Out of professional habit, Wuxue rested one hand on the hilt at her waist. She gave Torre a look that meant “Watch out,” then headed toward the singer.
As Wuxue and Torre approached, the singer stopped that strange song. Unlike Wuxue, the figure showed no caution at all, bounding toward them as carefree as a little piglet that had never seen a hunter, with just a hint of curiosity about humans. Tilting their head, the singer studied the two of them. There was even a glimmer of delight in those eyes.
Only when they drew near did Wuxue get a good look. The singer wore a battered outfit, hidden beneath an enormous, patched-up windproof cloak. Ashy white grime covered the person’s face, making it impossible to tell their age or even gender. But the pair of black eyes peering out from the grime were impossible to miss.
The stranger was clearly a local.
“Are you from outside?” The singer came right up to Wuxue and looked her over with curious eyes.
The singer’s figure was hidden beneath a cloak that had been mended countless times, but her voice clearly belonged to a young woman.
“Yeah, we’re from outside…” Seeing that the person seemed harmless, Torre made up a story. “We just sort of stumbled in here.”
“Are you lost?” the singer asked.
“No. We’re heading back soon.”
Wuxue shot Torre a glare and answered coolly.
“Oh, good.”
The singer still seemed a little concerned. “Head west and it’ll take you a whole day to get out of here. If you go north, it’s quicker. Only eighteen hours.”
Wuxue could tell the person knew the Red Iron Wasteland well and was probably from around here. She offered a brief, polite, “Thanks.”
Then she led Torre past the singer.
Wuxue had barely turned away when someone clamped down on her hand. The grip was surprisingly strong. Wuxue didn’t tolerate anyone getting close to her; she twisted around and trapped the singer’s arm behind her back.
The singer was forced to the ground, her face full of alarm. Wuxue was strong, and the singer’s arm must have hurt badly.
“Please, spare me! Don’t—don’t hurt me!” The curious little piglet had finally met the hunter.
“What are you doing?!” Wuxue snapped.
The singer had shown no sign of putting up a fight and had immediately begged once she was hurt. That was enough to convince Wuxue she wasn’t a bounty hunter trying to steal their job.
Job-stealing was common in their line of work. Clients usually cared only about the result, not who delivered it, so bounty hunters often fought one another over a contract.
The singer rubbed her shoulder, her voice on the verge of tears. “I was only trying to be nice! I saw how cold it gets here at night and wanted to invite you to my place. You could stay the night and leave at dawn. But you’re so strong, you probably don’t need a place to sleep.”
“Looks like we got off on the wrong foot.”
Torre hurried over, helped her up, and apologized.
“Forget it. No good deed goes unpunished.”
The singer grumbled and turned back to her handcart.
Wuxue thought she was about to leave, but instead she reached into the cart and took something out. Torre stepped closer and saw that it was a set of clothes. They were worn out and black with dirt.
The singer handed them to him. “They’re dirty, but they’ll do. The nights here get frighteningly cold.”
Torre looked at the blackened clothes, then back at Wuxue. Wuxue wanted nothing to do with either of them. She walked off, leaving Torre and the singer behind.
She didn’t need the clothes. If she couldn’t make it through a cold night, she had no business calling herself a good bounty hunter.
“Thanks, friend,” Torre said, accepting the clothes. “My friend and I still have things to do, so…” He glanced at Wuxue’s retreating figure. “I should go. Thanks again.”
He grabbed the clothes and ran after Wuxue. It would take him a long time to get used to this life: a lone-wolf existence that needed no friends, no pity, and no warmth.
Wuxue heard Torre catching up. Usually, she said as little as possible, but she made an exception for him. After all, Torre was her older sister’s husband, so she could call him her brother-in-law. The woman wasn’t related to Wuxue by blood; they had grown up together in the slums. But for orphans, friends like that were often closer than family. Wuxue had been the youngest of their group, and without that older sister looking after her, she might never have made it to adulthood.
“Throw those clothes away,” Wuxue warned him. “You don’t know what might be hidden in them. In this line of work, don’t trust people too easily.”
Torre froze. His face went red to the roots of his hair, then turned white.
He gave an embarrassed laugh and hurried to explain. “She just didn’t seem like a bad person…” His voice grew quieter and quieter, until he fell silent.
They walked another few dozen yards. According to the coordinates, their target should have been right there. But when Wuxue pulled out the detector again, she froze. The object they were searching for was moving east at a very slow pace.
“Has it… come to life?” Torre stared at the red dot moving on the display. “I thought we were looking for a Black Box. How did it suddenly start flying?”
Unlike Torre’s shock, Wuxue looked completely unsurprised. It was just that someone had beaten them to the job. She drew the gun from her waist. It was an elegant piece, silver from end to end. In place of a magazine, it had a magnetic plate that seemed to absorb energy. It could recharge wherever electromagnetic waves were present, converting the electricity into laser fire. It was one of the most advanced and expensive weapons on the market.
Torre swallowed when he saw it. He drew his own gun, but it was nowhere near as good as Wuxue’s. His was silver too, but only an ordinary 4.1-millimeter pistol. It was enough to deal with an ordinary person, but probably not a bounty hunter.
“Then don’t come!” Wuxue snapped at Torre, who was shrinking back. She’d been on edge lately, with too much happening, and she couldn’t seem to control her temper.
“I’m coming! I’m coming!” Torre shouted, then quickly realized he’d raised his voice too much and cowered again.
Torre’s carelessness made Wuxue frown. He usually worked security and was cautious enough. But today he was acting all wrong. First, he’d chatted with a junk collector and accepted something from a stranger. Now he couldn’t even keep himself under control, making a racket at the worst possible moment.
“Stay behind me.”
After giving him a brief instruction, Wuxue set off in the direction the red dot was moving. On their way in, they’d passed a village where they could have used the crowds for cover. Now they were on an open plain. If they slowed down, they might only fall farther behind, so Wuxue picked up the pace.
As they drew closer, a figure appeared on the plain. Just as Wuxue was beginning to think the figure looked familiar, the wind carried another snippet of that same song.
“The king sent me to patrol the hills, ah~ I patrolled the southern hills, now I’m off to the north…”
Who could have imagined that the person who’d taken the Black Box was the very same singer? Wuxue could hardly believe it. She’d watched her task slip away on the handcart right in front of her.
“Should we… do something?” Torre watched Wuxue nervously, waiting for her to tell him to shoot.
Wuxue didn’t answer directly. But when she returned the gun to her waist, it was clear she didn’t plan to use it. To be fair, Wuxue had once been a bounty hunter who’d kill for a living. A single kill started at two pounds of gold, and one shot from her gun cost several times more than one of Torre’s bullets. Unless she was dealing with another bounty hunter, Wuxue rarely pulled the trigger.
She jogged up and blocked the singer’s path. Torre immediately grabbed the handcart, ready to tip the whole thing over.
The singer had already seen how dangerous Wuxue could be. She’d been thrown to the ground with a single twist just moments earlier. Now that the two of them had her trapped from both sides, even a fool could tell she was being robbed. Still, robbing someone who collected scrap might be something only a fool would do.
“Ma’am, please spare me! I’ve got no money—I’d rather die than give you my life!” Before Wuxue could speak, the singer dropped to her knees and wailed loud enough to shake the whole wasteland.
Wuxue looked down at the singer, who was putting on quite a performance. “Will you sell what’s on the cart?”
The singer seemed to understand what Wuxue wanted. She sprang up, her mournful expression instantly replaced with a welcoming smile. With all the grime caked on her face, she looked as strange as she was comical.
“Sell? Of course! I’ll sell you everything on the cart.”
“Found it.”
Behind the singer, Torre pulled an orange box off the cart. A series of numbers was printed on it: DSWD34, the same model the client had described.
“I only want that one. How much?” Wuxue asked.
“This?” The singer turned and examined the orange object. She’d picked it up because it was heavy and she figured it might contain a lot of copper. Now that she saw the two had come all this way looking for it, she thought she might as well charge them a fortune. “This is valuable stuff! Two hundred thousand! Two hundred thousand Orbs!”
“Fine.”
Wuxue agreed without hesitation. Two hundred thousand Orbs would have been a lot of money ten years ago. But as economic conflicts between nations dragged on, inflation had made it almost worthless. That was why bounty hunters had switched to gold for payment.
“Torre, pay her.”
But Torre, standing beside the handcart, didn’t obey. He just stared at Wuxue without moving, sweat covering his forehead. His hands were shaking. Maybe he was nervous about finally doing a bounty hunter’s job.
“Did you leave your money behind?” Wuxue asked.
“I… I brought it.”
Torre’s voice shook. “I’ll… pay right now.”
He frantically reached into his waist pouch. The singer watched his searching hand. But instead of cash, Torre drew his silver gun. In a flash, he fired twice. The singer dived under the handcart, and Wuxue crashed to the ground.
