At sunset, they arrived at the Kunlun Mountain pass, 160 kilometers south of Golmud.
This major checkpoint along the Qinghai-Tibet Highway had become a tourist attraction. Self-driving tourists who passed through would invariably stop to take photos with the landmark stone marker adorned with khatas and prayer flags. Today, however, it was peaceful, and nature seemed particularly accommodating: countless snow-capped peaks, covered in silvery-gray, stretched endlessly into the distance, all bathed in gentle sunlight.
Yi Sa called out to Zong Hang: “My back is sore from sitting. Let’s get out and walk around.”
Zong Hang felt the same way and was the first to jump out of the car. While stretching and doing big turns, he glanced around casually and realized that Ding Yudie hadn’t gotten out at all, while Yi Sa was bent over, pulling out that soft-covered booklet from a bag.
Zong Hang’s heart skipped a beat, knowing she probably wanted to talk to him about something, so he followed her lead from that point on when she said the view was better from further away, he followed her; when she said the visibility was clearer from higher up, he followed her to climb the highest mound.
There was a light wind on the mound, and the ground was covered with short, yellowish-brown vegetation that Zong Hang couldn’t identify.
Yi Sa clutched the booklet, feeling that while everything else would be easy to say, starting was the hardest part.
Fortunately, Zong Hang helped break the ice: “Actually, I already know everything.”
Know everything?
Yi Sa was surprised: “What do you know?”
Zong Hang pointed at the soft-covered booklet.
“How did you find out?”
“That night when Ding Yudie first arrived at the camp, didn’t he talk with you for half the night?” Zong Hang said somewhat embarrassedly, hesitating, “Well… that’s when.”
“No wonder,” Yi Sa gave him a sidelong glance. “You’re getting better at using your brain.”
Zong Hang took it as a compliment and modestly replied, “Just a little bit.”
Yi Sa giggled.
She threw the booklet on the ground to use as a cushion, sat down, and patted the space beside her: “Sit here.”
Zong Hang sat down, wrapping his arms around his knees, shoulder to shoulder with her as they watched the clouds being pushed across the mountain peaks by the wind above.
After a while, Yi Sa said, “I’m going to die in a few years.”
Her tone was calm, as if discussing not life and death, but plans for next month’s vacation.
Zong Hang said, “No, you won’t. We can still find a way.”
Yi Sa remained silent. Terminal patients or people at dead ends always receive countless similar well-meaning consolations, like “It’ll be fine” or “Where there’s a will, there’s a way.” Best to just listen and not take them too seriously.
She looked at Zong Hang, not hiding anything: “You’ll have the same problem, but fortunately, Uncle Pan Ling said you have at least twenty or thirty years, maybe even longer.”
She smiled at Zong Hang: “So, don’t be too discouraged. Twenty or thirty years is almost a lifetime. It won’t stop you from chasing pretty girls, getting married, having children. If you move quickly and efficiently, you might even see your son get married.”
What nonsense, Zong Hang glared fiercely at Yi Sa.
Yi Sa shrugged it off: “Oh, giving me the evil eye now?”
Zong Hang steeled himself, as if ready for an argument: “But I like you!”
Yi Sa responded with an “Oh” and said: “So what if you like me? Are you going to pursue me? Marry me? Then arrange my funeral in a couple of years? How will you spend all those remaining years? What would your parents think? You haven’t thought about any of that, have you?”
Zong Hang was momentarily speechless, feeling a hollow sensation in his chest as if the hill’s wind was finding new ways to pass through the gaps in his chest and back: he hadn’t thought that far ahead.
Yi Sa smiled: “No wonder people say boys mature later. Zong Hang, right now you only understand ‘liking,’ but you don’t know that there are many, many things that come after ‘liking.’ You haven’t thought it through. Sometimes when I look at you, you’re just like a child…”
She thought for a moment and said: “Mm, immature.”
Zong Hang got agitated: “Who says that? I am mature…”
Halfway through his sentence, he regretted it immensely, wishing he could take back his words: who proves their maturity by insisting they’re mature? Isn’t that just proving the opposite?
But was Yi Sa really that mature? Wasn’t she just like him? She just loved acting maturely in front of him.
Yi Sa saw his agitation and wanted to pat his head, that head where half the hair had been nearly burned off.
Her fingers curled slightly but pulled back. After a pause, she said softly: “That’s enough, Zong Hang. You’ve helped us so much already. It’s time to go home.”
He knew she would bring this up.
“But what about Uncle Pan Ling? We still haven’t found him.”
Yi Sa calmly replied: “Uncle Pan Ling has already designated Ding Yudie as his successor. Any future matters will naturally be handled by the Three Families and Ding Yudie.”
“But you, Zong Hang, you have parents waiting for you. You’re not like us; you can’t just recklessly take risks. This time you were lucky, but people can’t be lucky every time. When I was in the underground cave, I made up my mind: if we got out, I would send you away, even if I had to tie you up with rope.”
Zong Hang was silent for a while, his eyes stinging slightly. After a long moment, he looked at her stubbornly: “So you called me down here to say goodbye?”
Yi Sa said: “Yes, that’s right. I’m glad you understand.”
“What kind of goodbye is it? The ‘see you later’ kind, or the ‘never see you again’ kind?”
He felt it shouldn’t be the latter, but as he spoke and watched Yi Sa’s expression, he felt increasingly uncertain. Finally, he suddenly realized: this was exactly what she wanted!
Zong Hang’s mind buzzed, and he shouted: “I don’t agree! Is this necessary? Is it really necessary to do this?”
He could go home first to recover and reassure his parents, then find her again after a while. If she was worried about him being in danger, he would never again ask to join when the Three Families had risky business—what could be so serious that they couldn’t even see each other anymore?
But Yi Sa just smiled, her gaze growing softer: “Zong Hang, do you know? On the way here, I had a dream where I hit you.”
Zong Hang was too upset to listen, but she continued anyway.
She talked about being under the egg flower tree, about him searching around after smelling an unpleasant odor, and about her hitting him with tree branches because she was afraid of being seen.
“I’ve made up my mind. If things are destined to develop this way, then I don’t need anyone’s company or care, and I don’t want you to see me through this. I don’t want people to see me in an ugly, broken state. I just want to be alone in peace.”
Zong Hang tried to say something but was cut off by Yi Sa: “You can’t convince me. You’ve never been able to out-argue me. My mind is made up, that’s all there is to it.”
After a while, Zong Hang said: “Do you have to endure it alone?”
Yi Sa sighed and said: “You people are so strange.”
She murmured: “When I was young, even after losing all my family, I never thought of myself as pitiful. But the adults around me would always sigh when they saw me, their eyes reddening as they spoke of my bitter fate.”
“Now you’re the same, insisting that I’m enduring hardship. I don’t see it as enduring; I just feel this is what I want. Zong Hang, please cooperate. Let me do what I want to do. Don’t look for me. There’s still a good life waiting for you ahead; you just need to take that step forward.”
Ahead?
Zong Hang looked up blankly and saw a long line of vehicles winding their way along the mountain road.
He thought it was just passing traffic, but Yi Sa stood up and kept watching as the convoy drew closer.
Zong Hang felt uneasy and stood up too. The convoy seemed to be heading straight for them and had spotted them, gradually slowing down.
The lead car stopped at the bottom of the mound.
Yi Sa spoke softly: “Zong Hang, remember what I said. You still have a whole life ahead of you. Move forward, and forget the past if you can. Love the best person, and live the life you want. You’re so good, you deserve the best…”
Before Zong Hang could respond, the lead car’s door opened, and a woman in a thick down jacket almost stumbled out. She looked up and called out with a hoarse, tearful voice: “Hang-hang?”
It was Tong Hong!
Blood rushed to Zong Hang’s head, and he stared blankly as Tong Hong charged up the slope, then stumbled, either from altitude sickness or unsteady footing—this finally snapped him back to reality. His eyes instantly reddened, and he ran down to meet Tong Hong.
More people got out of the cars: there was Zong Bishing, his branch company colleagues, police officers, and people carrying video cameras. They excitedly surrounded Zong Hang and Tong Hong, who were locked in an embrace, creating a noisy commotion.
Yi Sa smiled through her tears.
She bent down to pick up the booklet and turned to walk away.
For the first time, she truly felt that mountains had sunny and shady sides. That side must be the sunny side, bustling and lively.
This side was the shady side, quiet and desolate, with just one car waiting for her at the bottom.
Yi Sa opened the car door and got in, saying to Ding Yudie: “Let’s go.”
Ding Yudie grumbled: “Just leaving him like that? Women can be ruthless.”
Yes, he said “women,” not specifically referring to Yi Sa: he had noticed in the underground cave that whether it was Yi Yunqiao or Yi Sa, they could be utterly ruthless when needed. In contrast, he and Zong Hang would hesitate, unable to make immediate decisions.
Women really could be ruthless.
He slowly started the car, driving around the mound, around the boisterous crowd on top, around the various vehicles parked at the bottom, heading toward the long and lonely highway.
Yi Sa didn’t look back.
This was how goodbyes should be: clean, without dragging on, without even the lingering gazes. Otherwise, you’d never really be able to say goodbye.
She didn’t know that on the mound, Zong Hang suddenly looked up, ignoring the chaotic questions and those annoying cameras thrust almost in his face—he just kept staring at their car, watching it until it disappeared.
Yi Sa closed her eyes as soon as she got in the car.
She wasn’t particularly sleepy but just wanted to sleep, wanted to shut down her senses, not see, not hear, not think, just return to a void of tranquility.
In her hazy state, she heard Ding Yudie call her: “Sa-sa?”
“Mm?”
“Did Uncle Pan Ling ask me to take over? To handle everything from now on?”
“Mm.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do it,” Ding Yudie’s usual excessive confidence and sense of superiority seemed to have vanished. “I feel like I don’t have enough experience. Such important matters… what if I mess everything up…”
Yi Sa mumbled: “Uncle Pan Ling said, the present doesn’t define the future, and the past doesn’t equal the future.”
Ding Yudie didn’t understand: “Huh?”
Yi Sa didn’t answer him again.
There was nothing impossible about it.
Pan Ling had said that people have unlimited potential.
Just like when she first met Zong Hang, she thought someone so pure and defenseless couldn’t survive in her world, but he had accompanied her through countless dangers, gritting his teeth and enduring until the end.
Just like she always thought Ding Xi was a bastard who deserved to die, but his death by sacrifice became the key to everyone’s escape, leaving her confused about how to regard his death even now.
People have unlimited potential, the past doesn’t define the future, and the present doesn’t determine what’s to come.
So, nothing was impossible.
Perhaps the final resolution would come through Ding Yudie’s hands?
(End of Main Text)