Two off-road vehicles hurtled down to the base of the slope and launched themselves straight at the towering sand dunes. Riding the momentum of gravity and the full power of their engines, they scrambled furiously upward like rockets launching into the sky, their tires carving two deep grooves into the sand.

Ma He stood there slack-jawed, so stunned that he temporarily forgot all about his ambitions of becoming a Douyin influencer — he didn’t even have time to pull out his phone. This kind of stunt was dangerous by nature; it didn’t matter who won or lost. He was genuinely worried for both of their safety, and within barely ten seconds, his forehead was slick with cold sweat.

Long Ge, on the other hand, was perfectly composed. Watching Ba Yunye’s vehicle crest the summit first, with Diao Zhuo climbing up half a car-length behind, Long Ge studied the tire tracks each of them had left in the sand and smiled knowingly. He threw an arm around Ma He’s neck. “Diao Zhuo lost that race on skill. Let’s wait for the two of them to buy us drinks.”

“Master Ba just steamrolled right over him,” Ma He muttered, not entirely sure what had happened, letting himself be half-dragged along by Long Ge. He actually seemed to feel a little sorry for Diao Zhuo. “The way things stand now, Diao Zhuo’s completely at her mercy — but I’ve seen how she operates. Three minutes of enthusiasm, and then she goes back and forgets the whole thing ever happened.”

Long Ge knew Ba Yunye’s temperament far better than Ma He did. Right now, the only thing he felt like saying was that Ma He was blind — he didn’t bother explaining further. As the founder of the Eagle’s Wing Club, he had built his reputation on off-road driving, and his eye for detail was sharp. Ba Yunye had driven straight up the slope head-on, while Diao Zhuo had made a nearly imperceptible micro-correction in his steering at the one-third mark of the climb. It was precisely that subtle adjustment that had let her reach the top first.

When you thought about it, that was genuinely dangerous — one wrong move and both vehicle and driver would have been destroyed. Long Ge rubbed his chin and thought to himself that beneath Diao Zhuo’s serious, unsmiling exterior, there was a raw, untamed wildness that was every bit a match for Master Ba’s. No wonder those two had managed to gravitate toward each other.

Ba Yunye stopped at the top of the dune, rolled down her window, and brushed the fine sand that blew in off her shoulders. She called out to Diao Zhuo: “Hey! Get down here and give your grandpa a kiss!”

Her tone was that of a complete rogue — brazen and swaggering.

But the other vehicle remained completely still. The window didn’t come down, and no one got out.

Ba Yunye snorted and muttered to herself, “Diao Zhuo wouldn’t be sulking in there because he’s too proud to admit he lost to me, would he? Ha, men and their fragile egos…” Saying this, she climbed out, rapped on his window with her knuckles, and got no response from inside. She pulled the door open and drew a breath. “I swear you’re being so—huh?”

The front seat was completely empty. Somehow, Diao Zhuo had migrated to the back seat, where he sat with his arms crossed, staring right back at her.

“Why are you sitting back there?”

Diao Zhuo tilted his chin toward the car door. Ba Yunye’s lips curved upward. She swung the front door shut, then slowly pulled open the rear door, resting one hand on the frame as she smiled with that roguish smirk of hers. A few seconds later, she seemed to be yanked in by some unseen force, her whole body tumbling into the back seat, the door swinging shut behind her.

The three university students were rushed to the Alxa Right Banner People’s Hospital for further treatment, their parents already on their way over from Gurinai. A male mummified corpse that had been discovered by another rescue team in the desert had been transported even earlier to the public security bureau for autopsy and identification.

Long Ge, Ma He, and Old Wang arrived first at the Zhongxin Ethnic Commercial Center. After parking, they chatted idly as they made their way to a nearby lamb restaurant.

According to what other rescue team members had said, the male mummy showed no obvious external wounds. When found, his skin was withered and shrunken, with two hollow sockets where his eyes had been — half his body had been buried in the sand, and the eye sockets were packed full of it, both eyes completely gone without a trace. The sight of it was deeply unsettling.

The rescue team members weren’t sure of the exact cause of death, and not daring to go through his belongings themselves, they had brought everything back and handed it over to the police.

Old Wang’s hand had been re-bandaged and wasn’t in as much pain anymore, though it still needed time to heal. Upon hearing this news, his very first reaction was: “You think his eyes were hit by whatever that thing is underground that sprays acid?”

“That’s likely. Otherwise why would only the eyes be hollowed out like that? Look at Su Zheming’s ear — burned down to a tiny scrap. If you hadn’t rinsed your hand with water right away, yours probably would’ve been the same.” Long Ge nodded. “They say the spot where that man died was less than a li from a lake that’s been there year-round — freshwater. My guess is he hurt his eyes and then couldn’t find his way, and eventually died of thirst.”

“I already handed over the sand sample that Diao Zhuo collected along with everything else to the police,” Ma He said. “They can run an analysis and figure out what kind of acid is so potent. Speaking of Diao Zhuo — why haven’t he and Master Ba shown up yet?”

Long Ge rubbed his chin. “Most likely they’re…”

Ma He broke into a knowing grin.

When they arrived at the restaurant they’d agreed on, they found Ba Yunye already there, propping her chin on her hand and scrolling lazily through Taobao. Diao Zhuo was standing by the window, apparently on a call with someone. Just as the others walked in, he hung up.

Ma He hadn’t even sat down before he blurted out, “Hey, you two finished that fast?”

“The hell is wrong with you!” Ba Yunye pointed at him. “Finished what, exactly? How deeply have you misjudged me? Do you really think I’m that impatient?”

Diao Zhuo pressed her hand down. “The way he phrased that isn’t a misunderstanding of you — it’s a misunderstanding of me.”

Ba Yunye blinked. “Fair enough.”

“What do you mean, ‘fair enough’?” Diao Zhuo said sharply.

“I managed to offend half the room with one sentence…” Ma He buried his face in his hands in theatrical despair.

The local organizers of the victory banquet came out swinging with three varieties of alcohol at once — fermented mare’s milk, baijiu, and red wine — a full display of the grasslands’ generous, open-spirited hospitality.

The room was full of rescue team members from all corners of the country, and once the drinking started, regional differences became immediately apparent. A few people from the south went looking for small shot glasses, but there were none to be found — here, everyone got a wide-mouthed ceramic bowl, and one bowlful was probably ten of their usual shot-glass portions. Their eyes went wide. There were three or four people from Shandong, over a dozen from Inner Mongolia, and others like Diao Zhuo from northwestern provinces — Gansu, Ningxia — who all accepted without hesitation.

“Bottoms up!” The drinking call went up, and the bowls began clinking.

“Want to go?” Ba Yunye glanced sideways at Diao Zhuo. She had never seen him drink before and wasn’t sure of his limits, but she had experienced the drinking capacity of people from the northwest during her time in the military, and it was not to be underestimated. There was a saying that went around at drinking tables summing up the capacity of drinkers from different regions: “Northeast tigers, Northwest wolves — to them, liquor goes down like thin noodle soup.”

Sure enough, as befitting a man from the Guanzhong region, Diao Zhuo didn’t hesitate now that the mission was over. “Your call,” he said.

“No, yours,” Ba Yunye deferred.

Diao Zhuo reached over and picked up a bottle. She looked at it — baijiu. She thought to herself — right, this man is no harmless creature.

“How much can you hold?” Ba Yunye poured her own drink and asked, testing the waters.

“I don’t drink much.” That line was ambiguous — it could mean his capacity was low, or simply that he didn’t drink often. Hard to tell. He held her gaze, his chin tilting up slightly. “You?”

“Me…” Ba Yunye paused. “Two liang.”

Long Ge choked — whether deliberately or not was unclear — and coughed several times.

Diao Zhuo, predictably, didn’t believe it for a second and asked without ceremony: “Two liang of beer?”

Ba Yunye shot him a withering look.

Diao Zhuo filled his bowl to the brim. “To Master Ba.”

“How are we drinking it?”

“Deep feelings, one gulp. Shallow feelings, just a lick.”

Ba Yunye said, “Then I’ll just give it a little lick.”

“You have the nerve?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Ba Yunye made a show of wiping her mouth. “Come here, I’ll give you a little lick.”

Diao Zhuo stared at her sideways, then suddenly raised his little finger and pointed it downward. Feeling the weight of his naked contempt, she poured herself roughly two liang worth. “Bottoms up!” And then she knocked it back in one go.

Diao Zhuo laughed inwardly. With an attitude like hers, she could only drink two liang? Sure.

Ma He shook his head and sighed. “A comrade who can drink five liang but only drinks two isn’t being upfront.”

Ba Yunye pointed at her own nose. “I’m the kind of comrade who can drink five liang but drinks a full jin — the kind you can truly rely on.”

Long Ge cleared his throat pointedly, making his protectiveness obvious. “Master Ba used to have a legendary capacity — and the nerve to match. But these past few years running tours as a team leader, she definitely can’t drink too much or too often anymore. Her tolerance has probably dropped quite a bit.”

Ma He nodded and said to Diao Zhuo, “When it comes to real capacity, Long Ge’s the one.”

“Don’t you dare throw me under the bus,” Long Ge waved him off, then pointed at Ma He. “Don’t let his scrawny frame fool you. I watched a few Miao girls pour rice wine into him in Qiandongnan — round after round of gaoshanliushui, this guy didn’t pass out once. Now tell me, is that impressive or what?”

Someone couldn’t help asking: “What’s gaoshanliushui?”

Ma He chuckled and explained: “It’s the Miao people’s way of offering toasts. Miao women hold large wine vessels and sing as they serve the liquor, which flows from the highest vessel down into each lower one, and finally into the guest’s mouth. The whole time, the Miao women use chopsticks to offer the guest food — but they deliberately keep pulling it away before he can eat it. The guest isn’t allowed to stop drinking until he’s actually managed to eat something.”

Long Ge nodded. “Miao rice wine goes down sweet and fragrant, but the kick that comes afterward is enormous. It catches you off guard, and before you know it, you’re absolutely hammered.”

When men get on the subject of alcohol, the conversation never runs dry. Ba Yunye could hold her own at a table, but she had never been particularly fond of drinking, and she had even less interest in getting into a battle of wills with a roomful of men over it.

Roasted lamb, camel tripe hot pot, and suoyang flatbread were brought to the table one after another. No one had eaten a proper hot meal in days, so the group tore in with unbridled appetite.

“These are all local specialties — help yourselves. We’re grateful for everyone’s hard work on the search and rescue these past few days,” the local organizers said warmly, making sure everyone was looked after.

“Suoyang flatbread…” Ba Yunye grabbed one and inspected it. “Just the name sounds incredibly masculine. Is this made with suoyang from the desert?”

Old Wang said proudly, “Our Alxa suoyang was even featured in a CCTV documentary. For men, it boosts yang energy. For women, it keeps you young.”

Ba Yunye burst out laughing and immediately started handing pieces to the men at the table. “You all eat up then.”

“Us single dogs don’t need it,” Ma He said.

Ba Yunye licked the white sugar that had stuck to her fingers, stood up, snatched the suoyang oil flatbread out of Ma He’s hand, and placed it on Diao Zhuo’s plate. “Then you have it.”

Diao Zhuo turned the question back on her. “Do I need it?”

“Take it as medicine if you’re sick. Take it to stay strong if you’re not.”

He pulled her down by the wrist and made her sit.

Old Wang rubbed his hands together, clumsily managing his chopsticks. “None of us can drive after drinking. Want to walk over to the hospital later and check on those young people?”

Long Ge agreed. “And remind them — they absolutely cannot do something like this again. This time they got lucky. Next time, no guarantees.”