WOOY Chapter 14

This one’s for you, mungbean. Thank you for the ko-fi 

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Outside the mining area, the surrounding silence made one question life itself.

The car’s headlights illuminated the tire tracks on the ground, the tread was wider than that of a regular vehicle, with unique patterns resembling fierce teeth, extending into the darkness where the light couldn’t reach.

While driving, one could hear the sound of gravel splashing against the bottom part of the car.

Ye Liuxi held the steering wheel with one hand, her other hand was slack, her fingers tapping in a rhythm as she hummed a tune.

Having been influenced by the CD player and constantly listening to opera, she naturally hummed opera tunes—

“In the long night… I hurry through the desolate wilderness… my light body does not fear the long journey…”

This tune was difficult to sing. Even those with a strong foundation might not sing it well, let alone someone like Ye Liuxi. Once she gets going, who knows which mountain peak she’ll end up at.

She only remembered two or three lines, and hummed them repeatedly, sometimes lightly, sometimes deliberately drawing out the end notes, like a dying person unable to catch their breath.

The car was still moving, the tires inching over the road that Chang Dong had traveled. She heard herself humming, “My light body does not fear the long journey… Yumen Pass, Guimen Pass (the gates of hell), wearing shackles… tears streaming…” [mfn]in the show it was: Yumen Pass, Guimen Pass. One step out of the pass, and one’s blood shall run dry[/mfn] 

Suddenly, she snapped to attention and hit the brakes hard. The tires screeched against the gravel ground, pushing the car several meters forward.

 

After a few seconds of silence, she reached into the canvas bag thrown on the passenger seat and pulled out a small notebook. As usual, she flipped to the latest page and wrote down the words she had just hummed.

After writing, she silently recited them again.

These lyrics were filled with deep sorrow and hardship. “Wearing shackles” was something that only existed in ancient times, right? Each line rhymed, making it sound like a song passed down by word of mouth.

 

——

 

After driving for about another hour, she entered the Kumtag Desert. The smooth and gentle ridgelines of the massive sand dunes made her feel a bit reluctant, as if she were marring a masterpiece of nature.

The car suddenly sank.

Oh no, what did Chang Dong say? First downshift, then gently release the throttle, and then step on it hard…

Before she could recall the memory, the engine stalled, sputtered twice, and died in the sand.

Ye Liuxi sat in the car for a while, suddenly losing her temper. She kicked the gas and brake pedals several times, hugged the steering wheel and tried to pull it out—without enough strength, she ended up punching it twice.

She got out of the car and kicked the sand twice.

She didn’t bring the satellite phone, having left it with Fei Tang, who was unreliable. To solve the problem, she had to find Chang Dong.

Ye Liuxi adjusted her hair in the car’s side mirror. Even in misfortune, one must not lose their composure.

 

——

Luck was on her side. Following the tire tracks, she crossed several sand dunes and, standing on the top of the last one, saw a faint light in the valley below.

In the desert, water gathers in the lowest places.

This light seemed to have slid down from the surrounding sand slopes, pooling into a small spot.

Chang Dong sat in that pool of light, motionless.

The car was parked to one side, and the light came from the camp lamp, its brightness set to very low, illuminating just a corner but making the emptiness feel boundless.

As she got closer, she saw a rope stretched from the car to a wooden pole deeply inserted into the sand. The rope had several glass bottles hanging from it.

Those bottles remained motionless, even more silent than Chang Dong.

The Goosehead Sand Dune was naturally a place where the wind rarely blew. The wind would shape the sand dunes, but if it constantly blew strong winds, how could it maintain the shape of the Goosehead?

Ye Liuxi walked closer to the car, moving lightly, unsure of how to start the conversation.

Chang Dong, however, seemed to sense something, suddenly turning around to see a slim and slender silhouette in the dim light.

He said, “Kong Yang?”

Ye Liuxi felt disinterested and leaned against the car, not moving any further.

“If you want to think it’s Kong Yang, then I won’t come over. I’m used to meeting other people’s expectations. When I get close and see your disappointed face, it would affect my mood.”

She looked up at the sky, her gaze lingering on the thin crescent moon.

After a while, Chang Dong walked over and asked her, “Why are you here?”

Ye Liuxi looked up at him.

It turned out he was nearly half a head taller than her. She hadn’t noticed before, and she was 1.7 meters tall. It seemed the poor impression of his slouched shoulders and bad posture from their first meeting had left too deep of a mark on her.

Unable to see his face, she could only make out the outline in the night, which was fine. Sometimes, a silent and sturdy figure had more impact than a flamboyant appearance.

Ye Liuxi said, “I need to talk to you.”

“Can’t you say it over the phone?”

“I’m afraid you’ll hang up.”

Chang Dong leaned against the car, half a body distance away from her: “It seems you know the question will be unpleasant. Go ahead, what do you want to ask?”

“I want to know how you planned to propose to Kong Yang… no other reason, just need to verify something.”

She pricked up her ears—

Chang Dong remained silent, the wind bottles still, even the sand grains motionless.

Ye Liuxi consoled herself: If he doesn’t say anything, it’s fine. Normally, she would press for answers, but today, she needed to be considerate… after all, they were heartbroken people in a heartbroken place…

Surprisingly, Chang Dong spoke.

“You can’t see it now, but back then, before the major sandstorm, there was a slope of sand here, covered with exposed desert rose stones. They are wind-eroded stones, crystalline, and their shapes closely resemble roses. Very rare flower-like minerals.”

“Under special geological conditions, formed over tens of thousands of years of change and weathering, they neither wither nor fade.”

Ye Liuxi understood well: they were more meaningful than real roses, which were thorny, expensive, and wilted overnight.

“Kong Yang wasn’t in good health and never entered the desert; she couldn’t adapt to the climate here. But I was the opposite—born with an interest in the Gobi Desert.”

“She probably guessed I wanted to propose, and in order to accommodate me, thinking that such an important moment should happen in a significant place, she immediately agreed when I asked her to come along” 

His voice lowered: “You know, I had arranged a car to take her back right after the proposal. It was just that one night…”

Ye Liuxi remained silent. It was just for one night. Killing someone only took one stab, and a heart could die in a second. What couldn’t be avoided was fate.

Chang Dong let out a long sigh: “I wanted to turn off all unrelated lights in the desert during the night. I used special lighting to illuminate that slope of sand, turning the desert roses into a rose-red color… That’s the story. What do you need to verify?”

Ye Liuxi paused before speaking.

“A proposal like yours can’t be prepared by only one person.”

“When you proposed, someone had to handle the lighting effects; you wanted Kong Yang to feel the romance, so you’d arrange for a photographer to capture everything; to surprise her, you needed someone to distract her during the setup so she wouldn’t notice…”

Chang Dong listened quietly, memories of that night flashing quickly before his eyes.

Exactly, she was completely right. Someone was chatting with Kong Yang in the tent, someone was dragging spotlights in position, adjusting the angle, someone was directing cars to back up, clearing a large scale to avoid affecting the photography…

“All of this required prior preparation, repeated communication, and cooperation from everyone. There was never a situation where you wanted to camp at Goosehead Sand Dune, and everyone else strongly opposed it.”

Chang Dong smiled. He hadn’t used this expression in a long time. His face was taut, and his muscles didn’t know which direction to move—it was a bitter smile.

He admitted: “Yes, no one opposed.”

Most people in the world were kind. Even strangers would congratulate you when they saw your happy event.

“So, what’s the deal with the Weibo post?”

Chang Dong said, “Actually, I’m not quite sure. I’m just a guide; I don’t really care about how Camellia’s activities are planned or what effects they aim to achieve.”

The person in charge of Camellia discussed with him, saying that many people were paying attention to this expedition. However, if they were just plowing ahead every day, there wouldn’t be much interest or appeal—just like a story that doesn’t have ups and downs. They would create conflicts at each stage, throw out puzzles, and provide surprises.

A proposal was a big deal, and they wanted to set up something unexpected.

Chang Dong said, “Sure, do whatever you see fit.”

 

So that Weibo post was created, and the person in charge enthusiastically showed it to him, saying, “Look, usually a post only gets a few dozen comments, but this one has multiplied several times over,” while instructing the photographer to take beautiful photos for the next reveal post with stunning images.

Ye Liuxi said, “And then…”

“Yes, then the sandstorm came.”

Usually, from the moment the wind starts to the arrival of the sandstorm, there is a period of time because the eye of the storm has a core area and an outer area, and it takes time to move. But that night, there was no process, only the result.

He seemed to have come to terms with it: “In the end, it was just bad luck.”

Who says life is like a play? He performed shadow puppetry, and every show had a beginning, climax, and an ending. If the ending was bad, the audience would criticize it as terrible. Life wasn’t a play; it could break anyone it wanted, anywhere it wanted, and then wrap it up with lamentation.

Ye Liuxi asked him, “Why not reveal the truth?”

“I did, I told the investigators, and they think it’s possible. But the public doesn’t care about that.”

—Everyone else died. Isn’t it easy for you to say whatever you want? Of course you’ll say whatever benefits you. Fortunately, there’s Weibo as evidence, every word can be seen by the whole world!

In the eyes of the families, their loved ones had “strongly opposed” camping at Goosehead Sand Dune. They believed their loved ones had a chance to survive, but were doomed by his selfishness.

Worse still, many of the deceased team members, thinking the insurance premiums were too high, had not purchased special travel insurance despite being reminded. As a result, the families not only received no compensation but also had to cover the costs incurred by the search and rescue efforts.

Whether out of interest or to vent their anger, they needed someone to blame, to tear apart, to sue.

Who let you survive?

Who let you propose?

Chang Dong didn’t expect things to escalate into such a storm. Later, he learned that there were organizations that profited by stirring up trouble: “Don’t know how to cause a fuss? Don’t know which channels are most effective? I’ll handle it, just pay the fee. No satisfaction, no charge.”

Overnight, many “insiders” leaked information, and emotional pictures and videos were pushed everywhere. Kong Yang was also thrust into the spotlight, her photos dug up and edited beyond recognition. Many people insulted her, calling her despicable: “If you hadn’t proposed, none of this would have happened!”

Because of Kong Yang, Chang Dong chose to settle things quietly. She didn’t get any benefits while she was with him. He didn’t want her to be insulted even after her death; he wanted to quiet the noise and give her peace.

Wasn’t it just about money?

……

 

Chang Dong looked towards the gentle sand dunes in the distance. If he remembered correctly, two years ago, that spot was covered with blooming desert roses.

It was truly ironic. He thought that the roses growing from the ground wouldn’t last long, unlike the desert rose stones that took thousands of years to form. Yet a single sandstorm had swept away the entire sand slope.

Ye Liuxi said, “I have one more question.”

“You have too many questions.”

Ye Liuxi smiled and turned to face Chang Dong, her chin slightly raised as she looked into his eyes, shaded by the brim of his hat.

“Chang Dong, I came to find you. You’re not smoking or drinking, you’re not in a state of mental turmoil, your logic is clear, and your speech is calm. Why would someone like you, upon sensing movement behind you, instinctively say the name ‘Kong Yang’?”

People didn’t have expectations without reason.