Six months later.
True to his word, Zong Bisheng took Yi Sa running every day or two, partly to help boost her immunity, and to demonstrate the excellent qualities of a successful entrepreneur: it was precisely because he kept his promises and persevered that he achieved his current success—hoping the younger generation would observe and remember this.
However, one evening when they encountered a robber who was promptly kicked flying by Yi Sa, Zong Bisheng became unclear whether his insistence on having Yi Sa join the nightly runs was for other reasons or simply to have a bodyguard.
This evening, dinner had been particularly sumptuous, and everyone felt a bit stuffed, so when Zong Bisheng brought up night running again, Zong Hang joined in, and Tong Hong responded too.
To accommodate Tong Hong, running became walking. Though they started as a group of four, they soon split into factions: Zong Hang and Yi Sa walking ahead, Tong Hong arm-in-arm with Zong Bisheng trailing behind.
At first, Tong Hong chatted with Zong Bisheng about various topics—company matters, finances, policies, gossip—but gradually, both their gazes fixed on the couple ahead.
Yi Sa had discovered something interesting and was crouching under a streetlight, taking photos from different angles with her phone. Zong Hang bent beside her, watching, occasionally waving his hand to chase away the small insects attracted by the light that kept bumping into her face.
After a while, Yi Sa must have gotten the photo she wanted and showed it to Zong Hang. He half-crouched too, hands on her shoulders, chin against her temple, nodding as he looked.
Without getting closer to hear, they knew he must be saying “beautiful, really beautiful”—after all, anything Yi Sa liked or praised, he rarely said wasn’t good.
Tong Hong sighed: “When Hang Hang was little, I always wanted to see him holding hands and playing with little girls, thinking those innocent childhood scenes would be so lovely. Who knew I’d mostly see him running away with his toys, leaving little girls crying behind him… Now I finally get to see it, though they’re all grown up, not children anymore.”
Zong Bisheng said curiously: “But she’s not a little girl, isn’t Sa Sa actually older than Hang Hang?”
Tong Hong made an affirmative sound: “Two years older, I think, but in my eyes, they’re all children.”
As they spoke, Yi Sa stood up. Perhaps her legs had gone numb from crouching too long; she half-supported herself while rubbing them. Zong Hang helped massage them too, and only after a while did they link arms and walk forward again.
Watching this, Zong Bisheng felt a twinge of jealousy—in all these years, his son had never massaged his legs.
He sighed wistfully: “You know, Sa Sa is pretty, but there are many prettier girls. And as for having a gentle personality, that’s debatable too. But our Hang Hang just loves revolving around her. As young people say nowadays, he’s like a little fanboy…”
Tong Hong said: “That’s called meeting your match. And I dare say, it must have been your silly son who fell for Sa Sa first, eagerly pursuing her—Sa Sa is the type who only returns kindness after receiving it. Poor thing, I wonder if it has anything to do with losing her family at such a young age…”
She suddenly remembered something: “Oh right, when you took her for a medical check-up last time, what did the doctor say?”
Zong Bisheng said: “Nothing at all. The doctor said everything was normal.”
Tong Hong frowned: “Maybe the doctor you found wasn’t good enough? Sa Sa wasn’t quite right that one time when Hang Hang asked Auntie to make black chicken and red date soup. I saw she had no energy at all, her face white as paper… Next time spend more money, or ask around for a famous doctor.”
Speaking of this, she suddenly grew sad, her eyes reddening: “She’s so young if something happened—never mind anything else, Hang Hang loves her so much, how painful would that be? If only we could trade lifespans… I’d give her ten or eight years of mine.”
Zong Bisheng snapped: “Here we are having a nice walk, and you’re talking nonsense. Medical science is advancing rapidly; maybe in a couple of years, there’ll be new medicine, take two pills and everything’s fine. Besides, if young people are dating, should old folks just stop living? You’re so generous, giving away ten or eight years—what about me? Am I supposed to live alone?”
The walkway was long.
Yi Sa’s playful mood quickly passed. She just held Zong Hang’s arm as they walked step by step, sometimes mischievously trying to step on their shadows, one step one stamp, sometimes seeming boneless, leaning her whole weight on Zong Hang, dragging along as he led her.
Zong Hang asked her: “Yi Sa, are you happy now?”
He asked this every few days. Yi Sa responded impatiently: “Yes, yes, happy.”
“Better than when you were alone in Cambodia, right?”
“Yes, yes, yes.”
Though her tone was dismissive, Zong Hang still heard it with delight, a thing called “sense of achievement” growing wildly in his heart.
He was right, wasn’t he? Following him did make her life better than before.
He copied her, trying to step on their shadows: “The other day I was chatting with Ding Yudie, and he said most people stationed at the Three Rivers Source have been withdrawn, leaving just a small team there.”
Yi Sa made an acknowledging sound: “He told me too. Said they really couldn’t afford it anymore. One or two months is fine, but after a while, people just can’t take it. If this thing drags on for eight or ten years, how can they expect people to guard it there that long?”
Zong Hang sighed: “That’s not good for Ding Yudie, is it?”
Yi Sa nodded: “There are thousand-year thieves but no thousand-year guards. It’s been a year and a half, even the tightest string will loosen. Nothing can be done about it.”
Zong Hang said: “If the drifting cave could rest and recuperate for fifty years, we’d have peace for our whole lives…”
He looked down at Yi Sa: “Would you like that? Do you like this kind of life?”
Yi Sa didn’t answer immediately.
Zong Hang’s heart stirred: “You don’t like it?”
Yi Sa said: “It’s not that… This life is good, it’s just sometimes, I feel a bit dazed, wondering if I’m still a water ghost of three surnames?”
Like today, when she accompanied Tong Hong to get qipaos made, immersed in various patterns, styles, and fabrics, giving all sorts of opinions until her lips went dry.
Or like last week, when Zong Bisheng created an art corridor at the company, supposedly to cultivate and enhance employees’ aesthetic appreciation, and had Yi Sa choose various wall paintings. For the first time in her life, she had to look at Rembrandt, Rubens, Titian, and Monet, deciding where their reproductions should hang on the walls.
The identity of a water ghost felt like something from a previous life. Occasionally passing a mirror, seeing her reflection, remembering herself in Cambodia and Wu Gui who was left with Li Zhenxiang to feed, she felt somewhat split.
Yi Sa smiled self-mockingly: “Maybe people are just like this. After too much turbulence, you want to return to peaceful pastoral life but stay in the pastoral too long, and life feels bland, the air too still, not exciting enough.”
Then she asked him: “What about you?”
Zong Hang said: “Want the truth?”
He paused for a moment: “Honestly, many times, I wish this matter wasn’t over.”
Yi Sa was a bit surprised: “Why?”
“Because if it’s over, this is all we’ll have. In the future, it won’t get better than now, maybe it’ll even get worse.”
Yi Sa smiled gently.
He was right. The present was the best: feelings at their peak, bodies not yet declining.
“But if it wasn’t over, there might still be hope. Like before, though we faced danger time after time, each time we truly understood more and discovered more. If we had one more chance to confront the drifting cave, might we find a way to cure you?”
He thought for a moment, seeming to feel he was too greedy: “It doesn’t even need to be a cure, just helping you hold on a few more years would be fine. People are like this, get one thing and want another. Before, I thought just being with you would make me completely satisfied. But after being together, I want it to last longer, even longer.”
Yi Sa stopped moving, looking down at their long intertwined shadows in the lamplight. Discussing such melancholic topics was like a mosquito caught in a spider’s web—the more you struggle, the more desperate it becomes, better to fly away early…
She suddenly widened her eyes, looking behind: “Oh no, Uncle and Auntie are gone!”
Zong Hang startled: “Ah, where are my parents?”
As he spoke, he turned around anxiously, just in time to see Tong Hong and Zong Bisheng strolling over.
They had overheard the conversation but kept walking, passing by. As they passed, Tong Hong suddenly sighed softly, saying: “What’s the use of raising a son? Not as good as Sa Sa caring about us.”
Zong Bisheng said: “True that, should have just raised a piece of meat back then, at least we could have stir-fried it.”
…
Three Rivers Source, night.
Danzeng rode his motorcycle eagerly forward, the headlight cutting a straight path through the darkness, while half a heavy sheep carcass rested on the back seat.
He was a nomad who had recently befriended a group of Han Chinese geologists. They were very warm and friendly, treating him to drinks and giving him many bags of snacks to take home to his children.
Courtesy demands reciprocity, and Danzeng had been thinking about this, wanting to return an equivalent gift but having nothing suitable to offer. Fortunately, they had slaughtered a sheep today, and he specially saved half of the good, fatty portion, wanting to give it to his Han friends for hand-pulled mutton—so excited he couldn’t even wait until tomorrow, he came in the dark.
He knew where they were camped and knew these people were night owls who wouldn’t be asleep this early.
Soon, the camp came into view in the distance, six or seven large and small tents with lights on, several off-road vehicles parked beside them.
Danzeng stopped his bike, with one heave swung the heavy sheep carcass onto his shoulder, and called out: “Oya, Tashi Delek!”
Usually, when he called like this, they would understand and respond with “Tashi Delek” in his accent to welcome him. Besides, Danzeng deliberately carried the sheep carcass to show off his strength to his friends—they had praised his strength before when they saw him lifting heavy things.
There was no response.
Danzeng paused, listened carefully, and put down the sheep carcass.
Strange, why was there no sound? This wasn’t right. Usually, when he came at night, it was quite lively here; he had even watched a foreign movie on that young fellow Ding Cheng’s phone.
Gone out to survey? But weren’t the tents supposed to move with the people?
Attacked by wolves? Nonsense, even more impossible. Their equipment was very complete, reportedly including flame throwers and electric batons, and besides, there weren’t any wolves in this area.
Danzeng swallowed, drew his Tibetan knife from his waist, and carefully walked inside, calling out the few names he could remember—
“Ding Cheng?”
“Jiang Yitong?”
“Ding Tang?”
…
Still no response. Danzeng’s scalp began to tingle. As he turned past a tent, he suddenly saw a person.
A crouching person.
His heart jumped wildly in fright, he suddenly raised his knife, then realized a second later and hurriedly lowered it.
Finally, he saw someone.
Danzeng spoke in halting Mandarin: “I look for… friends, bring mutton…”
He instinctively pointed to his shoulder, suddenly remembered the mutton was left by the motorcycle, and quickly pointed backward: “Left there, hand-pulled mutton, delicious…”
He stopped speaking.
Strange, he had come so many times, but this Han person, he had never seen before.
It was a middle-aged man, about forty or fifty years old, unremarkable in appearance, his hand just moving away from some cardboard spread on the ground—apparently, he had just been using this cardboard to cover something, but the ground was flat and empty, with nothing that needed covering.
Danzeng asked: “Who are you?”
The man smiled slightly: “I’m from the same team as Ding Cheng and the others, just arrived today.”
Oh, that’s how it was. Danzeng relaxed, then looked around again: “Then… where are they?”
“They had an urgent task, all rushed over there, and left me to watch things here. Did you come to deliver mutton? You can give it to me, if any of them come back, I’ll tell them.”
Danzeng quickly nodded: “Good, good, I’m called Danzeng, they know me, once you tell them they’ll understand. You are…”
The man said: “I’m called Ding…”
He paused here, seeming somewhat confused, or perhaps in that instant, he had slightly forgotten who he was.
After a while, his expression returned to normal, and a determined smile appeared at the corners of his mouth.
“I’m called Ding Panling.”