FQ chapter 38

Everything around them suddenly quieted. Luan Ye held his breath and, together with Fan Qing, tilted his head to listen carefully.

Two seconds later, he too heard a faint cry for help from the dense forest to the left—it sounded like a girl’s voice.

It was very quiet. Without close attention, it could easily be missed.

“I have to go check,” Fan Qing reacted quickly. “You stay here, if—”

“I’m coming with you,” Luan Ye interrupted.

Fan Qing looked at him, about to say something, but Luan Ye didn’t give him the chance.

“If we can hear her cry for help, she must be nearby. But if she can’t get out on her own, maybe she’s too weak or injured,” Luan Ye said. “What if you can’t carry her out alone?”

In the few seconds Fan Qing hesitated, Luan Ye had already taken off his backpack and placed it in the middle of the path.

To help with identification, all their backpacks had an orange elastic strap tied to them before they left.

“The rest of the group should arrive in ten minutes. When they see it, they’ll wait here.”

As they spoke, the cry for help stopped again. Fan Qing didn’t stop him anymore and instead placed the whistling grass back in his mouth and blew hard.

A few seconds later, the cry responded again.

The two followed the voice, blowing the grass twice more until the cry became clearer. It was coming from the bottom of a cliff.

About a meter or two away from the edge, Fan Qing gestured for Luan Ye to stop while he cautiously walked to the cliff’s edge and looked down.

The cliff was about four to five meters high, overgrown with weeds, and covered in rock with no stable footing. At the bottom, in a narrow ditch, a girl in a green hoodie was lying among the bushes. It would be easy to miss her if one weren’t looking carefully.

She seemed to know that too, and when she saw Fan Qing, she weakly waved her hand. “Hi, I got lost while hiking…”

“Don’t move,” Fan Qing cut her off. “Are you injured?”

The girl took a while to respond, her voice weak. “I can’t move my right leg. My arm hurts too… I have no strength.”

Fan Qing crouched lower, trying to see her better.
“How long have you been down there?”

“Two days… this is the third day.”

“Did you eat anything?”

“A bottle of water… and a piece of bread,” she replied.

Fan Qing frowned. “Do you have any serious wounds or heavy bleeding? Any pain in your head, neck, chest, or stomach?”

It was quiet for a moment as she seemed to check. Then she slowly replied, “No.”

Fan Qing exhaled in relief. He turned and took a rope from his bag, tying it around his waist along with a strap.

“Her hands are too weak. I need to go down and tie the rope around her.” He tied the other end to a tree and handed the extra length to Luan Ye.

“Once I secure her, you pull her up.”

Luan Ye grabbed the rope. “What about you?”

“Once she’s up, you throw the rope back down to me,” Fan Qing said confidently. “I can climb up from that height.”

Fan Qing rappelled quickly down the cliff. After confirming the girl’s condition wasn’t critical, he secured the rope around her and had Luan Ye pull her up.

After she was up, Fan Qing looked around. A waist pouch was tossed nearby—he picked it up. It felt light, probably empty.

The rope was thrown back down, and Fan Qing climbed up quickly. He then took out his first-aid kit.

The girl had some bad scrapes—bloody and raw—but none were deep. Fan Qing disinfected them with iodine, dressed them with gauze, then checked her arm and leg.

She winced in pain—it was probably fractured. Fan Qing didn’t touch it further. He just secured it with a strap so the hospital could take care of it later.

Luan Ye helped by handing him supplies. Fan Qing’s face was expressionless, his movements quick and professional—like he’d done this many times.

After treating her, Fan Qing packed up and carried her on his back.

Luan Ye slung on Fan Qing’s backpack. “Let’s go.”

They retraced their steps. At the edge of the forest, the place where Luan Ye had left the bag was now crowded. When someone spotted them, they called out, “There they are!”

Everyone rushed over. Some helped carry the girl, others brought over supplies, asking nonstop, “What happened? Is she okay?”

Fan Qing didn’t speak until he had put her down. Then he turned to Lao He. “She’s got fractures. Can’t move her right arm or leg.”

Lao He was clearly concerned. “We need to get down quickly.”

“Me, Luan Ye, and two other guys,” Fan Qing pointed to two fit young hikers. “We’ll take turns carrying her down. The rest follow Lao He.”

“Got it,” Lao He agreed immediately. “Keep in touch.”

The “Devil’s Slope” was still a long way from Yubeng Village, but the four of them took turns carrying her all the way to the village, got a car, and rushed her to the hospital.

The girl was quiet the entire way—she didn’t speak once.

The two guys left right after—they had to catch a high-speed train that night. Luan Ye and Fan Qing stayed to help with her admission. Her ID was in her waist pouch. While filling in her info, Luan Ye glanced at it—her name was Zhou Ling, from Sichuan-Chongqing, 18 years old, probably just graduated high school.

Zhou Ling had a fracture in her hand, and a more serious fracture in her right leg. Her vitals were stable and she wasn’t in any life-threatening danger.

“She needs surgery,” the doctor said after reviewing the scans. “We need her guardian’s signature.”

“My phone… I lost it when I fell,” Zhou Ling said weakly, eyes still closed on the hospital bed.

“Do you remember the number?” Fan Qing asked.

After a pause, the girl said softly, “Can I sign it myself? Or can you help me…”

“We can’t help,” Fan Qing replied flatly. “Surgical consent isn’t a school report card. Either call or we call the police.”

A long silence. Then she finally said, “I had a fight with my mom before I left… I didn’t get into university… She definitely won’t come. She’ll just scold me.”

Fan Qing paused, unsure what to say, and looked over at Luan Ye.

Luan Ye, who had been silent all this time, finally spoke.

“Try first.” He gestured for Fan Qing to hand over his phone. “Just call her. If she yells, hang up and block her.”

Fan Qing quickly turned to look at him.

After ten minutes of inner struggle, the girl hesitantly dialed the number.

When the call connected, she took a few deep breaths, visibly nervous. Then, almost in a whisper, she said:

“Mom… it’s me.”

There was a pause on the other end—then a woman’s heart-wrenching sobs burst through the phone.

The crying on the phone was so loud that both Luan Ye and Fan Qing, standing at the bedside, could hear it clearly. Mixed in were frantic questions—where was she, what had happened?

The girl in the hospital bed started crying too.

Luan Ye patted Fan Qing, and the two of them stepped out of the room.

The phone call lasted almost an hour. The parents on the other end decided to book a flight immediately and would arrive at the hospital around dawn.

Perhaps because she was too weak and relieved that her parents were on their way, by the time Luan Ye had stepped out briefly to speak to the nurse, the girl had already fallen asleep.

Luan Ye and Fan Qing sat on chairs outside the room. By then, it was completely dark outside, and they hadn’t eaten dinner yet.

Lao He sent a message saying he had safely brought the rest of the group back, and told them not to worry.

“Want to get something to eat?” Fan Qing asked.

“Let’s order delivery,” Luan Ye checked the time—it was past nine. “Her parents will arrive around 1 a.m., let’s wait a bit.”

“Are you… worried something might happen?” Fan Qing asked.

Luan Ye glanced at him.

“She wasn’t lost,” Fan Qing said.

After a moment, Luan Ye smiled slightly. “You noticed?”

“She came alone and took a trail that’s not easy to get lost on. She wasn’t far from the main path—it was like she deliberately wandered off into the forest.”

Luan Ye didn’t say anything. Fan Qing continued.

“She didn’t bring any hiking gear. No hiking clothes. Just an ID card in a small bag. She said she lost her phone, but I looked around and didn’t find one.”

“She…” Fan Qing hesitated, unsure whether to say the word.

“A failed attempt,” Luan Ye said. “No matter why she went in, the fact that she called for help means she gave up on the idea.”

“When someone is close to death, their survival instincts usually kick in.”

Fan Qing pursed his lips and stared at the clean floor.

“The day my mom fell… no one heard her,” he said suddenly.

Luan Ye froze.

“Sometimes I wonder—maybe it was too sudden, or the wind was too strong on the boat… or maybe… no one heard.”

No one heard.

Rather than assuming she made a choice at that moment.

The faint smell of disinfectant lingered in the hospital. Occasionally, a nurse or patient walked down the corridor. Luan Ye looked at Fan Qing, and after a while, finally spoke.

“Fan Qing, look at me.”

Fan Qing raised his head and met Luan Ye’s eyes.

“Don’t dwell on ‘what ifs’ in your mind. Don’t doubt what already existed.”

Fan Qing instinctively asked, “What?”

“Love,” Luan Ye said.

Fan Qing’s hand tightened around his phone.

“You don’t know what happened in that final second before she was gone—but that doesn’t matter.”

The thing that has haunted you for as long as you can remember, that you never dared say out loud, actually doesn’t matter.

“What matters is: the moment she gave birth to you, every moment she cared for you, every effort she made to leave the village and reach Jinchuan… all of that proves one thing—she loved you. That is certain.”

Losing his parents at three, Fan Qing could only learn about them through stories. The memories were so vague they felt almost imaginary.

But that fragile newborn life, and the name his parents gave him—like the way trees grow year after year—became the bones of the eighteen-year-old he was now.

Every bit of weight, was love made tangible.

“I—” Fan Qing started, but his throat closed. He looked a little disheveled, sniffing quickly and ducking his head to avoid being seen crying, trying to find tissues in his pocket.

He couldn’t find any.

He was sure he had some. Maybe they were in another pocket. Crying in front of someone like this was just too embarrassing…

Luan Ye’s hand appeared in front of him, holding two folded napkins.

“These are the only two I have,” Luan Ye said casually. “If that’s not enough, you’ll have to wipe your face with my clothes. Good thing you picked the waterproof kind, right?”

Fan Qing took the tissues, wiped his face, and finally looked at Luan Ye. “Yeah. Could double as a raincoat.”

The two looked at each other for a few seconds. The hallway was empty for now, brightly lit.

Fan Qing leaned his head on Luan Ye’s shoulder.

Luan Ye didn’t say anything—he just gently patted the back of Fan Qing’s neck.

With his head down, Fan Qing could see the bracelet on Luan Ye’s left hand.

By the time Zhou—the girl in the hospital room—her parents arrived, it was almost 2 a.m. They thanked Luan Ye and Fan Qing profusely and tried to give them money, which they both refused.

“Please don’t scold her,” Luan Ye told the parents. “She’s already scared and injured. She’s been so afraid you’d be angry.”

Zhou’s mother teared up and nodded at him.

At that hour, it wasn’t realistic to head back to Xuehu village, so the two of them found a nearby hotel for the night and planned to return the next morning.

They were exhausted. After washing up and lying down, Fan Qing felt like he could barely lift his arms.

But he was still wide awake.

Luan Ye didn’t make any noise from the bed beside his—he might have already fallen asleep.

The conversation they’d had in the hospital replayed in Fan Qing’s mind, along with the scars on Luan Ye’s hands.

If he’d been able to suspect the girl had attempted suicide because he’d worked too long as a guide and could sense inconsistencies, then how had Luan Ye known?

Fan Qing didn’t ask.

……

The next morning, the two of them headed back. It was a long drive, and they stayed quiet for most of the journey. Only Fan Qing’s phone would buzz now and then with notifications.

When it buzzed a fourth time, Luan Ye, in the passenger seat, asked, “Someone trying to reach you?”

“I don’t know.” At a red light, Fan Qing glanced at his phone, blinked, and turned to Luan Ye.

“Deliveries.”

“Huh?” Luan Ye looked up.

“Four or five deliveries,” Fan Qing said as the light turned green. He handed the phone over. “I think they’re yours.”

Luan Ye stared at the pickup codes for a few seconds. “Mine?”

“…I haven’t ordered anything,” Fan Qing replied, a little exasperated.

“Then they must be mine,” Luan Ye laughed. “I ordered them a few days ago. Took so long to arrive, I forgot.”

“Remote areas take five to six days,” Fan Qing said. “Wanna stop by the town to pick them up?”

“Yeah, and we can grab a bite too. By now, Granny Mu and Xiao Qiao have probably already eaten,” Luan Ye replied.

They made a turn into town. Along the way, three or four more delivery notifications came through. By the time Fan Qing collected them all, they filled the entire back seat.

Before he could say anything, Luan Ye saw the pile of boxes and was stunned. “That many?”

“Yep.” Fan Qing sighed. “Don’t you remember what you bought?”

“I forgot,” Luan Ye chuckled. “When I can’t sleep, I scroll on my phone and buy whatever pops up. Then I forget.”

Spending money was one way to ease the feeling of emptiness, but after the moment passed, Luan Ye always felt it was a bit meaningless.

Fan Qing glanced at him. “So… are you going to open them?”

“I’ll open them later. Let’s go walk around and find somewhere to eat first.”

They found a restaurant nearby. After sitting down, Luan Ye asked, “Is there a place to get a haircut in town?”

Fan Qing blinked. “You want a haircut?”

“Yeah. It’s getting a bit long.”

Fan Qing looked at Luan Ye’s hair. It had indeed grown longer since they first met, now loosely tied at the back.

“There is, but the barbers here aren’t great—mostly buzz cuts or perms. The city would have better options.”

“Too lazy to go that far. No need to be fancy,” Luan Ye laughed. “Just needs to be shorter. Where do you usually get yours cut?”

He spoke casually, like it didn’t matter at all.

He bought so many things he forgot, vanished on rest days and hated being disturbed, could hike for three days and nights without complaining…

Could walk ten kilometers just to buy new sheets, yet not care enough about his hair to plan a proper haircut.

His unpredictability could be baffling. But Fan Qing had a hunch—it had something to do with his illness.

“I’ve never been to a barber,” Fan Qing replied. “My grandma always cuts it.”

Luan Ye blinked, gaze shifting to Fan Qing’s hair.

“She just uses her regular paper scissors,” Fan Qing went on. “When my hair gets long, I pull a stool into the yard, wrap two old towels around me, and ten minutes later, it’s done.”

“That’s impressive,” Luan Ye said with a laugh, still eyeing his hair. “Your grandma’s got skills.”

“She didn’t at first. Took her over ten years to get good.” Fan Qing smiled too.

Luan Ye was still grinning when their food arrived. “So what now? Too late to go back and ask your grandma for a haircut?”

“Well… you don’t have to cut it,” Fan Qing looked at him. “It looks good like this.”

He meant it—Luan Ye was probably the best-looking long-haired man he’d ever seen.

Luan Ye turned to look at him, didn’t say anything, just smiled slightly.

Fan Qing suddenly felt nervous and looked away, grabbing some cold cucumber salad. “If you want, I’ll go with you to look. There’s an old shop at the end of the street—it’s been there a while.”

“Forget it,” Luan Ye smiled. “I’ll leave it for now.”

“You’re not cutting it?” Fan Qing blinked.

“Didn’t you say it looked good?” Luan Ye lowered his head and focused on eating. “Let’s leave it.”

Fan Qing stared at him for a few seconds, then lowered his head too.

When they got home after dinner, Granny Mu was watching TV and stitching shoe insoles in the tea room. When she saw them walk in with a mountain of deliveries, she turned off the TV in surprise. “What on earth did you buy?”

Luan Ye carried everything upstairs and poked his head out from behind a stack of boxes. “No idea.”

And he truly had no idea.

Once everything was piled into the living room of his room, Luan Ye stared at the mountain of packages, brows furrowed. “What is all this?”

Fan Qing sighed, “Come on, open them.”

Fresh from the mountains, his clothes were quite dirty. He didn’t sit on the couch but chose to sit on the floor instead. Luan Ye followed suit, crossing his legs and sitting down. He casually grabbed the topmost bag and tore it open.

Inside the box was a small red bandana with a buckle.

Luan Ye stared at it for a while before finally remembering, “Oh, this was for Laifu.”

“What is it?” Fan Qing was confused.

“A little neckerchief. You tie it around the neck, then flip this side over the back…”

Luan Ye flipped the bandana over. On the back, bold words read:
“ON A DIET! DO NOT FEED!”

“Damn.” Fan Qing burst out laughing. “What made you think of buying this?”

“To keep it from constantly playing pitiful,” Luan Ye grinned. “Begging all down the street and scamming people.”

Fan Qing took the bandana and couldn’t stop laughing the more he looked at the words: “If Laifu could read, it’d hate you.”

“Well, that’s the price of being illiterate,” Luan Ye said. “I think I bought a blue one too—so it can rotate between them.”

“That’s really thoughtful,” Fan Qing chuckled.

After laughing for a good while, Luan Ye put the bandana aside and started unboxing the rest.

The second box looked more high-end, with a luxury cosmetics brand logo on it—it was a gift set. Luan Ye opened it. Inside was a bottle of perfume and two lipsticks.

Fan Qing paused, then quickly looked up at Luan Ye.

“It’s for Qu Jie,” Luan Ye said after staring at it for a moment, explaining it like he was piecing together a crime.

“Last time during the photo shoot, she brought all her own makeup.” Luan Ye continued, “Even if she didn’t mind, I should still show some appreciation.”

Fan Qing hadn’t expected him to remember that. He looked at him for a while. “You… even know how to pick this stuff?”

“Just opened the top-rated list and chose the best sellers,” Luan Ye replied. “I trust the public’s taste.”

Fan Qing laughed again.

They went on unboxing, revealing a dinnerware set for Da Yao, a speaker for Qiao Feibai, a massager for Granny Mu, even a moka pot set for Li Ge…

The last package was quite large and had been crushed at the bottom. Luan Ye picked it up, took one look, and smiled, “I remember what this is.”

“It’s for you,” he said, pushing the package toward Fan Qing. “You open it.”

Fan Qing looked at him for a few seconds before lowering his head. The package was fairly big. He unwrapped it and opened the box to find a dark navy windbreaker.

He recognized the brand—anyone who hiked would. It was professional, and definitely not cheap.

Fan Qing wasn’t sure how to describe how he felt. Besides the small happiness of receiving a gift, there was something more complicated.

If he wasn’t wrong, Luan Ye had probably been having a bit of a mental episode during his break—thus the crazy shopping spree, and forgetting everything he’d bought.

It wasn’t the items he wanted to forget. It was the state he was in while buying them: sick, idle, and compulsively shopping.

But looking at it now, even while ill, everything he bought was for others. Not a single thing was for himself.

“This is too expensive.” He closed the box again and looked up at Luan Ye. “I can’t accept it.”

If the car rental each month was earned through his labor, and the mural was a keepsake, then this jacket was beyond what Fan Qing felt comfortable accepting.

“You’re not the only one,” Luan Ye pointed at the mountain of packages. “I got something for everyone.”

“I know,” Fan Qing replied.

Even knowing that gifts were given to everyone didn’t lessen the weight in his heart.

Because he knew that burden wasn’t just about the cost. It was because every time Luan Ye gave him something, it was generous and without strings—but he couldn’t give anything back with the same openness.

“I don’t need equipment this fancy,” Fan Qing said. “Keep it and wear it next time you go hiking.”

“…If it’s about the price, that’s unnecessary.”

Luan Ye looked at him for a moment, then spoke.

“I told you, getting to know you all—especially you—has made me really happy. But I’m the kind of person who can be… a bit unbearable.”

Fan Qing’s heart tightened.

“I haven’t had friends in a long time. I don’t know how to get along with people. When I’m in a good mood, I’ll talk. When I’m not, even seeing people annoys me.”

“There was a time at a photography exhibition—I was chatting fine one moment, then felt it was all pointless the next, and just got in a cab to the airport back to California. Scared the organizers half to death.”

Luan Ye laughed at his own story.

“Pretty annoying, huh?”

“No,” Fan Qing replied immediately. “You being here… has been really great.”

Luan Ye raised a brow. “Really? I remember yelling at you once.”

That was when Fan Qing had made him noodles even though he was sick.

“But you still came out to look for me.”

“During my episodes, when Granny Mu and Qiao Feibai called me to eat, sometimes I didn’t want to talk, just pretended I didn’t hear them. Later, they started saving meals for me anyway. And when I didn’t feel like chatting at the cafe and bar, Li Ge, Qu Jie, and Da Yao never forced me to talk.”

“Someone once told me… no one will be kind to you without reason unless they love you.” Luan Ye paused, then said with some difficulty, “Every bit of emotional value others give you always comes at a price.”

If you can’t accept that kind of transactional socializing, don’t try to form relationships, Bo Mingchuan had said. Otherwise, in your condition, your illness will just get worse.

Fan Qing opened his mouth to speak but held it in.

“But you guys aren’t like that.”

“You don’t think I’m annoying—not because I’m so great. It’s because you are.”

“That kind of goodness makes me feel… how should I say it… overwhelmed, almost guilty.”

Wow, two idioms in one sentence. Impressive.

“All this stuff—it’s just to say that. It’s not about the price.”

Luan Ye smiled. “It’s been too long since I’ve been around people. I just don’t know how to let you all feel… how grateful I am.”

The kind of gratitude that says, finally, I don’t need to keep reminding myself, Luan Ye, you’re sick, so stay away from people.

After he finished, he felt a little emotional. It had been so long since he talked to anyone this much, and it came out a bit chaotic.

But Fan Qing seemed to understand. He stared at Luan Ye, then pushed the jacket back toward him.

“If it’s because of that, then I really don’t need it.”