On the cold and desolate snowfield, the team led by Qing Chen trudged forward. From a bird's eye view, they looked like a long line of ants.
Everyone leaned slightly forward to resist the fierce wind blowing across the wilderness.
Qing Chen always led at the front, silent and reserved.
"Lao Chen!" someone cried from the rear.
Qing Chen turned his head, only to see "Lao Chen," the old informant he had just met yesterday, collapsed in the snow outside the team, lifeless.
People gathered around Lao Chen, wept for a moment, then turned and rejoined the team, continuing to march forward.
They knew they had no more time for grief.
In the past few days, many in the thousand-strong team had succumbed to hunger and cold, sitting down on this endless escape route, becoming new milestones.
Qing Chen had tried to lead them to find food, but the northern winter wilderness was exceptionally barren. Even a survival expert might not find enough food for over a thousand people here.
