Gu Mengran woke early, refreshed from a rare, air-conditioned night’s sleep. He quickly washed up and, while the others still slept, took the opportunity to refuel both vehicles.
Running the AC while idling burned through a lot of gas—especially for the bus, which was a real gas guzzler.
There was plenty of fuel in the space, but with no way to replenish it, Gu Mengran couldn’t shake a nagging sense of unease. No matter what, they needed to stay vigilant on the road. If they found a gas station, it’d be best to stock up.
“Phew… that’s tiring.”
After topping off the bus and checking the trunk’s supplies, Gu Mengran stretched lazily and started walking back.
The two vehicles were parked about five or six meters apart, separated by layers of thick fog that made it nearly impossible to see between them. But just as he rounded the back of the bus and reached the front, he caught a hazy outline of the SUV in the mist.
A blurry figure stepped out.
As the fog thinned slightly, Gu Mengran immediately recognized Liang Zhao by the car door.
Even so, the visibility was poor; he’d only recognized him by his silhouette.
“You see it too, right, Liang Zhao?” Gu Mengran quickened his pace, grinning smugly as he shrugged. “The fog’s lighter now. I wasn’t just making it up.”
Liang Zhao scanned their surroundings, his gaze lingering above Gu Mengran’s head. He gave a low hum. “It’s a little better than yesterday, but visibility is still bad.”
“Yeah, nothing we can do. Fog this thick isn’t going to clear anytime soon.”
Gu Mengran sighed, then glanced at Liang Zhao, hesitating. “Are you sure you’re up for this? I still don’t feel completely at ease.”
None of the three of them had experience driving a large vehicle. The only one who had even come close was Liang Zhao, who had worked at an auto repair shop for a while.
With visibility so low and an unfamiliar vehicle to handle, Gu Mengran figured that as long as he was on board, he could step in if anything went wrong. Worst case scenario, he could always pull everyone into his space—at least he had that trump card.
But the fog was just too thick, and they had a group of children in the bus. Driving blindly like this was way too dangerous. They needed another vehicle to scout ahead. And with his space ability, Gu Mengran was the obvious choice.
Liang Zhao remained silent.
Snapping out of his thoughts, Gu Mengran glanced up at him, confused.
Just as he raised his head, a hand, intended for his forehead, instead covered his eyes. Liang Zhao seemed equally surprised, his fingertips trembling slightly. Then, Gu Mengran felt the rough texture of his palm brush his skin, and a low, raspy voice whispered in his ear:
“The road ahead is unknown. But for me, the road ahead is you. We move forward together, and if we must—we face life and death together.”
Together in life and death… Did their past life count?
A sharp pang hit his heart, and a wave of emotion surged, stinging the bridge of his nose. Before he could grasp why Liang Zhao had spoken those words, a soft cough shattered the moment.
The hand lifted, restoring his vision. And the first thing Gu Mengran saw was his grandpa, nose practically squashed against the back window, face almost deformed from pressing too hard against the glass, still stubbornly eavesdropping.
Grandpa’s slapstick reaction made Gu Mengran chuckle. He felt no awkwardness. Instead, he pulled out two walkie-talkies, handed one to Liang Zhao, and said in an exaggeratedly casual tone, “Come on, let’s not talk about life and death. Just keep the speed slow, around 20 or 30 km/h. Worst case scenario, if we tip over, we just take a tumble.”
“Alright, let’s go. Hop in, grab some food, and enjoy the AC. We’ll head out once everyone’s up.”
***
Half an hour later, the off-road vehicle parked by the roadside slowly pulled into motion. Behind it, the bus maintained a safe distance of about two or three meters, carrying a bus full of chatter and laughter as it steadily rolled into the dense fog.
They traveled by day and rested at night, keeping to this routine for over a week.
The fog grew thinner with each passing day, and visibility gradually improved. The once-crawling speed of 30 km/h slowly increased to 50 or 60. It seemed like things were getting better.
But the rapidly rising temperature was a persistent, nagging warning to Gu Mengran—something was wrong.
“Bang! Bang, bang, bang!”
The off-road vehicle cruised smoothly along the road, but the trapped heat inside made it feel like an oven.
Gu Mengran kept his hands steady on the wheel, eyes fixed on the road, sweat dripping silently from his forehead. His T-shirt was soaked around the collar.
Beside him, Grandpa’s face was flushed red, sweat streaming down his forehead. Frustrated, he turned to the AC vent and started pounding it—bang, bang, bang—as if it were a personal enemy.
Growing desperate, he hit it harder, complaining, “What kind of useless junk is this? Instead of cooling us down, it’s blowing hot air! What, it thinks we’re not sweating enough and wants to turn up the heat?”
Gu Mengran couldn’t help but laugh. He grabbed a tissue to wipe his brow and sighed, “It’s not going to work, Grandpa. It’s not a TV—hitting it won’t magically fix it. The compressor probably overheated, so there’s no cold air left.”
“Now what? We’re going to get heatstroke at this rate.” Frustrated, Meng Gaoyang looked to Gu Mengran for answers.
Gu Mengran was just as clueless.
The AC was malfunctioning, switching unpredictably between bursts of cold and hot air. His back was soaked, glued to the seat, like he was trapped in a sauna—roasting from below, steaming from above. His chest felt tight, each breath a struggle, his lungs burning.
The cooling patch on his forehead had long lost its effect, warming up against his skin instead of cooling him down. At least the neck fan was still running, and despite the car’s unreliable AC, it was still circulating air. Hot or cold, moving air was better than none.
They’d just have to endure a little longer. It was only 1:30 PM, and the temperature outside was still rising. Fixing the AC would have to wait until it was cooler.
Since Gu Mengran didn’t have a solution, Grandpa decided to take matters into his own hands. With his left hand, he twisted the temperature dial back and forth repeatedly, while his right hand smacked the AC vent with increasing force—determined to bring it back to life through sheer willpower.
The loud banging echoed through the car, making Gu Mengran’s heart jump. He couldn’t help but speak up, “Grandpa, take it easy. If you hit it too hard, you might—”
Before he could finish, the car suddenly fell silent.
Grandpa stopped hitting. The vents, which had been wheezing out a trickle of air, were now completely still. Not even a whisper of a breeze.
Gu Mengran sighed, “See? I told you—”
“Shut your jinxing mouth!” Grandpa snapped.
Gu Mengran laughed. “Fine, fine, I’ll take the blame. But now what?”
Grandpa didn’t answer. He simply grabbed the walkie-talkie from his lap and radioed the bus. “Liang Zhao, Liang Zhao, prepare to pull over. I repeat, pull over.”
“Zzz… Copy that!”
A minute later, both vehicles pulled over, one behind the other.
The oppressive blackness had faded, and the lingering fog in the air had returned to its original dusty yellow hue. Its density had noticeably decreased, thinning into wispy strands that drifted with the wind, wrapping the earth like a delicate veil. From a distance, the scene resembled something out of a dream—almost like a mystical fairyland.
Then the doors opened, and a blast of searing heat hit them square in the face.
Gu Mengran sucked in a breath of scorching air, nearly choking on the sheer intensity of it. He barely stopped himself from swearing out loud.
Fairyland? More like the ninth circle of hell—the boiling oil level, to be precise.
The temperature had climbed to 48°C (118°F) and was on the verge of breaking 50°C (122°F).
Just walking a few steps made Gu Mengran feel like all the moisture in his body was being sucked dry—never mind standing in this heat to fix the car.
With visibility improving, the lead vehicle was no longer necessary. It only took Gu Mengran a minute or two to make up his mind—he decided to abandon the off-road vehicle that had accompanied them all this way.
Liang Zhao got out to help, and together, the three of them siphoned out the remaining fuel and transferred all the supplies. It was a full-blown evacuation, with bags in both hands, moving as fast as possible to relocate everything onto the bus.
The bus, packed with kids, kept its AC at a reasonable level. But the moment Gu Mengran stepped inside, a refreshing chill enveloped him, making him feel as if he’d just clawed his way out of hell.
With over thirty seats on the bus, squeezing in two more people wasn’t an issue. But abandoning the off-road vehicle also meant one thing—they’d now have to spend the nights crammed into a single bus with the teachers and kids.
By now, they were no longer strangers. A week together had been more than enough to build trust.
While they were outside moving luggage, the two teachers busied themselves inside the bus, gradually relocating the children to the back half of the cabin. Using the bus door as a dividing line, they left the front seats for the newcomers.
Gu Mengran appreciated this sense of boundaries. After boarding, he greeted the teachers, then took out the peppermint candies he had prepared in advance, handing out two pieces to each child.
The bus rumbled back to life, smoothly rolling along the highway.
Still drenched in sweat, Gu Mengran made his way to the front row and leaned against the window.
Outside, the swirling yellow mist clung to the moving vehicle. The asphalt gleamed faintly under the oppressive heat, while thick waves of scorching air mixed with the haze, rolling and twisting above the road like living fire, suffocating and inescapable.
Gu Mengran tilted his head, watching the scene outside, his brows furrowed in deep thought.
This was a mistake. They had left too hastily. He should have taken more time to find additional vehicles before setting out. Running the AC non-stop, even the hardiest off-road vehicle had given out. How much longer could the bus hold up?
A broken air conditioner was the least of their worries. If the bus broke down in the middle of nowhere, forcing a group of kids to march through blistering heat… the consequences would be unimaginable.
Now that visibility had mostly returned, should he take the chance to get everyone on the boat instead? But with aftershocks still hitting the region, was the Huangjiang River any safer than the land?
Land or water—neither route was easy.
The more Gu Mengran thought about it, the more uneasy he felt. Frustrated, he ran a hand through his hair.
“What’s wrong?”
Before he could lower his hand, a quiet voice suddenly reached him from the front. Gu Mengran glanced up and met Liang Zhao’s gaze through the rearview mirror.
There was still some distance between the first row and the driver’s seat. He had wanted to discuss things with Liang Zhao, but with so many people around, he was worried about causing unnecessary worry. After a moment of hesitation, he simply shook his head. “No, it’s nothing.”
Liang Zhao seemed to have already guessed what was on his mind. Lowering his voice to a whisper only the two of them could hear, he asked, “You’re worried the bus won’t hold up?”
“Was it that obvious?”
Gu Mengran shot him a surprised look, then got up cautiously and moved behind the driver’s seat, keeping his voice low as he shared his concerns. “It’s too hot. I don’t know how much longer the bus can last. And the Windwing… I don’t want to risk it. Liang Zhao, do you think we should stop and find a safe place to rest for a while?”
The bus continued moving at a steady pace. Liang Zhao kept his eyes on the road, but his attention was focused on the conversation behind him.
He listened intently, not responding immediately. Then, in a quiet voice, he asked, “Do you think the temperature will keep rising? Or is this already the peak?”
“It’s going to keep rising,” Gu Mengran answered without hesitation.
Liang Zhao nodded thoughtfully, tapping the steering wheel twice with his fingertips. “In that case, we should probably stop and rest for a while. We don’t have any backup vehicles—if the bus breaks down in the middle of nowhere, that’ll be a huge problem. Besides, we’ve been on the road for a week straight. The kids are starting to wear out. Taking a break is inevitable.”
He paused briefly, then met Gu Mengran’s eyes through the rearview mirror. “And more importantly… after a week, we’re running low on gas and food. Shouldn’t we take this chance to ‘stock up’ a little?”
Yinan was still far, and since they were following the river, they’d taken a longer, more winding route. At this pace, it could take them a month to get there.
No point in rushing. Gu Mengran thought it over and gave a serious nod. “You’re right—I’ve overlooked a lot of things. We passed Wanyang yesterday afternoon, didn’t we? The closest city is…”
He had maps—both physical ones and a custom route chart—but with so many people around, he didn’t want to pull them out so casually. Resting his chin on his hand, he racked his brain.
But he wasn’t familiar with this region, and no matter how hard he thought, he couldn’t come up with a good answer.
Seeing his struggle, Liang Zhao offered a gentle reminder. “Jincheng. And Shancheng. Now go sit down—the road ahead is a little bumpy. You don’t want to fall and break something.”
Gu Mengran remained where he was, giving a casual shrug. “We were just discussing possibilities, that’s all. I trust your driving skills. As long as the bus doesn’t have any issues, you wouldn’t let me—”
BANG!
A deafening noise erupted from beneath the vehicle, shaking the entire bus. In an instant, the steering wheel wrenched out of Liang Zhao’s hands, and the bus swerved sharply toward the mountainside, completely out of control.
Thankfully, they weren’t going too fast. Liang Zhao reacted instantly, pumping the brakes and yanking the wheel left, just barely correcting their course.
The whole ordeal lasted mere seconds, yet it felt like an eternity. The bus finally rolled to a slow, steady stop by the roadside.
Inside, chaos broke out. Children were jolted awake, their cries of confusion filling the air. A few of the younger ones, frightened by the sudden lurch, burst into tears.
Gu Mengran had been thrown backward, landing hard against the back of the driver’s seat. He sat there, stunned, his mind blank. It wasn’t until Liang Zhao extended a hand toward him that he snapped out of it. Taking the offered help, he got unsteadily to his feet, still rattled.
“What the hell was that? Something exploded?” His head was still buzzing, and his brain hadn’t quite caught up.
Liang Zhao pulled the handbrake and got up from his seat, frowning slightly. “Probably a blown tire.”
Gu Mengran: …
Seriously? Did he just jinx them for real?
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