Yi Sa had no time to carefully examine the condition of this ship graveyard.
Saving Zong Hang was more urgent – only his head remained exposed. If the breathing soil changed its nature again and started growing outward, he would truly become a human amber, a living fossil.
She skillfully flipped down from the protruding boulder.
Zong Hang watched helplessly as she disappeared, his heart suddenly racing, chest tightening.
His vision was level with the ground, only able to see the jagged stone walls surrounding him. Yi Sa’s footsteps grew fainter but echoed back, creating a desolate feeling of uncertain fate.
Having only a head left was terrifying.
What if something happened to Yi Sa and she couldn’t return?
What if some insect, rat, or snake came by now? With just a head, how could he fight back? Could he only bite? How disgusting.
What if a rock fell from above and struck the back of his head, hitting just the wrong spot…
How did Sun Wukong endure five hundred years under the Five-Finger Mountain? He couldn’t even last five minutes – it felt like he would break down any second…
Zong Hang couldn’t help but shout: “Yi Sa!”
The sound floated out like smoke rings, swirling in mid-air before bouncing off the stone walls and echoing back.
No response.
It was over. Zong Hang’s mind began playing scenes like a projector:
— Gray-haired Tong Hong, wearing reading glasses while looking at his photo, wiping tears from her eyes: “Our Hang Hang, no news for thirty years…”
— The scene shifts here, his head now a skull, its prostrate position both desolate and mournful.
— Twenty years later, amid rumbling machinery, humans finally discover the secret of Lake Poyang. A solemn female host points at his skull during a live broadcast: “Yes, camera please give us a close-up. We can see this is a human skull. According to on-site scientists, it should belong to a young man…”
Zong Hang almost moved himself to tears with his imagined scenes.
Just then, with a splash, Yi Sa flipped back up from beneath the rock.
Her face was flushed, breathing heavily: she had been running the whole way, quickly grabbing anything useful she found, not daring to delay, afraid that when she returned, Zong Hang might have been completely swallowed by the breathing soil…
What she saw now was just a head, turning this way and that, seeming quite content with itself.
Zong Hang looked at her too.
One of her pant legs had been torn into shorts, her top ripped into a crop top, revealing a strip of fair waist. A coil of plastic cable was slung over her left shoulder, her back carried wooden planks tied with rope, her waist was tied with some torn fabric, and a glass bottle with liquid inside stuck out of her pants pocket, sloshing back and forth.
Overall, it looked somewhat unorthodox.
But Zong Hang thought it looked quite efficient, giving off a valiant and heroic feeling.
Yi Sa sat cross-legged, wooden materials scattering across the ground as she untied them.
She first made torches: using her dagger to cut strips of fabric for tinder, wrapping the remaining fabric around a thick piece of wood, and then pouring the liquid from the glass bottle to soak it.
She broke and folded the ship planks to make a pile of kindling.
Finally, she pulled out a string of dark objects linked together: a metal ruler about an inch long with grooves, a carbon rod seven or eight centimeters long, and a thin rope tied with decorative knots.
“Know what these are?”
Zong Hang shook his head.
“A fire striker, magnesium rod, and this is nylon parachute cord. Unraveled it’s over two meters long. In the wild, you can use it to set traps, make simple bow strings, tie people up, things like that.”
The combination of a fire striker and magnesium rod was much more effective than flint and steel. When the rod was firmly scraped against the ruler’s groove, sparks flew generously. Soon flames arose as Yi Sa busied herself blowing on and gathering the fire while explaining the general situation to him:
— This cave was quite dry, so some ship equipment hadn’t completely rotted;
— Many tools and supplies from the ships were preserved and could be used;
— The oil had degraded to be like water, probably not very effective, but better than nothing…
As she spoke, she glanced at Zong Hang unintentionally.
Just a head, earnestly turned toward her to listen…
Yi Sa couldn’t help it and burst out laughing again.
Is it that funny? Zong Hang rolled his eyes at her.
It was this eye roll that caused more trouble.
Yi Sa picked up the torch, lit it from the fire pile, and walked to Zong Hang’s side. Just as she was about to touch it to the breathing soil wall and he was breathing a sigh of relief, she twisted her arm, hiding the torch behind her back, then squatted down.
She asked him: “What are you rolling your eyes for? Even if I don’t save you, what can you do with just a head?”
What’s this about? Right at the crucial moment – isn’t this bullying?
Zong Hang was so anxious he wanted to hop around, but couldn’t move.
Yi Sa smiled: “How about this – call me something nice.”
Zong Hang was confused: “Isn’t ‘Yi Sa’ nice enough?”
Yi Sa thought for a moment: “Try calling me ‘Big Sister’.”
From Zong Bishing’s missing person notice, Yi Sa knew Zong Hang was more than two years younger than her – when she was running around, he was still drinking from a milk bottle.
Big Sister?
Dream on.
Zong Hang’s face reddened, but his gaze suddenly wandered.
Yi Sa’s top had already been torn in half at the bottom, leaving a large opening, and she had squatted down to talk to him. He swore it was unintentional, but his gaze traced up from her flat, tight stomach to see small purple and pink flowers on a white background, to see…
Zong Hang closed his eyes, lowering his head until his forehead nearly touched the ground: “I won’t.”
Yi Sa said: “If you won’t call me that, I’ll just leave you stuck here?”
Zong Hang’s cheeks burned as he mumbled: “Won’t call you that.”
Who would have thought this roundhead would be such a stubborn one?
Yi Sa was about to say something when she suddenly noticed his ears.
The torch hadn’t even gotten close, but his ears were burning red like fire. Not just his ears – the redness had spread to below his earlobes and neck.
Was it really necessary to react like this to a bit of teasing? Had she done something wrong?
Yi Sa looked down at her clothes in confusion, then instantly understood. She raised her hand to smack the back of his head.
Just before making contact, her fingers curled, brushing past his soft hair before lowering again.
Strange – she wasn’t really angry. Glancing at him sideways, the corners of her lips turned up involuntarily.
Forget it, I’ll let you off. Like an ostrich with your head buried so deep – you think people can’t see your behind?
She brought the torch close to the breathing soil wall.
Finally free.
Zong Hang crawled away from the stone wall on all fours, letting out a long breath. Not just his nose and mouth, but his whole body’s skin seemed to be breathing deeply: his body had been enclosed by the breathing soil for too long, like a shrimp that had been blanched in hot water.
Yi Sa was still scolding him: “In such an urgent situation, shouldn’t you have crawled forward with all your might? How come I didn’t get ‘eaten’ by the breathing soil?”
After hesitating for a while, Zong Hang muttered: “Well, my legs are longer…”
After all, he was a man, taller than her, with a bigger frame, so of course he wasn’t as… compact, yes, compact and agile as her.
Yi Sa said: “From what you’re saying… my legs are short?”
Zong Hang glanced at Yi Sa’s legs.
Her legs were really beautiful, straight and slender, with delicate skin. He wondered if it had anything to do with being in the water often.
Zong Hang said: “Well… in absolute terms, my legs are longer…”
Yi Sa: “…”
After a pause, she asked him: “You’ve never had a girlfriend, have you?”
Zong Hang said: “Who says that, I…”
He stumbled.
Should he say he’d had “five” or that he hadn’t had any?
Having had girlfriends would show he was charming, likable, and popular with girls, but would it make him seem too fickle? Yi Sa didn’t seem to like that type.
He changed his answer: “Yeah, what about it?”
Yi Sa said: “Nothing.”
A poor student who finally knows about “absolute values” and uses them to compare leg length with her…
No wonder you don’t have a girlfriend!
Yi Sa tied the cable to the edge of the boulder as a rappelling rope and led Zong Hang down to the bottom of the ship graveyard.
The feeling wasn’t so obvious when viewing from above, but once on the ground, being among it all, they immediately felt like they were walking in a giant “ship city.” The power of water flow and breathing soil was truly immeasurable: some small boats still maintained their complete form, but many steel giants had been twisted into strange shapes.
Yi Sa would enter any relatively intact ship to look around, trying to find shoes for Zong Hang: unlike the limestone cave, sharp metal parts were scattered everywhere here – one careless step could lead to injury.
But Zong Hang became particular about it, saying he didn’t want to wear other people’s shoes: the people on the ships had all met with disaster and died – wearing a dead person’s shoes was like taking their place, bringing bad luck.
Young as he was, he had quite a few particular notions. When asked, sure enough, it was from Zong Bishing’s influence – after all, businesspeople care about such things.
If he wouldn’t wear them, so be it. After he mentioned it, Yi Sa also felt a bit creepy. Moreover, in the water ghosts’ understanding, there was a notion of “territories” between the living and the dead. This place was below water level – other people’s territory – so being cautious wasn’t bad.
She found some rubber pieces in an overturned small cargo ship and planned to cut two pieces according to left and right foot shapes with her dagger. With soles and some holes punched through to thread nylon cord, they could barely pass as “sandals.”
As she was cutting, Zong Hang came out from rummaging in the next room.
After escaping from the breathing soil wall, he was left with just a drafty pair of boxers with holes in them, showing bits here and there – quite unseemly. He wanted to find some cloth to wrap around himself, but those dusty curtains were like rotting spider webs, tearing at a touch. Just now while wandering in the broken dining room, he happened to find an old plastic tablecloth in a drawer.
Polyethylene material doesn’t rot even after many years. Zong Hang had a flash of inspiration – he cut a hole in the middle of the tablecloth with a kitchen knife and put it on.
Like a cape, quite fashionable, with fabric floating as he walked. He happily came out to show Yi Sa, who gave him a bright smile: “Pretty happy, aren’t you?”
Yes, he had “clothes” to wear now, could walk and move, and could stay by her side – of course, he was happy.
“Haven’t you noticed something missing on this ship?”
Missing something? Zong Hang looked around curiously.
Yi Sa reminded him: “Don’t you think there’s a lack of people?”
Zong Hang said: “These ships sank so many years ago, how could there be people…”
Halfway through speaking, he suddenly stopped, his face losing several shades of color.
It wasn’t about missing people, it was about missing bodies!
Following Yi Sa, they had already been in and out of several ships but hadn’t seen any bodies on any of them.
Where were all those people?
He thought of legendary ghost ships.
Zong Hang’s back grew cold, and he quickly moved closer to Yi Sa. At any time, he felt safer being near her.
He lowered his voice to ask her: “Where are the people?”
Yi Sa said: “How would I know? This is my first time here too.”
Zong Hang’s heart jumped, and that feeling of relief from escaping the breathing soil wall completely vanished. He looked around in all directions, always feeling like someone was secretly watching, that danger could come at any moment.
After a while, he went back into the dining room and came out again, trembling, tightly gripping a fire shovel, vigilantly looking east and west.
Yi Sa lowered her head, finding it amusing yet somehow heartwarming.
She suddenly understood why she, who usually hated burdens, didn’t dislike Zong Hang at all and instead felt goodwill toward him.
He was still timid, instinctively moving closer to her when scared, but he would also pick up a stick or shovel, and even though his calves might be trembling, he would face things with her, even rushing in front of her.
Starting out weak wasn’t really a problem – no one is born with steel bones and a heroic spirit. Having this kind of determination was what was precious. How many people start out soft-boned and live most of their life without establishing resolve, becoming even softer, as if forgetting they had shoulders, only hoping others would take the blow when trouble came?
Someone like Zong Hang was quite rare.
Yi Sa slowly ground the rubber with her dagger’s serrated edge.
Zong Hang kept watch for a while, and with no unusual movement, his gaze unconsciously drifted to Yi Sa again.
She had the rubber on her knee and was lowering her head to blow away rubber dust, looking unusually gentle, different from any time before.
Zong Hang was mesmerized and couldn’t help saying: “Yi Sa, you’re making shoes for me?”
Yi Sa absently made an “mm” sound, then suddenly realized.
What did he mean?
What was that tone supposed to mean?
She saw he was pitiful, walking barefoot would hurt him, and he had shown good behavior before, so she was planning to “casually,” “simply” piece together a pair for him to make do with.
What did he mean by “making” shoes for him? And that tone, as if she was “carefully crafting” with “heartfelt intention,” preparing to give him some significant token.
Did she have nothing better to do?
Yi Sa’s eyes widened, and with a wave of her hand, the two pieces of rubber flew over: “Make them yourself…”
Before she finished speaking, there was suddenly a “clang” from outside.
Since leaving the limestone cave, everything had been quiet. This sound was extremely abrupt, and Yi Sa sprang to her feet, the muscles on her back seeming to contract slightly.
The sound continued, but listening carefully revealed it originated from that first crash: it was likely a chain reaction, hitting something, knocking into something else, creating an endless series of echoes.
They both stood still until the sounds subsided and the echoes dispersed.
The two pieces of rubber had fallen not far in front of Zong Hang, one left and one right, coincidentally forming the shape of footprints as if someone had walked by.
Who? Jiang Jun? Ding Yudie? Or were there other people here, other… things?
Zong Hang looked at Yi Sa.
Yi Sa raised her index finger to her lips, making a “shh” gesture toward him.