Chapter 322: Slum

The convoy gradually slowed down, and also had to slow down.

The potholed muddy ground was full of trash.

With each turn of the wheels, muddy water splashed out like raindrops.

The slaves gathered outside the city were fearful, yet they quickly swarmed around the slowing pickup.

The Survivors wore two kinds of clothing.

Either their clothes were ragged and didn't cover their bodies, many simply wore nothing, the dark grime on their skin serving as clothing.

Or they wore various coats taken from corpses, layer upon layer.

"My lord..."

"Please, buy me..."

"A piece of cake, just one piece of cake!"

A gaunt man, his limbs like hemp stalks, wore clothing made from grain sacks, struggling to "run" after the pickup.

His eye sockets were sunken, like a zombie's.

The dark crowd dared not stop the vehicle, merely chasing after the slowing pickup in droves.

"My lord.."

"I want nothing!"

"I only beg you to let me be a dog.."

The human voices were noisy.

Gao Tian stared blankly at the middle-aged man with glasses holding dirty white paper in his arms.

The man's hair was disheveled, and he shouted at him with a hoarse, exhausted voice:

"I was once a mathematics professor! These are my certificates and diplomas!"

"I can do your accounting!"

He waved the few sheets of white paper in his hand, on which the publishing information of top mathematics journals such as AMS and Springer could be faintly seen.

Although he was not a mathematics major, as a student of Linjiang Academy he knew what these things represented.

If it were before the Apocalypse, the man's qualifications alone would be enough to serve as a specially appointed professor, even as dean.

Before the man could hand over the white paper he treasured into the car window, another middle-aged man with a stubbly beard violently shoved the professor to the ground:

"My lord! Don't mind him!"

"I am the winner of the Dublin Literary Award! I have published four novels!"

"As long as you give me something to eat, I'm willing to do anything!"

"Do you have children?!"

"I can tell stories to your children! I can write job advertisements for you!"

Shoving, cursing.

I don't know whether this road into the city is filled solely with 'intellectuals'; once-respected professors and teachers are grappling together, each belittling the other's uselessness.

Gao Tian felt a mix of five flavors in his heart, indescribable.

"The victory of the 'battle' ultimately went to a man wearing a damaged work helmet, who limped after the convoy, his faint voice barely audible mentioning things like engineering team, architectural gold award, and so on."

As the convoy gradually went deeper into the slave quarters, amidst the rumbling of the diesel engine.

Many emaciated women, having changed into slightly cleaner short skirts, crowded along both sides of the convoy.

They were disorderly arranged in three layers inside and three outside, shifting poses like models.

A woman with one leg clad in stockings wore heavy makeup; her eyebrows, drawn with either coal balls or charcoal, looked somewhat comical.

She seized the opportunity, darted out, then quickly rushed to the car, striking a seductive pose:

"My lord!"

"Do you want to get off?"

"Would you like to rest a while?"

"I'm cheaper than in the city; half a grass cake will do!"

She strained to press her chest, trying to display her feminine charm on her gaunt body:

"You can do it anywhere you like."

"In the car? In the middle of the road? Or wherever? However you want to play is fine."

Just as he finished speaking, a middle-aged man strainedly leading a woman in a dirty yellow dress suddenly rushed out.

He looked pleadingly at the interior of the car:

"My lord!"

"This is my wife; would you like to come to my home?"

"We've cleaned it very cleanly!"

He turned his head, then shoved his wife forward, and quickly pried open her mouth:

"Clean! Hygienic!"

"My lord! I guarantee my wife has no disease!"

"Just one grass cake, and I'll play an instrument to liven things up for you!"

Having said that, seeing that the rat responsible for driving hadn't stopped, he anxiously shoved his wife:

"You'd better dance quickly!"

"Tell my lord! You're a ballet dancer! Hurry up!"

His voice carried a sobbing tone.

The two of them had not eaten for two days, the hunger in their stomachs gnawing like a poisonous snake.

If this continues, the weak among them will be ambushed by other slaves.

Perhaps tomorrow morning they will become a pile of rotten meat in the pot.

The woman in a yellow dress had a numb expression; she mechanically jogged to the front of the convoy and began to dance gracefully.

The filthy muddy water, her toes blackened.

She strained to tiptoe, and on the skin exposed outside could be seen many scars burned by cigarette butts.

Dark purple bruises from whip lashes crawled across her back like centipedes.

The noisy shouts and sharp sales cries were like background music on a stage.

Beneath the city wall, in the middle of the muddy road.

The woman was dancing.

Her posture was correct; each time her straight toes stepped in the muddy water, they splashed filth.

Dusk draped her in a layer of color.

Gao Tian felt as if his chest were blocked; he couldn't help patting the travel rat to signal him to stop.

"Stop!"

"Or let her go!"

The woman was dancing right in front of the convoy; if they kept going, they would run her over.

The driver, the travel rat, hesitated for a moment, but did not slow down:

"Sir."

"We cannot stop."

"If we stop, this group of prospective slaves will surround us."

"This is Bolaka's unspoken rule."

"As long as you stop, they'll see you as a weak, good person."

"They'll swarm over us."

"This has happened before, long ago."

"Some convoys out scavenging for supplies have been stopped by old people and children."

"Once you stop, they will frantically beg you for food."

"Give them this and they'll demand that; otherwise they'd rather stick their feet or fingers into the wheels to keep you from leaving."

The travel rat sighed.

"I know this couple; they were both performers once."

"At first many people patronized their business, but later the woman went mad, becoming like a corpse."

"She couldn't even cry out."

"Afterward, no one liked to seek her out."

"But if we seek him out, even if there's still no business for several days, the other people in the slave camp dare not lay hands on them."

"Because these prospective slaves worry that we will still patronize their business."

Gao Tian fell silent, his gaze pleading as he looked toward Lin An.

He understood the travel rat's words.

Because the dancer's husband had already run all the way to the front of the convoy and then lay down.

The couple before them had already prepared themselves to be run over by the vehicle.

No food, no city patrons; within a few days they would be thrown into the pot by others.

Rather than that, it would be better to be run over.

At least, death would be swift.