Chapter 34: “Road Blocked by Snow” Part 2

Yet they weren’t truly calm.

A subtle tremor betrayed them, like white flames of madness smoldering beneath, gathering strength—as if a vortex might erupt in the next instant.

But the moment Fu Tingli looked over, all that turbulent intensity vanished in a blink.

Leaving just two simple words, thin as paper.

“How are you?”

It was Kong Liyuan who spoke first, her voice feeble, drained of strength—likely from the prolonged high fever that had spiked to over 40 degrees.

She sounded nothing like her usual self.

“It’s nothing serious,” Fu Tingli replied. “Just the cold. Any gust of wind sets off the coughing.”

She noticed her own voice had turned hoarse and raspy, a far cry from the vibrant shout of “Safe travels!” she’d heard in her dream, perched on that motorcycle.

When had it started? Even her voice had changed.

Or had it all been just a dream, utterly detached from reality?

“And you? Still feeling rough?”

She coughed involuntarily a few more times, then rasped the question to Kong Liyuan with her damaged throat.

Kong Liyuan hadn’t shifted her gaze since opening her eyes.

Now, hearing the question, she lay back on the yellowed old white pillow and let out a faint, scattered smile.

“I’m fine too.”

But that smile held no energy, and paired with her pallid complexion, it came off as faintly despondent.

The fluorescent light overhead flickered intermittently, casting erratic shadows between them amid a heavy, unspoken silence.

And a stare-down frozen like a still from a film.

Until Fu Tingli suddenly burst out laughing. It felt just like waking from that car crash four years ago.

Back then, covered in blood, Kong Liyuan had carried her out. Fu Tingli had woken up alone, never managing to ask, “Are you okay?”

Now, after this blizzard, she had carried Kong Liyuan out in turn. This time, they woke in the same room, catching glimpses of each other’s disheveled states.

Sharing a smile like this.

As if nothing had happened in between. As if their story in California had ended so plainly, so simply.

“What are you laughing at?” Kong Liyuan asked lightly upon hearing her.

“Nothing.”

Fu Tingli caught her breath and lay flat on the bed, staring up at the stark white ceiling.

Her body still ached everywhere, unrelieved, but her heart suddenly felt loose and unburdened.

“It’s just… those words feel like something we should’ve said four years ago.”

She said it honestly, then added to herself before Kong Liyuan could respond,

“But it probably wouldn’t have gone like this back then. If we’d both woken up…

lying in the same hospital room, waiting for our families and friends to come get us—that would’ve been pretty weird.”

It would have been too ordinary.

Recalling the end in California once more, Fu Tingli thought as much.

Sometimes she even felt that hazy farewell had been perfect as it was—no need to wake and confront each other, exchange banal words, and part politely.

If Kong Liyuan had waited for her to wake back then before leaving, Fu Tingli wouldn’t have known what to say.

But other times, she wondered: If it had all ended ordinarily in California, like with Zhu Muzi and the others—a simple “see you later,” a proper hug to confirm they were both safe—would she still be haunted by it now?

Was being haunted really such a terrible thing?

“If this were four years ago, what would you want to say to me?”

Kong Liyuan posed the question out of nowhere, her voice thick with exhaustion, but it cut through Fu Tingli’s reverie all the same.

Fu Tingli blinked blankly at the ceiling, then turned to Kong Liyuan in the next bed.

Kong Liyuan was still watching her. Even as fatigue seeped into those eyes, something else lingered too—an emotion Fu Tingli had never quite deciphered from the start.

Fu Tingli smiled and shook her head. “Nothing to say, really. I’ve already said it all.”

She spoke candidly, without pretense or falsehood.

“Safe travels” had been exactly what she wanted to say. Returning the necklace to Kong Liyuan had been exactly what she wanted to do.

As for the end of that journey, she believed her younger self had no regrets.

After her answer, Kong Liyuan fell into a long, empty silence, gazing at her like an overexposed film negative.

Lost in thought, perhaps.

“And you?” Fu Tingli asked on impulse under that steady gaze. “What would you say?”

Kong Liyuan seemed pulled from her daze at last.

She regarded Fu Tingli with a slow, languid stare, then gave a faint smile after a moment.

“Buy me another pack of smokes.”

Fu Tingli blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

Kong Liyuan closed her eyes briefly, not repeating herself. When she opened them again, she seemed to remember something and quickly patted her chest.

Finding the necklace still there, she visibly relaxed.

Fu Tingli’s attention snagged on the gesture. She recalled the “Ava” on it but held back from asking who that was. Instead, hesitantly, she ventured,

“Is the necklace still there?”

Kong Liyuan paused. “Yes.”

Fu Tingli exhaled in relief. “Good. That’s good.”

Kong Liyuan asked in turn, “Aren’t you curious what this necklace means?”

Fu Tingli shrugged it off. “Doesn’t matter. What matters is it’s still with you.”

“And yours? Still with you?”

Fu Tingli froze, suddenly remembering the “Zoe” necklace tucked in her suitcase.

Right now, she lay here alone in this bed, suitcase nowhere in sight.

Oh no.

The thought jolted her. No longer content to lie there passively, she fumbled blearily for her phone—who knew how long they’d been here. A glance out the window suggested it was already the next day’s daylight.

But she’d carried Kong Liyuan out through the blizzard at night. What was the situation now? She needed to contact the Guide to find out.

That suitcase left in the car held not just the “Zoe” necklace but all her luggage for the trip.

In the chaos, she had no idea where her phone had ended up.

She patted around the bed blindly—no phone. The IV line tethered her, preventing a full search.

It wasn’t that urgent, really. But in this unfamiliar place, she craved something familiar to steady her nerves.

For a moment, she was tempted to yank the needle out like in the movies, blood be damned, just to find her phone.

But before she could do anything, someone beat her to it. With decisive efficiency, that person yanked the IV needle from her own hand. The IV fluid spritzed out in a hissing spray.

Kong Liyuan pretended not to notice. She casually brushed back the long strands of hair tangled around her neck, then—still clad in her hopelessly wrinkled clothes—gripped the edge of the bed. With a forceful push from her pale hand, she slid out of bed and weakly dragged over the high-top boots hanging off the side.

She lifted the hand that had just been pierced by the needle and pulled back the curtain, moving as if she’d done this a dozen times before.

Then she shuffled over slowly. Her other hand delved into the covers, rustling around.

Warmth enveloped Fu Tingli, like a shadow draping over her body, carrying a faint scent that wasn’t her own.

“Are you crazy?”

Fu Tingli hadn’t expected Kong Liyuan to actually pull out the needle. In a panic, she grabbed the woman’s hand to check the wound, but Kong Liyuan pinned her hand down instead.

Only after the blood backing up into the IV line slowly cleared did she release Fu Tingli’s hand and tuck it back under the blanket. Seeing the gritted teeth and flashing eyes, she let out a light, teasing chuckle.

“What are you in such a hurry to find?”

And that wasn’t all. The hand that had just lost its IV—weak and limp—was still fumbling around under the covers. Even without meaning to, it kept brushing against her leg.

Fu Tingli twisted and squirmed to dodge it but finally surrendered.

“My phone. I’m afraid my mom might call.”

Kong Liyuan paused. “I thought you were looking for the necklace.”

Fu Tingli explained, “The necklace is in the suitcase, and the suitcase is in the car. We have to wait for the Guide to show up and ask what’s going on.”

Kong Liyuan nodded. By now, they were very close.

Fu Tingli could clearly see how the other woman’s lowered lashes shadowed her pale lower eyelids, with stray locks of hair clinging to her neck.

She looked a little disheveled, yet there was still an ethereal beauty to her.

One of Kong Liyuan’s hands rummaged around the bedside while the other held Fu Tingli’s IV hand steady, preventing it from moving.

She was probably afraid Fu Tingli would struggle and hurt herself, so she didn’t grip the wrist—just the finger joints, with warm fingertips.

Their body heat mingled in a chaotic tangle, entwining like a compensatory embrace.

Fu Tingli couldn’t help thinking that this woman still had so much strength even after her fever. She pinned Fu Tingli’s hand down firmly, allowing no resistance.

With no other choice, Fu Tingli sighed.

She stared at Kong Liyuan for a moment, remembering what Doctor Mu had said about the difficulty of inserting her IV. She also recalled how Kong Liyuan had pulled it out without a second’s hesitation.

After a moment’s hesitation, she asked, “Are you afraid of needles?”

Kong Liyuan glanced up at her absently while continuing the search for her phone.

“Do I give off that impression?”

“The doctor said it took several tries to get the needle in, and your veins don’t look particularly thin.” Fu Tingli explained. Then she leaned in closer. “So, do you really hate needles?”

“No.”

Kong Liyuan denied it. Seeing the lingering doubt in Fu Tingli’s eyes, she paused before letting out a soft sigh. “I just don’t like them.”

That explanation made more sense. After all, someone truly afraid of needles wouldn’t have yanked it out and gotten out of bed so cleanly.

Fu Tingli nodded. Her gaze drifted to the mess on the neighboring bed.

“So you’re just not finishing your IV?”

“I know my own body.” Kong Liyuan’s tone was utterly casual, without a trace of concern. “The fever’s broken. I’ll just take some medicine when we head out later.”

“You should still have the doctor check you over. At least get an official all-clear.” Fu Tingli wrinkled her nose slightly.

Kong Liyuan didn’t respond. Instead, she gave that familiar, offhand smile—as if Fu Tingli’s worry was a bit much.

“I’ll have the doctor here prescribe something for me later.”

With those words, the rummaging hand finally unearthed something from the corner of Fu Tingli’s bed.

“Is that my phone?” Fu Tingli asked.

Kong Liyuan handed it over but kept her other hand firmly in place.

Fu Tingli took it one-handed and tapped the screen. It was pitch black.

It felt like a cold brick in her palm.

“Probably dead,” Kong Liyuan said.

Fu Tingli sighed and glanced up at the IV bag, still more than half full.

“The charger’s in the suitcase…”

Halfway through, she hesitated and twitched her fingers. Kong Liyuan pinned them down immediately.

Fu Tingli looked up.

Kong Liyuan seemed to read her mind, offering no room for excuses.

“Finish this bag first. Then you can worry about other things.”

That hand held her tight.

Fu Tingli couldn’t fathom it. Why had Kong Liyuan yanked out her own needle without a word, but now refused to let Fu Tingli do the same?

Still, she had no idea what was happening outside. She couldn’t just head back alone to retrieve her phone without the Guide showing up.

“What about your phone?”

“No idea. It was gone when I woke up. Must have dropped somewhere.”

Had it fallen into the snow when Fu Tingli carried her out without noticing? She sighed, figuring Qiao Lipan wouldn’t try calling right now anyway.

She licked her lips, intending to press Kong Liyuan about her phone, but they were so dry that the lick only made them sting worse.

This rescue station was too bare-bones—no water even provided for patients.

Not that she could blame them. They didn’t charge a dime; they just did good deeds.

“Let go of me, Kong Liyuan,” she said weakly. “I want to go out for a drink of water.”

And look for your phone, she added silently.

“Where exactly am I not letting you go?”