Chapter 19: The Mountain Road Accident

 

Director Zhang slept deeply and didn’t wake until nearly afternoon. She sniffled; although traces of her cold remained, she felt far better than she had that morning.

Still a little groggy when she opened her eyes, she vaguely saw someone packing things.

She sat up. “…Sister Cheng?”

Cheng Yun turned around. “Awake? Feeling better?”

Director Zhang nodded, then yawned, looking refreshed.

“Sister Cheng, have you eaten? I’ll take you around the village later and introduce you to the basics of Dong Village.”

Cheng Yun smiled. “I’ve eaten. You can eat later. After we eat, we’ll head back to Guiyang.”

“Hmm—hmm!?”

Director Zhang’s eyes widened. “Back to Guiyang?”

“Yes.” Cheng Yun fastened her bag and set it aside.

Director Zhang was still stunned. “Now? Today? We only arrived last night.”

Cheng Yun walked to the bedside and patted Director Zhang’s shoulder. “Sorry for troubling you.”

“No, no, no.” Director Zhang quickly shook her head. “It’s no trouble at all, it’s just…”
Suddenly remembering something, she grabbed Cheng Yun’s hand. “Sister Cheng, do you want to change tour guides? I have a cold, but it’s not serious at all. I’m perfectly fine, Sister Cheng—”

“….”

Cheng Yun assumed she was still confused from being sick. “No. I’ll go back with you.”

“Oh…”

Her phone vibrated.

Cheng Yun took it from her pocket, glanced at the screen, and said to Director Zhang, “Get ready and come downstairs for dinner.”

“Okay.”

The phone continued vibrating. Cheng Yun pushed open the door, walked along the corridor, and stopped at the far end.

“Hello?”

“Your signal isn’t very good,” Li Yunchong said.

“Yeah, I’m in the mountains.”

“Oh? Why did you go to the mountains again?”

Cheng Yun lowered her head and leaned against the wall. From here she could see distant mountains and nearby houses. A quick glance downward revealed a narrow stone path stretching away.

“Where am I…”

Cheng Yun murmured, taking out a cigarette. “Let me think…”

“You still need to think about where you are? Are you out of your mind?”

Cheng Yun held the phone between her ear and shoulder, the cigarette hanging from her lips as she lit it with one hand and shielded the flame from the wind with the other.

With a soft snap, the flame flickered to life. She lowered her eyes and lit the cigarette.

“Yes, I’m confused.” Cheng Yun switched the phone to her left hand, gazing into the distance. “Truly confused…”

Li Yunchong said, “Why haven’t you called me even once? Having too much fun to remember home?”

“Mr. Li is so busy. How could I bother you by calling?”

Li Yunchong laughed on the other end.

“With scenery this beautiful, how could I not give you a chance to ‘cultivate’ yourself?”

“Cultivate what?”

“Be gentle.”

Cheng Yun laughed too. “Alright. I’ll be gentle.”

Li Yunchong sighed, as if stretching his shoulders. He walked somewhere and opened a door.

Through the phone, Cheng Yun heard a clear whistling sound.

“Playing with the birds?” she asked.

Li Yunchong rarely went out. In today’s terms he would be considered a homebody, though he didn’t play games either.

Aside from health and wellness, his only hobby was raising birds.

Li Yunchong was a renowned bird breeder, famous throughout Beijing. When he was young, he bought a villa, hollowed it out, and turned it into a massive greenhouse filled with rare breeds.

But he later stopped.

When Cheng Yun first met him, he kept only a dozen birds. Year after year the number decreased, and now he kept only three canaries.

Yet those three canaries were almost like spirits—snow-white, translucent, their feathers soft as silk. When the cage was opened they would whistle and fly high into the sky. When the whistle stopped, they returned to perch on one’s shoulder and preen themselves.

Remarkably intelligent creatures.

“Hmm? Not answering? You really are just playing around—”

“No,” Cheng Yun interrupted. “No.”

“Then why didn’t you call?”

“….”
Cheng Yun shifted into a more comfortable position. “Why are you so free?”

“How can I be free? Didn’t you just say I’m extremely busy?”

“That’s because I was wrong.”

Li Yunchong chuckled softly.

“Come back when you’ve had your fun.”

“That’s what you wanted to say, right?”

“You know me well.”

Cheng Yun took a deep drag from her cigarette.

“Tomorrow or the day after.”

“Alright. Call me when you book your flight.”

After ending the call, Cheng Yun turned—and just then the door beside her opened.

Anan stepped out carrying several old wooden strips, probably from cleaning the house.

Cheng Yun walked past him without pausing.

“Pack up. I’m leaving.”

She went straight downstairs.

Anan stood there holding the wooden strips, watching the direction she disappeared.

His thin lips pressed tightly together.

When she was completely out of sight, he slowly lowered his head.

The wooden strip in his hand, unused for years, was mottled with mold—twisted and indistinct.

Cheng Yun went downstairs and saw Director Zhang eating a steamed bun.

“Sister Cheng!”

“Drink some water,” Cheng Yun said. “Don’t choke.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine.” Director Zhang spoke with her mouth full. “I’m done eating. When are we leaving?”

“We’re leaving now.”

Just as Cheng Yun finished speaking, Anan came down from the second floor.

Director Zhang smiled at him.

“Thank you for the medicine. It really helped. By the way, we’re leaving. Are you ready?”

Anan looked at Cheng Yun.

But Cheng Yun’s gaze remained fixed on her phone.

Director Zhang felt puzzled and glanced back and forth between them.

She asked again, “Are you ready?”

Only then did Anan look away and hum in acknowledgment.

Cheng Yun turned off her phone.

“I’ll go upstairs to get my things. Let’s go now.”

Director Zhang ran upstairs and soon came back down.

She looked at Anan. “Do you want to say goodbye to your brother?”

Anan shook his head and walked outside.

---

Whether because it was still early or because they already knew the path, the return journey felt much faster than before.

And very quiet.

Anan’s car was parked in an open area near the mountain exit.

Besides his car, several others stood there as well—vehicles almost identical to his, all battered and barely fit for the road.

Anan went over to unlock the car.

The sound of the chain dragging was harsh in the empty space.

Cheng Yun said to Director Zhang, “Can you call Liu Jie for me? My phone’s dead.”

“Okay.” Director Zhang took out her phone. “What should I tell him?”

“Book me a plane ticket to Beijing. Tonight if possible—no later than tomorrow noon.”

The chain suddenly stopped.

But the door still didn’t open.

Director Zhang blinked in confusion.

“Airfare…? Sister Cheng, you’re going back?”

“Yes.” Cheng Yun smiled at her. “Thank you for your help these past few days. Your service was excellent. I’ll speak with the travel agency later.”

“Oh… thank you, Sister Cheng.”

Director Zhang’s voice faded. She was still dazed, wondering how long she had slept.

Cheng Yun walked to the car.

Anan stood beside the door.

She got in.

He remained standing there.

“Let’s calculate the cost,” Cheng Yun said.

Anan paused, looking at her.

“Calculate the car fare. And the cost of the things we bought.”

As she spoke, Cheng Yun bent down, removed her sneakers, and slipped on leather boots.

When she stood again, Anan was still standing there in silence.

“What, can’t figure it out?” Cheng Yun said, turning her head.

“Four days. A pair of shoes. A set of underwear. A pack of cigarettes.”

She looked at him.

“How much?”

Anan turned his head away.

He didn’t move, but he refused to look at her.

He didn’t want to leave.

Nor did he want to speak.

Director Zhang sensed the tension and cautiously said,

“Sister Cheng… why don’t we go first and settle everything at the travel agency when we return to Guiyang?”

Cheng Yun stared at Anan’s profile.

“…Alright.”

The car started silently.

---

The road was nearly empty.

Cheng Yun rested her elbow on the window frame, quietly watching the scenery pass.

Director Zhang leaned forward from the back seat several times, as if trying to lighten the mood.

But seeing Cheng Yun’s expression, she didn’t dare speak and retreated again.

Actually, Cheng Yun had no expression at all.

The wind blew through the window. Her eyes narrowed, her face cold and rigid like a sculpture.

She watched the weeds and branches flash past outside.

Her mind was blank.

After a while, the car left the narrow road and entered the winding mountain highway.

The sun was gradually setting.

But the sky was not red.

Visibility on the mountain road remained clear, and Cheng Yun watched the sky darken slowly, like a film played in slow motion.

Her thoughts began to wander.

She first thought of the day she arrived in Guiyang—the drizzle, the street food stalls, the fish mint in the casserole that nearly killed her with a single bite.

Then her thoughts leapt ahead to tomorrow.

By this time tomorrow, she should be home.

Back in her international apartment on Chaoyang Park South Road.

Standing by the floor-to-ceiling window on the fifteenth floor.

Smoking.

After finishing a cigarette and taking a shower, the drizzle, the food stalls, the fish mint—and everything else—would be forgotten.

Because of the tight schedule, the journey often felt long.

In truth, it had only been four days.

Not even a full work week.

Thinking this, Cheng Yun rolled her neck.

The movement snapped her thoughts.

She raised her hand, checked the time, and glanced at the driver beside her.

“Aren’t you driving a little slow?” she asked casually.

“Not slow.”

“You weren’t driving this slowly on the way here.”

Anan leaned back slightly and shifted gears.

But the speed didn’t increase.

“Faster,” Cheng Yun said, looking outside.

“You’re not driving slowly.”

Cheng Yun turned and stared at him, enunciating each word clearly.

“I said, go faster.”

“If you want to go faster, drive yourself.”

Director Zhang was terrified.

Anyone could see the conflict between Cheng Yun and Zhou Dongnan.

But she couldn’t help.

She didn’t dare advise Cheng Yun, and Anan wouldn’t listen anyway.

The atmosphere in the car grew tense.

Wind roared past the windows.

Cheng Yun stared at Anan’s profile.

Anan stared straight ahead at the road.

After a long silence, Cheng Yun sneered.

“Fine. Go slow if you want. If you’re so capable, just drive this car into your next life—”

Suddenly, something flashed in Cheng Yun’s peripheral vision.

Ten meters ahead—

A turn.

A sharp turn, nearly ninety degrees.

Their car was in the outer lane, preparing to enter it.

It was pure instinct.

Anan noticed it too.

Before Cheng Yun even finished speaking, both their arms moved.

They grabbed the steering wheel at the same time.

“Watch out—!”

Someone shouted in the darkness.

At that exact moment, a van burst from the opposite direction, skidding across the lane.

The road was covered with a thin layer of gravel left by construction trucks.

With a deafening crash—

The vehicles collided.

The van slammed into the mountainside.

Anan’s car slid violently toward the outer lane.

“Ah—!” Director Zhang screamed from the back seat.

Anan’s car was practically made of paper—too light.

The slide instantly threw it off balance.

The impact left Cheng Yun dizzy.

When the car overturned, the world spun wildly around her.

She squeezed her eyes shut, instinctively clutching the back of her head and curling into herself as tightly as possible.

Another violent crash.

The car flipped completely, skidding sideways into the guardrail.

Everything happened within seconds.

Then—

Silence.

A few seconds later, Cheng Yun slowly opened her eyes.

Her ears rang.

Pain throbbed at the back of her head.

But she was conscious.

She struggled to breathe and tried to move, only to realize she was pinned down.

She looked down.

The person on top of her.

His eyes were closed.

Blood covered his face.

And he was holding her tightly.