Chapter 152

Chapter 152

The busyness of work and the anxiety of waiting for the admission notice kept Xu Meng busy.

During this time, she hardly had a moment to think about anything else. Occasionally, her motorcycle would instinctively veer toward Shi Family Hutong. Finally, one day, using Han Lingling as an excuse, she knocked on the Han family’s door.

As it happened, Han Lingling wasn’t home, and Jiang Huiqi greeted her instead.

Han Lingling had scored well on her exams and had gone out to play after the college entrance exams, not yet returning. "Originally, we should have sent someone to inform you once the results came out, but no one in the family knew where you were. It’s good that you’ve come back now. I heard you also did very well—congratulations."

Xu Meng nodded. No one mentioned Han Jiming, and she didn’t even hear anyone in the family bring him up.

Given the age gap between her and Jiang Huiqi, they soon ran out of things to say.

Xu Meng politely bid farewell and stepped outside. Just then, she heard a motorcycle's rumble at the gate. Her first thought was that Han Jiming had returned. Her heart leapt as she ran toward the noise, only to catch a glimpse of a figure disappearing at the end of the street. It was only then that she belatedly realized—it wasn’t him. He was far away in the northwest, in a place without signal or phones, posted up who-knows-where, holding down the fort.

Suddenly, a flood of memories rushed through Xu Meng’s mind—Han Jiming silently appearing at the alley entrance, showing up near the school, and the day they parted. She walked to the road where she had first met him, her eyes searching every face in the crowd. The street was bustling with people and traffic, countless faces—but none of them were Han Jiming.

At that moment, it felt like someone had ripped out part of her heart.

She crouched on the ground, tears plopping to the ground. A crushing wave of longing crashed over her—she missed him so much.

She had packed her schedule to bursting, leaving no room for pause. Yet, the slightest thing related to him would send her mind racing. Now, she couldn’t help but regret the pointless argument they’d had before he left. What had it even been for? And how was he doing out there in the vast northwest?

Over the past year, Han Jiming had always appeared suddenly, making her think that he would never truly leave. But this time, how long had he been gone? Forty-one days, seven hours, and twenty-five minutes.

So, Han Jiming had already been away for so long.

If he appeared before her now, Xu Meng would rush forward without hesitation and embrace him.

Sunlight washed over everyone else, but Xu Meng remained crouched in the shadows. It took her a long time to finally stand up, only to remember that her motorcycle was still parked in Shi Family Hutong. She had run out impulsively and now had to walk back to retrieve it.

This just made her mood worse.

————

Near Wudao Liang

Meanwhile, Han Jiming got out to check.

The road was brutal, and the tire, already overburdened, had been punctured again.

"Another patch job?"

"Probably. I could feel something off earlier. Let’s go take a look."

This was the last spare tire, and it had been repaired too many times. The crew called this "patch duty" as a joke. Han Jiming retrieved the jack from the trunk and said to the junior sitting in the back, "Hand me the one we fixed earlier."

Between the two spare tires, as soon as one was repaired, the other would fail. Every few dozen kilometers, the same issue would arise.

The only woman in the car, Qian Qing, was about to cry. The drinking water reserves were running low. They were now at the edge of the Hoh Xil uninhabited zone, still some distance from the next supply point. The men in the car hadn’t eaten all day—not because there was no food, but because there wasn’t enough water. Eating would only make them thirstier, making Them crave water.

The little water left was reserved for Qian Qing, the only woman in the convoy.

Since the tire needed changing, everyone got out of the car.

Around them, bands of Tibetan antelope would sometimes wander past.

Deputy team leader Qin Yuan joked, "If we bagged one, ate the meat raw, and drank its blood, we might buy us a few more days. If we’re truly desperate for water, I’d drink antelope blood straight."

Qian Qing fought back tears.

The tension among the guys eased up. If it came down to it, they could still survive—they had a hunting rifle in the car for protection.

One of the guys nudged Han Jiming with an idea. "Jiming, I heard you're a pretty good shot."

Han Jiming was focused on changing the tire and didn’t even look up. "No point talking about that now. Better to fix the damn tire right this time. Who patched it last time? It blew out in less than 30 kilometers. The nearest oasis is about 50 kilometers away. Instead of wasting time hunting, let’s just get the car fixed quickly."

The guy who’d patched the tire groaned miserably. "We don’t have the stuff, boss!"

Someone else added, "Once we get to Delingha, I’m definitely going to ask Old Wang to replace both these tires."

"Seriously, I’ve had enough."

Qin Yuan groaned, frustrated. "How many times have we had to patch and repair along the way? Breakdowns and fixes, nonstop."

Han Jiming cut in, "Less talking, more helping. Fifty klicks—if the road’s decent, we’re two hours out."

He tossed the old tire to Qin Yuan.

Everyone here had some repair skills. Even delicate-looking Qian Qing pitched in. It took another half hour to change and fix the tire. Qian Qing handed the last bit of water to Han Jiming, who was driving. "Have a sip. We passengers can rest, but the road ahead depends on you."

The pickup’s driver came over, checked their situation, and told them the road ahead had been cleared. A little further, they’d see vast stretches of purple needlegrass and could likely reach the next oasis before dark.

It was summer now, and even in arid regions, rainfall was better than other seasons, increasing the chances of finding water.

Han Jiming glanced at the water pouch and took it without hesitation.

He shook it, and the sloshing sounded like heaven. They swallowed dryly, parched. After a moment, Han Jiming took a small cup from the dashboard, poured a tiny amount of water into it, and finally held it in his mouth.

The water soothed his throat, reviving him. He passed the pouch to Qin Yuan.

Qin Yuan shook the water pouch, his throat burned with thirst. But he knew who was expending the most energy—the last stretch would rely on Han Jiming’s driving skills. He needed to stay sharp.

"I’m fine. Save this for you and Qian Qing."

Qian Qing said, "Han Jiming’s our ticket out of here. I can hold on a little longer."

Han Jiming rallied their spirits. "Buckle up. Those in the back, try to nap. Let’s push through to the next oasis in one go."

They let out a ragged cheer.

The sky was a brilliant blue, streaked with clouds, pressing low as if within reach. The natural scenery here was breathtaking. Now and then, Tibetan antelopes crossed in front of the car—unbothered by people or cars, occasionally grazing before glancing at the travelers.

A few days earlier, the convoy had gotten stuck, delaying their journey by two days. They had emergency rations like compressed biscuits, but eating those without water only worsened their thirst. Everyone was enduring as best they could.

Qian Qing didn’t sleep. Her gaze drifted outside before settling on Han Jiming in the driver’s seat.

She sat behind the passenger seat, giving her a clear view of his profile. Throughout the trip, she had used sleep as a cover to openly steal glances at him—a small comfort in the struggle. The thought of reaching the city—and saying goodbye—left her torn between hope and heartache.

Han Jiming was always the star of the group, radiating confidence even in the toughest times. With him around, the team had cohesion.

After half an hour of driving, shrubs began appearing along the roadside. Qian Qing was nudged awake by the person beside her. "Qian Qing, look! Shrubs by the road. Maybe we’ll find water before setting up camp tonight!"

Their spirits lifted, and someone joked that at this point, they’d take bandits over nothing.

Only Han Jiming remained silent. No one knew what he was thinking, so they dropped the ill-timed jokes.

Two hours later, with more greenery but still no water in sight, frustration set in. Some had set their hopes too high, and after repeated disappointments, a few in the group were starting to crack.

"Are we seriously not finding water today? I'm so thirsty right now."

"What time is it now?"

"It's already eight. It'll be dark in just over an hour."

Uneasy whispers rippled through the convoy. Suddenly, a flag emerged from the window of the lead vehicle. Han Jiming sped up to catch up, and a head leaned out the window, shouting something.

Qin Yuan said, "The car ahead says there might be people up front."

The car went quiet as everyone pondered the implications. In these parts, people were either herders or poachers.

Meeting the former would be a stroke of luck, but encountering the latter could mean facing dangerous criminals.

Qian Qing let out a small gasp, "Han Jiming!"

Meanwhile, a classmate in the back scrambled to the trunk, retrieving a hunting rifle and gripping it tightly.

The car didn’t slow down, but Han Jiming overtook the lead vehicle. The tension grew palpable as whispers of hope and fear filled the car. As they drew closer, Han Jiming’s voice broke through: "They're herders."

A vast flock of sheep and a few sheepdogs came into view. The herder, mounted high on his horse, watched the approaching metal beast warily.

Outsiders were a rare sight here, and the herders naturally distrusted them. Fortunately, Han Jiming had a disarming look—his presence often eased suspicion. He removed the cloth covering his face and smiled warmly. "Hello, we're university students from the capital. We got lost up ahead. Could you tell us how far the nearest water source is?"

The herder looked bewildered.

Han Jiming quickly returned to the car, pulled out a digital watch from his backpack, and handed it to the man. The herder recognized it—a treasure among northwestern herders—and his eyes lit up. Through gestures and broken phrases, they managed to communicate.

Soon, Han Jiming returned with news: "There’s a river nearby. We can set up camp there and rest."

Everyone cheered. Han Jiming got everyone organized and assigned tasks—some gathered firewood, others fetched water, while he led a small team to negotiate with the herders for food.

Worn out but determined, everyone set to work. The sound of flowing water nearby put Han Jiming at ease. The first group returned from the river, holding up their water containers. Han Jiming reminded them, "Don’t drink the water untreated—boil it first. Prepare enough for drinking and supplies. If there’s extra, then we can wash up."

This was Survival 101.

After haggling with the herders—trading batteries, a flashlight, and some supplies—Han Jiming scored a lamb leg. To his surprise, a young boy asked for a book.

Han Jiming retrieved a copy of *Romance of the Three Kingdoms* from his pack. The boy, who only knew a few characters, lit up with excitement.

Luckily, the family had just slaughtered a sheep; otherwise, they’d have had to settle for dried meat or barley flour.

For these herders, money held little value. They preferred the novelties from the city—digital watches for timekeeping, flashlights, and batteries—rare commodities here, practically like gold here.

That night, the group sat around the campfire, finally quenched. The herders joined them, eager to befriend these city students. They traded halting words.

When the herders learned they were from the capital, they called their children over. The shy boy from earlier greeted them again.

They were Tibetan herders from Qinghai, who had never been to the big cities. The nearest cities—Delingha and Golmud—were worlds away. Outsiders could be good or bad: some poached wildlife, but others, like these students, were good people.

As they ate mutton soup, they shared stories.

The next morning, the herders rose early, while the students slept in. By the time they woke, the kind herders had brought a small pot of yak milk. After breakfast, they topped up their supplies and set off for Delingha.

Another day’s journey brought the city into view, and they finally relaxed.

Once settled, Han Jiming’s first stop was a phone booth. He dialed the number of Xu Meng’s home back in the capital.