"Ah! He's awake! Dad! He's awake!"
A clear and joyful child's voice rang out.
Song Heping painfully turned his head, seeing a little girl about seven or eight years old, wearing a faded old dress, leaning on the bedside. Her eyes were as clear as the Helgan River, looking at him curiously with a hint of timidity.
Her hair was somewhat dry and yellow, her small face thin, but her eyes were bright.
Soon after, a slim middle-aged man with a weathered, dark face hurried in, holding a chipped coarse clay bowl filled with steaming thin wheat porridge.
"Allah bless! You finally woke up!"
The man's voice was hoarse, with a heavy local accent, but his tone was filled with concern. "Don't move, you're not badly hurt, but still very weak. Here, drink something first."
This man was Faris, and the little girl was his daughter Sayina.
With Faris's careful assistance, Song Heping managed to swallow a few sips of warm wheat porridge.
Bland and almost gritty, but to a throat dry and sore, and a stomach empty and aching, it was like sweet spring water.
"Was it you... who saved me?"
Song Heping's voice was as hoarse as sandpaper scraping.
Faris showed a simple, honest smile on his face: "Sayina found you while she was gathering firewood by the river and dragged you back here. I'm Faris. This is Uelda Village, not far from Wolge Town."
He paused, his smile turning bitter.
"The war... has destroyed everything. There's nothing good at home, just this small amount of wheat..."
He gestured to the bowl, his eyes filled with weariness and helplessness towards the endless disaster.
"Are you a mercenary?"
Faris cautiously probed Song Heping's identity.
Song Heping looked down at his clothes.
The clothes were still on.
But they were combat uniforms.
He immediately understood Faris's concern and reassured him: "I'm with a defense company, you could say I'm a mercenary, but I'm not here to get involved in your war. I'm here to rescue a friend trapped in Ashala Town."
Faris said: "Ashala Town? It's full of the 1515 people there."
Song Heping said: "Yes, yesterday I almost died in their hands."
He didn't reveal more.
After all, he couldn't discuss the CIA and MI6 with the man before him.
Whether he could even understand was one thing, but it might also bring trouble.
However, Song Heping believed few people liked organizations like the 1515 militants.
Sure enough, Faris's eyes lit up: "You fought against the 1515 people?"
Song Heping could already sense from his eyes that Faris's friendliness towards him had increased a bit.
"Yes, I was injured, fell into the river, and was brought here by the water."
"Oh! That must be Allah's blessing. My daughter thought you were a corpse when she saw you, but luckily, you lifted your head slightly at that time, and she realized you weren't dead, so she ran home to tell me."
"Thank you. I will remember your life-saving grace."
Song Heping was indeed very grateful to Faris.
Otherwise, it was hard to say if he would have died in the wilderness, and who knows what consequences would have ensued if anyone else had found him.
Maybe Faris didn't even know who the Oriental man before him was, thinking Song Heping was just being polite.
He was very curious why Song Heping was fluent in Arabic.
The two started a somewhat casual conversation.
Faris was evidently very talkative, perhaps worried that if the conversation stopped, the atmosphere would become awkward.
He began to ramble about what the village used to be like, the relatives who died in the war, and the hardships of survival.
Every word was like a heavy stone pressing on Song Heping's heart.
This was not his war, and he could leave at any time.
But for these ordinary people, it was a hell they couldn't escape.
Song Heping listened silently, feeling a slight energy slowly returning within.
He must contact the outside world as soon as possible.
And he must leave as soon as possible.
Staying here wouldn't do the village any good.
Too many people wanted him dead, too many wanted to know if he was truly gone.
Without finding his body, or even verifying his DNA, the heads of top intelligence agencies would not be at ease.
"Brother Faris."