Ye Liuxi grasped his hand and pulled with force, but surprisingly, he didn’t budge. She arched an eyebrow. "It seems he’s not willing to move at all." Chang Dong smiled. "My legs are a bit stiff—three days without use, they’ve probably forgotten how to move." Levering herself on her strength, he pushed himself up, and Ye Liuxi laughed, leaning down to steady him. She knew he would still feel uncomfortable, though. Children, when distressed, would throw things and cry out in anguish; adults, on the other hand, expressed their discomfort in different ways—some pounded their chests, drank until they were drunk, choked on tears, others remained silent, or simply offered a quiet, gentle smile. Chang Dong had remained silent for two years, knowing that no matter what, things couldn’t be changed—so he had learned to reconcile with life, covered his wounds, and neither burdened himself nor others. Ye Liuxi said, "Let’s go." She led Chang Dong out. Fei Tang provided excellent service—water jars placed upside down served as washstands, toothpaste was squeezed onto the brush, and a towel was neatly laid across the rim of the washbasin. Yet Chang Dong lifted his toothcup to brush his teeth. The toothpaste had a sharp, refreshing mint flavor that stung his eyes. After brushing, he wanted to catch his breath. Ye Liuxi pointed to the basin and said, "Wash your face." It seemed there was a plan—Chang Dong was curious about how far she would go. After washing his face, he turned to her and she said, "Shave." After shaving, they had dinner. As soon as the dishes were set down, she said, "Come on, let's take a walk." Chang Dong couldn't help but ask, "After the walk?" "After the walk, you go to bed." He understood—having dinner and then going to bed right away wasn't ideal; she clearly had her standards. Chang Dong followed her out of the courtyard. She carried a knife while walking, the blade bright and freshly sharpened. To someone unfamiliar, it might have seemed as though she was preparing to carry out a formal judgment. Chang Dong wanted to smile. Looking up, he saw the sunlight was just right, the sky clear and unchanging—there was no real difference between the inside and outside of the region. Not long after, upon seeing Kong Yang's small mound, Chang Dong walked over, gathered some stones, and arranged them in a circle around the grave. Unfortunately, the vegetation here was sparse; even sending a flower seemed impossible. Ye Liuxi had intended to tell him about the Eye Mound, but changed her mind at the last moment, deciding it would be better to mention it after she had rested. She found a low wall, sat cross-legged on it, and waited for him. With her knife, she scraped at the wall's surface, the mud-brick wall having weathered for years—each pass of the blade released a steady cascade of yellowish dust. This too was a sandstorm, one sweeping not only the air but also the insects and creatures beneath. Just as she was enjoying the moment, her body was enveloped by a shadow as Chang Dong approached and called, "Let's go." She didn't look up, only raised her hand: "Hold me steady." Chang Dong took her hand, and felt how delicate her wrist was—so fine that even a slight pressure could easily bend it. The two of them walked around the village in silence. Chang Dong occasionally glanced down at their shadows, which sometimes drew close and sometimes drifted apart. On one occasion, he fell slightly behind, and Ye Liuxi walked ahead diagonally, their shadows nearly touching, overlapping as if gently embracing. Chang Dong was momentarily struck, feeling the sunlight sharp and penetrating, almost overwhelming. He stopped Ye Liuxi and said, "Let's go back." To be able to sit quietly in one place, to have meals regularly, to take food at one's own pace, without disturbance or inquiry—this is indeed a great privilege. He is an adult, and does not need others constantly reminding him, "The departed are gone, the living must persevere." This truth is something anyone who has read books can easily enumerate. Chang Dong said, "You should wait until I wake up before telling me this. If you say it now, I'll feel disturbed and won't be able to sleep well." He closed his eyes, lowered the brim of his hat, and as he heard the soft footsteps of her departure, suddenly remembered their first meeting. That day, for some reason, Xiao He had sold the tickets in a way that she didn't know, so when she first entered the theater, she bought a ticket but found no seat. Chang Dong noticed this from behind the curtain and felt a bit concerned, fearing she might be upset. Yet she was completely indifferent. She crossed her arms, leaned against the wall, which was adorned with colorful shadow figures—characters from various dynasties and eras. The light from behind the curtain spilled out, filling the entire wall with stories of joy … Chang Dong had a dream of an endless desert highway, the sand flowing like mist. Kong Yang, dressed in a deep crimson long dress, walked farther and farther into the sand stream, while he sat on the roof of a four-wheel-drive vehicle, watching her go all the way. May you find lasting peace, free from the disturbances of ordinary affairs. Ding Zhou deeply cherished his nephew. As he drew near the end of his life, he held his hand and said, “Chang Dong, forget this matter. When you’ve forgotten it, you’ll feel light and able to begin anew.” Chang Dong replied, “I won’t be able to forget it… but please rest assured.” How could he forget? Just as he couldn’t forget Ding Zhou, his uncle; the awkwardness of his early days learning shadow puppetry; the moment in a drowsy high school class, when his classmate quietly slipped him a photograph of a striking female model, and his heart raced like a drum, his cheeks burning with warmth. A life is a vast landscape of mountains and rivers, with countless travelers passing through. Some enrich the landscape, some dim the light of the sun and moon, some alter the course of rivers, some shape the strength of one’s bones Kong Yang is a deep, vivid hue—he never intended to forget it, just as there has always been a corner of his heart where black camellia blooms. What else is there? Who can truly be at ease? A newborn must learn to speak and walk; as one grows shoulders, one bears weight; as one develops legs, one moves forward. He can pause, but never collapse. He stood up and walked toward the corridor, reaching the exit—finally, he couldn't help turning back. Ye Liuxi lay flat on the mat, propping her head with her hand, as if she had precisely calculated he would look back, waiting for this very moment. She reached out, grasping a corner of the quilt and lifting it upward. The corner of the quilt rose proudly, like a tuft of hair that hadn't been combed smooth, stubbornly refusing to be pressed down. Chang Dong felt a shiver run through his scalp. He convinced himself: "The beauty of disorder." She was enthusiastic: "Maybe we can come back often—swap old for new, and it's a no-brainer. We'll definitely break even, and when we sell off, we'll be flush with profits. My father-in-law has restaurants, wine halls, and card rooms—still, he has to pay rent and staff costs. Compared to this, it's a world apart." Even if they didn't find a solid deal, bringing back a transaction would be a credit to their visit—no waste of time. … After dinner, Changdong began working on getting the vehicle back on the road. Gao Shen helped with the tires, while Ding Liu and Fei Tang ran back and forth, fetching components. Fei Tang had originally intended to ask the older team members for assistance, but Ding Liu refused, citing the reason that: what if they were to make things difficult, hiding a screw or two from us? Fei Tang silently took this to heart, realizing there were survival insights everywhere. Changdong placed a mat beneath him and crawled under the vehicle, carefully adjusting various parts. Ye Liuxi sat by the side of the car, her hands always busy with screwdrivers, wrenches, hammers, and pliers. Whenever Changdong needed something from below, she passed it to him, and whenever something came to her, she took it. In the process, she shared updates about the situation at Yanzhong and her own observations. After finishing, she waited in silence for a response, only to find none. So she leaned down and looked. Changdong lay there, one knee slightly bent, one hand gripping the handle of the pliers, and only after a while did he speak softly, “The situation is rather suspicious.” Yexiaoxi sighed, feeling it was time to change the subject. She crawled under the car and asked him, "Shouldn't it be fixed now?" Suddenly, she gasped, her eyes widening as she stared at the undercarriage—like she'd discovered another world. She herself drove and had repaired cars before. Every time the vehicle broke down, she found herself most frustrated when she had to crawl under it, feeling cramped, dull, and even unpleasantly smelly. Changdong's car had a notably high undercarriage, offering a wide view of many components. There were prominent load-bearing beams, a sturdy and robust bumper, torsion bars, shock absorber rods, and even large, circular coil springs that were hard to bend—solid, rugged, and bold, embodying a masculine, expansive style that far surpassed her own compact minivan. Yexiaoxi felt a pang of sadness—what he had, she didn’t. So she added another critique: "With such a heavy vehicle, what if it tips over and crashes?" Changdong replied, "You're a bit illogical—aren't there tires supporting it?" "Ye Liuxi made excellent sense: 'The interior of the pass isn't the same as the outside. What if the ground gives way? Suddenly, the wheels sink in—wouldn't the people beneath the vehicle be affected?' Chang Dong reminded her: 'You're lying beneath the vehicle yourself now.' Ye Liuxi replied: 'I'm different from you. I react quickly under pressure, and I've taught you how to escape in such situations...' She clutched the underside of the vehicle: 'Use leverage, slide out quickly—apply a subtle strength from your waist.' Chang Dong actually thought seriously before correcting her: 'Impossible. The vehicle weighs several tons. Even at the fastest speed, it can't keep up with the downward pressure once an incident occurs.' Ye Liuxi found him truly rigid: 'Don't you see it as impossible just because you've never witnessed it? Can't you have a bit of imagination?' Chang Dong answered: 'I don't escape through imagination.' Just as Ye Liuxi was about to respond, the vehicle suddenly jolted—its entire chassis instantly tilted and pressed downward. She was momentarily stunned, instinctively drawing closer to Chang Dong. Before Chang Dong could think further, he swiftly rolled over to shield her. Ye Liuxi didn’t close her eyes. She saw Chang Dong’s elbows resting on either side of her body, his arm muscles tight and visible through his shirt, his shoulders arched as if bearing the weight, his head nearly touching her forehead, his eyes tightly shut. For the first time, Ye Liuxi noticed how dense and long Chang Dong’s eyelashes were—truly suited for desert running, as they could shield her from sand blowing into her eyes. She didn’t know why, but suddenly her body felt soft, relaxed, and she gently blew a breath across his face. The car didn’t press down; instead, it creaked and shook, then resumed its position. A deep, apologetic voice came through: “Sorry, I’m not very familiar with the lift mechanism—my hands slipped.” Chang Dong silently cursed under his breath, thinking how his perfectly functioning car could suddenly go wrong. Then he opened his eyes. The bright light from outside blended in, filtering through the dimness beneath the vehicle and falling onto Ye Liuxi's eyes. She stared at him and said, "You're quite a gentleman, in how you treat people." Chang Dong flipped back onto the mat, his back feeling cool and damp. After a moment, he added, "Men should protect women—that's what's expected."