We did nothing here and waited for a full three days. During these three days, the only thing I noticed was the entrance where they disappeared. It was such a long and anxious process; I think only those who have been in the same situation can truly understand.

During this time, I thought about entering that hole more than once, but each attempt ended in failure. It was certainly not a passage that an ordinary person could climb. The highest I managed to climb was ten meters, and I was completely exhausted, my calves trembling like leaves in the wind.

Among this group, my uncle’s companions certainly dared not venture deep inside; the only one who might have gone in was the Black Bear, but he never showed any intention of doing so. I think he probably felt that even if he went in, he wouldn’t be able to come out again. The atmosphere in the camp was heavy and oppressive. The Mop urged us several times to leave, saying that those two might have already died inside. Since we couldn’t go in, it would be better to conserve our strength and rations to prepare for our exit.

I couldn’t accept that after all the hardships of coming here, this would be the result. I buried my head and could hardly hear their words, my mind was filled with thoughts of what had really happened inside.

Wen Jin untied the rope; it was intentional. I recalled her smile before she left. I felt she might have planned this all along, which meant she knew what kind of situation she would encounter inside and was aware of the possibility of not coming out.

Wen Jin had talked about fate all the way here. Her life over the past few years was beyond description. It was possible she had this idea because maybe she discovered inside that there was no solution to her condition, leading her to despair and choose to end her own life. But what about the Dark Oil Bottle? Why didn’t he come out? That didn’t make sense; I was sure something must have happened inside.

What could it be? There was simply no direction to think about it. Had they gotten lost? I imagined the tunnels inside were winding and twisted, forming an endless maze that made it impossible to exit once you entered. However, this still didn’t explain why Wen Jin had untied the rope.

My mind was filled with anxious thoughts; during breaks, I would see a deep hole in front of me, and when I closed my eyes, it was also a deep hole.

I really didn’t want to record what happened next.

On the fourth day, the Mop and his group began to grumble incessantly. I felt terrible and almost got into a fight with them several times, but there was still no movement from the hole. At one point, I even doubted whether Wen Jin and the Dark Oil Bottle had ever existed at all; perhaps all of this was just our imagination.

Unease and anxiety grew heavier, and I started to accept that what the Mop said might be correct, but my rationality forced me to argue with them. This brought me to the brink of collapse.

By the sixth day, the Mop finally left with his group. In their view, there was no question left; even if the Dark Oil Bottle and Wen Jin were not dead, they would be soon. They had originally hoped to rely on our experience to lead them out, but given the current situation, they clearly did not want to waste any more time. The Black Bear patted me, signaling that I should leave too, but I refused. He sighed and left, leaving only me and the Fatty behind.

They took away a large amount of food, and I knew it exceeded the average portion, but I was too lazy to argue with them.

The fat guy actually tried to advise me, but he knew my temper. After everything I had been through, even if there wasn’t a perfect ending here, there should at least be a flawed pause. But to end abruptly like this made me suddenly realize how foolish I was. What on earth was I doing here? Was it really just like this, that everything was over? I absolutely could not accept it.

The fat guy had no choice but to accompany me. We just sat there looking at each other, waiting. Suddenly, I remembered an absurd play called “Waiting for Godot,” and I couldn’t help but cry, thinking that my absurd drama was actually a tragedy.

These days dragged on for several days; I can’t remember exactly how long, but it couldn’t have been too long, as we didn’t have much food left, though we hadn’t finished it at that time.

After the mop left, I was almost in despair. I was just a step away from breaking down. I could no longer think about what I was doing here; all I could do every day was look at that hole. According to the fat guy, it was the behavior of a madman.

That day, I woke up groggily after a restless sleep. The fat guy was supposed to keep watch but had fallen asleep and was snoring. In fact, I had been sleeping well these days, and my wounds had healed.

I had no motivation to wake him up. I walked to the bottom of the hole, looking up countless times, but still saw nothing. I stared blankly for about ten minutes before going to have breakfast. The fat guy and I had very little food left, so I rummaged through our supplies and found the half-eaten biscuit from yesterday to continue eating. As I was eating, I suddenly heard a strange sound, like singing or murmuring in a dream.

I thought it was the fat guy talking in his sleep and didn’t pay much attention. I finished the biscuit in a few bites and was about to wake him up. At that moment, I suddenly jolted awake; I saw that there was actually a person lying between me and the fat guy.

I snapped out of my daze and took a closer look, only to find that it was the bottle guy (闷油瓶). He looked noticeably thinner, curled up there under a blanket, not moving at all.

When did he come back? Was it while we were sleeping?

At first, I thought I was dreaming, but soon realized I wasn’t. I almost went insane and rushed over, grabbing his blanket and shouting, “You bastard, where the hell have you been?”

I pulled him up, and I wanted to strangle him, but as soon as I saw his face, I suddenly realized something was wrong. His expression was strange, completely different from his usual self, and his gaze was vacant. He was trembling all over, and his lips were quivering as if he were possessed.

A sense of extreme foreboding surged in my heart. I immediately kicked the fat guy awake, then helped the bottle guy sit up and held his neck, calling his name. But he showed no reaction, as if he couldn’t hear us at all, and even his eyes wouldn’t move.

The fat guy looked at me and asked what was going on. I replied, “How would I know?” He pressed on the bottle guy’s temple, examined his expression, and exclaimed, “Damn, no way, could it be that he’s gone stupid?”

“Impossible, don’t talk nonsense,” I said, calling out a few times, “Stop pretending, I know you’re faking it, you can’t fool me!” I could hear him trembling, huddled there with a vacant expression, mumbling something under his breath. I leaned closer to his lips to listen and heard him repeatedly and anxiously saying one phrase: “There’s no time left.”