People turned back toward the delivery truck, calling out to those who hadn’t heard about the water.
Within moments, the passengers who had been struggling to get away from the burning bus were pushing toward the scattered cartons.
"Keep going," Shichen told Zeyu, watching the side display. "There’s still room on this side, but they’re coming around the back of the truck."
Zeyu kept the mobile base moving as Jingwei watched a woman crouch between the wreck and the parked car, reaching for a bottle that had rolled beneath the bumper.
Someone stepped over her outstretched arm without slowing.
At the open cargo doors, the minibus attendant caught a man by his collar and tried to drag him away.
The man twisted free, lifted a carton, and swung it into the attendant’s face. Torn packaging fell between them, and water splashed across the road.
People bent to grab the bottles before they could roll away.
Jingwei looked toward the delivery cab. The injured passenger had stopped striking the window.
Blood ran down the side of her face, and one hand remained against the glass while strangers fought over the load behind her. Beside her, the driver hadn’t lifted his head.
The mobile base cleared the minibus, allowing Zeyu to return to their own lane.
He drove slowly through the dust while the fire faded from the cameras. Jingwei lowered the outside volume, leaving enough sound to hear anyone who came close.
Behind him, Qinghe settled back into his seat. Shichen offered him a bottle of water, and he accepted it without opening it.
The road ahead ran between blank concrete walls. For the first time since they had reached the intersection, nobody was standing close enough to touch the vehicle.
Zeyu drove several more yards before leaning forward to peer through the windshield.
"Tell me we can stop beside that building," he said. "I’d like a moment to look at the road without someone running across it."
Their headlights had found a broad paved entrance beneath an unfinished building. Concrete pillars supported the overhang, and the space nearest the road appeared empty.
Jingwei changed the camera view as they approached.
A small light moved between the pillars, followed by a woman holding a flashlight near her hip. She raised her free hand, asking them to stop, while someone behind her dragged a folding table across the entrance.
"The minibus is following us," Zhiyi said.
Jingwei checked the rear display. It had drawn close enough for him to see the driver’s hands on the wheel.
The woman with the flashlight looked past the mobile base toward it, then began waving both vehicles inside.
Zhiyi followed the beam as it passed over a concrete pillar, a pile of broken bricks, and the table being pulled aside. Farther in, sheets hung between unfinished walls. Their lower edges lifted whenever the wind reached beneath the building.
"Stop before we get to the overhang," Zhiyi told Zeyu. "We haven’t checked whether there’s enough clearance."
Zeyu slowed without starting the turn. Shichen leaned toward the windshield, looking above the woman’s flashlight.
"She’s probably used to bringing cars in," Shichen said. "We won’t fit beneath that beam."
The woman approached when they stopped. She wore a sleeveless vest over a long shirt, with a scarf wrapped around her hair and mouth. The skin showing at her wrists was cracked and peeling.
"We can’t bring this under your roof," Jingwei explained through the speaker. "It’s too tall."
She stepped back to look up at the vehicle, then pointed along the outside wall.
"Stay beside the building, then," the woman said. "Just leave the entrance clear so people can get through."
"What is this place?" Hanchuan asked, leaning toward the microphone.
"People are sleeping here," she replied. The minibus driver sounded his horn, drawing her attention past them. "Is that one with you?"
"No," Hanchuan told her. "We don’t know him."
The woman lowered her waving hand and moved out of the minibus’s path.
Zeyu brought the mobile base onto the paved apron beside the building. He stopped parallel to the road, beyond the overhang, with the front facing the open end of the block.
Dust still reached them, but the wall sheltered them enough for Zhiyi to see the people beneath the roof.
Some sat on flattened boxes. Others lay behind the sheets, their bare feet visible beneath the fabric.
A man held a damp cloth against a woman’s neck while she bent over a plastic basin. Near a pillar, two children slept with their heads on the same bag.
The minibus drove beneath the overhang and stopped close enough to make several people scramble out of its way. A man snatched up a bowl before the front tire reached it.
"You need to move farther over," the woman with the flashlight told the driver as he climbed out. "People need to walk through there."
"Give me a minute," the driver replied, coughing into his elbow.
He walked toward the table without looking at the people gathering their bedding. Behind him, the side door slid open, and a passenger started down.
"Stay inside until I tell you," the driver called over his shoulder.
The passenger stopped on the step.
Zhiyi watched the driver take a folded sheet from his pocket and smooth it against the table. The woman held her flashlight over it but didn’t reach for the paper.
"I’ve got nineteen," the driver told her. "That’s two more than last time."
"Where’s the other bus?" the woman asked.
"It broke down back up the road," he replied. "I brought who I could."
Zhiyi turned her hand beneath Hanchuan’s and slipped her fingers between his.
"Jingwei, can you turn the sound up?" she asked.
The wind grew louder, followed by the driver’s voice. "Count them yourself if you don’t believe me," he said, gesturing toward the crowded minibus.
The woman looked past him. "What happened to your brother? Wasn’t he driving the other one?"
"He stayed with it." The driver reached for his paper. "Look, do you want these people or not?"
A thin man rose from behind the table and held the sheet in place.
"Let them get out," he told the driver. "They can wait here while we sort this out."
The driver hesitated before waving toward the minibus.
Passengers climbed down, holding the door while they found their footing. The woman who had moved the suitcase came out backward, helping her mother.
Zhiyi recognized the backpack against her chest as she guided the older woman to a pillar.
At the table, the thin man opened a cloth bundle. Small packets lay inside in neat rows. He counted several and pushed them toward the driver.
Qinghe leaned forward in his seat.
"They’re paying him?" he asked, looking from the packets to the people who had just climbed out.
The driver gathered the packets closer, then stopped to count them again.
"That isn’t enough," he told the man across the table. "I said I brought nineteen."