Chapter 4: Into the Mountains

The car couldn’t move fast in the city. Cheng Yun sat watching the streets go by—Guiyang Station just a short distance ahead, crowds thick as tides, food stalls smoking and fragrant along the sidewalks.

Once they finally eased onto the highway, the speed crept upward.

The car, however, was ancient. Tugging at the door handle made dust fall like ash, and at a hundred kilometres an hour the entire frame trembled as if it were held together by stubbornness alone. Cheng Yun tried to nap but the creaking chassis grated on her nerves.

She turned. Anan drove with an expression carved from stone.

They hit a raised maintenance patch in the road; the car jolted violently, and both of them bounced. Cheng Yun’s spine rang with numb pain.

She turned again. Anan’s face hadn’t shifted a millimeter.

“Hello.”

Anan glanced sideways for half a second, then looked ahead. “Huh?”

“You usually drive like this?”

“Hmm.”

“I said I’m not in a hurry,” Cheng Yun muttered. “Can you drive steadily? You’re shaking me to pieces.”

Anan turned toward her, studying her over-intently. Cheng Yun jerked upright. “Look at the road!”

“Oh.” He faced forward again. Cheng Yun rubbed her aching waist. Then Anan added, “I will try to drive as steadily as possible.”

“It’s okay to slow down.”

“I have something to do. I have to be in Carey before noon.”

Cheng Yun gave him a sideways look. “What’s the matter?”

“Work.”

She paused, then slowly faced forward, only to turn toward him again moments later.

“What kind of work? I booked you for three days.”

“I know. I won’t delay you.”

“Do you have some work ethic?”

Anan stiffened as if genuinely struck by the accusation. After a long internal struggle he finally said, “When you go to Miao Village, you must stay there. Evenings always require time for eating and sleeping… so I will do some work there.”

He wasn’t wrong—but Cheng Yun had nothing to do, and idleness always bred unnecessary stubbornness. Especially when dealing with people like Zhou Dongnan.

Cheng Yun snorted softly. “Alright then. But if I need the car, you’d better be there.”

“Yes,” he answered without hesitation.

“We’ll see.”

The car sped down the highway. This time, Cheng Yun fell asleep.

Conditions were terrible, but fatigue won. With the same scenery to her right and a driver to her left who never made conversation, anyone would’ve dozed off.

When she opened her eyes again, they were already entering the city.

Her mind was foggy. Seeing vendors setting up stalls outside, she murmured, “You haven’t left Guiyang yet?”

Anan handed her a bottle of water instead of answering.

In December, the water was cold enough to snap a person awake.

He drove on. Five seconds later something nudged his coat. He looked down: the bottle of water pressing against him. He turned his head; Cheng Yun reclined with her eyes closed, voice lazy. “Unscrew the…”

“……”
Anan watched her a moment, then opened the bottle and handed it back.

Cheng Yun drank a few sips and finally cleared her head.

“To Carey?”

“Hmm.”

She sat straighter, peering out the window. “What time is it?”

“Eleven-thirty.”

“You looking for a hotel?”

He hesitated. “What did you arrange with the tour guide?”

“Meet in Carey.” She studied his face. “But it’s not fixed. Do you have an opinion?”

Anan answered, “Otherwise, go directly to Miao Village.”

“Fine.” She wasn’t particular. “But I’m hungry. How long will it take?”

“It won’t take long if I drive fast.”

Cheng Yun burst out laughing.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

They left the city and wound into the mountains. The slopes weren’t high nor deep, dotted with houses along the hillsides. Through the drafty window, Cheng Yun watched the illuminated wooden dwellings, each one picturesque under the sun.

“Those are Miao houses?” she asked.

“Hmm.”
He drove more carefully on the mountain roads, turning corner after corner.

It was noon. After days of gloomy weather, the sky finally cleared. Cheng Yun lay against the seat, sometimes watching scenery, sometimes closing her eyes.

For once, she felt relaxed.

“That…”

After almost half an hour of mountain roads, Anan finally spoke. Cheng Yun hummed without opening her eyes.

“Are you sleeping?”

She opened them, turning only her gaze his way. From her angle, his side profile was striking—his deeper skin tone and sharply contoured features setting him apart from Han locals.

“If you have something, say it.”

“When we enter Miao Village, you need to buy a ticket.”

Cheng Yun blinked. “Then buy it.”

He glanced at her again, then quickly turned forward, clearly holding back.

Cheng Yun sighed. “If you have something to say, just say it. I could knock you out like this.”

He flinched faintly, then murmured, “You buy it from me.”

“You’re selling tickets on the side again.”

“No…”

“Then what?”

“I have an internal ticket.”

“Oh.” She sat up. “How much?”

He thought. “A hundred.”

“How much is the official ticket?”

“One hundred.”

“…”
Cheng Yun gritted her teeth. “Are you playing me? How do you say this nonsense with a straight face?”

Anan stared at her, lips pressed tight.

“Nothing,” he muttered. “You’re helping my business.”

Cheng Yun laughed. “Helping your business again? Then what are you helping me with?”

He said nothing.

After a moment she added, “When we get to Miao Village, if I want to eat—”

“You want me to treat you?” Anan guessed.

“No. I’ll help you bargain.”

“…Get out,” Cheng Yun said darkly.

Anan frowned subtly—clearly distressed.

A failed business deal was distressing, of course. Cheng Yun found his seriousness both ridiculous and amusing. She finally took out a cigarette.

“Alright, internal ticket it is.”

Anan perked up instantly. “Okay.”

She opened her mouth to tease him further, but he cut in: “Then wait. You have to cooperate with me.”

“Cooperate how?”

“You’ll need to stop before entering the village. Nothing big—just listen to me.”

They drove another ten minutes.

Buildings appeared—wooden two-storey structures, locals in bright ethnic clothing walking everywhere. Women wore flowers in their hair, first vulgar at a glance, but charming by the third. Children were strapped to square cloth carriers on their mothers’ backs, swaying safely with every step.

“These are all residents?” Cheng Yun asked.

“Hmm.”
Anan was tense, stretching his neck to watch for darting children and stray dogs.

After the densest part of the road cleared, he finally said, “This whole area is minority-inhabited. The Miao Village we’re going to is huge—the largest in the country.”

Cheng Yun exhaled in awe.

A few minutes later Anan slowed down and angled the car off-road.

“Get out.”

Cheng Yun looked around. “This isn’t it.”
Trees, slopes—nothing else.

“It’s close,” Anan said as he got out, unlocked her door, and motioned. “Come down first. Cooperate.”

Confused but compliant, Cheng Yun stepped out. Her legs were numb from sitting too long; she stretched, yawned.

“The mountain air is nice.”

Anan ignored that. He lifted the back hatch and called, “Come here.”

She approached. He pointed inside. “Sit in.”

She stared. The space was where a small truck would normally store junk—a one-person gap with an old dusty blanket spread out.

“You want me to sit there?”

“Hmm. Cooperate.”

His expression was so sincere it was almost earnest. Cheng Yun looked away and climbed in.

Anan closed the hatch. “Lower your head. Don’t speak unless I speak.”

Cheng Yun bent over. “You really have a lot of shady ideas.”

Anan considered how to respond, then simply hummed.

The car started again.

It was almost unbearable.

With no support, every bump slammed through her spine. Light filtered through the window tint, turning her clothes from black to a dusky red.

Then they hit something larger. The sudden drop made Cheng Yun feel like she split in half. Pain shot through her tailbone; she clenched her teeth.

The car halted. Anan rolled down his window.

Half the doorman’s face appeared. Anan said, “Car for shop delivery.”

The doorman nodded—just about to wave them through—

When a furious voice exploded from the back:

“F*ck ——!”

Doorman: “……”

Anan: “……”

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