridge with two hundred grams of pickled vegetables. After the Peace Party became the dominant force in the United District, because the Peace Party had methods to avoid zombie attacks, residents of the United District started clearing land under the Peace Party’s guidance and began planting easy-to-grow vegetables to sustain the food supply of the whole United District and prevent severe famine.
The Peace Party even opened the granaries that had been stored by the seven committees for a long time. Now, the survivors inside basically did not suffer from the beast of hunger, and while the food wasn’t great, compared with the darkness people endured in the early Apocalypse, it was truly a relief.
It was evident to everyone present that these children must have been very hungry, as they didn’t seem to need any psychological counseling; at the moment, they only had eyes for food!
Nobody knew how many people thought this, but most did! But who really knew what these children had been through?
The Head of the regiment had also noticed this scene upon entering, he frowned slightly, surveying the area, and found that each of these children had a backpack or cloth bag slung on them, bulging with unknown contents.
One child even had a military backpack larger than himself, and when a staff member kindly suggested he put down the heavy item to continue eating, the child did not appreciate the gesture and kept a tight grip on the shoulder strap.
The Head of the regiment shifted his gaze from the child, looking around elsewhere. It seemed to him that, aside from these children’s cold demeanor, there were no other abnormalities.
However, as he was about to leave, his attention was drawn to another child.
This child was devouring the porridge in his bowl at a table against the wall of the canteen hall. He wore an orange jacket with a broken zipper that could not clasp, hanging midway, leaving the collar and bottom flaps open, showing that he wore no other clothing underneath, just the jacket around his body.
But those details were not the focal point. What was important was that the Head of the regiment could see a vaguely discernible pattern of purple and crimson on the exposed pectoral skin of the boy.
"A tattoo? A child with a tattoo?"
The Head of the regiment recognized at a glance that the small portion revealed was a tattoo, but because so little was visible, he could not see the entire tattoo on the child.
The Head of the regiment cocked his head to the side, moving to the right. As the angle changed, more of the tattoo became visible, but the view was still limited by the jacket.
The tattoo’s purple and crimson ink spread from the child’s chest to the shoulder—a sizeable tattoo!
Noticing this, Captain Wang’s heart skipped a beat, and his mind became even more unsettled. With a sense of foreboding growing, he became more and more anxious.
"There’s definitely something wrong, it must be them!"
The head of the regiment scanned the children once more, finding it stranger the more he looked. The children’s eyes lacked innocence; they only held indifference. Unlike the kids from the United District who would happily romp around when bored, these children sat quietly after finishing their food.
It was somewhat like the helplessness people feel in a strange environment, yet more like they were waiting for something!
The head of the regiment tried to suppress his tumultuous emotions, putting on a kind expression as he walked up to a child, lifted his hand to touch the child’s head, and then turned to look at Captain Wang. The child’s gaze was lifeless, puppet-like, sending a shiver down his spine.
"Not right! Definitely not right, a child shouldn’t have such an expression!"
He shouted inwardly, but outwardly remained gentle.
"Are you full?"
The child didn’t understand what he was saying, shaking his head and then nodding. Seeing this, a staff member quickly came over, translated the head’s question into the child’s language, and the child nodded in response.
"What happened in your place, why did so many people run over here?" the head of the regiment asked, and the staff member hastily translated.
"%@&%——##!"
"Head of the regiment, he said that there was a war where they’re from, and many people died. They came here to escape the danger," the staff member conveyed.
"Oh, there are so many of you, didn’t any adults bring you here?" the head of the regiment continued to inquire. The child rattled off a response, and the staff member immediately translated: "He says there were, but they got killed on the way."
The head of the regiment raised an eyebrow, finding another matter strange. How could there be so many children sent from Jiuge to work in the 709 Mine? But he rarely had the chance to ask such questions. Right now, what he needed to establish was whether these children were directed by someone or were they truly just escaping a calamity?
"Oh, you are really pitiful. By the way, would you like a drink?"
After the head of the regiment’s words were translated, the child’s eyes lit up, no longer indifferent, finally showing a hint of color as he nodded eagerly.
"Good, Caishu, go to the storage and bring all the drinks here, distribute them to the children."
The woman in charge of the relief work hesitated upon hearing this, voicing her concern: "Are you sure we should do this? There aren’t many drinks, not enough to go around."
The head of the regiment smiled and waved his hand, saying, "No problem, just bring all of them."
Caishu, the woman, nodded reluctantly. Soon after, soldiers came in carrying boxes of drinks. The head of the regiment, eager and impatient, grabbed a bottle and approached the child from earlier.
"There’s nothing wrong, here, uncle will feed you."
Saying this, he twisted the bottle cap with force and tilted it toward the child.
Although not understanding what he was saying, this didn’t prevent the child from desiring the milky drink.
However, just as the mouth of the bottle neared his lips, the head of the regiment tilted his hand, and the liquid inside poured out all over the child’s clothing.