Under the moonlight

“These are probably the things they need most right now. After I hung up on him yesterday, I asked a friend to buy a batch for me,” Zhao Meng explained, squatting down in front of Huang Meng.

"You were busy with this all day yesterday?" Huang Meng looked at him in disbelief. He was able to get things moving so quickly after receiving just one piece of information.

"Yes, it's easy to buy these things for personal use, but it's a bit troublesome to send them abroad, so this is all I can get, and I can't get any more."

"Was it your friend who asked you for help?"

"Hmph, what, can't I show some kindness?" Zhao Meng said with a smile as he looked at her.

"But are you going to give these away as gifts or...?" After all, he was a businessman, so Huang Meng asked tentatively.

"Well, how should I put it? Our small company is able to connect with their country and do business. Although they are somewhat down on their luck now, I believe they will rise again sooner or later. When that time comes, wouldn't I be able to make money doing business with them? So, consider these gifts to them in my personal capacity." After Zhao Meng finished speaking, he stood up, put his hands in his pockets, and smiled calmly.

"But it's uncertain when they'll recover..." First came the internal strife, and now the plague has struck. That city is the lifeblood of their country. After suffering such a devastating blow, who can say for sure when they'll be able to stand up again?

"That depends on fate. It could be them, or it could be mine," Zhao Meng said with a carefree smile, appearing indifferent.

In my memory, he looked just like this when he smiled, his head slightly tilted back, his eyes filled with a smile and disdain.

Huang Meng stared at his smiling face, momentarily dazed. "Um, okay, alright," she murmured, quickly averting her gaze and getting back to work.

Just as Zhao Meng said, the quantity of this batch of products is indeed small, and it may only last for two days, even with reduced usage.

After inspecting the goods, Huang Meng's brows furrowed even more. The plague was highly contagious, and they were all clustered together—it was like a domino effect; if one got infected, everyone else would be caught. She watched Zhao Meng directing the staff to pack the goods, but her thoughts drifted away. What should they do?

The image of that dilapidated city flashed through my mind, and I recalled the pitiful people I saw at the blockade line. Their clear eyes were filled with deep despair. They had barely managed to hold on until the government's rescue, only to be met with the merciless Grim Reaper, who was about to extinguish the hope that had been kindled in them.

She thought of Nasha's family, who so longed to see the blue sky again after the riots. Their dreams hadn't been fully realized yet, and now they faced another cruel disaster. Dorwa, poor little Dorwa, had only just come into this world and already experienced so much misery. Huang Meng suddenly closed her eyes, not wanting to think about them anymore, but before her eyes was the smiling face of Nasha's family, and Dorwa, with those pure eyes.

"Huang Meng, what's wrong?" Although Zhao Meng was busy dealing with the staff, his eyes never left Huang Meng. After she learned about the plague in S country, he could sense that her emotions seemed a bit off.

Seeing her staring blankly ahead, seemingly lost in thought, but then suddenly covering her eyes with her hands as if she were in some discomfort, Zhao Mengcai walked up to her after finally getting rid of those people and asked softly.

Huang Meng didn't know what was wrong with her. It was like she had entered a dead end. Two voices were constantly battling in her mind. A rational voice told her that she had done what she could, but what help could she possibly give them?

But another voice emerged, condemning her: Had she forgotten the help Nasha's family had given her? Didn't she deserve gratitude for the strangers who lent her a hand during her escape? Was gratitude just something to be said?

"Huang Meng, what's wrong? Tell me, don't be like this." Zhao Meng didn't know what was troubling her, but seeing her covering her face and her shoulders trembling, as if she were crying softly, he panicked.

"Zhao Meng, tell me, what should I do?" Huang Meng looked up at Zhao Meng, whose face was somewhat blurry.