Cheng Jia stood up, preparing to jump off the car. Seeing Peng Ye beside her, she waved to him:
“Hey, give me a hand.”
Peng Ye glanced at her subtly arrogant expression, somewhat speechless, but this time he didn’t ignore her. He raised his hand.
Cheng Jia grasped his palm, feeling its size and warmth—broad, firm, callused. Rough like the paw pads of a dog, or perhaps a bear. The sensation against her skin was indescribably intoxicating.
She used his strength to jump down steadily.
Peng Ye looked at her. “Does this have to make you feel better?”
“It has to be this way.” Cheng Jia snorted. “If someone slaps me, I’ll slap them back a hundred times. Not littering cigarette butts is my way of repaying evil with kindness.”
She shook the cigarette in her hand, lips smiling but eyes cold.
Peng Ye recalled that night in her room, when she stared at him and said someone had touched her breasts—that same look in her eyes now. Calm, composed, glossing over it, but beneath it all: revenge, patient and merciless.
The hippie and panda-eyed man had long since fled, scrubbing gasoline from their bodies, changing clothes head to toe. Neither dared meet Cheng Jia’s gaze, terrified she might flick a cigarette butt their way. To them, she was a lunatic.
Cheng Jia walked a short distance away, sat on the dry grass, and let the wind blow across her.
Footsteps approached. She paused, listening.
She raised an eyebrow—it was Nima. He scratched his head shyly and chuckled.
Cheng Jia asked, “Do you want to chat?”
“Big sis.” Nima sat cross‑legged two or three meters away. “Just now those two said they’ll hate Shanghainese forever.”
Cheng Jia was baffled. “Why?”
“They said you’re from Shanghai.”
Cheng Jia replied, “I was just fooling them.”
Nima: “…”
“Big sis, where are you really from?”
Cheng Jia fell silent. She didn’t know where she belonged. No wonder she wandered, never settling.
Finally, she said, “Qiqihar.”
Nima nodded. After a pause, he whispered, “Sister, don’t be angry.”
“Angry?”
“Actually… it’s the rule. In the no-man’s-land, if someone’s car breaks down, you have to stop. Because you don’t know if the next car will pass in a day or a month.”
Cheng Jia understood, smiled faintly. “I’ve already let it go.” Then asked, “Who asked you to come and explain?”
“Huh?… I saw you sitting here alone. I thought you were angry. I was afraid you’d say we weren’t on your side, so I came…”
Cheng Jia said “Oh,” then added softly, “A kind-hearted child.”
She remembered he called himself Nima. Amused, she asked, “Last time, someone called you another name.”
“Which person?”
She pointed toward Peng Ye.
“You said Seventh Brother called me… Sangyang. My full name is Sangyang Nima.”
“Does Nima mean anything?”
“It means sun in Tibetan.”
“Oh? Nima is the sun.” Cheng Jia tapped her cigarette ash.
She turned her head. “What’s that person’s name?”
“Which one?”
“Peng Ye,” Nima said, blushing.
“Peng… Ye…” Cheng Jia murmured. “Nice name.”
After a while, she asked, “How old is he?”
“Over thirty, not sure exactly.”
“Is he married?”
Nima shook his head, wary. “Why are you asking this?”
“Just answer.” Cheng Jia frowned. “Does he have any women around him?”
“I don’t know.”
“A lover?”
Nima pursed his lips.
“Do people in your team go out and find women?”
Nima pressed his lips tight.
Cheng Jia dragged on her cigarette. “When did he start working here?”
“Many years ago, I don’t know specifics.” Nima tugged at the grass.
This kid’s tongue was tight.
Cheng Jia lost interest. “Let me take a picture of you.”
“No need!” Nima waved, embarrassed, and ran off.
Cheng Jia finished her cigarette and stood.
Suddenly, a gust of wind blew, sharp and cold.
She wrapped her coat tighter, looked up. The sky deepened, waves rippling across the grass like migrating reptiles.
A storm was imminent.
Peng Ye stood a dozen meters away, rigid, head tilted, eyes narrowed toward the wind.
Cheng Jia hurried over. Hippie and Panda Eyes’ car was barely repaired.
Stone said, “You guys hurry up, a blizzard is coming.”
Peng Ye frowned. “Too late. Let’s turn back to the village we passed. Sixteen!”
“Yes!” Sixteen packed tools quickly.
Panda Eyes protested. “That’s a village? Only three or four households!”
Hippie scoffed. “It’s an hour to the next town. The sky looks clear. It’s always windy here. How could there be a storm so soon…”
“Then you guys keep going.” Peng Ye shut the door. “Goodbye.”
Moments later, lightning split the sky, deafening.
The blue sky vanished. Wind stopped. Grass stood still. Animals disappeared. Cold crept upward, freezing.
Sixteen drove hard. Darkness fell. Clouds surged, wind roared. Snow hammered down, hailstones like bullets.
The blizzard was merciless. Roads iced over. The SUV lurched like a boat in a storm.
The village, ten minutes away, took half an hour to reach.
Exhausted, pale, they arrived.
The village nestled in a valley, shrubbery low, houses scattered, a dilapidated inn waiting.
Cheng Jia’s chest tightened. She entered her room. No bed, only a heated brick bed. Warm.
She touched up her makeup in the mirror. Her face pale, lips purple. The room was hot, dizzying.
Hail pounded the windows. The inn creaked. She cracked the window—snow rushed in, hail struck her forehead.
It wasn’t even four, yet pitch black. Laughter echoed from the next room.
The wind slammed the window shut.
Cheng Jia wandered the inn. Ancient beams carved with auspicious clouds, Buddha statues, dancers.
She turned a corner. Water flowed.
The shower area.
Outside, wind howled. Inside, water pattered.
She crept closer. Dim light leaked through cracks.
Peng Ye was showering.
Water cascaded over his bronze body, muscles sculpted, scars etched.
Her breath caught. Her heart raced. Blood dripped—her nose.
She swayed, floorboards creaked.
Peng Ye stiffened, turned, eyes dark, meeting hers.
Normally, she would have stared boldly. But now, blood gushed.
She rushed into her room, locked the door, head tilted back, stunned.
She had seen everything—abs, V-line, scars, the raw power of him. Her heart thundered, nose bleeding uncontrollably.
Peng Ye’s footsteps stopped outside.
“Open the door.” His voice was low, unfriendly.
Silence.
He slammed the door. “Open the door!”
The shout silenced laughter next door.
Sixteen opened his door, stunned at the trail of blood. “Holy crap, what’s going on?”
Peng Ye kicked Cheng Jia’s door open.
She lay unconscious, face covered in blood.
He lifted her swiftly. “Altitude sickness. Very serious.”
Sixteen rushed. “I’ll get the medicine.”
Confused, worried. “Why was she hiding in her room?”
Peng Ye licked his teeth, cold eyes on her unconscious face.
After a pause, he said, “She’s crazy.”
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