Withered Wood Post Office (13)

Early the next morning, Hugo packed his own lunch when he left, simply to lighten the burden on Bai Ci.

After saying goodbye to Hugo, Bai Ci walked next door and knocked on Aunt Martha's door.

Aunt Martha was already ready, wearing a clean cloth dress and holding a woven rattan basket. She greeted her with a smile, “Miss Lora, you're here. Let's go. If we go early, we can get the freshest vegetables and meat.”

“Alright,” Bai Ci nodded, following Aunt Martha toward the commercial street.

In the early morning, the commercial street was already bustling with vendors. The sounds of hawking and bargaining intertwined, making the area exceptionally lively.

Aunt Martha navigated the stalls with practiced ease, selecting fresh vegetables and meat. As she picked through the goods, she exchanged pleasantries with the vendors, occasionally complaining about the state of the town.

“The town has really been getting more and more unsettled lately. More and more people are falling ill; I hear the hospital is almost at full capacity.” Back at Hugo's house, Aunt Martha trimmed the green vegetables in her hands, her tone laced with worry. “My daughter, Lena, has been working overtime at the hospital every day lately. On the rare occasion she does come home, she's so exhausted she doesn't even want to speak.”

Bai Ci took the opportunity to ask, “Aunt Martha, have any of those sick people been cured?”

At this, Aunt Martha sighed, her voice heavy with concern. “Cured? How could it be that easy? I heard from Lena that the people who fall sick this time only get worse. They're taking their last breaths, barely holding on. How could they possibly survive?”

Bai Ci's heart sank, and she pressed further, “Does the hospital not have any way to deal with this? For example, gathering the patients together to take proper care of them?”

“They do,” Aunt Martha nodded, her tone turning solemn. “But I'm only telling you this, so don't go spreading it to others. Lena didn't even want me to talk about it, saying it would cause a panic.”

“The hospital is already preparing to set aside a quarantine zone. They plan to gather all the sick people there to contain them. But because of this, Lena and the others will be even busier. It's just too hard on them.”

“If they do that, they should be able to control the plague, right?” Bai Ci said, playing along with her persona of being somewhat optimistic and naive.

“It's hard to say,” Aunt Martha shook her head, giving her a look that suggested she was still too young and naive. “Lena said this plague is very strange. No one knows what the source of infection is. Even if they quarantine the patients, who knows if they can completely control it.”

“I'm actually considering whether I should take Lena and leave this town to find a safe place. But I've lived here my whole life, grew up here... My home is here, my neighbors are here. I really can't bear to leave.”

She paused, then chuckled self-deprecatingly. “It's actually quite funny. A few days ago, I packed my bags and even walked all the way to the edge of town. But looking at the familiar streets, I just couldn't bring myself to do it, so I brought my luggage right back.”

As Aunt Martha spoke, she gestured animatedly, yet her hands barely slowed down as she worked.

“I thought to myself, since I'd already packed my bags, walking back empty-handed would be too embarrassing. So I just found a little country path and had a roadside picnic with my husband. We treated it as a relaxing outing, which gave me a nice excuse to head back.”

Aunt Martha's words carried a natural humor, but just as the core of comedy is often tragedy, a closer look revealed her reluctance to leave, her fear, and her confusion.

Looking at the smile on Aunt Martha's face, Bai Ci felt a wave of emotion. She didn't know what to say, and her words of comfort felt somewhat hollow. “Aunt Martha, don't worry too much. Things will definitely get better.”

“I hope so,” Aunt Martha said, her smile unchanging as if she no longer cared about the matter. However, her immediate change of topic showed that she wasn't actually as carefree and optimistic as she appeared.

“Speaking of which, in the past, I used to go back to the countryside once a year to relax. The air is so much better there—no factories, no coal smoke. It's a comfortable place to stay.”

At the mention of factories, Aunt Martha opened up even more. “Look at our town. In the last few years, more and more factories have popped up. Chimneys are everywhere, belching black coal smoke all day long. Look at what the sky over this town has become—it's gray and gloomy, making it hard to breathe.”

“Back then, we had blue skies and white clouds, and you could see the stars at night. Now, sometimes you can't even see the sun clearly, and the rain smells of mildew.”

Bai Ci nodded. Instead of chiming in about how terrible the town's air was, she simply prompted, “The air in the countryside must be very nice, then?”

Hadn't she just seen how deeply attached Aunt Martha was to this town? Bai Ci understood this sentiment well; it was a classic hometown complex where only the locals were allowed to criticize it, while outsiders had to hold their tongues.

“Of course it is,” Aunt Martha said, her tone brightening at the lighter topic. “The countryside scenery is beautiful. In spring and summer, there are green trees, open fields, and all kinds of small flowers. In autumn, you can pick fruit and gather mushrooms. It's only a bit dull in winter, but it's still much more comfortable than the town.”

“Every time I went back to the countryside, I would pass by a house with a huge persimmon tree in the yard. Every autumn, it would be loaded with bright red persimmons, and they were incredibly sweet.”

“I was on very good terms with the original owner of that house. Every year when I passed by, I'd go pick a few persimmons to eat, and the owner was very generous and never minded. But this year is different. The house was bought by someone else, so we feel too embarrassed to go pick persimmons anymore. It's quite a shame when you think about it.”

“Oh? Who bought the house? Someone from town?” Recalling the mysterious boss who had bought up three or four shops at once, Bai Ci didn't want to miss a potential clue and pressed for details.

“You might not believe it, but it was bought by Postmaster Byrne from the post office.” Aunt Martha spoke with a hint of pride, a classic reaction of someone possessing firsthand gossip, though her tone still carried a trace of emotion.

“You see, rich people are just different. They know the air in the countryside is good, so they buy a house there in advance. If things really get too bad in town, they can go to the countryside to hide. Unlike us ordinary folks, who can only guard our little homes, unable to bear leaving, and without the means to go anywhere else.”

Postmaster Byrne actually bought a house in the countryside?

Combined with Evan's suspicion that the postmaster was connected to the plague, could his purchase of a countryside house in advance mean he knew all along that the plague would break out, and was securing an escape route for himself? Or perhaps... was the source of everything connected to this?

This discovery was undoubtedly a vital clue.

Bai Ci quietly committed this to memory. Keeping a gentle smile on her face, she continued to listen to Aunt Martha's endless chatter about countryside anecdotes and town gossip, chiming in occasionally while her mind rapidly calculated her next move.