WOOY Chapter 31

In the days that followed, Chang Dong searched Bailongdui according to the original plan.

Ye Liuxi and the cook traveled with him in the car. She tied a rope around the his ankle, securing the other end to the car’s crash bar. When they stopped, she and Chang Dong would explore the area and occasionally climb to higher ground for a better vantage point. The cook, limited by the rope, could only wander around near the car. Regardless of how they tried to engage him in conversation, he would repeat the same phrases over and over again.

“Sand is falling…a straight line…whoosh whoosh whoosh…umbrella…Master Ba got buried.”

Sometimes, he would cautiously lift the “umbrella,” seemingly observing the “rain,” before trembling and carefully putting the “umbrella” back over his head.

……

When it came to actually taking action, Chang Dong realized that his plans had been far too optimistic: much of Bailongdui was completely inaccessible, fuel consumption was alarmingly high, and with the cook in tow, there was one more mouth to feed. Supplies dwindled day by day.

On the third day, he tacitly accepted the death of another missing person.

By the fifth day, fuel had reached the warning line.

After five days, even the most magnificent and rare landscapes had become mundane. Bailongdui was nothing more than a cluster of grayish-white saline-alkali yardabgs, eroded into ridges and grooves by the wind.

There were no anomalies, not even a trace of human activity. Sometimes, Chang Dong would stand atop one of the mounds, take out Kong Yang’s photograph, and compare the surroundings in all directions.

——

On the evening of the fifth day, Chang Dong thought it might be time to call Fei Tang: if they didn’t get more supplies, they would have to retreat.

To his surprise, Fei Tang called him first.

Sounding excited, Fei Tang began by thanking him, “Dong ge, I owe you big time!”

Chang Dong had a guess, “Struck it rich?”

Fei Tang chuckled, “Not exactly. Most of it got sold off for twenty or thirty bucks each, but there was one piece with great oiliness and stickiness that sold for nine thousand… Dong ge, do you guys still have enough food and fuel? Need me to bring you some?”

As expected, Ye Liuxi was right—where there was profit, Fei Tang would surely be drawn in. Chang Dong didn’t hold back, “Sure, I’ll pay you back later.”

After discussing the essentials, Fei Tang hesitated to hang up.

Satellite phone costs weren’t cheap, so Chang Dong reminded him to keep it brief, “If you drag on for an hour or two, it’ll cost as much as a nine-thousand-dollar stone. Even though I’m covering the bill, could you spare me a little?”

Startled, Fei Tang immediately sped up, “So, here’s the thing, Dong ge. These past two days, I’ve been in town browsing online for ghost stories about Lop Nur…”

He couldn’t help but be curious. After all, he had been dragged over ten meters once. Now that he was safe, he couldn’t resist looking for kindred spirits—what exactly was that thing? Was it an experience unique to him?

He found a lot, though many were made-up tales by storytellers. Still, Fei Tang went through them one by one, painstakingly pulling together some rough conclusions:

—The location of the strange occurrences was uncertain, scattered across Lop Nur and the surrounding deserts.

—They generally happened during sandstorm days.

A staunch materialist left a comment under the post, saying: “Keep making things up! All these strange stories you write are just sand in your brains.”

—The strange occurrences followed certain patterns, such as driving at night and tailing the car ahead, only for it to vanish without any turn-offs; or a car driving through the wilderness, only to have another one suddenly appear nearby; or setting up camp and securing the tent door, only to find it open in the morning.

Only one person’s experience resembled Fei Tang’s. That person had camped on a saline-alkali flat and, while going to the bathroom at night, was “pushed” by something unknown.

Clicking into that post, it was from over two years ago, titled “A Real Man Travels Far: Seven Days Crossing the Sea of Death.” It was a popular post with over a thousand comments, filled with photos and stories, and highly praised by fellow adventurers.

The post about the eerie experience began like this: “Frankly, it’s embarrassing. I’m a strong young man, yet my stamina was no match for a female truck driver. I heard the sound of her truck while in my tent, peeked out, and was in awe. She was braving the wind and sand, driving through the night alone! I felt so ashamed that I decided to take a leak to calm myself. Little did I know, the scariest part of this journey was about to happen…”

Fei Tang explained to Chang Dong: “This guy saw a female truck driver hauling goods on the road, but her truck was slow, so he overtook her. Later, when he camped at midnight, that truck caught up again.”

Chang Dong knew Fei Tang wouldn’t bring this up without reason. “And then?”

“The first time he saw her, he thought she was very pretty and secretly took a photo, but only managed to capture her back to avoid being noticed. Dong ge, if this were before, I wouldn’t have recognized her. But her outfit—the round-neck white T-shirt tucked into jeans, calf-high leather boots, and a wide-brimmed Tibetan-style felt hat—matches the description of Sister Yexi in the Hui Ba’s booklet…”

Understood.

Round-neck white T-shirt, tucked into jeans, calf-high leather boots, Tibetan-style wide-brimmed felt hat, a similar figure, a truck driver—there were too many coincidences. It could only be her.

——

After finalizing the time and place to exchange supplies with Fei Tang, Chang Dong shared the situation with Ye Liuxi.

Ye Liuxi agreed it was likely her. She lounged in a canvas chair, looking at Chang Dong. “So, what now?”

Chang Dong said, “I’m gradually narrowing down the factors to figure out what common elements are present when strange things happen—before, it was wind and sand. Now, it might also include you.”

“With wind and sand, plus me, you’re saying we can summon Yumen Pass, location unspecified, somewhere within Lop Nur, and mostly at night—is that it?”

Not exactly. Chang Dong hesitated. Although the weather at Bailongdui had generally been calm in recent days, there were two nights with wind and sandstorms. Still, nothing unusual had happened—they had passed peacefully.

He said, “Maybe something’s still missing. Let’s think back—on the day when strange things occurred, did anything… unusual happen to you?”

Ye Liuxi sneered. “We’ve been together this entire time. What unusual thing could have happened to me…”

She crossed one leg over the other, annoyed.

Chang Dong’s gaze dropped, landing on her ankle. There, the white adhesive tape and gauze were faintly visible.

Ye Liuxi followed his gaze.

After a pause, she said, “This counts? Is Yumen Pass a fly or something? Smelling blood and coming straight for me?”

“It counts.”

——

Getting Ye Liuxi to shed some blood was both easy and difficult.

The easy part was that she agreed immediately.

The difficult part was that she refused to cut herself and found reopening an old wound too painful. “Why don’t you just make me angry? If I cough up blood, it won’t hurt.”

Chang Dong ignored her, pulling out the first aid kit and retrieving a disposable blood-drawing needle and syringe. “Give me your hand.”

Ye Liuxi had no more words, extending her left hand. “Hurry up.”

Chang Dong took her hand and examined it. Her skin was fair and smooth, with fine veins that made it difficult to find a good spot for the needle. After lightly tapping the back of her hand twice without success, Ye Liuxi seemed to catch on. “Chang Dong, if you dare to poke me more than once, I’ll…”

Chang Dong grabbed her wrist firmly, causing the main vein on the back of her hand to bulge slightly due to the temporary blockage of blood flow.

“Grip your left wrist with your right hand, like this. Hold tight until I tell you to let go. If you don’t, and I have to poke you again, it’s on you.”

Ye Liuxi gripped her wrist and sighed. “Chang Dong, you’re so annoying.”

Lowering his head, Chang Dong wiped the back of her hand with an alcohol swab, carefully locating the entry point. He inserted the needle as gently as possible. “You don’t have to say it—I already know… Done.”

The needle was thin, causing only a slight sting. It wasn’t very painful. Ye Liuxi released her grip and watched as her blood slowly filled the syringe.

He didn’t draw much, quickly removing the needle and handing her a clean cotton ball to press against the puncture site. Ye Liuxi looked at the small amount of blood in the syringe. “This much blood won’t spread its scent well, will it? You could boil it.”

“Did you boil it the last two times?”

“No… but the blood dripped onto the ground.”

Chang Dong pressed the plunger slightly, letting a few drops of blood fall to the ground.

Both of them stared at the ground. The blood was quickly absorbed by the saline-alkali soil. Not far away, the cook wandered back and forth, holding his “umbrella,” unable to escape the rope tied to his ankle. He muttered under his breath, “Buried… In the blink of an eye, Master Ba was buried…”

Ye Liuxi, a bit bored, remarked, “Yumen Pass has been gone for hundreds, maybe thousands of years. How could it possibly…”

Suddenly, the bloodstain sizzled and bubbled.

Ye Liuxi forgot what she was about to say.

After the bubbling subsided, there was no further movement. Ye Liuxi, regaining her composure, thought it might just be a chemical reaction between the blood and the saline-alkali soil. She was about to suggest that Chang Dong try shedding some blood as well when he suddenly hushed her. He pressed his hands to the ground, lowering his upper body into a crouch, staring intently at the area around the bloodstain.

What was he looking at? Ye Liuxi couldn’t figure it out. She bent down several times to look but couldn’t make sense of it. On her last attempt, Chang Dong looked up, seemingly annoyed by her interference. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her down with him.

Ye Liuxi had no choice but to crouch down as well.

Still, she couldn’t see anything. Mimicking Chang Dong, she tilted her head, her cheek almost touching the ground. “What are you looking at?”

Chang Dong turned his head. Her hair, medium in length, was pressed against the ground in this position. Without thinking, he reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear.

Ye Liuxi turned her head to look at him.

Chang Dong’s hand paused. His fingertips brushed against the curve of her ear before pulling back. “…Your hair fell down. If it gets dirty, there’s no water to wash it.”

His hand, now cupped, carried a faint warmth at the tips of his fingers.

Ye Liuxi asked, “What are you even looking at?”

Chang Dong placed a hand on the top of her head, gently adjusting the angle of her head.

Now she saw it. Although the air was calm, beside the bloodstain, some grains of sand were clumsily moving—some to the left, some to the right. The movements were so subtle that it was remarkable he had noticed them at all.

Ye Liuxi held her breath, fearing her own exhalations might disturb the sand. “What is it?”

“Keep watching.”

After a while, the sand no longer moved sluggishly. It began to rotate slightly, like the tiniest of whirlwinds—spinning briefly before collapsing. Clearly, this movement created an invisible ripple that quietly expanded outward.

In a low voice, Chang Dong said, “Wind is a natural phenomenon—caused by uneven temperatures and the flow of air. Modern people know this, but the ancients thought otherwise.”

“There’s an old saying about Lop Nur: ‘The head of the wind, the tail of the water.’ They believed that water and wind were alive. When water dried up here, it was because it had reached the ‘tail of the water.’ And where the wind was most ferocious, that was the ‘head of the wind,’ its source, endlessly producing more.”

“Liuxi, we might be looking at the head of the wind right now.”

It wasn’t simply wind, sand, and her presence that could summon Yumen Pass. It was her blood that had nourished the head of the wind.

Right in front of them, the head of the wind was growing, expanding—from a few grains of sand to a phenomenon that could ignite a hundred kilometers of sandstorms.

And with it, the Yumen Pass city, so intimately tied to her, would emerge within the sandstorm.

The first gust hit their faces.

Chang Dong pulled Ye Liuxi up from the ground.

Locals say that of the 365 days in Lop Nur, 200 are swept by strong winds.

Chang Dong had traversed Lop Nur many times. The number of sandstorms he had encountered wasn’t a hundred, but at least eighty.

In a low voice, he said, “This is the first time I’ve seen a sandstorm grow right in front of me, alive.”

Ye Liuxi replied, “Me too… I guess.”