We suddenly heard Edward Foster curse in Mongolian, and a soldier shouted, “It’s Bearded Reed! Bearded Reed isn’t dead!” As he spoke, he wanted to put down his gun and run over.

“Don’t go over there!” Vice Monitor barked, his eyes bloodshot. “Look at him! Look carefully!”

We all understood what Vice Monitor meant. If it really was Bearded Reed and he wasn’t dead, he would have greeted us as soon as he saw us. How could he just stand there motionless, staring at us like a zombie, with no reaction at all?

That soldier didn’t dare go over either. We were at a standoff, and the veins on Vice Monitor’s forehead were bulging—clearly, he didn’t know how to handle the situation.

Charles Bennett also raised his gun, swallowed hard, and asked me, “What should we do?”

I thought, if you’re asking me, who am I supposed to ask? If this person really is Bearded Reed, we’re screwed. We even saluted him this morning. His death should have been absolutely certain, but now, in this situation, it seems like it can only be him. Could there really be such a thing as a corpse coming back to life?

I mulled over several ideas in my mind, then suddenly spotted our metal basin. I picked it up and handed it to Charles Bennett, saying, “Throw this over there and see how he reacts.”

Charles Bennett said he couldn’t throw accurately. Edward Foster is Mongolian and has a knack for throwing “bulu.” Back at the 723 Main Camp, he used to hit wild pheasants near the camp—he’s really accurate. Let him throw it.

I thought that made sense, so I looked for Edward Foster—and was stunned. The guy was gone. Then I looked again—damn, he had somehow already crawled to the edge of the rock where that person was standing, ready to pounce.

I opened my mouth to stop him, but it was too late. We saw him crouch low, then suddenly leap onto the rock, and with a bear hug, he grabbed the person. We heard a startled cry, and everyone was stunned. That voice wasn’t Edward Foster’s—it was a woman’s scream.

Then Edward Foster tried to wrestle the person to the ground, but unexpectedly, the other person wasn’t weak either. With a twist, both of them tumbled down, rolling off the rock and into the water below.

Seeing this, Vice Monitor quickly slung off his gun and jacket and rushed down to help. The water below the rocks was still deep. If someone got stuck between the rocks and couldn’t get their head above water, it would only take a minute for someone to die. We followed down, first pulling Edward Foster out of the water, then dragging the other person up as well.

The person’s hat had fallen off, revealing short hair, and the blood on her face had been washed away a bit. We immediately saw it wasn’t Bearded Reed, because it was actually a woman. Her clothes were soaked, and her body’s curves were clearly visible—there was no mistaking it.

Edward Foster spat out some water, shivering from the cold, quickly stripped off his clothes to warm up by the fire, and even asked me if the person was dead.

I parted her hair and checked her pulse. When I saw the woman’s face, I was stunned—I actually knew her.

Charles Bennett, who was beside me, saw her too and cried out in shock, “God, is that Alice Reed?”

Thirteen, Alice Reed

At this point, a lot of people might be baffled. In fact, I was baffled too. The difference between a novel and a memoir is that a novel pays attention to foreshadowing and callbacks, while a memoir is just about the facts. Meeting Alice Reed here is simply a fact. I never imagined I’d run into her here, but at that moment, she really did appear.

At first, I didn’t believe it. Looking closer, it really was her. I was shocked—how could she be here?

Alice Reed also worked in exploration. Although she was about our age, she was more senior than us, because she was among the group who had studied in the Soviet Union and received special treatment. I had worked with her in the same exploration team more than once. Back then, she was the deputy team leader, nicknamed the Soviet Witch, and she was extremely meticulous in her work. I was always careless and often got criticized, but in private, she was very forthright, and we got along well. She often led teams all over the place. Charles Bennett knew her too, obviously for similar reasons.

There were twenty-four of us who came together, and clearly, there were no women among us. Her appearance here was truly shocking. And judging by the wounds on her face and body, something was clearly very wrong. We had no idea what had happened.

Alice Reed’s body temperature was extremely low. We didn’t have time to discuss why she was here. A few of us drew straws, and in the end, Edward Foster was the one to take off her clothes.

She had large areas of abrasions and bruises from internal bleeding all over her body—it looked terrifying. Both her knees and palms were a complete mess. If it weren’t for the rocks and barbed wire here, you’d think she’d escaped after being tortured. But none of that was fatal. The most serious problem was her body temperature. Her clothes had already been wet before Edward Foster pushed her into the water. Her body must have been hypothermic for a long time—her lips were purple.

Shivering, Edward Foster dried her off, put her in a sleeping bag, boiled water for her to drink, and used the fire to warm her face. It took until well past midnight for her body temperature to come back up, but she was still quite out of it and couldn’t be woken up. Even so, we were already relieved to see her sleeping peacefully. Off to the side, Charles Bennett muttered to himself, “How could she be here?”