“Who’s this one?” Ba Yunye jumped from the vehicle, ran over, and turned the person onto their back. The boy before her, desiccated and brownish-yellow, was beyond recognizable — shriveled like a sun-dried turnip.
Diao Zhuo opened a water bottle and poured out half a cup.
Ba Yunye heaved Zhe Ming’s upper body upright, one arm cradling him, the other wiping the sand clumsily from his lips. She then held the disposable cup to his mouth. Zhe Ming sucked at it greedily, draining it in an instant, and immediately called out for more.
Diao Zhuo said: “Feed it to him slowly. Don’t rush.”
“I know — drink too much at once and it’s even worse.” Ba Yunye waved him off, as if reminding him not to assume she had no knowledge of emergency care.
Long Ge looked all around, then pointed down the slope. “There’s another one down there!”
“Go!” Hippo was the first to charge downhill. Old Wang and Long Ge followed close on his heels, sliding down like two rolling balls.
“It’s a girl!” Hippo shouted. “It’s Meng Xiao’ai!”
Ba Yunye looked at Diao Zhuo, her gaze clear and steady. “You go down. I’ve got this.”
Diao Zhuo gave a nod. Hah. In a critical moment, this woman never dragged anyone down. She was sharp and utterly dependable.
When Diao Zhuo arrived with the medical kit, Old Wang was frowning and saying: “She won’t wake up… her jaw’s clenched tight, we can’t get water in.”
Long Ge pressed two fingers to the side of Xiao’ai’s neck. “She’s still alive.”
Looking at the state of the two of them, Diao Zhuo concluded that they had exhausted the water they brought long ago, and were in a state of hypernatremic dehydration. He handed the medical kit to Long Ge, crouched down, and tapped his own back. “It’s too hot here — get her on my back first.”
Everyone immediately gathered around, hoisting Xiao’ai up and settling her onto Diao Zhuo’s back.
“One after another — none of them look human anymore…” Old Wang sighed, climbing upward and at the same time pressing against Xiao’ai’s back to take some of the load off Diao Zhuo. In the photos provided by the command center, each of the young students had looked fresh-faced and full of vitality — this girl especially, with her bright, wide eyes. And yet look at her now: sunken and skeletal, eyes hollowed deep into their sockets, face a mottled reddish-brown, lips and ears having shed who knew how many layers of skin.
“And there’s still one more…” Diao Zhuo turned to look at Long Ge. “Have a look around the area.”
“Hippo, come with me.” Long Ge called out.
Zhe Ming’s awareness had returned somewhat, and only now did he recognize Ba Yunye. “You… aren’t you…”
“That’s right, it’s me — Master Ba.” Ba Yunye said dryly. “Thanks to the three of you, I’ve practically become an internet celebrity in the western off-road circuit. I’ve been spoon-feeding you water for all this time, and you’re only recognizing me now.”
“How are you… here…” Zhe Ming could barely string together a complete sentence. He suddenly wondered whether he was dreaming.
“Don’t talk. Rest.” Ba Yunye had no heart to poke at him further — his breath was so foul it was making her uncomfortable. Still, the fact that both students were currently alive meant these past few days of riding through the dust from dawn to dusk in ever-wider circles hadn’t been wasted.
“Are you tired? Let us switch.”
“No need. Your hand is injured — it’s not convenient.”
Ba Yunye heard Diao Zhuo and Old Wang’s voices and turned to look. She watched Diao Zhuo climb arduously upward, step by step, with the limp form of Xiao’ai on his back — advancing three steps, slipping back two, all while carrying another person and maintaining his balance, which demanded extraordinary focus.
Diao Zhuo climbed a little further, then exhaled deeply, leaned forward, and dropped to one knee. Old Wang timed his assistance perfectly, pressing up against Xiao’ai from behind to give a boost, and Diao Zhuo, gripping her legs tightly, pushed on.
Ba Yunye watched him, and felt something in her chest that was simultaneously hard as stone and warm as sunlight. Then she thought: if this man could belong to me for the rest of his life, that would be something.
Once they crested the ridge, the going was much easier. Diao Zhuo and Old Wang together laid Xiao’ai down on the rear seat, flat on her back. They called her name twice — still no response. The situation was critical. Diao Zhuo found a bottle of glucose solution, deftly fitted the needle, disinfected her skin, and inserted it into the back of her hand. He adjusted the flow rate, replenishing her fluids, then set a bottle of saline solution beside her in readiness.
“And the third one — any luck?” Old Wang called over the walkie-talkie to Long Ge.
“No. Can’t find him anywhere nearby.”
Old Wang stepped outside and crouched in front of Zhe Ming. “Young man, what’s your name?”
Ba Yunye had already recognized who this was, but deliberately said nothing — she wanted to test whether his mind was still working properly.
Zhe Ming, having had some water, was a little better, but still extremely weak. He spoke in halting fragments: “I’m… Su… Zhe Ming.”
“Su Zhe Ming.” Old Wang repeated the name. “Zhang Tian’en — where is he?”
Zhe Ming pressed his lips together, seemingly reluctant to answer. He loathed Zhang Tian’en with every fiber of his being, and would not have minded in the least if the man dropped dead right then. In the end, he simply closed his eyes, indicating that he didn’t know.
Old Wang grew anxious. “How could you not know? You came together!”
“It’s perfectly normal that he doesn’t know where Zhang Tian’en is — there are no road signs out here.” Ba Yunye said. She paused, then patted Zhe Ming’s face. “However — you at least need to tell us which direction Zhang Tian’en walked off in, or where you were when you got separated.”
Zhe Ming shook his head, looking either genuinely confused or deliberately evasive.
“In that case…” Ba Yunye moved the cup away from his lips. “We didn’t bring much water — let’s save some for Zhang Tian’en when we find him.” With that, she made a show of taking the water bottle back to the vehicle.
“No… please don’t…” Zhe Ming’s eyes went wide. Ba Yunye had stepped squarely on his rawest nerve. Water was more important to him right now than anything in the world — how could he bear to be cut off after only half a drink and plunge back into that parched agony? “South… southwest…”
“Southwest?” Ba Yunye, having gotten what she wanted, was inwardly triumphant — though her eyes held no trace of amusement. “Are you talking about those two lakes on the GPS map, southwest of here?”
Zhe Ming gave a grunt, which was as good as confirmation.
“Diao Zhuo!” Ba Yunye called out. “Zhang Tian’en headed southwest toward those lakes on the map after all!”
Diao Zhuo immediately notified the rescue command center, reporting their progress. “Found one male and one female — Meng Xiao’ai and Su Zhe Ming respectively. Meng Xiao’ai’s condition is critical: hypernatremic dehydration, currently unconscious. We are attempting to administer fluids. Requesting additional medical personnel to rendezvous with us as quickly as possible. Zhang Tian’en’s whereabouts remain unknown. His situation is likely not good. Recommend all other rescue teams conduct a sweep-search westward and southwestward simultaneously, and be prepared to provide emergency treatment!”
Officer Liu set down the phone and turned around with barely contained excitement. “Meng Xiao’ai and Su Zhe Ming have been found! Alive! The Beidou Rescue volunteers are performing initial emergency care! Come, the coordinates are here — all medical personnel head here first!”
“Ah—! Ah—!” Liu Chengru screamed, then dissolved at once into a flood of tears. She stumbled toward Officer Liu. “Where is my daughter?! Where is my daughter?! I want to talk to her!! Wuwuwu!! How is she?!”
Zhe Ming’s parents were overwhelmed with a torrent of emotions, clutching each other and weeping without end. By contrast, Zhang Tian’en’s parents were gripped by equal parts disappointment and dread, a combination that was slowly destroying them. In just a few short days, both of them had gone half-gray. Zhang Tian’en’s mother, who had been somewhat heavyset before, had visibly lost weight; her eye sockets were sunken deep, giving her the look of someone who had been bedridden with serious illness for a long time.
“Tian’en… where is our Tian’en…” she murmured, drifting toward Officer Liu. “How is he… what’s…”
Both of Zhang Tian’en’s parents were profoundly baffled — in terms of physical fitness and experience, their son had clearly been the strongest of the three. So why were the other two the ones who had been found? A sense of terrible foreboding settled over them, chilling them to the bone with uncontrollable shuddering. Neither of them was willing to accept that the worst moment might truly be upon them.
“Don’t worry, don’t worry… they’re still looking for him. They will find him.” Officer Liu offered his reassurances.
“Beidou Rescue… isn’t that the same Beidou Rescue team that brought Zou Kaigui back from Qiang Tang a few months ago?!” someone remarked.
“That’s right, that’s right! As I recall, among Old Wang’s group… Diao Zhuo was with them.”
“Diao Zhuo — he was the one who went into Qiang Tang last time to find that person.”
“I also heard that the woman who went with them — tall, with a strong build — was actually the guide who took those three university students through Xinjiang. She volunteered to help.”
“She’s no ordinary guide. She’s the top woman in the Eagle Club — special forces, discharged from the military. Word is she’s very good-looking too. Apparently she was once cornered on a back road by a group of men with ill intentions… and every last one of those fools ended up in the hospital. They didn’t even dare file a police report, and the whole matter was quietly dropped.”
“Since when does a sexual harasser go to the police first? Hahaha!”
Officer Liu, overhearing the exchange, took note of the ashen faces of Zhang Tian’en’s parents and offered further reassurance: “All of the volunteer teams participating in this rescue have extensive search and rescue experience. Moreover, they now know the direction Zhang Tian’en was heading. I am confident that young Zhang will return safely very soon.”
Zhang Tian’en’s parents nodded again and again. Of course they hoped everything Officer Liu said would come true.
After the news broke that two of the missing students had been found, discussion among netizens continued. Some keyboard warriors jumped up to attack the rescue system as excessively lenient, arguing that China’s rescue resources should be reserved for sudden disaster emergencies, and that these hikers — who had ignored all warnings and overestimated their abilities — should not be coddled, as doing so wasted manpower and money. Some more measured netizens argued that saving lives was non-negotiable, but that this rescue should be followed by a charge after the fact, as a deterrent.
Deep in the desert, Zhang Tian’en could not hear his parents’ quiet sobbing, nor could he see the netizens’ heated debates. He was a beached whale, most of his body buried in the sand, mouth barely open, breathing in feeble, labored gasps, waiting for the hope of survival.
The midday sun blazed as fiercely as ever, scorching every grain of sand on the surface — and scorching his haggard, parched face.
Somehow, the distant sound of engines had risen and faded several times. But each team, it seemed, saw the existing tire tracks and concluded this section had already been searched, and did not come his way. Zhang Tian’en wanted to cry but had no tears. Every time an engine sounded, he forced out what sound he could — only to watch, helplessly, as each chance at rescue receded.
The wind blew sand into his mouth, but he lacked even the strength to spit it out. He drifted in and out, sometimes opening his eyes to look at the blue sweep of sky above, sometimes closing them while fragments of the past played through his mind. At one point when he opened his eyes, he saw a white camel standing on the ridge of a dune, watching him. A wild surge of elation rose in his chest — there is a saying that to see a white camel in the desert is to have seen a deity.
But in the space of a blink, the white camel was gone.
His fist clenched tightly around a handful of sand — not only from the refusal to give in, but from a deep attachment to this world. He thought: even if he descended into hell, he would take the sand of the Badain Jaran with him. In the next life, either he would never come near a desert again, or he would conquer every last desert on earth.
I might be dying… he thought, his mind drifting into fog.
A dozen or so kilometers away in the shaded side of the dunes, thanks to the timely administration of fluids, Xiao’ai’s condition had eased somewhat, but she had not yet regained consciousness. Diao Zhuo received a message from the command center: the majority of the rescue vehicles had converged to the southwest, but had found neither the two desert lakes marked on the GPS map nor any sign of Zhang Tian’en.
“The lakes… sure enough, they’ve moved on.” Old Wang shook his head with a regretful sigh.
In the other vehicle, Long Ge shook out the clothing that had been stripped from Zhe Ming — it was packed through with sand. Earlier, Hippo had wiped Zhe Ming down with a damp cloth, and a full half-bucket of the water turned to fine sand.
Zhe Ming, dressed in clean clothes, was lying unconscious in the rear seat. Long Ge woke him, asked a few questions, then nodded and walked over to Diao Zhuo’s vehicle.
“Pass the word to the other rescue teams —” Long Ge leaned on the window frame and poked his head inside. “Zhang Tian’en has hiking experience, and it’s the middle of the day, so there’s no reason he would have collapsed right on top of a ridge. Looking at Su Zhe Ming — there was sand even in his collar. My guess is they buried themselves in the sand at some point to cool down. Tell everyone to keep a close watch in the shaded hollows for any sign of a round head sticking out, or the remains of a dug-out pit.”
Diao Zhuo gave a nod and picked up the satellite phone.