Ban Xia hummed a tune softly as she tossed her thick coat onto the bed, then bent down to pick up Old Master Huang who was curled up on the floor. The yellow weasel’s button-like eyes were half-closed, and his fluffy tail hung down in a curl. Since winter began, Old Master Huang’s spirit had grown increasingly lethargic. It was probably due to the low temperature making his old bones increasingly stiff. However, yellow weasels don’t hibernate, so he spent his days in a state between wakefulness and sleep, constantly drowsy.

“Go play outside.”

Ban Xia tossed him into the living room. Old Master Huang suddenly startled awake and scurried away to hide with quick, tiny steps.

Usually, she didn’t let Old Master Huang into the bedroom. Yellow weasels weren’t cats or dogs after all – the scent glands of mustelids constantly emitted a musky odor. This smell had extremely strong penetrating power and couldn’t be washed away. As long as there was life, there was stench. When the Teacher was around, they could only use perfume and flower water to mask Old Master Huang’s heavy body odor. They would spray the yellow weasel with expired perfume, like medieval European noblewomen who never bathed.

With a series of “chi chi chi” spraying sounds, it left him staring with confused innocent little eyes.

“Mom, Dad, have you seen where my quiver was hung?” Ban Xia bent down to peer under the bed, then looked at the wall. “Quiver oh quiver, where are you? Can you hear me calling? If you hear me, please respond!”

“Good spring sunshine, better to dream a while, dream of fragrant green grass.”

Unable to find it in the room, she bounced cheerfully into the living room, humming and muttering.

“Take your dreams with you…”

Ban Xia found the quiver – it was stuffed in the TV cabinet drawer, though she couldn’t remember when she’d put it there. The girl spread it out and gave it a firm pat. The nylon bag was extremely durable; even after so many years of use, the straps hadn’t worn through.

Ban Xia hadn’t gone out hunting for a long time. She had been consuming her stored supplies, and freshwater was running low. Fortunately, there was a light rain a few days ago. The Big Eye was still patrolling nearby, so for safety reasons, Bai Yang suggested she not leave Plum Blossom Manor.

The existence of the Big Eye greatly annoyed the girl. Ban Xia was someone used to complete freedom – all of Nanjing was hers, she could go wherever she wanted with no one to stop her. But suddenly one day she became restricted everywhere. Forget about roaming around freely – even cooking had to be done secretly. A smokeless stove pit could only be used for a few days before needing to be re-dug. Ban Xia dug with her entrenching tool until she was covered in sweat, and as she kept digging her composure finally broke. She threw the shovel into the pit and sat down to sulk.

She sulked and cried at the same time, feeling truly wronged, though she didn’t know exactly why she felt wronged.

She just felt wrong, that’s all.

Ban Xia stuffed the sharpened wooden arrows one by one into the quiver. Arrows were harder to make than bows, and each arrow had to be recovered and maintained. Thirty arrows could last a very long time.

She hung all the arrows on the wall, organized the bow and arrows, and then pulled out the big black long thick tube – a Remington 870 pump-action shotgun.

With a “ka-cha” sound, sharp killing intent leaked out from between her fingers.

Ban Xia carefully wiped down the gun, from top to bottom and back again. In this era, force was the foundation of survival. With this gun, Ban Xia stood at the peak of Nanjing’s food chain and ecological niche. Nothing could challenge her position. Though she looked like a cute young girl, she wielded the most powerful violence, holding life and death power over almost all other living things in this world – as long as they came within the 870s range.

However, after the Big Eye appeared, the Remington 870 became somewhat inadequate. Ban Xia wished she had an even bigger gun that could blow away that giant eyeball with one shot.

With a series of “ding ding dang dang” sounds, the girl poured out all the heavy bullets from the bag. Brass 9mm steel-core bullets and dark red-shelled 12-gauge shotgun shells rolled all over the coffee table. Counting them up, there were thirty-one handgun rounds and twenty-two shotgun shells. The Type 54 pistol magazine could hold seventeen rounds, so this many bullets would fill just two magazines. The Remington 870 could hold eight shells, so Ban Xia had enough shotgun shells for three full loads.

She loaded both the pistol and shotgun to capacity. There was no need to carry the extra ammunition she couldn’t use. After putting on her individual carrying equipment, elbow and knee guards, and backpack, she was fully armed. Ban Xia did a quick high knee lift drill in place in the hall.

In less than half a minute, she was exhausted.

“So heavy, I can’t run at all with all this stuff.” The girl sat down panting, put down her backpack took the shotgun off her shoulder, then stretched out her long legs on the sofa like a dead dog. “It’s too damn heavy…”

She brushed back her sweat-dampened bangs, her gaze falling on the black shotgun. The Remington 870 weighed over three kilograms even unloaded. Ban Xia imagined in her mind how she would escape if the Big Eye discovered her outside, then shook her head – with so many encumbrances, it would be certain death.

Try again.

After resting a moment, she geared up once more, fully equipped. Like a fierce tiger descending the mountain, she pounced from the living room into the bedroom, but hit her chin on the gunstock, leaving her unable to speak for half an hour from the pain.

“Sss…ahh…”

Ban Xia grimaced as she applied alcohol to her chin in front of the mirror – it was visibly swollen. She angrily kicked the bathroom wall: “Die die die die die!”

After cursing, she still had to obediently try again. This time she specially secured the shotgun’s stock. Standing in the living room, she slowly bent down, gathering power in her waist and legs, then sprung forward like a hungry tiger pouncing on a sheep, crawling forward close to the ground. After entering the bedroom she vigilantly observed left and right – “Clear!”

“Roll into cover!”

Ban Xia began her tactical role –

But couldn’t roll.

The backpack was too big and got stuck.

Ban Xia lay on her side on the floor, trying hard to roll, but the backpack behind her was like a boulder. She struggled with the backpack for a long time, flopping around like a salted fish on a cutting board, until finally Ban Xia gave up and lay on the floor contemplating life: Despite all my illustrious achievements, am I destined to be done in by a backpack?

“One more time.”

She threw off the backpack and tried again.

This time she rolled without hindrance, from the bedroom doorway under the bed, rolling smoothly, flowing like water, as graceful as a lotus emerging from the water.

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

Before going out each time, Ban Xia would clean and organize the house thoroughly – this was the Teacher’s instruction. Checking equipment before departure was essential, especially weapons. Within fifty meters of leaving home, carry a gun with bullets chambered. But this time Ban Xia decided not to bring the shotgun. Besides adding weight, it served no other purpose – any person with a functioning brain wouldn’t try to directly confront the Big Eye with firearms.

The logic of this operation was different from before. Usually, she could walk slowly down the middle of the street fully armed, but not today.

Ban Xia repeatedly streamlined her equipment, reducing the load to ensure unrestricted movement. The backpack was no wider than her shoulders to avoid getting caught while climbing or crawling through holes. The waist straps were tightened to shift weight to her hips and reduce energy consumption. She applied all the useful experience the Teacher had taught her.

Looking in the mirror, Ban Xia bounced lightly – the girl in the mirror looked full of vitality.

This time out, she wouldn’t take the usual route.

She was going on a long journey to retrieve a piece of time-delayed mail, probably the most important time-delayed mail in human history. Ban Xia drew two circles on the map, one at the Zitai office building, and one at the Mochou Lake subway station.

“BG, the route you planned for me is just a straight line, going directly toward Gulou Square along East Zhongshan Road?”

“Yes, young miss, this is the route we planned, OVER.”

“But I don’t see any signs of planning – if I were going that way myself, I’d take this route too, so what was the point of planning it?”

“Well then great minds think alike, young miss. But this is the route the expert team planned out. This path is relatively the safest for you, OVER.”

Bai Yang put down his handset and turned to shout toward the living room: “Could you keep it down, please! I’m on a call!”

The living room had turned into a chaotic mess.