Several off-road vehicle convoys entered the edge of the desert one after another, spreading out along their pre-assigned routes, conducting “S”-shaped searches as they went. Each team carried loudspeakers provided by enthusiastic local herdsmen, so they could repeatedly broadcast the names of the three missing university students.
At the desert’s edge, there were still quite a few small meadows, with mostly low-growing plants, none exceeding one meter in height. Venturing further inward, the vegetation thinned until nothing remained but an endless expanse of yellow sand. The dying rays of the setting sun dyed the rolling sea of sand a deep orange. From this vantage point, the Badain Jaran Desert was breathtakingly magnificent—the sinuous curves of the ridge lines resembled abstract paintings brushed by an artist’s ink, showcasing nature’s masterful craft, truly worthy of being called “the curves drawn by God.” Yet the beauty of a desert has always been lethal, fit only for admiring from afar.
Three off-road vehicles carried Diao Zhuo and three others, along with a driver named Old Wang who specialized in taking tourists into the desert. After venturing deep into the desert, the vehicles slowly came to a stop and everyone got out to check their tire pressure.
Ba Yunye circled Old Wang’s off-road vehicle, poking around and inspecting its configuration, muttering away, “Brother, that onboard computer of yours can not only boost power output, it can reduce fuel consumption by ten percent. For off-road driving, fuel efficiency is absolutely critical… if you can cut fuel consumption by fifteen percent per hundred kilometers, you’d save a good chunk of money over half a year. But, uh… you’re driving on sand—why did you install this waterproof speaker? Just for the satisfying honk??”
Old Wang nodded. “Didn’t expect a pretty lady to be such an expert.”
“Same trade.” Ba Yunye grinned with a roguish air. “We run the western routes—Tibet, Xinjiang, Qinghai.”
The moment he heard they were in the same line of work, Old Wang became much more talkative, though his questions all revolved around vehicle modifications, market conditions, clients, and routes.
Old Wang said that in recent years, quite a few people had been driving or hiking through the Badain Jaran Desert, especially by car, which had given rise to a whole business ecosystem. Not only were there vehicle convoys that took tourists into the desert, but there were also guesthouses at the oases along the desert’s edge.
“After the three university students went missing, I asked the other drivers in the convoy and the people running the guesthouses—none of them had seen them.”
The tire pressure had already been reduced to 1.0. Old Wang called everyone back to the vehicles, but Long Ge and Hippo had slipped off to relieve themselves nearby and didn’t respond no matter how many times he called out, “Where did they go! Renlong Duoji! Hippo!”
From not far away came a single “Coming!” and Long Ge and Hippo jogged over.
Diao Zhuo suddenly asked Old Wang: “Which direction are people who drive or hike through here least likely to go?”
Old Wang answered without a moment’s hesitation: “Head straight south-southeast from here. It’s all massive sand dunes the whole way, and the further you go, the higher the dunes get. Nobody wants to go that way. Burns too much fuel! You get bogged down constantly, or you fall into a ‘chicken’s nest.’ Someone without experience could spend three days covering a hundred meters and be half-dead from exhaustion—and I’m not exaggerating one bit!”
Ba Yunye caught Diao Zhuo’s meaning. “You think that’s the direction the three university students went?”
Diao Zhuo gave a slight nod. When he was in search-and-rescue mode, the gaze he turned toward her carried no emotional color whatsoever. “Otherwise, why can’t they be found on any of the routes tourists normally take?”
Old Wang immediately cried out that it was impossible. “Those big sand dunes out that way just go on and on forever—even us lot would struggle to climb them. You crest one dune and the next one is waiting for you. Finish one stretch of dunes and the next stretch has even taller mountains ahead. The ‘Everest’ of this place is out that way.”
Long Ge asked: “How many kilometers?”
Old Wang had clearly never traveled that route himself. He did a rough mental calculation and could only offer an estimate. “A hundred and sixty, a hundred and seventy—in any case, no more than two hundred.”
Ba Yunye’s mind sparked with a sudden idea. “Are there any places to replenish water along the way?”
Old Wang waved his hand—no.
“What about lakes?”
“There are some,” Old Wang answered, “but…”
Ba Yunye pressed: “But what?”
“The lakes out that way have legs. They run.”
Hippo, who had been quiet until now, was utterly astonished. “Seriously?!”
Old Wang nodded vigorously.
A chill ran through Ba Yunye. She instinctively locked eyes with Diao Zhuo for a few seconds, both of them thinking the same thing—wasn’t this exactly like the heavenly lakes in Qiang Tang?
Old Wang said: “There’s an old herdsman around here who says that when he was young, he went deep into the desert to look for camels. He found not a single one and got lost in the process. He tried to follow his remembered route to find a lake, but the lake had moved. When he was nearly dying of thirst, he came across a white single-humped camel. Everyone around here knows that encountering a white camel in the desert is a tremendous blessing. He pushed himself to follow the white camel, and he truly did find a lake.”
Ba Yunye rubbed her chin. “It seems that all bodies of water that come and go without a trace have a sacred guardian creature—some are Tibetan antelope, some are white camels.”
Diao Zhuo raised his hand, signaling them not to continue down that tangent. “We search in the direction of the large sand dunes.”
Old Wang said: “There’s no way the students would have chosen that route. I know young people nowadays like to look up travel guides and plan their routes, but I’d stake my life on the fact that no website would teach anyone to go that way.”
Diao Zhuo turned toward Long Ge, his eyes carrying an inquiring look.
“Old Wang, let’s go with what Team Leader Diao says.” Long Ge said decisively. “There are five teams conducting the desert rescue—we can’t all converge on the same spot. Nobody knows exactly how those students went about their crossing, so the only thing we can do is eliminate possibilities. Someone who’s only hiked scenic mountain trails would have to think differently from most people to choose an unsupported desert crossing. Especially these particular kids—the less traveled a path is, the more likely they’d take it. That’s the mindset of young people.”
Hippo quickly chimed in with flattery: “Long Ge’s analysis of young people’s psychology is like the wicked old nanny torturing the princess in her secret chamber—”
Ba Yunye, who was essentially a comedian sidelined by the demands of making a living, played straight man: “How so?”
“Right to the point!”
Long Ge let out a dry chuckle. “We’re all reckless souls wandering the world. Who would understand them better than I would?”
“Without a water resupply point, they definitely aren’t on the standard routes, and the other rescue teams wouldn’t waste time on tourist paths either,” Diao Zhuo said. “We’ll give it our best shot.”
“Alright!” Old Wang nodded. “Keep an eye out for each other out there—it really is rough going.”
“Ah!”
Zhe Mingxin, walking at the back, had opened a bottle of water for a quick secret sip. Before the cap was fully pulled free from the plastic ring, he lost his grip, and the entire bottle slid from his hands, rolling end over end down the slope of the dune to the bottom. Over two full liters of water spilled out during the tumble and were swiftly absorbed by the bone-dry sand; the surface layer, darkened to deep brown where the water had soaked in, turned pale brown again within seconds.
He slumped down at the crest of the dune and sat there in a daze for a full half minute—Zhang Tian’en’s coin toss had come up “continue the crossing.”
So they supported Xiao’ai, pushing and pulling her along. They hadn’t gone far before one towering dune after another rose up before them like a rolling sea of waves, and the grueling journey seemed to have only just begun.
Back in elementary school, Zhe Ming had worked on a math problem that had stayed with him ever since. A beetle was climbing a sand dune, traveling five meters every ten minutes, then sliding back four. Given a slope roughly fifty meters long, how long would it take the beetle to reach the top?
As a child, he’d thought the problem utterly pointless and illogical, invented purely to torment students.
But when he actually began climbing the sand dunes, he realized the problem was a near-perfect model of real experience—rigorously logical, thoroughly scientific. He would plant one foot in the sand, and the moment he lifted the other, the planted foot would begin to slide back. When the second foot landed, both feet would slide together. Over and over again. He would take twenty steps forward, look back, and find himself only ten steps from where he’d started.
He’d barely made it to the top, ready for a drink of water, when he had just knocked over two full days’ worth of his water supply!
Xiao’ai held out her water bottle—still a little less than half full. “Zhe Ming, it’s alright. Drink all of this.”
Zhe Ming said nothing. He glanced at Zhang Tian’en, who was far ahead of them, apparently still unaware that he’d knocked his water over and was pressing on, head down, climbing the next dune.
When you’re so parched your throat is on fire and your lips are cracked and bleeding, you realize there’s absolutely no shame in swallowing your pride. If someone can keep you in water, you’d not just call them your superior—you’d call them your superior’s superior!
Zhe Ming accepted the bottle and drained it in one go, then pulled Xiao’ai into his arms and said, his voice hoarse: “Xiao’ai, we’re practically a couple who’ve faced death together now. When we get married, instead of wedding photos at our reception, let’s make a short film out of the photos and videos we’ve taken in the desert these past few days. That’ll put every other new couple to shame.”
“Yeah, Zhe Ming. If we ever fight after this, we’ll just think back to this moment and remember how we made it through together.” Despite feeling unwell, Xiao’ai felt deeply happy.
“Of course. What are petty little squabbles worth? How could I ever fight with you over something trivial?” Zhe Ming vowed earnestly. “I’ll love you and protect you for the rest of my life, because you’re the woman who suffered alongside me. No other woman in the world—not even my own mother—can compare to you.”
Xiao’ai wrapped her arms tightly around Zhe Ming’s waist and felt, in that moment, that he was the person in the entire world who cared about her most—even more than her own parents.
“Let’s go. The sooner we get out of here, the better,” Zhe Ming said, helping Xiao’ai to her feet.
“Wait, let’s sneak a little more water. I’ve already got heat stroke—you can’t get it too. If we both go down, Tian’en might just leave us behind,” Xiao’ai suggested.
Zhe Ming thought about it, then finally nodded.
The sky darkened, the temperature plummeted, and the sweat on all three of them had long since evaporated, leaving behind a crust of dried salt mixed with fine sand that clung to their skin like a shell.
Zhang Tian’en swallowed, and his throat burned and itched. Their water intake was severely limited while their bodies shed moisture at a ferocious rate—over these past few days, the consequences had been steadily manifesting. He could feel the cells inside him slowly shriveling. He was even starting to wonder whether he could actually complete the crossing.
The young couple finally caught up with Zhang Tian’en. “How is it that we haven’t come across a single oasis this whole way?”
“If you could stumble onto an oasis whenever you felt like it, the desert wouldn’t make people tremble the way it does,” he replied. He hadn’t expected that, even now, they still harbored fairy-tale illusions. And besides—the route he had planned wouldn’t bring them to any oasis until they reached the very end.
“But aren’t there supposed to be a lot of lakes in the Badain Jaran?” Xiao’ai asked.
“There are saltwater lakes and freshwater lakes,” Zhang Tian’en said patiently. “According to the map, once we get past this stretch of dunes and head southwest for twenty kilometers, there’s a freshwater lake.”
The two of them immediately brightened, eyes going wide. “Really? That’s wonderful!” “There is a way out after all!” “We could even wash up!” “A wash together!” “Oh, you’re terrible!”
Zhang Tian’en shook his head helplessly and continued walking without a word. In his original plan, he hadn’t intended to head southwest at all—it would mean deviating from the route and adding over ten kilometers to the journey.
But he knew that despite the extra distance, they had no choice but to veer off course and find the freshwater lake. His own body was nearing its limits. The desert was far more brutal than he’d imagined. These towering dunes—one after another, crest after crest—were enough to erode any person’s will and patience. And if they got lost, death was the only outcome.
Suddenly, the sand beneath his feet gave way. He pitched forward and fell, and the sand cascading from above swept him downward—he tumbled all the way to the bottom of the slope, landing in a dizzy heap with a mouthful of sand.
He spat desperately, only to discover he had no saliva left to spit with.
Zhe Ming and Xiao’ai helped Zhang Tian’en up and patted his shoulder in sympathy. The three of them rallied themselves and began climbing again.
Zhang Tian’en stole a glance at Xiao’ai, feeling a complicated mix of guilt and reassurance. He was guilty because he never should have agreed to let her join the group. He was reassured because, after the coin toss had decided they would press on, he had taken a precaution against whatever accidents might come—he had packed Xiao’ai’s personal belongings into an empty water bottle and planted it upright in the sand, though he wasn’t sure whether the rescue teams would notice his signal.
“Tian’en, the desert is really just… this!” Zhe Ming said. He had secretly drunk a lot of water while Zhang Tian’en wasn’t watching and was suddenly full of energy again. “If we were giants who could carry more water, this wouldn’t be nearly so hard. Aside from mirages, all the stuff on TV—scorching windstorms, fire ants, quicksand—it’s all total nonsense!”
“Every desert is different. There might be those things in foreign deserts. And don’t we have the so-called death worm right here in China?” Zhang Tian’en said calmly.
“A death worm?!” Xiao’ai was startled. “Does it eat people?!”
He waved it off. “It supposedly sprays venom and delivers electric shocks—the moment you hear that, you know it’s made up.”
Zhe Ming and Xiao’ai looked at each other and both laughed.
Zhang Tian’en said, breathless: “If I ever get the chance, I really do want to hike across the Sahara someday, or walk around Mount Everest—push myself to the absolute limit.”
“You love taking risks too much!” Xiao’ai said.
“You might not feel it yet, but when you actually walk out of this desert on your own two feet, you’ll fall in love with that feeling of challenge! Think about it—not many people around you could do what you’re doing. Not many in the whole city, or even the whole province, could claim an experience like yours. When that time comes, maybe you’ll understand what I mean… cough, cough, cough!” As Zhang Tian’en worked himself up with excitement, his throat seared with pain, and he burst into a fit of coughing, quickly taking a small careful sip of water.