They arrived back at the dock where they had first boarded the boat.
Everything was the same, yet everything had changed – it felt like a lifetime ago.
While Yi Sa was retrieving her motorcycle, Zong Hang wandered around the dock: in the past ten years, apart from growing up, his life had been uneventful. But these past few months had compressed a lifetime’s worth of ups and downs into a brief period.
A glance caught his attention – there were missing person posters on a utility pole.
He moved closer to look.
Yi Sa wheeled her motorcycle over, seeing Zong Hang from afar as he circled anxiously around the pole, looking up at it, then bending down to examine the small advertisements on the wall.
She found it strange: “What are you doing?”
Zong Hang snapped back to reality, his face reddening with nervousness beneath his sunglasses: “Yi Sa, Jing Xiu is looking for me.”
Jing Xiu?
Yi Sa thought for a moment before remembering the masseuse.
The missing person notice wasn’t meant for the general public – it was written by someone in the know, for those who would understand.
“ZH, looking for you, please contact me.”
Signed Jing Xiu, followed by a phone number.
There wasn’t just one – they were everywhere: on utility poles, walls, and the makeshift shelters by the lake.
Yi Sa took out her phone, took a picture, and instructed him: “Ignore it, don’t look, let’s go.”
Zong Hang obeyed, jogging to catch up with her, his heart racing.
Yi Sa said: “You need to distinguish whether it’s Jing Xiu looking for you, or Ding Xi.”
Ding Xi – of course, it was Ding Xi.
Ding Xi had encountered him in the boat’s kitchen and had seen him die and come back to life with his own eyes. He would stop at nothing to find him, and for now, he could only pursue two leads.
One was Jing Xiu, the other was through his parents.
Therefore, he couldn’t contact either side.
Zong Hang’s back tensed.
He had thought the Xichao was dangerous enough, but now he realized more storms awaited him outside.
When would he be able to truly return home safely, without worry?
After Ding Changsheng and his son’s group completely fell from power?
As he was thinking, Yi Sa had already mounted the motorcycle, put on her helmet, and turned back to call him: “Get on!”
Zong Hang was startled: “You’re taking me with you?”
“Unless you’d prefer to run alongside.”
Zong Hang got on the back seat, following instructions to wrap one arm around her waist while steadying Wu Gui’s cage with the other.
The motorcycle couldn’t take highways, so Yi Sa stuck to provincial and county roads, even detouring through some rural paths. The speed was slow and the road bumpy and tiring. Their plan to reach Nanchang by afternoon was abandoned, and they stayed overnight in a town along the way.
The night passed uneventfully.
Before dawn, Yi Sa vaguely heard the door move and opened her eyes briefly. She seemed to see Zong Hang go out but was too tired to care. She didn’t know how long she slept until she naturally woke up, lay in bed for a while, then turned to look at the bed next to hers.
It was empty.
Running off again! Want to bet on running into Ding Xi and getting locked up for another decade?
Yi Sa got up irritably, reached for the window handle, and was about to push it open forcefully when she suddenly saw something that made her pause. She slowly opened the window just a crack.
He hadn’t run off after all – he was right outside, brows furrowed and cheeks puffed, putting all his effort into a horse stance, silently throwing punches.
After a while, he tired, wiped the sweat from his forehead, walked to the corner, and picked up the flip-cover book, turning page after page.
Damn, he was practicing!
When Zong Hang bought that combat manual, she thought it was just a passing interest. After yesterday’s failed “iron head” attempt, she thought he would realize it wasn’t his path and give up…
But here he was, still practicing.
Yi Sa watched, gently biting her lower lip.
He held the book in one hand, making fists with the other according to the book’s illustrations.
Fingers curled inward, forming a solid fist, the striking surface horizontal.
This was called a face punch, used for striking areas like the head and chest.
Building on the face punch, the middle finger protruded from the first surface – this was called the crane’s peak punch, specifically for pressure point strikes at places like the eyes and behind the ears. Getting hit by this kind of punch was truly miserable.
He practiced several fist forms, then put the book down and started throwing punches again, puffing and panting.
To a professional’s eye, Yi Sa could tell with just a few glances that he was a beginner learning by intuition, with many problems: unstable stance, floating elbows, exaggerated postures…
Usually, she would probably laugh, but now, as she watched, indescribable feelings welled up inside her.
The window was metal, with many peeling rust flakes on the bottom edge. Yi Sa hooked her index finger and picked at them with her nail.
She remembered what Zong Hang had said before: “After I learn… if you’re in danger again, I can help you.”
I’m so capable, why would I need your help?
She walked to the bed and threw herself down. The hotel mattress had springs that bounced her body up and down.
After the bouncing stopped, she wrapped herself in the blanket, feet, and waist twisting until she and the blanket were wound together like a twisted pretzel. As she squirmed and rolled, her hair fell messily across her face. She blew it away, caught a strand with her tongue, and held it between her teeth to chew on.
Her eyes fixed on the ceiling.
Zong Hang was really… she couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but he was… much more interesting than most men.
Yes, that’s what she thought.
Yi Sa pretended not to know about Zong Hang’s early morning practice.
Maybe it was just temporary enthusiasm.
After breakfast, they set out again. Before putting on her helmet, Yi Sa rolled her shoulders and shook her head.
She wasn’t fully recovered, her body felt weak, and her muscles were sore from yesterday’s long ride.
Zong Hang watched from the side, hesitated for a moment, then said: “Yi Sa, if you’re too tired from driving, I can take turns with you… I know how to ride a motorcycle too.”
He could ride?
Yi Sa was very surprised.
Probably because her expression revealed too much skepticism, Zong Hang became indignant: “I’ve even raced before.”
You can’t judge a book by its cover – even a humble sweeping monk could surprise the martial arts world with his skills. Everyone had some hidden talents.
Yi Sa took this to heart. When they stopped to rest halfway, she asked him: “You raced?”
Had she underestimated him? Was there a wild, unrestrained heart beneath Zong Hang’s scholarly exterior?
Zong Hang nodded: “Never let my parents know, I especially went to the suburbs to race.”
There was a large space by the road. Yi Sa nodded toward the motorcycle: “Show me.”
Zong Hang didn’t hesitate, dusted off his hands, and got on. His posture showed experience: clutch in, start the engine, shift gears, accelerate, release the clutch…
He stopped after making a circle – all movements were standard. He did know how to ride.
Not bad, having someone to alternate with would make things much easier. When they set out again, Yi Sa threw the helmet to Zong Hang, indicating he should take the second half of the journey.
Back on the road.
Yi Sa quickly discovered that while Zong Hang rode steadily, it was the steadiness of a sixty-year-old. She urged him to speed up twice – while others would increase by ten kilometers at a time, he seemed to go up one kilometer at a time.
Cars that had been far behind them all passed them by.
More irritating was a motorcycle with another male-female pair who meant to provoke them: they deliberately passed close by, whooshing past like lightning, leaving Yi Sa with a face full of dust and exhaust. Even from far ahead, their mocking laughter drifted back.
This was too much – some rural youngsters, daring to challenge her? She had ridden motorcycles in Southeast Asia, doing wall rides, ramp jumps, and wheelies – what hadn’t she done?
She urged Zong Hang: “Chase them, catch up… no, stop, let me drive.”
Zong Hang guessed she wanted to settle scores with the couple: “Yi Sa, let it go.”
“What do you mean let it go? They asked for it. And you – I could run faster than you’re driving. Every motorcycle on this road is faster than you!”
Zong Hang said: “Motorcycles are dangerous, they’re flesh-wrapped in metal. Can’t go too fast. This is a safe speed – they’re the ones speeding.”
Their two-sentence exchange had taken so long that the other motorcycle was already out of sight.
Realizing a counterattack was hopeless, Yi Sa sighed: “I’ve never ridden on such a slow motorcycle in my life.”
She was used to charging ahead at full speed, like wind and lightning. This sudden slowness felt like sitting on pins and needles – she couldn’t settle down, with too much time to kill.
Zong Hang had a point: “Safety comes first when traveling. Why compete with them for speed? Besides, you have a passenger – shouldn’t you be responsible for their safety? How comfortable can it be going that fast? What if we crash? Would it be worth it to end up bloody and injured?”
Yi Sa said: “Since when do you talk so much? Can’t you be quiet?”
Zong Hang fell silent.
Yi Sa let him be. Even with more pins in her backside, you get used to it after a while. With nothing else to do, she watched the scenery along the road.
The wild grass grew thick and dense, its tips swaying in the irregular wind, bending left and right. Among the grass was a single purple morning glory, as if born into the wrong place, standing lonely and unsure.
She saw two people, heads together counting money when they fumbled and a bill flew up, carried high by the wind. One reached up but couldn’t grab it, the other jumped to catch it but missed as well.
Yi Sa almost laughed out loud. When she used to ride fast, she never had the mind to notice these little scenes along the way.
After turning onto another road, still busy with traffic, Yi Sa finally saw two motorcycles going about their speed, or even slower.
One carried a middle-aged man with an elderly woman on the back, her hair gray, looking unwell, with white tape on her hand where an IV had been – the man rode very carefully, avoiding bumps in the road, frequently turning back to check on her with gentle concern.
The other had a young man riding, sometimes fast, sometimes slow, always itching to surge forward, with what seemed to be his wife on the back holding a child. Every so often she would pinch his waist and scold: “Slow down! The baby can’t take the bumps! Can’t you see the potholes and avoid them?”
…
Yi Sa suddenly realized that fast speeds had their own pace, and slow speeds had their scenery.
This wasn’t so bad either.
After watching for a while, her eyes grew tired. After some hesitation, she took the easy option and rested her forehead against Zong Hang’s back, turning her face to watch the scenery on one side.
Zong Hang’s heart skipped a beat.
The nerves in his back suddenly became extremely sensitive, able to feel her weight, the softness of her body, and the slight breath that passed through the thin fabric onto his back.
Zong Hang paused for a moment before saying: “Yi Sa, don’t fall asleep, it’s dangerous to sleep like this.”
Yi Sa made a sound of acknowledgment, saying: “I know.”
Zong Hang couldn’t help but smile.
His palms were slightly sweaty, and some dust had accumulated on the helmet’s visor.
His heart felt like it held a newly hatched chick, pecking here and there with its tender beak, creating both numbing and ticklish sensations.
This journey was wonderful.
The starting point might not have been great, and the destination might not bring joy, but this journey – this journey was truly wonderful.