In the following days, Changdong proceeded according to plan to search for Bai Long Dui. Ye Liuxi and Zhaoshao traveled with him, with a rope tied around Zhaoshao’s ankle and the other end fastened to the vehicle’s collision bar. Whenever they stopped, Ye and Changdong would walk around and occasionally climb higher to get a better view, while Zhaoshao, constrained by the length of the rope, remained near the vehicle, constantly trying to engage him in conversation—yet no matter how hard he tried, he only repeated the same few phrases: "Sanding down, a line, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, holding up an umbrella—Grandfather was buried. Occasionally, he would carefully shift the 'umbrella' aside, as if observing the 'rain intensity,' then shiver and reposition it over his head again." Over five days, even the most magnificent and rare sights grew routine—Bai Long Dui was merely a cluster of grayish-salt-plain terraces, wind-eroded ridges and furrows. There was nothing unusual, no trace of human presence. Chang Dong would sometimes stand atop one of the terraces, holding up Kong Yang’s photograph and comparing it from all four sides. The scenes inside and outside looked very similar, yet a quiet voice in his heart kept reminding him: they were two distinct worlds. Ye Liuxi hadn't been wrong at all—there would always be a sweet spot to be gained, and Fang Tang would inevitably be held back. Chang Dong didn't hesitate: "Alright, I'll cover the cost and make a deduction for you." Once the main matter was settled, Fang Tang still stammered, refusing to hang up. The satellite phone charges were quite high, so Chang Dong gently urged him to be concise: "If you keep dragging on for a couple of hours, it'll be as if you've paid for a stone worth nine thousand yuan. Though the call fees are on me, could you possibly save me a bit?" Fang Tang was startled and immediately spoke faster: "Here's the thing, Dongzhong—these past couple of days, I've been staying in the city, and whenever I have time, I've been browsing online for stories about the spirits and ghosts of Luo Bu Po..." He couldn't help but be curious. After all, he had once been dragged over ten meters, and now that he was safe, he naturally wanted to know: What exactly was this phenomenon? Was it unique to him, or did others share the same experience? He found many stories, many of which were crafted by internet storytellers — Usually, strange things happen on windy, sandy days. A staunch materialist even commented under the post: "It's all made up! Keep fabricating! The oddities you describe are simply sand that's gotten into your mind." — The strange incidents tend to follow a predictable pattern: for instance, driving at night, tailing a vehicle ahead, and gradually realizing that the car has vanished even though no junctions or turns were visible; another case involves a vehicle traveling through remote wilderness, only to find another vehicle suddenly appearing out of nowhere on the near side; or, when setting up camp, you've carefully pulled the tent door shut, only to find it open upon waking up. Only one person’s experience resembles that of Fei Tang. That person camped on a saline, alkaline plain and, while going to the bathroom at night, felt as though something had "pushed" him gently. Upon clicking into that post, it was from over two years ago, titled "A Young Man's Journey Across the Sea of Death in Seven Days," and remained a popular thread, with over a thousand replies and rich visuals and photos, widely admired by hiking enthusiasts. The first entry about the strange experience reads: "To be honest, we've always been fit and energetic young men, yet our stamina pales in comparison to that of the female truck driver. Inside the tent, we heard the sound of the truck, stepped out to see—stunned beyond words. What a remarkable woman! She's single-handedly braving the wind and sand, driving all night. We felt utterly embarrassed, so we decided to take a quick pee to calm our nerves. Little did we know—this very moment would prove to be the most terrifying event of the entire journey." Dongge, back in the old days, I'd have definitely failed to recognize him. But this female driver—her outfit and style are so similar to that of Xi Jie as described in the gray eight-volume record...” Got it. A plain round-neck white T-shirt, hem tucked into jeans, high leather boots reaching up to the calf, a Tibetan-style wide-brimmed wool hat—same body type. A truck driver. So many coincidences—rarely seen before. —— After finalizing the time and place for material handover with Fei Tang, Chang Dong informed Ye Liuxi of the situation. Ye Liuxi also thought it was significant, sitting quietly in the canvas chair observing Chang Dong. “So what?” Chang Dong replied, “I'm gradually narrowing down the scope, trying to identify common elements present during the incidents—wind and sand before, now perhaps I also need to include you.” “If I combine wind and sand, I can summon the Jade Gate Pass—location doesn’t matter, as long as it's within the Lop Nur region. As for timing—mostly at night, is that right?” "It's not very clear, Chang Dong hesitated: "The weather at Baidi has been generally stable these days, though there were two nights when wind and sand blew, but nothing unusual happened—everything passed off smoothly. "He said, "Perhaps we're still missing something. Let's recall—on the day the strange events occurred, did anything particularly unusual happen to you?" Ye Liuxi scoffed, "We've been together these days—what unusual thing has happened to me?" She crossed her legs with a scowl. Chang Dong lowered his gaze, fixing his attention on the ankle where she had crossed her leg, and there, the white adhesive bandage was faintly visible. Ye Liuxi followed his gaze. After a pause, she said, "Even this counts? The Jade Gate is a fly? It's only after I smell blood that it starts swarming at me?" "It does count." —— Making Ye Liuxi bleed was easy, yet difficult. Easy, because she always agreed immediately. The difficulty was that she didn’t want to hurt herself, yet she found it too painful to stretch the old wounds open: "Just be angry with me, angry until you're gasping for breath—then you won’t feel any pain." Chang Dong didn’t respond; he brought out the first-aid box, pulled out a disposable blood draw needle and syringe, and said, "Hold out your hand." Ye Liuxi had nothing to say; she extended her left hand: "Hurry up." Chang Dong took her hand and examined it—her skin was pale and her veins were fine, making her a bit difficult to needle. Even after gently tapping her forearm twice, the veins didn’t become clearly visible. Ye Liuxi seemed to have already guessed: "Chang Dong, if you keep jabbing and jabbing, I’ll just—” Chang Dong reached around her wrist and firmly grasped it, squeezing so that the main artery on her forearm momentarily paused its blood flow and slightly protruded. "Grasp your right hand with your left wrist, hold it like this—tighten and then release, tighten and then release. Otherwise, if you keep jabbing, it’ll all be your own fault." Ye Liuxi held onto Chang Dong lowered his head, wiping her back of the hand with an alcohol gauze, carefully locating the puncture site with gentle, light movements, and inserting the needle: "You don't need to say anything—I already know... That's enough." The needle was fine, like a light prick, not particularly painful. Ye Liuxi released his hand, watching his blood slowly being drawn into the tube. He drew only a little, then quickly removed the needle, handing her a clean gauze to press on the site. Ye Liuxi looked at the small amount of blood in the tube. "Doesn't the scent of the blood stay concentrated this way? You could perhaps boil it." "You boiled it twice before?" "Not exactly... though some of it spilled on the floor." Chang Dong pressed the plunger, and a few drops of blood seeped from the needle, landing on the floor. Two people were staring at the ground. The blood had quickly soaked into the salty, alkaline soil. Nearby, the head chef was holding up what looked like an umbrella, walking back and forth, always unable to free himself from the rope around his ankle. He murmured quietly the whole time: "Buried... in the blink of an eye, Uncle Ba was buried..." Ye Liuxi felt a bit bored: "Yumen Pass hasn't existed for several thousand years—how could that be possible?" Suddenly, at the spot where the blood had pooled, there was a hissing, bubbling sound, as if the liquid was boiling. Ye Liuxi momentarily forgot what she wanted to say. After the boiling subsided, there was silence. She recalled that perhaps it was a chemical reaction between the blood and the alkaline soil, and just as she was about to suggest that Chang Dong also give a little blood to see if that helped, Chang Dong suddenly exhaled softly, lowered his body, and knelt down, pressing his chest close to the ground, his eyes fixed intently on the area around the blood stain. What exactly was he looking for? Ye Liuxi couldn't figure it out. She tried several times to bend down and examine Ye Liuxi had no choice but to kneel and lie flat as well. Still, nothing seemed clear. She copied Changdong’s posture, tilting her head so her cheeks nearly touched the ground. "What are you looking for?" Changdong turned his head. Her hair, half-long, now lay partly on the ground as she bowed. Without thinking, he reached out and smoothed it behind her ears. Ye Liuxi turned her head to look at him. Changdong paused, his fingertip brushing her earlobe before retracting. "…The hair has come down. If it gets dirty, it won’t be easy to wash." His hand gently closed around her hair, his fingertip slightly warm. Ye Liuxi asked, "Then what exactly are you looking for?" Changdong extended his hand to cover the crown of her head, helping her adjust her angle. Now he saw it—though there was no wind, there were some fine sand grains beside the bloodstain, slowly shifting in a clumsy manner, as though being pushed upward by ants—one grain moving left, another right, the movements so subtle that it was rare he noticed them. Ye Liuxi held her breath, afraid even her own breathing would stir the sand. " A moment later, the sand no longer lagged, beginning to rotate gently—like the smallest whirlwinds—spinning swiftly, then suddenly settling again. Yet clearly, this movement spread out like an invisible ripple, quietly expanding. Chang Dong said softly, "Wind is a natural phenomenon: uneven temperature, air movement—modern people know this well, but ancient people didn’t." "In Luo Bu Po, there’s an old saying: 'Wind at the head, water at the tail.' They believed both water and wind were alive. When water here dries up and stops flowing, it’s because it has reached its 'tail.' Where the wind is most fierce, that’s where it's at its 'head'—the origin of the wind, flowing endlessly." "Liu Xi, now we may be witnessing the 'wind at the head.'" It wasn’t simply because there was wind, sand, or her presence that they could summon the Yu Men Pass—it was because her blood had nurtured the 'wind at the head.' The wind at the head was now growing strong and expanding before their very eyes, beginning with just a few grains of sand, and gradually spreading into a sandstorm that swept across hundreds of kilometers. And the city of Yumen Pass, closely tied to her, will now emerge against the sandstorm. The first gusts begin to blow directly at them. Chang Dong pulls Ye Liuxi to her feet. Locals say that in the 365 days of Luo Bu Po, 200 days are marked by strong winds. Chang Dong has visited Luo Bu Po many times, and has experienced sandstorms—without a hundred, he’s had at least eighty. He whispers, "This is the first time I've seen a sandstorm growing right before me, coming to life." Ye Liuxi replies, "I've felt the same."