Once We Lived in Nanjing

Ban Xia hummed a tune leisurely, threw the thick coat onto the bed, then bent down to pick up Old Mr. Huang, the Weasel curled up on the floor, half-squinting with his button-like small eyes, his furry tail hanging and curling up. Since winter began, Old Mr. Huang's spirit was increasingly weak, probably due to the cold temperature making his old bones stiff. But weasels don't hibernate, so he stayed half-awake all day, in a drowsy state.

"Out to play."

Ban Xia tossed him into the living room. Old Mr. Huang suddenly woke up and scurried away quickly.

She usually didn't allow Old Mr. Huang into her bedroom. After all, a weasel wasn't a cat or dog. The scent glands of mustelids constantly emitted a pungent smell that was penetrative and couldn't be washed off — the stink would persist as long as life did. When teachers were around, they had to use perfume and floral water to mask the strong odor on Old Mr. Huang, bombarding the weasel with expired perfumes like medieval European noblewomen who rarely bathed.

A series of hissing noises left the critter with innocent small eyes looking utterly puzzled.

"Mom, Dad, have you seen where my quiver hung off to?" Ban Xia bent over to check under the bed and then looked up at the wall, "Quiver, oh quiver, where are you? Did you hear me calling? If you hear me, please respond!"

"Such beautiful springtime, it's better as a dream, the fragrance of grass in dreams."

Unable to find it in her room, she bounced into the living room, humming along lightly.

"You carry your dreams with you…"

Ban Xia found the quiver; it was stuffed in the drawer of the TV cabinet without knowing when. The girl unfolded it and patted it vigorously; the nylon-made bag was quite sturdy and durable, having used it for many years without the strap snapping.

Ban Xia hadn't gone hunting for quite a long time. She had been consuming her stored food, and freshwater was running low, fortunately, it had rained a little two days ago. Big Eyes was still patrolling nearby, and for safety, Bai Yang suggested she shouldn't leave Meihua Villa.

The presence of Big Eyes really annoyed the girl. Freewheeling Ban Xia owned all of Nanjing City, she could go wherever she wanted without anyone controlling her. But suddenly one day, she found herself restricted everywhere. Not to mention wandering around, she even had to sneak around to cook. A smoke-free stove dug recently couldn't be used for a few days before needing to be dug again. Drenched in sweat from digging with a pioneer shovel, Ban Xia's patience would wear thin, throwing the shovel into the pit, sitting down, and sulking.

While sulking, she started crying; feeling truly wronged but not knowing exactly why.

Just felt wronged.

Ban Xia stuffed her carefully carved wooden arrows one by one into the quiver. Arrows were harder to make than bows; each arrow needed to be retrieved and maintained, and thirty arrows could last a long time.

She hung all the arrows on the wall, sorted out the bow and arrow, and then dug out a long, thick, black cannon-like thing — the Remington 870 pump-action shotgun.

"Click," a sharp intent to kill leaked from the gaps between her fingers.

Ban Xia carefully wiped down the gun, from muzzle to butt, and back. In this era, force was the foundation of survival. With this gun, Ban Xia was at the very top of Nanjing City's food chain and ecological hierarchy, unrivaled and possessing ultimate violent power. Despite her cute appearance, she wielded the greatest force and had the power of life and death over almost all other creatures, as long as they entered within the 870's range.

But after the appearance of Big Eyes, the Remington 870 seemed not quite sufficient. Ban Xia hoped for an even bigger cannon, capable of blowing away that big eyeball with one shot.

"Clang clang," as she shook, the girl poured out all the heavy bullets from the bag; brass-colored 9mm steel-core bullets and number 12 shotgun shells with deep red shells rolled out, filling a whole coffee table. After counting, there were thirty-one handgun rounds, twenty-two shotgun shells, and the 54 style handgun magazine could be filled with seventeen rounds. This much ammunition meant just two magazines could be filled, while the Remington 870 could hold eight rounds, enough for Ban Xia to load three times.

She loaded her handgun and shotgun with ammunition, the extra bullets didn't need to be carried and were of no use. Clad in individual gear, elbow and knee pads, backpack on, fully armed, Ban Xia performed a quick session of high knees standing in place in the living room.

Less than half a minute later, she was exhausted.

"So heavy, I can't even run with all these things." Gasping, the girl sat down, placed the backpack down, took the shotgun off her shoulder, then stretched her long legs out on the sofa feigning death, "Damn, it's so heavy…"

She lifted her sweat-soaked hair, her gaze falling on the black shotgun. The Remington 870 unloaded weighed over three kilograms. Ban Xia imagined in her mind what she would do if she were discovered by Big Eyes while outside, eventually shaking her head, burdened by too many encumbrances, a dead-end indeed.

Try again.

After a brief rest, she geared up once again, fully equipped like a tiger pouncing from the living room into the bedroom—only to get smacked in the chin by the shotgun's buttstock, leaving her in pain unable to speak for half an hour.

"Hiss—ha—"

Ban Xia, grimacing, applied alcohol to her swollen chin in front of the mirror and angrily kicked the bathroom wall, yelling: "Die, die, die, die, die!"

Still, she had to obediently do it again. This time, she made sure to secure the buttstock of the shotgun, standing in the living room, slowly bending down, building up power in her waist and legs, she lunged forward like a hungry tiger after a sheep, crawling close to the ground, and cautiously observing from left to right upon entering the bedroom—"Safe!"

"Roll into cover!"

Ban Xia began tactical rolling—

But couldn't roll.

Her backpack was too big, and it got stuck.

Ban Xia lay sideways on the floor, struggling to roll, but the backpack behind her was like a huge rock. She battled with the backpack for a long while, flailing about on the chopping board like a salted fish. Eventually, Ban Xia gave up trying, lying on the floor considering life: Even with a lifetime of glory, was I going to be killed by a backpack?

"Try again."

She tossed aside the backpack and tried rolling once more.

This time, there were no obstacles, rolling from the bedroom door all the way under the bed, rolling as smoothly as flowing clouds and water, emerging like a lotus from the water.

She rolled so well that Ban Xia wanted to perform for BG too.

Before leaving the house, Ban Xia always made sure it was neat and clean, as advised by her teacher. Checking equipment before heading out was essential, especially weapons—carrying a loaded gun and bullets as she left, not more than fifty meters from home. But this time, Ban Xia decided against taking the shotgun; besides adding weight, it was useless for anything else. Anyone in their right mind wouldn't try to confront big eyes head-on with firearms.

This time around her logic for operation differed from usual; typically, she could be fully armed, casually walking in the middle of the street, but not today.

Ban Xia continually streamlined her gear, reducing weight to ensure her movements weren't hindered. Her backpack wasn't wider than her shoulders to avoid getting snagged while climbing or crawling. She tightened her waist belt, using her hips to bear the weight to conserve energy—all techniques taught by her teacher.

Facing the mirror, Ban Xia lightly hopped—her reflection was full of energy.

This time leaving home, she wouldn't take the common route.

She was heading far to fetch a package from Time Slow Delivery, arguably the most important Time Slow Delivery in human history. Ban Xia drew two circles on the map, one around the Zitai Office Building and the other around the Mochou Lake Subway Station.

"BG, the route you planned for me is just a straight line going straight towards Drum Tower Square along Zhongshan East Road?"

"Yes, miss, this is the planned route, OVER."

"But I see no signs of planning. If I were going there by myself, I would take this same route. So, what's the point of planning it?"

"That just means great minds think alike, miss. But indeed, this is meticulously planned by the expert group, and it's the relatively safest route for you, OVER."

Bai Yang put down his hand mic, turned his head towards the living room, and yelled: "Keep it down, will you! I'm on a call here!"

The living room was in chaos.