Chapter Five: The Fire Sickle

Since the woman was willing to follow him, Zhao Mu didn’t mind as long as she didn’t trouble him.

Yet her resilience exceeded his expectations.

He had assumed that without food, she wouldn’t last more than two days keeping up with him, perhaps even starving to death.

But after two days walking along the riverbank, the woman remained steadily some dozens of steps behind him.

By then, the fish Zhao Mu had previously caught were all eaten.

If he didn’t want to go hungry, he had no choice but to fish again.

Most refugees hoped for relief and aid from the government, so they all headed toward Gaozhou City.

However, the river upstream led further away from Gaozhou, and after two days on this path, the number of refugees around him dwindled.

Finding a spot isolated from others, Zhao Mu crushed some poisonous wild grass he carried, then poured the extracted juice into a shallow, slow-moving pool of water.

The woman watched his actions carefully, vaguely guessing his intention, though she couldn’t imitate him.

The wild grass Zhao Mu used didn’t grow here, and she had no tools to crush it.

After pouring the grass juice into the pool, Zhao Mu stripped off his clothes to fashion a simple net, preparing to fish.

He wasn’t very confident; this pool was smaller than the one he had previously encountered, though the water flow was gentle.

If there were no fish here, all his effort would be in vain.

Fortunately, after a while, a fish floated belly-up in the water, weighing about a pound.

Zhao Mu quickly scooped it up, his eyes fixed on the water’s surface.

Soon after, several more fish surfaced.

He continued fishing until he caught over a dozen, then stopped.

Compared to last time, this was a good haul.

Though the number of fish wasn’t much greater, these were larger than before.

Zhao Mu couldn’t help but marvel at the richness of natural resources in ancient times.

It was a pity, however, that the refugees were all emaciated and held nothing from before, unable even to rely on the water.

Hungering fiercely, Zhao Mu quickly secured the fish and began scraping the scales off one to eat it raw.

Though raw fish was fishy and after two days of eating it he almost felt like vomiting at the smell, it was what kept him alive, and he endured despite the nausea.

After a few bites, he noticed the woman had moved closer but stopped about ten steps away.

She squatted down, staring at the fish in his hand, swallowing hard.

Hesitating briefly, Zhao Mu picked out a fish from his catch and gestured toward her.

Though she had followed him these days, she seemed harmless.

Moreover, she had just witnessed his fishing method, so Zhao Mu hoped to win her over this way.

After all, he could neither drive her off nor did he want to kill her; this was the only option.

Yet though she eyed the fish longingly, she remained wary, unwilling to come closer than a dozen steps.

Her gaze was filled with suspicion.

Zhao Mu paused, realizing that while he had been cautious of her, she was equally guarded against him.

He stood just a few steps from the water’s edge; if she approached to take the fish and he suddenly pushed her into the water, she could easily drown.

After a moment, he forcefully tossed a fish near her feet.

Startled, she glanced at him but wasted no time picking it up and clutching it to her chest.

Scanning her surroundings warily, she found a concealed spot and carefully began eating the fish.

But unlike Zhao Mu, who ate enough to keep his strength—about six or seven tenths full—she ate only half, then treasured the rest, putting it away again.

Watching her stash the fish, Zhao Mu sighed inwardly.

Though disheveled and with smudges on her face, he could tell this woman was undeniably beautiful.

In such chaotic times, survival was hard even for men, let alone a beautiful woman.

She deliberately disguised herself this way to survive.

But the hardest fate was for the children.

Along the way, he had seen several toddlers around four or five years old sitting beside dead adults, shaking the corpses and crying, pleading for their parents to wake up.

Zhao Mu wasn’t heartless, but in such situations, he was powerless.

Not that he didn’t want to help, but he simply lacked the means.

There were too many such tragedies, and he wasn’t even sure he himself would survive. Bringing children along would only make them targets for those with ill intent.

If that happened, both he and the children would perish.

After regaining his strength, Zhao Mu pressed on upstream along the riverbank.

The further he went, the fewer people he encountered.

After walking four or five miles without seeing anyone, he refused to keep eating raw fish.

The fish were barely fresh and might harbor parasites.

If he continued, even if he didn’t starve, he might die from infection or food poisoning.

Making it this far was simply a stroke of luck.

He found a somewhat larger clay jar on the way and built a simple stove from stones.

Gathering dry wood, he planned to cook a pot of fish soup.

But when he tried to light the fire, he realized his mistake.

When he had traveled through time, he hadn’t been given any fire-starting tools.

He understood the principle of friction fire-starting but knew it would take ages to succeed this way.

Just then, the woman who had been following him approached.

Zhao Mu looked at her in surprise. Though he had shared fish with her over these days, she remained extremely wary.

She never came too close, always retreating once he approached within a dozen steps.

But this time, she stepped forward on her own.

Though puzzled, Zhao Mu said nothing, silently watching.

The woman gathered some dry grass, then took out a fire striker from her bosom and skillfully struck it.

Sparks ignited the tinder, which she placed with the dry grass, then gently blew on it.

As the grass caught flame, she quickly placed it under the stone stove.

Seeing this, Zhao Mu hurriedly arranged the dry wood atop the grass, gradually coaxing the fire to grow.