Chapter 40

Chapter 40

After seeing colleagues from their program, Qi Yanyu and Lin Na headed to the restaurant to order some food.

After eating some local specialty noodles, Qi Yanyu overheard that someone had gone to the undeveloped area. Scrolling through his feed, he saw that someone had actually gone to the eastern cliffs.

Qi Yanyu slowly scrolled down and found that Dai Qian’s crew had gone to the western cliffs, posting a bunch of group pics. However, Xia Yiyi and Gu Jinglan were nowhere to be seen in those photos.

He saw someone comment, "Where are Yiyi and Brother Gu?"

Someone replied below, saying the two of them had gone to the eastern cliffs.

Qi Yanyu thought to himself, *You really took a girl to an off-trail area?*

But the group chat kept blowing up, with the class monitors from both classes tagging everyone repeatedly. Qi Yanyu clicked in and saw they were asking about Xia Yiyi and Gu Jinglan’s whereabouts.

They said Yiyi and Gu were supposed to meet for lunch but hadn’t shown up, and their phones were off/dead.

Someone in the group even made a crude joke, "Let them be—they’re probably 'busy.'"

Subconsciously, Qi Yanyu opened his contacts and found Gu Jinglan’s number. Skeptical, he called, but no one picked up.

"Let me see the map," he said.

Lin Na handed him the map. Qi Yanyu studied it and saw that the eastern cliffs led to a small valley. No elevation was listed—had they really gone east?

Qi Yanyu said, "I’m borrowing the map."

"What are you planning?" Lin Na asked, surprised as he watched Qi Yanyu prepare to leave.

"Just gonna look around," Qi Yanyu replied, taking water and the map with him. Before leaving, he noticed Lin Na’s backpack was fully equipped. "Lend me this."

He took the small hiking kit from Lin Na’s bag. It was just a cheap set bought online, containing gloves, a collapsible hiking pole, a rope, a small flashlight, and the like—only good for hiking newbies.

The middle path he and Lin Na had taken earlier was the quickest route to the east. As he walked, he ignored the fallen warning sign this time too.

Along the way, Qi Yanyu quickened his pace.

He thought, *What if I see Xia Yiyi and Gu Jinglan together?*

But he needed to confirm—how had they ended up being rumored as missing?

Following the undeveloped path, he found no clear trail and had to rely on the map. Qi Yanyu’s sense of direction was decent enough to handle the route.

The further he went, the denser the vegetation became. It took him a long time to push through the thick shrubs and trees before he could tell he was getting close to the eastern cliffs.

When Qi Yanyu finally saw the so-called "cliffs," they weren’t cliffs at all—just a steep, overgrown hillside with patches of exposed rock.

It was a valley, surrounded by high slopes with a forested basin at the bottom. Calling them "cliffs" was a stretch, likely because the western cliffs were so famous that the east had been mistakenly labeled the same way.

Did something happen to them?

*Wait, were they actually together?* Otherwise, why would the two of them go to a valley alone?

Despite these thoughts, he pushed ahead, uneasy, until the landscape suddenly opened up before him—a valley where wind roared through, whipping his clothes.

Standing at the edge of the surrounding slopes, he looked down into the valley hundreds of meters below, filled with gnarled trees with branches clawing outward like skeletal fingers. The drop was sheer—a 60-, 70-degree incline.

Jinglan! Gu Jinglan! Qi Yanyu shouted into the surroundings, "Gu Jinglan! Gu Jinglan!"

He didn’t really believe anyone could fall, especially not Gu Jinglan. But as he walked, his shouts met only by bird calls, he kept searching for any sign of the person.

The sun blazed overhead, and Qi Yanyu peered down into the steep, densely forested valley below. Going down would take serious agility. He wondered if there were any stone steps leading down into the valley.

Maybe in response to his shouts, rustling came from the grass. Qi Yanyu hurried down the slope, searching until he spotted a figure. Reaching out to pull them up, he found Xia Yiyi, her face scraped from a fall.

Alarmed, Qi Yanyu hauled her up harder.

Sobbing, she told him, "Gu Jinglan fell down..."

Though he had mentally prepared himself, hearing those words still left his head ringing blankly. "You stay up here and rest. I’ll go down and look for him."

"How are you going down?"

More like a near-vertical slope—dangerous either way.

"I’ll manage." After helping Xia Yiyu up, he saw she was already exhausted, her hands and knees scraped bloody as she slumped by the roadside. Qi Yanyu handed her the water from his backpack before rummaging through the toolbox inside. He found a rope—thin, but Lin Na had spent good money on quality gear. He gave it a tug—thin but expensive, probably strong enough.

Tying one end around his waist, he searched for a sturdy tree on the slope to secure the other end.

Backpack heavy with water, Qi Yanyu slowly let out the rope, gripping it tightly as he carefully stepped downward.

Xia Yiyi’s forehead and hands were still bleeding, her exhaustion and shock evident. But she worried for Qi Yanyu. "Don’t—" Yet, she didn’t know what else to do about Gu Jinglan, her voice breaking with helpless sobs.

"Call them. Tell them we’re here." Qi Yanyu had forgotten—his phone had died the second he stepped into the undeveloped forest. Still, trying was better than nothing.

Lowering himself with the rope, stepping on vegetation and rocks, Qi Yanyu descended. The rope barely stretched two hundred meters, while the slope stretched at least five or six hundred meters.

The rope seared his palm raw from his weight, while his anxious gaze scanned below for any sign of where Gu Jinglan might have fallen.

He’d be fine. He’d find him.

Don’t worry. The mountain played by its own rules. As long as he was careful and prepared, it wouldn’t be too cruel to them.

Qi Yanyu had worn gloves, but the rope still chafed. Then—his foot slipped, and he tumbled down, gear and all, until the rope snapped taut, stopping his fall.

His face was scratched by bushes, elbows and knees throbbing—no time to assess. Struggling up, he used the rope’s tension to steady himself as he continued calling Gu Jinglan’s name. He was barely halfway down—his first rope had run out.

After several slips and scrambles, he finally reached a tree. He tied the second rope to it, securing the other end around his waist, and resumed his descent.

"Jinglan! Goddammit, Jinglan—"

In his entire life, apart from that one year pre-transmigration in his twenties—when he had worked as a doctor, prescribing medicine and assisting in minor surgeries—he had never actually saved anyone.

And now, here he was, where one misstep could kill him.

Whatever. He was gonna die someday anyway. If he could help someone before that, then it wouldn’t be a wasted existence.

Gu Jinglan, what fucking possessed you, coming here to see some damn "cliff"?

Are you insane? If you wanted to die, you could’ve fucking warned us.

So people wouldn’t have to come rescue you.

Saving Gu Jinglan was one thing, but if someone else got hurt or died trying, that blood would be on Gu’s hands.

Cursing Gu Jinglan in his mind, Qi Yanyu realized his heart was pounding—both from the danger and the fear that the man might already be gone.

He'd let out the second 200-meter rope, his eyes aching from being scratched by thorns all the way down, yet he still couldn’t spot where Gu Jinglan had fallen. Qi Yanyu knew this straight-down search wasn’t working—what if Gu Jinglan had veered off the drop line?

But even after lowering the rope completely, he saw no trace of anyone nearby.

Climb back up? Maybe Gu Jinglan had fallen somewhere higher, and he’d missed it earlier.

Or maybe Gu Jinglan had already been rescued?

Where the fuck did he land?

Qi Yanyu considered untying the rope and descending a bit further—perhaps the man was just a dozen meters below him.

The slope was steeper than he’d thought. From above, the trees and brush had hidden how fucking steep it really was, but now, crushing through the undergrowth, he realized it plunged deeper.

Making up his mind, Qi Yanyu untied the rope from his waist and hips, grabbing fistfuls of vines as he inched downward. What if Gu Jinglan was right beneath him?

His gloves were shredded to hell. He stepped carefully on what seemed like stable footholds, moving bit by bit while scanning the slope for any sign of a fall.

But the roots tore loose under him, and Qi Yanyu plummeted a sickening distance. Copper flooded his mouth when he finally stopped rolling. Then he realized he’d collided with something soft.

Ignoring his own pain, he struggled up and found Gu Jinglan lying at his feet.

His chest seized—alive, but fuck, the blood—

Gu Jinglan’s forehead split to the bone, blood streaming down. Out cold.

His body was also covered in cuts from thorns and smeared with blood.

Clutching a vine, Qi Yanyu crawled over and checked Gu Jinglan’s neck—his pulse was still there.

Lifting his head slightly, he saw a small pool of blood at the back, though thankfully not too much.

He smacked Gu Jinglan’s face, calling his name. "Wake the fuck up, I’m right here!"

No response. Worried there might be other injuries, Qi Yanyu turned him over with effort and saw his elbow was a mess of bone and meat, his arm twisted unnaturally.

Looking up, Qi Yanyu noticed blood smeared across the rocks leading downward.

Had the blood come from his head as he rolled? He touched the back of Gu Jinglan’s skull and his torn face again.

Without hesitation, Qi Yanyu pulled out the pitiful scrap of gauze from his backpack—part of Lin Na’s hiking toolkit.

Like trying to stop a dam with tissue paper, he stripped off his thin jacket, using a small knife from the kit to cut it into two strips—one to wrap Gu Jinglan’s head, the other to bind his elbow, where blood still flowed freely from the exposed bone.

"Once I save you, you better call me ‘Dad.’"

Gu Jinglan’s actual dad couldn’t have made this climb.

Qi Yanyu tried calling to him again, but the man remained unconscious. He shoved his pack to his chest, heaved Gu Jinglan up in a fireman’s carry.

The rope dangled hopelessly far above. If he could climb up and reach it, tying himself to it would make the ascent easier.

Locking his arms under Gu Jinglan’s dead weight, Qi Yanyu got Gu Jinglan’s lolling head to stay put.

"Gu Jinglan, you really should call me dad,"

Qi Yanyu gripped Gu Jinglan's leg with one hand while clutching at thick-rooted plants strong enough to support the weight of two grown men, attempting to climb upward.

Yet every half-meter gained was followed by a slide back down two or three meters.

Goddamn it.

Only then did Qi Yanyu notice the trail of blood left by Gu Jinglan on the slope, worrying that he might be bleeding out.

He glanced back to see Gu Jinglan’s face resting limply against his neck and shoulder.

Dried blood he’d missed earlier streaked Gu Jinglan’s face, and a trickle of blood seeped from the corner of his mouth.

Please, no internal bleeding.

Otherwise, even if they made it up, Gu Jinglan might still die from not getting help in time.

Qi Yanyu knew he couldn’t keep taking one step forward just to slide two steps back—he needed a better plan, or they’d exhaust themselves and tumble even deeper.

They could both end up broken at the bottom.

No way. Not happening. At the very least, he had to reach the end of the rope and secure Gu Jinglan to it.

Either they got out together, or they died together.

Setting Gu Jinglan down, Qi Yanyu noticed the blood at his lips again.

Shit, was he bleeding internally? His pulse was weak.

Qi Yanyu checked the back of his head—still oozing blood. He cut more fabric from his clothes to rebandage the wound.

Grit crusted Gu Jinglan’s lashes, his face streaked with grime and blood. Qi Yanyu wiped it away with his hand.

Too quiet. Gu Jinglan looked unnervingly peaceful.

How the hell had Gu Jinglan fallen?

He tipped the last of their water into Gu Jinglan’s mouth, then took a sip for himself.

He sliced open the backpack, hoisted Gu Jinglan onto his back, then lashed their waists together with the backpack straps, knotting them tight.

No way they weren’t getting out of this.

With Gu Jinglan on his back, he angled toward the trees, using the trunks for footing, climbing again and again—each time sliding back down.

Qi Yanyu squinted up at the blistering sun.

Again, he hauled Gu Jinglan onto his back.

Picking his way over loose gravel, he scouted for vines and gentler slopes to climb.

Almost there. Grab the rope, and he could haul them up.

He would do this.

Gu Jinglan was damn lucky to run into him.

Gasping, he heard his own ragged breaths rattling in his chest.

He fought to even out his breathing.

For the first time, he regretted not carrying his medication. What if his asthma kicked in?

He clenched the vegetation tightly, refusing to let go even as he slipped. The weight on his back stole Qi Yanyu’s breath, sapping his strength.

No matter.

Just a few meters to go—almost there.

His gloves were shredded, slick with sweat—Qi Yanyu ripped them off and tossed them.

The guy slipped backward—Qi Yanyu yanked his hands from his shoulders and tied them to his waist with vines to prevent him from tipping over.

No pro, but hell if he couldn’t get the job done.

Others would’ve given up, but Qi Yanyu was hauling Gu Jinglan up.

Gritting his teeth, his hands screamed from the rope burn.

He worked the rope, coiling it around his palm for grip.

The ground was slick—his feet kept skidding out.

The rope gave; they slid, but it held.

Ten minutes of gasping, then another push—ten meters, a breather, repeat.

Solid plan, except for the half-dozen spills.

Qi Yanyu’s lungs heaved like bellows as he reached for Gu Jinglan’s hand.

He couldn’t lose him. Not now.

No more fucking falls.

He clenched the rope, almost twisting it around his hand—the rope sawed into his palms, raw and bleeding.

He thought he saw the first rope.

Wind roared in his ears, drowning everything but Gu Jinglan’s faint pulse.

His own breath was a freight train in his skull.

His waist screamed, shoulders on fire. He snagged the second rope, cinching Gu Jinglan tighter against him, then began tying the first rope.

The rope was pink—since when? Qi Yanyu scrubbed his hands on his shirt, but the damn pink wouldn’t budge.

Almost there. He’d make it. Had to.

Figures above—he seized the rope, collapsed as they dragged them to safety.

Reaching out blindly, not knowing who was there.

He and Gu Jinglan crashed to the ground.

Gasping for air, his chest tight, his back, waist, shoulders, and both arms aching and raw—burning, numb.

A classmate came over to wipe his face and give him water.

Only then did he touch his own face, mumbling words even he couldn't decipher—something about checking if Gu Jinglan had internal bleeding.

Lying on the ground, the world spinning, his vision going black—he just couldn’t get up.

His chest rose and fell rapidly as Gu Jinglan lay beside him, students crowding around.

Two hours later.

Kanbei City Hospital.

Qi Muyao had already been at the hospital waiting.

They had been transferred from a rural hospital to the city one.

Gu Jinglan was in the next room receiving treatment—concussion, internal bleeding, but fortunately, the bleeding had been treated in time.

The nurse pulled back the curtain—Qi Yanyu’s elbows, knees, legs, face, and hands were injured.

He just pulled his sleeves back down and dabbed on some antiseptic.

Qi Muyao had imagined countless ways he might find Qi Yanyu—not an inch of him untouched.

But seeing his nearly shattered kneecaps, his face smeared with smudged, half-cleaned blood, Qi Muyao choked back his rage.

He stared at the scrapes on Qi Yanyu’s face, with icy eyes, yet unable to lash out the moment he opened his mouth.

“You’re really something, Qi Yanyu.” He had to begrudgingly admire his younger brother from the bottom of his heart.

To stop Qi Muyao from snapping—and himself along with it—Qi Yanyu whispered, “I’m in pain. Just...not now.”

Qi Muyao couldn’t tell if it was real or an act, so he fell silent, watching him.

Calling the nurse over: “He’s still in pain. Wasn’t he examined?”

The nurse hurriedly replied, “We ran scans—his head and whole body. Nothing’s wrong. If he’s still hurting, maybe…” Her voice faltered, unsure what to say.

“It’s just surface wounds,” Qi Yanyu murmured again.

The nurse finally made her escape.

Seeing the unevenly applied medicine, Qi Muyao took the bottle and dabbed it over Qi Yanyu’s face, lacerated by thorns, his eyes burning with anger. Qi Yanyu had no choice but to avert his eyes guiltily.

“So this is how much you love him,” Qi Muyao bit back his harsh words, his expression restrained to a cold, dark glare. He said with slow, cutting sarcasm, “Did he even spare you a glance?”

Qi Yanyu stayed silent. He knew what he had to do. Love unreturned—he knew he'd have to walk away eventually.

Qi Muyao kept himself in check, avoiding another outburst.

Seeing him safe, his worry eased, but the anger kept bubbling beneath the surface.