The stone was relatively dry, so I laid An Ning’s body down. A few of us were exhausted and sat down to rest. We took off our clothes and spread them on the stone to dry. The fat guy wanted to start a smokeless stove, but after rummaging through the luggage, he couldn’t find one; it seemed he had lost it during the chaos last night. Unable to make a fire, we had to make do with the lamp wick from a fuel can. Unexpectedly, the swamp here turned out to be saltwater, likely connected to a nearby large salt marsh water system. Fortunately, the rainwater washed down from the canyon, and the water at the opening had little to no taste; otherwise, we might have had trouble even drinking. I first dropped a few purification tablets into some water to brew tea. Then I fetched water to wash my body.

After soaking in the water all night, my skin had wrinkled, and when I took off my shoes, my feet were all white and peeling; even when I tightened my shoelaces, small leech-like creatures were still visible on my feet after removing my socks. I used my dagger to kill them. Looking closely, I couldn’t tell what kind of bugs they were.

However, if the swamp was saltwater, the number of insects should be relatively low. At least there probably wouldn’t be any saltwater leeches here, which was great news for us as we ventured deeper into the swamp.

Panzi handed me his cigarette, saying it was local tobacco he had asked Zaxi for when we parted ways; it could help with the dampness. In this kind of humidity, a person could get ruined in a week, so a few puffs would help keep us going, or else we might not even be able to walk.

I took it and started smoking. The cigarette was wrapped in a plastic bag, but after last night’s ordeal, it had also gotten damp. A few puffs made me choke terribly, and tears streamed down my face. However, it did feel quite good; I couldn’t tell if it was physiological or psychological, but smoking made my mind feel much clearer, and the fatigue wasn’t as obvious anymore.

The fat guy also asked Panzi for one, and Panzi broke off half a stick for him. He lit it up, took a few puffs, and then it was gone. He asked Panzi for more, but Panzi wouldn’t give him any. At that moment, we noticed that the Silent Oil Bottle was silent, staring thoughtfully at the swamp. Panzi probably felt it was awkward to leave him out, so he handed him half a stick as well. I thought he wouldn’t accept it, but to my surprise, he took it but didn’t light it; instead, he put it in his mouth and started chewing.

“Damn, bro, if you can’t smoke, don’t waste it,” protested the fat guy. “This stuff isn’t meant to be eaten.”

“What do you know? Chewing tobacco is way better than smoking. There are plenty of people chewing it in Yunnan and Myanmar,” Panzi replied. But after saying that, he seemed puzzled and looked at the Silent Oil Bottle: “But you don’t look like a heavy smoker. How do you know how to chew tobacco? Have you been on a boat?”

The Silent Oil Bottle shook his head, chewed a few bites, and then spat the tobacco into his hand to apply it to the wound on his palm. I glanced over and saw that the flesh on his palm had turned white and swollen. Although it wasn’t bleeding, the high temperature here clearly made it difficult for the wound to heal. After applying it, he glanced at Panzi, who was looking at him with suspicion and distrust, but he didn’t say anything further. Instead, he turned back to stare at the swamp, ignoring us.

We are accustomed to such situations. It seems that the mute oil bottle is quite secretive about his own circumstances, but I understand that a significant part of these questions is something even he does not know the answers to. “A person who appears out of nowhere, with no past and no future, seems to have no connection to this world,” is his own evaluation of himself, and it really hits the nail on the head when I think about it occasionally.

Feeling a bit more comfortable after shedding the slickness of sweat and with the moisture evaporating from my body, the fat guy took out some compressed jerky for us to eat. We munched on it with some tea, not really knowing what it tasted like, but it filled our stomachs. Once our bellies were full, sleepiness set in. So, Panzi set up a makeshift shelter from the sun using his backpack and its contents while he stood watch, and we huddled inside. Everyone was well aware that once we entered the swamp, we might not have another chance to rest. So getting some sleep now was a luxury; there were no extra thoughts, and as soon as I lay down, my eyes closed, and I fell asleep almost instantly.

In this deep sleep, I lost track of time and had no idea how long I had been out. When I groggily woke up, I found myself in complete darkness, feeling sticky all over. Rubbing my eyes, I realized it was dark outside and raining again. Panzi had fallen asleep beside his luggage, the fat guy was snoring next to me, and the mute oil bottle was sleeping deeply with his face turned inward.

In the distance, the fuel canister was still burning, but the rain had turned the flame blue, casting no light very far. I took out a wind lamp to ignite the flame and then thought about waking the others, but at that moment, I noticed something was off.

It turned out that the sleeping bag wrapped around Anning’s body had somehow been opened, and his upper body was exposed.