Chapter 11 Chapter 10

They checked into another cabin that night, another shelter on their way across the wasteland.The afternoon passed quickly, and the pace at which they moved made Dylan think Tristan was trying to make up for time wasted in the argument, and they made it before the sun disappeared over the horizon.Half a mile from the cabin, Dylan thought he heard howling in the distance.Although the voice could not be heard very clearly in the wind, Tristan had stepped up again, grabbed her arm, and urged her to hurry up, which also confirmed her suspicion just now that danger was lurking nearby. As soon as they entered the hut, he immediately relaxed.The muscles in the lower jaw that were tense out of worry just now also relaxed, and there was a natural smile.He loosened his furrowed brows, and the wrinkles on his forehead also subsided.

The hut was very much like the places they had spent the previous two nights, a large room with tattered furniture piled all over the floor.There was a window on either side of the front door and two windows behind it.The windows consisted of small panes of glass, several of which were broken in each window, and the wind howled through the holes into the house.Tristan grabbed some scraps from the edge of the bed and started patching the holes.And Dylan walked to the chair and sat down slumped.She was exhausted from walking all day.But if she doesn't need to sleep, does she really feel tired?Whatever, she thought.Her muscles were sore, but maybe she just thought they were supposed to be.She pushed these wild thoughts to the back of her mind as best she could, and just stared at Tristan, who was busy.

After he was done mending the windows, Tristan started to make a fire again. It took him longer than last night, fiddling with the pile of wood, and breaking the branches into a standard pyramid shape.Even though the fire was crackling and making joyful noises, he still squatted motionless in front of the fireplace, as if he had been hypnotized, staring blankly at the flames.Dylan finally understood that he was hiding from himself.In this limited space, such a trick like his is almost impossible.She decided to try a few wisecracks to bring him back from his contemplation. "If I made this place, why are all the huts crappy? Can't my imagination come up with a slightly decent resting place? Something with a jacuzzi or a TV .”

Tristan turned his head and gave her a forced smile.Dylan grimaces back, preoccupied with getting him out of his glum mood.She watched him get up nimbly, cross the room, and sit down opposite the small table where she had just rested his arms.He also copied Dylan's posture, so the two of them looked at each other half a meter apart.They looked at each other for a while.Tristan saw the embarrassment in Dylan's eyes, moved his mouth, and with some effort, finally gave her a genuine smile.Dylan found some courage in it. "Look," she began, "before that..." "Don't worry about that." He cut her off abruptly.

"But..." Dylan opened his mouth and wanted to continue, but he didn't say anything, and fell silent again. Tristan saw regret, guilt - worst of all - compassion, in her eyes.He couldn't help but have mixed feelings in his heart.On the one hand, he had an unaccountable joy in seeing her concern for his pain and feel sorry for herself; but at the same time a constant depression haunted him.She reminded him of things he had resignedly accepted.For the first time in a long time he was saddened by his fate.His life is simply a prison, endless reincarnation.He saw selfish souls lying, cheating, and squandering the life that God had given them, which he could only dream of.

"What does that feel like?" Dylan asked suddenly. "What does it feel like?" He saw her purse her lips, trying to find the right words. "Escorting all these people. Taking them on a long trek across the wasteland and watching them disappear, across the past, and so on and so on. It must have been a tough trip. I'm sure some of them don't deserve what you're doing for them. " Tristan looked at her, secretly surprised.He had escorted thousands of souls, but not one of them had asked such a question.How to answer?The truth was hard to swallow, but he didn't want to lie to her.

"I didn't really think about it at first. It's my job, and I just do it. Protecting every soul and keeping them safe seems like the most important thing in the world. It took a long time before I started See some people for what they really are. I don't feel pity for them anymore, I don't feel good about them because they don't deserve it." Tristan's mouth was full of bitterness, and his voice changed.He took a deep breath, suppressed the resentment in his heart, and covered it up with his indifference.After such a long time, he has cultivated this cold face to his home, "They pass through, and I have to watch them go away. That's the way it is."

It has been so for a long time.And then this person comes along, and she's completely different from the others, and it also takes him out of a role he's been playing for a long time.He'd been brutal with her—sneering, domineering, teasing—but he had to. She made him feel top-heavy and off balance.He's not an angel, he knows that.Countless memories of her past went through his mind.However, he has an unusual—no, it should be a very unique temperament.When she squirmed in her chair, her face full of sympathy and sorrow for his misfortune, he felt a pang of guilt in his heart.

"Let's talk about something else," he suggested, not wanting to hurt her feelings any more. "Okay." Dylan immediately agreed, glad to have the opportunity to change the subject, "Tell me more about you." "What do you want to know?" he asked. "Hmm." She quickly went through the questions that had been in her mind all afternoon, "Tell me what's the weirdest look you've ever changed?" He grinned.She knew it was the best question to put him at ease. "Santa Claus," he said. "Santa Claus?!" she couldn't help but exclaimed, "Why?"

He shrugged, "That was a child. He died in a car accident on Christmas Eve. He was only five years old. The person he trusted the most was Santa Claus. Ten days before the car accident, he was still sitting in Santa Claus's seat in the store. On the knee, that is his fondest memory." With a twinkle of humor in his eyes, "I just shook my belly and yelled 'ho, ho, ho' to cheer him up. Then he found out that Santa couldn't even sing 'Jingle Bells' on tune, which made him laugh." He was disappointed." Dylan couldn't help laughing at the thought of the boy in front of him dressed as Santa Claus.Then it occurred to her that he hadn't once been dressed as Santa Claus, he had really been Santa Claus once.

"You know what the weirdest thing is to me?" she asked. He shook his head, and she continued, "Just looking at you, thinking you and I are the same age, but knowing in the back of your mind that you are actually an adult. No, you are older than an adult, older than anyone I know Both are big." Tristan smiled sympathetically. "I don't always communicate well with the grown-ups, they always give me orders. You're kind of like them," she said, laughing. He laughed too, and he loved hearing her laugh, "Well, I don't want to be an adult if I can. You don't look like a kid either. You just look like yourself." Dylan smiled. "Are there any other questions?" "Tell me about... tell me about the first soul you met." The corner of Tristan's mouth twitched, revealing a wry smile.He couldn't refuse her anything. "Oh, that was a long time ago," he began. "His name is Gregor. Would you like to hear the story?" Dylan nodded eagerly. It was a long time ago, but in Tristan's mind, all the details of that time were vivid.His first memory is of himself walking in a blinding white light with no floor, no walls, no sky.He was walking, the only evidence of the existence of the ground.Then various specific scenes suddenly appeared - the ground under his feet suddenly became a dirt road, tall and messy fences rose from both sides of him, and insects sang and rustled.At night, there are still a few cold stars twinkling in the dark sky above.He could identify them all clearly, call them by name.He also knew where he came from and why he was there. "There's a fire there," he said, "and the smoke is billowing and zig-zagging into the sky. I'm going in that direction, I'm walking down an alley, and out of nowhere two men come running past me ...they were so close that I could feel the air moving, but they couldn't see me. When I finally got to the source of the fire, I saw the two men trying to draw water from a well, but their It was all in vain, they couldn't put out the fire. No one could escape a fire like that, and of course that's why I was there." Dylan stared at him, completely absorbed.He gave her a faint smile. "I recall feeling... not nervous, but unsure. Should I go in and pull him out, or should I just stand there and wait? Does he know who I am? I have to convince him to follow me. Go? What am I going to do if he gets depressed or loses his temper?" "At the end of the day, though, it became easier. He walked right through the wall of the burning building and stopped right in front of me, intact." "We should have left at that time, but Gregor didn't seem to intend to leave. He seemed to be waiting for something, no, it should be waiting for someone." Dylan blinked puzzledly, "Can he see them?" Tristan nodded, "But I couldn't see them at the time." She muttered vaguely, lowered her eyes, lost in thought, "I was I didn't see anyone, just me... alone." At this point, her voice stopped abruptly. "Souls can temporarily see life gone, depending on when they die," he explained. "You die unconscious, and by the time your soul wakes up, it's too late." Dylan looked at him, eyes wide and sad.She tried her best not to cry, but the sound of swallowing was still clear.After a while, she said: "Go on." "People started to gather around the house. Although Gregor looked at them with great sadness, he didn't turn away from this way. A woman was running down the driveway, she lifted her skirt to run faster, with a smile on her face. with a trembling expression." "'Gregor!' she yelled at the top of her lungs. It was a heartbreaking, excruciating cry. She jumped over the crowd of onlookers and tried to rush into the house, but a man grabbed her by the waist. After struggling for a few seconds, she collapsed into his arms and cried hysterically." "Who is she?" Dylan whispered.She was completely captivated by the story. Tristan shrugged. "His wife, I guess, is either a lover." "and then?" "Then came the hardest part. She was crying like hell, with a pained expression on her face. Gregor looked at her and held out an arm to her, but soon seemed to find that he could no longer comfort her. He stood next to me without moving, and after a few seconds, he turned and spoke to me." "I'm dead, aren't I?" he said.I just nodded and didn't dare to speak. "Do I have to go with you?" he asked.He looked at the weeping woman with infinite sadness. "Yes." I replied. "Where are we going?" he asked, eyes still on her.The woman just stared at the burning house with a horrified expression on her face. "I panicked when he asked about it," Tristan confessed to Dylan. "I didn't know what to say." "Then how did you tell him?" "I said I'm just a ferryman, that's not for me to decide." "Thankfully he accepted the explanation. I turned and walked out into the night. Gregor took one last look at the woman and followed." "Poor woman," Dylan murmured, still feeling sorry for the wife who was suddenly left alone, "that man, Gregor, he knew he was dead, he You'll know right away?" She had an unbelievable look in her eyes. "Well," replied Tristan, "he just walked through the wall of a burning house, and he couldn't help but believe it. Also, in those days, your people were much more religious than they are now. They didn't question the Church, And they firmly believe in what the church teaches. They regard me as a messenger sent from heaven—probably, what you call an angel. They dare not doubt me. People nowadays are much more troublesome. They all feel they have rights." His eyes rolled. "Oh." Dylan looked up at Tristan, wondering if he should ask the question. "What?" Tristan asked, seeing the hesitation in her eyes. "What have you become for him?" she blurted out. "It looks like a man. I remember a tall man with a beard." He paused and observed her expression. She squeezed her lips together to keep from giggling. "A lot of men have beards, thick beards. I have a mustache too. I like it. It's warm." This time, she couldn't hold back anymore, but she stopped laughing. "Which is the most difficult spirit you've ever met?" she asked quietly. "It's you." He said with a smile, but there was no smile in his eyes.