Chapter 1121: Chapter 1121: She Doesn’t Want to Live, but Leah Wants to Live

After Ignatius Leclair left, Shuangzi brought all the documents regarding the hospital warehouse explosion and other files to the old mansion in the suburbs the next day.

Since he was discharged, the Major General had not seen anyone. Shuangzi rented an old house with a yard near the mansion, and every day, his vacationing subordinates would drop by to check on the Major General.

Shuangzi was filled with bitterness, and he couldn’t get close to him. However, upon seeing the Crown Prince from Nanyang enter the mansion without being chased out, Shuangzi nervously entered the mansion.

"Major General, these are the relevant documents of the hospital warehouse explosion."

The cold, thin man sat in a wheelchair, sketching architectural designs with his eyes downcast. Upon hearing this, the pencil in his hand slightly paused. The identification report had been out for a while, but he hadn’t asked for it, so they hadn’t handed it to him.

Richard Shaw was someone who had frequently ventured into dangerous situations for years. With his extensive military experience, he was deeply familiar with the dynamics of various weapons. Given the horrific scene that day, Crystal Landon being at the explosion’s core made her survival impossible.

He thought that by not asking or looking, he could pretend she was still there.

The man’s amber eyes were slightly moist, and he said in a deep voice, "Let me see."

Shuangzi felt a slight sting in his heart. As expected, only matters involving his wife caused emotional fluctuations in the Major General.

This report had been prepared some time ago. The identification team conducted thorough evaluations of the scene, which was dreadful. Identity confirmation was only possible through extracted blood and fragmented biological cells.

The Major General likely wasn’t aware that there was not only his wife’s blood but also Eamon Turner’s. His wife had probably been at the explosion’s core, and limited blood and biological cells could be extracted, whereas Eamon Turner had no traceable remains.

"Eamon Turner also sacrificed himself," Shuangzi choked slightly, "He should have infiltrated, intending to save your wife. Seeing the Major General take all the risk and being shot four times, he took a gamble, hoping to kill those three all at once, but they ended up triggering the bomb. The higher-ups want to posthumously honor him as a martyr."

This was the reconstruction of the scene based on speculation afterward.

Richard Shaw’s fingers trembled. He had been shot four times in areas crucial to the nervous system, and even if he entered the warehouse, he could barely retrieve Crystal Landon, unable to deal with three adversaries alone. It was either his death or Crystal Landon’s. After Eamon Turner made this judgment, he offered a choice, sacrificing his own life in the process.

He couldn’t blame Eamon Turner—a soldier he personally trained. Naturally, his life held weight, but it’s often those left behind who suffer most.

"Was he an orphan?"

"He had an older brother, said to have been kidnapped at an early age, fate unknown," Shuangzi’s eyes reddened as he spoke. "Years ago, that part of the Southwest was too isolated and underdeveloped, close to the Golden Triangle, so human trafficking was rampant."

"Find his brother and inform him about Eamon Turner’s situation," the man’s gaze darkened slightly and he spoke in a low, hoarse voice, flipping through the documents and examining the scene’s identification report, his fingertips trembling slightly.

"The site was bombed twice; survival chances are zero." Having read the report, Shuangzi initially held onto some hope, but the identification results showing two explosions left him feeling despair.

"Major General, Luna Lawrence is mad," Shuangzi pondered for a moment before mentioning it. On the night of the wife’s death, Luna lost excessive blood and, having experienced the explosion event, was frightened into madness.

Everyone in the Southwest Military Zone following the Major General had since learned Luna’s true nature and wished to dismember her. Her madness at this moment seemed like an easy escape.

"The Landon Family has been driven back to their ancestral land. The grandmother even instructed the local authorities to suppress them, demanding they spend a lifetime atoning for your wife," Shuangzi said softly, observing that the man’s expression revealed some cold impatience, so he stopped mentioning it.

However tragic their lives may be, it’s impossible to bring his wife back.

"Let them live," after much silence, the man spoke heavily. No need to kill them; let them live and suffer the torture year after year, just like himself.

The man slowly reviewed all the identification reports, closed his eyes, his face cold and hard as stone.

*

In the north, the season was snowing; in the south, the sun remained bright.

In the moist, dense forest cabin, Delphine fetched a bucket of water from a nearby creek up to the small log cabin, took a soft towel, soaked it in water, wrung it dry, and knelt on the floor, looking at the woman in a coma, her body filled with tubes, sustaining her life, gently wiping her hands and feet.

She didn’t remember how many days she had been there or how long this beautiful, pale woman had been unconscious. Her sense of time was chaotic; she forgot everything, except her duty to care for Leah, who lay comatose.

The man who rescued her from human traffickers had once said, if Leah lived, so would she.

Leah was severely injured, and the environment here was harsh. Delphine had to constantly check Leah’s pulse, holding her breath, and only after detecting a faint heartbeat could she exhale in relief, starting another day anew.

Delphine’s activity range was limited to the nearby creek and cabin, guarded by armed watchmen. Besides her, there was also a middle-aged local woman who cooked. She had dark skin, flat features, and couldn’t speak Chinese.

Her eighteenth birthday was only a few months away, and it seemed her life had swung from one extreme to another: from the dream-like splendor of Nanyang to being abandoned by God in this chaotic, war-ridden region, as if walking on the line of death every single day.

Leah remained quietly lying there, and most of the time, Delphine stayed quietly by her side. She didn’t know what else to do but keep Leah company.

It was as if there was a sense of destiny at play; she and Leah were discarded by fate. She didn’t want to live, but Leah did. As she cared for Leah struggling on the edge of death each day, Leah gradually became Delphine’s reason for survival.

Delphine proficiently finished wiping Leah’s hands and feet, then dressed her wounds, used soft jute to wipe her forehead, brushed her thick, black hair aside, and met a pair of beautiful black peach blossom eyes, like the most shimmering spring water she had ever seen, a breeze stirred, leaving a lake of ripples.

She paused, hoarsely calling, "Leah?"

With the familiarity of someone who has called a thousand times.

The young woman quietly glanced at her, gently responded once, then continued back into her coma.

That evening, a warlord head full of bloodthirst arrived with doctors at the cabin. For the first time, the cabin bustled with activity, people coming in and out.

Delphine sat on the cabin’s porch, looking at the starlight scattered through the dense forest, listening to the wind blowing through the woods, feeling for the first time that living wasn’t such a bad thing.