On that very evening, Zhou Hui and Chu He, along with their burdensome brother-in-law Zhang Shun, set off from Beijing for Tibet. The next day, they arrived in Lhasa and then transferred to Mount Wangjia Xue — the place where train K7350 mysteriously disappeared.
Entering Tibet by air usually triggers altitude sickness more easily than by train. Zhang Shun initially thought his brother, with his battered body, would definitely not be able to withstand it, but to his surprise, he was the first to feel dizzy.
Second Young Master Zhang hugged an airport trash can and vomited for a long time before being weakly dragged away by Zhou Hui, who held him by the collar. As he dragged him, Zhou Hui apologized to the airport security, who had rushed over upon hearing the commotion: “Sorry, sorry, this kid has been a bit silly since childhood. Can’t help it, he’s the troublesome brother-in-law who came with the wife…”
The delicate and weak Second Young Master Zhang traveled by car from Lhasa to Larilang, lying on his brother’s lap, barely breathing, which annoyed Zhou Hui greatly. Zhou Hui’s sharp tongue was no joke; he’d seize any opportunity to mock him: “How’s it going, silly kid? Told you not to come, but you insisted. Now you know being a literary youth isn’t easy, huh?”
Zhang Shun: “Shut up…”
“Tsk tsk, what’ll you do, little hipster? How about I find you a backpacker’s inn and throw you in there? Maybe in a couple of years, you’ll have a litter of kids with a female hipster from the inn, hahahaha—”
Zhang Shun: “Please shut up…”
Zhou Hui gloated, wiggling his waist like Li Hu: “Come hit me, come hit me!”
Zhang Shun didn’t even have the strength to wiggle his little finger; he just felt like he had been ridden a thousand times by a mythical beast.
Upon reaching Larilang, Zhang Shun realized that what had ridden him was not a mythical beast, but an elephant.
Larilang was originally a very remote small place, not even visited by backpackers. Local trains only stopped there once every three days. After K7350 disappeared, the local Tibetans believed it was due to the wrath of gods and Buddhas, and they flocked to the railway tracks to prostrate themselves in worship. The local government, fearing trouble, simply diverted trains away from the area.
So Zhou Hui rented a dilapidated used car from a local villager, bought food and water, and prepared to drive from Larilang to the next station, searching for suspicious traces around the railway line along the way.
The snow mountain road was rugged, and the railway line was fine, but this rickety little car, which rattled and groaned when driven, was simply too bumpy, and its brakes weren’t working well. Zhang Shun couldn’t even press the brake pedal, so Zhou Hui and Chu He had to take turns driving, while he continued to vomit in the back seat until he was green around the gills.
What frustrated him even more was that Chu He, whom he had expected to collapse, showed no signs of distress—his face, already pale in Beijing, remained pale on the Tibetan plateau, neither improving nor worsening. It seemed his illness progressed independently, his physical condition completely unaffected by the external environment.
In the evening, they arrived at a plain at the foot of Mount Wangjia Xue. Chu He got out of the car and walked with Zhou Hui to search a two-kilometer stretch of railway nearby, while Zhang Shun could only moan in the back of the car, cleaning up his vomit while sulkily building a fire for cooking.
An hour later, Zhou Hui and Chu He returned. Zhou Hui still had his lazy, slightly mocking demeanor. Seeing Zhang Shun, he smiled and asked, “Oh, little brother-in-law is cooking! What is this, tsampa porridge?”
On the plateau, the boiling point is low, so no matter how much it boiled, it wouldn’t cook thoroughly. Zhang Shun tasted a mouthful of the gruel and said angrily, “Never mind, just eat it like this!”
Zhou Hui said, “Hey—no, no, add more butter to your brother’s to supplement…”
Chu He got out of the car, clutching a handful of red and green shrub branches and leaves. He patted Zhang Shun’s shoulder: “I’ll do it.” His eyes seemed to hold water, the corners subtly red, and his hair was slightly disheveled. Wearing a black jacket and trousers, his legs appeared especially long when he sat down, and there were many dry grass clippings on his collar, hem, and pant legs. Zhang Shun looked at him and casually asked, “What were you doing, brother? You’re covered in grass.”
Zhou Hui leaned against the car door, his collar half-open revealing his muscular chest, a wicked grin on his lips: “Mm-hm-hm-hm—”
Chu He’s cheeks were flushed, but his face was expressionless. He took the pot off the fire and held it in his hands. A moment later, a faint red glow appeared in his palm, and the gruel began to boil more intensely.
“I picked some rhodiola for you,” he finally answered irrelevantly after an awkward silence. “I’ll boil it for you to drink later.”
Zhang Shun was simple-minded and completely missed the anomaly. Chu He served a bowl of tsampa porridge to each of them, and Zhang Shun’s attention was immediately diverted. He took it and buried his head in it, slurping like a little pig.
Second Young Master Zhang had been vomiting all day, his stomach was completely empty. He and Zhou Hui vied to finish a large pot of tsampa. Zhou Hui, despite his competitive nature, failed to out-compete his brother-in-law for food, and walked off irritably, lighting a cigarette. Zhang Shun, contentedly rubbing his stomach, lay back down and pretended to be dead. He watched as Chu He washed the pot by the river, fetched water, and began to boil the rhodiola root.
As evening darkened, stars filled the sky. In the distance, the Lhasa River, a tributary of the Yarlung Tsangpo, flowed quietly across the plain, like a silver ribbon under the vast firmament, rushing towards the distant Nagqu. The campfire crackled. Chu He sat cross-legged by the pot, his calm profile peaceful in the firelight, giving an indescribable sense of reliability.
Zhang Shun quietly stared at the bubbling water, and asked, “Brother?”
“What.”
“Did I not help you this time?”
Chu He was somewhat surprised, glanced at him, and asked, “Do you want to help me?”
Zhang Shun nodded as if it were obvious. He lay on the mat, idly tapping a metal spoon with one hand and propping his chin with the other, his handsome young face comically distorted, but his expression was very frustrated.
“Sometimes the fox says I caused a lot of trouble, and if it weren’t for jealousy, Maha wouldn’t have gone to devour the Buddha. Other times he says my existence is the biggest help to you… But I feel that you’ve always helped me and taken care of me since I was little. Without you, my company would have gone bankrupt long ago…”
“Sometimes I want to give something back, not as a repayment, that’s too fake for us brothers.” Zhang Shun scrambled up, staring at the flickering flames, “But your world is always so far from me. I don’t know what I can do, I just don’t want to always be a second-generation rich kid who needs to be taken care of.”
Chu He moved the pot from the fire. Only a small amount of rhodiola water remained at the bottom, which he carefully poured into a bowl. “Do you trust me?” he asked seemingly casually after a long time.
Zhang Shun didn’t hesitate: “Of course, who else would I trust if not you?”
“How much trust?”
This question stumped Second Young Master Zhang. He blinked, mouth agape, frozen for a long moment, finally letting out a huge sneeze, choked by the night’s chill, and quickly fumbled to cover his nose.
“This… how do you measure this? Anyway, you’re my last living relative in this world. How about I give you back the company…”
A faint smile flickered in Chu He’s eyes. He handed the bowl of rhodiola soup to Zhang Shun, gesturing for him to drink it: “I don’t need it, I don’t have anywhere to spend money.”
This was premium rhodiola grown at an altitude of over four thousand meters, its medicinal properties much stronger than what was sold in ordinary pharmacies. The hot juice flowed down his throat into his stomach, and although the taste was bitter, Zhang Shun immediately felt much better. He put down the bowl, wiped his mouth, and seriously asked, “So if I…”
“Let’s say,” Chu He interrupted him, “if one day we have to cross a dark plain together, with no stars or moon, and no sound anywhere. Only I know the direction, but I don’t know how many traps and thorns are underfoot. To prevent you from making a sound and attracting wild beasts, I would have to knock you unconscious and carry you forward… Would you let yourself be knocked unconscious obediently?”
“…” Zhang Shun instinctively felt something was wrong. After a moment, he said indignantly, “Wait, why am I already predetermined to be a hindrance?!”
Chu He laughed, put away the pots and bowls, and stood up, stomping the grass clippings from his pant legs. “No reason, I swore to someone to protect you, but not for some childish reason like you being someone’s bone…” He walked towards the car, not looking back, “Thank you for your trust, little brother. When the dark journey begins, please remember what you said today. Goodnight.”
The car was parked by the Lhasa River. In the dark night, the whimpering of wolves echoed from afar, carried by the north wind across the vast plain. The three spent the night in the car, which swayed slightly in the wind.
The next morning, Chu He brewed another bowl of rhodiola. After Zhang Shun drank it, he felt much better and could barely manage to struggle along with them to search the railway line. However, they found nothing all day. Chu He used the tortoise shell that Zhou Hui treasured to calculate for a long time, but still couldn’t figure anything out.
In the evening, the dilapidated car almost broke down. They had no choice but to park it on a flat ground not far from the railway tracks, build a fire for cooking, and rest for a while.
“At this rate, we’ll have to go back to Larilang for gas,” Zhou Hui opened the car hood, checking the engine as he said, “I really miss my Desert King, unfortunately it’s in Gansu, too tight on time to drive it over… Damn it, there are always these messy tasks, forcing me to put an off-road vehicle in every province and city across the country?”
Second Young Master Zhang was also from a rich second-generation background and just wanted to slap him across the face upon hearing that. Chu He, however, was quite used to his boastful rich-guy behavior. He sat on the side, building a fire, and didn’t reply.
“Let me tell you, brother-in-law—” Zhou Hui started prattling again. “Choosing the right car for yourself is very important. All those flashy appearances, interior designs, leather seats, those are just for show. Like, I actually don’t really like that Bentley; I just drive it purely for appearances. The most important thing about a car is its toughness. A car that can accompany you fighting everywhere, on highways, in deserts, jungles, or even ice fields, that’s a good car. If every man has the soul of a cold weapon in his heart, then a car that suits him is a man’s best companion!”
“—Let me tell you, back when I first bought that G500!” Zhou Hui waved his hand, full of emotion: “I drove it across the Tengger Desert, followed the Hexi Corridor north, all the way to Dunhuang! The lonely smoke in the desert, the camel bells on the ancient road, this off-road vehicle took me through mountains and over thorny paths! So, a good car can take a person in the right direction, a car that fits you, that’s a man’s soulmate!”
Zhou Hui slapped the hood of the broken car with a loud clank.
“That makes so much sense!” Zhang Shun applauded vigorously in agreement, then asked, “—What about my brother?”
Zhou Hui: “…”
Zhou Hui suddenly shivered, turning to look at Chu He. Chu He was expressionless, calmly putting down the pots and bowls, the smokeless stove, and placing the uncooked tsampa flour on the ground before turning and walking away.
“Wife—I didn’t mean that!”
Zhou Hui flew forward, arms outstretched, aiming straight for Chu He’s legs, his posture as graceful as a wild dog with its tail chopped off. The next second, Chu He agilely dodged, slipped into the car, and slammed the door shut with a bang.
“Wife! I love you!” Zhou Hui cried out, tears streaming down his face as he slammed the door, “Don’t listen to that idiotic brother-in-law sowing discord, I clearly didn’t mean that! Wife, open the door! Dinner isn’t even cooked yet!”
Chu He opened a crack in the car window and said coldly, “Let your soulmate cook it.”
Zhou Hui: “…”
Zhou Hui finally realized the serious consequences of his incessant babbling. He blinked, his mouth opening and closing several times. Just as an idea flashed through his mind, ready to say that the car was his soulmate but his dear was the master of his soul, he saw Chu He smile leisurely, full of malice: “Go on, ex-husband.”
Zhou Hui stood in front of the half-lit campfire, dazed, his heart hit by a thousand points of critical damage. Zhang Shun sat casually by the empty pot, clanking an empty bowl with a metal spoon, as if fearing nothing but peace: “Boss Zhou, I want to eat! I’m a temporary contract worker for National Security, as a superior leader, you can’t fail to guarantee the travel benefits of a temporary worker! I want to eat—!”
Zhou Hui angrily said, “Can’t you cook it yourself!”
“I can’t,” Zhang Shun said shamelessly, “I’m a standard rich second-generation; pretty girls always fight to cook for me.”
Zhou Hui felt a massive headache coming on, dared not retort, fetched water, and, with a cigarette dangling from his lips, started mixing the tsampa flour. After a long struggle, he finally got it cooking, no longer caring about the boiling point. He then went back to knock on the car door, pitifully saying, “My dear, I was wrong, the car is my soulmate, you are my soul’s…”
The car window opened a crack again. Chu He said coldly, “Your soul’s mistress?”
Zhou Hui was startled and reflexively blurted out, “How could that be?! It has to be the first wife!” Immediately after the words left his mouth, he wanted to slap himself. Chu He’s face remained expressionless, and he closed the car window again.
Zhou Hui was utterly dejected, tearfully cooking the half-raw tsampa porridge. He kicked Zhang Shun, who was lunging to eat, aside, and first served a hot bowl of food to knock on the car door.
Chu He, however, was eating snacks Zhang Shun brought in the back seat—dried fruit, melon seeds, chocolate, dehydrated cake; Zhou Hui wagged his tail, tapping on the car window, and loudly said, pointing to the bowl in his hand, “Eating that isn’t healthy! Come! Hubby will give you some protein!”
Chu He shook his head to indicate no, Zhou Hui knocked again; Chu He waved him away again, Zhou Hui still knocked. Boss Zhou was persistent, like chipping away at stone to open it. Chu He finally rolled down the window for the third time and asked, “What exactly do you want?”
“My… my dear, I brought you food.”
“No.”
“Come on, dear, staying in the car isn’t healthy, the air isn’t circulating, it affects the quality of oxygen in your lungs…”
“I think I’m fine,” Chu He said nonchalantly. “After all, as the first wife, one must maintain contact with your soul’s mistress.”
Zhou Hui stood dumbfounded, his mouth twitching, holding the bowl, petrified into pieces in the wind. However, the next second Chu He completely shattered him: “—Oh, right, excuse me, ex-first wife.”
That night, Zhang Shun didn’t sleep well. First, Zhou Hui rustled out of the car and then back in, then his brother rustled out of the car and back in. The two of them were doing who knows what outside, and only came back together almost at dawn. When they opened and closed the car doors, they woke him up. He groggily asked, “…What are you two doing?”
Chu He didn’t make a sound. Zhang Shun dimly opened his eyes and saw his brother’s face flushed, hair disheveled, haphazardly wrapped in a coat. Zhou Hui was looking back from the driver’s seat, letting out an evil “hm-hm-hm” laugh.
Zhang Shun yawned, asking listlessly, “…You idiot, what are you laughing at?”
Before Zhou Hui could gloat, Chu He softly said, “Both of you, go to sleep!”
There was no need for a second command. Second Young Master Zhang, who could eat and sleep well anywhere, immediately closed his eyes, forgot all his doubts, and instantly sank back into sweet dreams.
The next day, Zhang Shun woke up feeling refreshed and invigorated, completely forgetting any abnormalities from the previous night. However, Chu He stayed directly in the car, catching up on sleep in the back seat under a coat, looking extremely tired.
In contrast, Zhou Hui was abnormally energetic, completely changing his usual lazy and slick demeanor. For breakfast, he somehow managed to find a few bird eggs, cooked them, and generously shared one with Zhang Shun. He then took the rest into the car and woke Chu He up to eat together.
They planned to return to Larilang today to refuel the car, replenish supplies, and contact Beijing about the search. Although two days had passed with no progress, Zhou Hui seemed to be in remarkably good spirits. Zhang Shun, watching him, even felt that if Yu Jingzhong called him at that moment to curse his ancestors for eighteen generations, Zhou Hui would still “hm-hm-hm” and smile from beginning to end.
In the morning, they searched along the railway for another seven or eight kilometers with their last hope, but found no clues. At noon, they packed their belongings, cooked some dehydrated beef, and prepared to set off for their return in the afternoon; however, just before leaving, things finally changed—
Zhou Hui drank too much water and shamelessly went to relieve himself by the railway tracks. As he was doing so, he suddenly discovered an anomaly left before the train disappeared.
