Cheng Jia’s car was towed behind the SUV. Because of its weight and inertia, no one was allowed to sit in it for safety reasons.
The SUV’s roof and half of the back seat were piled with canvas bags and oil drums. Peng Ye and Nima could fit comfortably, but with Cheng Jia, it was cramped.
Nima, shy, didn’t dare sit in the middle and was the first to jump in. Peng Ye looked down and saw the space left for Cheng Jia was only slightly wider than his thigh.
Just as Cheng Jia stepped onto the back, Peng Ye said to Sixteen in the passenger seat, “You come to the back and let her sit in the front.”
“I like sitting in the back,” Cheng Jia said, climbing onto the car and plopping down into the gap between Peng Ye and the car. Her legs pressed against Peng Ye’s thighs, sinking in.
She remained silent for a few seconds, stunned. Peng Ye’s thighs—firm muscle beneath soft skin, radiating heat even through fabric. Her loose trousers pressed tightly against his legs, the lines of his thighs clear, strong, like poplar trunks hidden beneath cloth.
Cheng Jia had always believed that a man’s sex appeal lay in long, powerful legs—the primal symbol of strength. Not the exaggerated bulk of a bodybuilder, nor the delicate beauty of a pretty boy. Peng Ye was just right: natural, unforced, like a wild animal born to run.
She couldn’t take her eyes off him. She wished she could capture him in a portrait. It would be a masterpiece.
A chef’s skill is vital, but ingredients matter too. Even a skilled cook can’t make a meal without rice.
Now, Peng Ye was her rice.
She longed to touch her rice.
Sensing their closeness, Peng Ye shifted forward slightly. The friction of fabric against fabric made Cheng Jia’s heart tremble. She remembered her physics textbook: friction generates heat.
Sixteen and Stone chatted in front. Behind them, silence.
Sixteen turned on the stereo. An old song played, familiar yet distant.
Cheng Jia turned to the window. Clear sky, calm fields, no storm. Suddenly, Peng Ye moved, and her squeezed legs relaxed.
Peng Ye stood.
Nima, sensing his intent, instantly slipped to the floor. “Brother, sit on the chair. I’m thin, this is perfect for you.”
Peng Ye didn’t refuse.
Cheng Jia frowned, face expressionless. She opened her phone, scrolling idly. It rang.
Gao Jiayuan.
She wasn’t in the mood. She hung up.
He kept calling. She kept hanging up. The car filled with silence, broken only by the ringing.
Peng Ye said, “Stop the car.”
Stone stopped.
Peng Ye said to Cheng Jia, “Get out and answer the phone.”
She guessed he thought she couldn’t answer inside. She stepped out, answered, and walked aside.
“Gao Jiayuan, what are you doing?” she asked impatiently.
“I’m asking you, why didn’t you answer my call?”
“Not answering means I don’t want to talk to you, isn’t that obvious?”
Silence. Then: “Did my words scare you away that day?”
“What words?”
“Don’t play dumb!”
Cheng Jia snorted coldly.
“…Cheng Jia, just pretend I didn’t say anything, let’s go back to how things were before.”
“Impossible.”
“Why is it impossible? Can’t I satisfy you anymore? Your performance in bed that day wasn’t like this at all!”
Cheng Jia snapped: “Gao Jiayuan, we agreed on this from the beginning! You broke the rules first, so it’s game over!”
“We did agree, not to take things further. I just didn’t expect you to be so ruthless.”
“Otherwise what?” Cheng Jia chuckled. “Just because you like me, does that mean I should like you back? Do you think this is a loan? Gao Jiayuan, I don’t owe you anything.”
Silence again. Then: “I don’t owe you anything. Hmph, one confession and you cower like an ostrich. I’ve figured it out—you’ll attack whatever you’re afraid of. Cheng Jia, you’re a coward.”
She stood in the wind, grass swaying at her feet.
“Gao Jiayuan, do you know who Fang Yan is?”
“What does this have to do with her…” His voice rose. “Are you really jealous?”
“She’s my sister.”
“….”
“Do you understand now?”
“….”
Cheng Jia felt tired. It was only 1:30 PM, but the day felt like a month.
She returned to the car. Peng Ye’s deep black eyes met hers. She was caught off guard, unable to mask herself. His gaze lingered for a second or two.
The old song shifted rhythm:
“Special love for a special you,
my loneliness can’t escape your eyes.”
Yes. Whose loneliness can escape whose eyes?
Peng Ye looked away.
Cheng Jia got in, closed the door. So this is the song. So old-fashioned.
She unscrewed a bottle, drinking water. Nima sat on the floor, staring.
She frowned. “What are you looking at?”
Nima blurted: “Sis, you’re so fair-skinned. I’ve never seen anyone as fair as you, except for the sheep we herd.”
Cheng Jia: “…”
The two in front burst into laughter.
“Are you complimenting me or insulting me?”
“Of course I’m complimenting you.”
“Don’t think I don’t know what your sheep look like!” She pointed outside. Tibetan antelopes chased the car, yellow-brown.
Nima panicked. “Not those sheep, they’re goats.”
Peng Ye asked calmly, “Black goats?”
Nima cried, “Brother, how could you say that! White goats!”
“Do you like fair skin?” Cheng Jia tilted her head, sipping water, gaze sweeping over Peng Ye’s face. “I like darker skin, it’s sexy.”
Nima, dark-skinned, blushed. “I like darker skin too…”
Sixteen turned. “Like Maiduo?”
Nima hurried: “Don’t talk.”
Cheng Jia raised an eyebrow. “That Maiduo from the convenience store?”
Nima’s eyes lit up. “You know her?”
“I took her picture this morning.”
“Can I see it?”
“Not now. I don’t show the original photos in my camera to anyone.”
“Oh.” Nima smiled shyly, still happy.
“But I can give you one when it’s developed,” Cheng Jia said. “You asked me before you got in the car if you wanted me to take a picture of her?”
“Yeah,” Sixteen interjected, “He was worried you wouldn’t go to the Qiangtang area next time.”
Nima said, “I thought you came specifically to take pictures of the sheep, but I didn’t expect you to take pictures of Maiduo first.”
Cheng Jia smiled. “Quite a coincidence.”
Before she finished, Stone said, “There’s a car up ahead, looks like it’s broken down.”
A jeep parked a few hundred meters away. A man and woman waved frantically.
Cheng Jia laughed coldly. “Quite a coincidence. Hippie and Panda Eyes.”
Peng Ye asked casually, “What happened?”
“They’re the ones who messed up my old, empty gas tank.”
Peng Ye didn’t comment.
He said to Stone, “Stop and take a look.”
Cheng Jia turned coldly. “What are you doing?”
“Stop and take a look.”
“I told you. They stole my gasoline.”
“I heard you.”
Cheng Jia laughed angrily. “Repaying evil with kindness, are you a moral exemplar?”
Peng Ye’s gaze was indifferent. “I’m the owner of the car. Once you’re in this car, you have to do what I say. Understand?”
She stared silently, then stopped protesting.
Before the SUV stopped, Hippie and Panda Eyes rushed forward. “Big brother, our car is broken, can you help us fix it?”
Panda Eyes pleaded, “The village ahead isn’t far, how about we tow our car there…”
Seeing Cheng Jia, her expression changed. She ignored her, clinging to Sixteen for help.
They showed no remorse.
Sixteen turned to Peng Ye. Panda Eyes begged, “Big brother, please help me! What if wolves come after dark?”
Peng Ye got out. Cheng Jia made way, saying coldly, “So you saw that little woman.”
Peng Ye heard her words but didn’t glance at her.
Cheng Jia pursed her lips, took a deep breath, and leaned against the car, watching expressionlessly.
Sixteen and Nima bent over the jeep, working on the engine, while Hippie and Panda Eyes hovered nearby, eager to ingratiate themselves, their voices too cheerful, too eager.
Cheng Jia watched them for a while. Their eyes met hers several times, but each time they looked away quickly, pretending nothing had happened.
“Hey!” Cheng Jia called out suddenly.
Peng Ye glanced at her, but she was too preoccupied to notice.
“You two.”
The men turned, faces feigning innocence. “Huh? Is something wrong?”
Cheng Jia smiled faintly. “Nothing.”
They returned to their chatter, but Cheng Jia’s expression hardened. She walked toward their car.
Peng Ye noticed something was off.
Cheng Jia reached the back of the jeep, hand on the door handle—when suddenly her wrist was gripped, firm and unyielding. It was Peng Ye.
His voice was low, carrying a warning. “What are you doing?”
“I’m not in your car now, it’s none of your business.” Cheng Jia struggled, but his grip was like iron.
She lowered her head, ready to bite, but Peng Ye twisted her arm behind her back with practiced ease.
She fought, furious, but he held her fast.
“If you don’t let go, I’m not finished with you!” Her eyes blazed, her face cold as ice.
A wind swept across the field, whipping her hair, her eyes red with anger.
Peng Ye stared at her for a long moment, then suddenly released her, murmuring something low.
Cheng Jia shook him off violently.
She flung open the jeep’s door, pulled out a paint bucket, and lifted the lid. The sharp stench of gasoline filled the air.
Sixteen looked up, startled, just as Cheng Jia leapt onto the hood.
Bang! Clang! Clang! Her boots slammed against the metal, reverberating. She climbed higher, onto the roof, gasoline sloshing in the bucket.
Hippie and Panda Eyes froze, staring up at her.
From above, Cheng Jia sneered. “I don’t want it anymore, it’s yours!”
The white liquid cascaded down, soaking them.
She flicked her wrist, tossing the empty bucket aside.
“Damn it…”
“Bitch…”
Their curses died instantly when they saw her smile—enigmatic, dangerous—as a red lighter spun between her fingers.
“No! Help! I was wrong, help! I’m sorry, help me!” They screamed, scrambling toward Sixteen, tears and snot streaming.
Click. The lighter cap snapped open.
“Tell her not to burn us! Don’t burn us!” Hippie and Panda Eyes wailed. “We were wrong, we’re so sorry! Don’t burn us!”
Stone muttered under his breath. Sixteen, unfazed, touched her nose lightly. “It’s alright…”
The two men looked up again—and froze.
Through the windshield, Cheng Jia sat cross-legged on the roof, cigarette dangling from her lips.
Blue sky, snow-capped mountains. She cupped her hand against the wind, lit the cigarette.
A bluish-white mist curled upward. She smiled. “Don’t be afraid, I’m lighting a cigarette.”
Hippie and Panda Eyes nearly collapsed.
Cheng Jia exhaled smoke slowly, eyes lifting to the sky as the wind carried it away.
Moments earlier, when Peng Ye had released her arm, he had whispered:
“Go, but don’t go too far.”
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