Ch. 410: Mr. Edwards’ Unraveled Life Chapter 410

Chapter 410

Norah feared the boy wouldn't be able to contain his hatred and might act impulsively, exposing them before they had all the information.

The weight of her grip snapped him back to reality.

"If it's nothing, let's go," Norah said calmly.

To Teacher Baimo, they were outsiders.

At this moment, he was likely watching them, too.

They had only wanted to get a glimpse of Baimo, but being spotted first complicated things. It was best to retreat and regroup.

Baimo smiled slightly but didn't argue.

As soon as they left, he called two men over and gave them instructions in the Yi dialect. "Keep an eye on those two."

...

Norah and the boy returned to the man's house and went into the designated room.

"We're being watched," Norah said.

She had picked up on Baimo’s subtle reactions—the way he spoke, the slight hints of probing.

There was no doubt. He had assigned someone to track them.

The boy clenched his fists, grinding his molars in frustration. "Then I’ll catch him first and force him to reveal Pharaoh’s whereabouts!"

"That man just said he knows Pharaoh. But Pharaoh won’t be alone. I’m warning you—don’t be reckless."

Norah was composed. She knew they couldn’t rush this. They had come too far to make hasty moves now. First, they needed to assess the situation, then figure out how to get to an area with a signal and make a call.

Her words sank in, and the anger in the boy’s eyes slowly subsided.

"The man will be back soon. Can you help me ask for a phone charger?" Norah requested.

"Sure," the boy agreed. Then, after a pause, he added, "I’ll teach you some basic Yi words and translate for you. But from now on, you take me with you wherever you go."

"Alright."

Before the man returned, Norah studied the Yi language with the boy. She picked it up quickly, thanks to her strong memory. She learned essential phrases—things related to food, greetings, and other basics.

At 7 p.m., the man came back.

His elderly mother had prepared dinner and called them over.

Norah pulled out 200 yuan and spoke steadily. "Given the situation, he’s injured, and I can’t leave him behind. We need to stay with you for a while. If there’s work to do, let us help. This is for our meals."

The boy translated.

The village survived by growing medicinal herbs and selling eggs from their chickens and ducks. But with the war and the Allied forces nearby, they couldn’t venture far.

They rarely earned this much money from herbs.

Seeing Norah offer the cash, the man’s eyes lit up. "As long as you’re paying, you can stay as long as you need."

"We’ll eat whatever you normally do," Norah said. "Just let your mother know. And if we’re staying, we should help out. I can pick herbs. But tomorrow, I want to help at the school."

The boy translated, and Norah’s eyes gleamed with interest. "Can I come with you?"

Baimo was the teacher. The children adored him.

This was an opportunity.

"You?" The man eyed Norah skeptically. His expression showed doubt.

She was pale and thin—not someone who looked suited for labor.

Norah nodded, understanding his reaction.

"I can clean," she explained. "If the school needs a cook, I can do that, too. I know how to grow vegetables. I’m Chinese—I know many things."

"Alright. I’ll take you to meet Teacher Baimo tomorrow."

The man didn’t dwell on it.

Mainly because Norah was Chinese, and Baimo spoke Chinese, too.

If Norah could cook well enough to please Baimo, it would be a small way of repaying him.

"Thank you," Norah said sincerely.

Though the Yi food wasn’t familiar to her, she forced herself to eat half a bowl of potato paste.

In an unfamiliar place, she needed to keep her strength up.

After dinner, Norah returned to the small room. There were no beds—just two pieces of cardboard the man had provided.

Lying down, her thoughts drifted to Karina.

She had no idea what kind of situation Karina was in now.

The boy whispered, "Tomorrow, I’m going with you."

Norah hadn’t included him in her plan when she spoke to the man. But he was determined to come.

He needed to keep an eye on Baimo.

He had to be alert, to react to the slightest movement…

"Your hand is injured," Norah reminded him. "You might have to work tomorrow."

"I can handle it," he said firmly.

"Alright. Let’s rest."

Not long after, a knock came at the door.

The boy quickly sat up, removed the cardboard, and opened it. The man stood there, holding a white charger.

"Here. The charger you wanted."

"Thanks."

The boy handed it to Norah.

She examined it and sighed. "It’s for Android, not a Type-C. It won’t work."

The man immediately caught on. "If it’s a different charger you need, Baimo probably has one. Ask him tomorrow."

"Alright. Thank you."

After the man left, Norah turned to the boy. "Are you really not going to tell me your name?"

The boy hesitated before answering, "Ogura."

Norah nodded. "If we both make it out alive, will you come back to Craggaville with me?"

Ogura’s answer was immediate. "No."

A flicker of surprise crossed Norah’s face.

His voice was steady, unyielding. "This is my home. I was born here, and I’ll die here."

Norah understood.

Slowly, she said, "Then let’s hope things get better for both of us."

...

Norah’s phone was dead. Kevin couldn’t reach her. Neither could Karina.

Even the mysterious woman wrapped in gauze, who had borrowed Karina’s phone to call Norah, couldn’t get through.

Both sides were looking for her.

But the next morning, Norah followed the man to the school.

Calling it a "school" was a stretch. It was a run-down, single-story building.

The yard was overgrown with weeds.

The children sat around a low table, holding yellowed papers, reading aloud in the morning light.

As Norah approached, she heard them reciting: "A thousand miles of tricks..."

"You’re mispronouncing it," she corrected gently. "This word—don’t pronounce it like that. It's ‘tiao,’ fourth tone."

She leaned over and wrote the correct pronunciation beneath the word on their papers.

The children froze, eyes wide with surprise.

Not far away, Baimo watched her closely.

His gaze lingered on the string of emerald-green beads wrapped around Norah’s wrist as she wrote.