TLDMDTBS Chapter 48

Chapter 48 Published

Smoke and dust filled the air, which was cold enough to freeze. A damp chill crept up his fingertips.

“Cough… cough cough…” Ji Ruan opened his eyes amidst a bout of suffocation.

In that moment, his vision was so blurry that he could see nothing clearly. His body felt icy, heavy, and stiff, unable to move. Ji Ruan took a deep breath and instinctively pushed himself to sit up.

The space here seemed very small. Just moving slightly, his arm pressed against the damp, slippery wall, and his legs were curled up, unable to stretch.

He leaned back against the uneven rocks, waiting silently for a moment until his vision gradually cleared— the first thing he saw was a large rock close at hand.

He didn’t know where he was, but he knew he was stuck in a crevice between several large rocks, and if luck was slightly worse, he would have been crushed to pieces on the spot.

Was it a small blessing in disguise? Ji Ruan smiled bitterly.

However, his spirit seemed very poor. He had only been awake for a moment before his eyelids grew heavy, as if he hadn’t slept for three days and nights.

He closed his eyes to gather his energy, and then he could finally take a careful look at his surroundings.

—It was very cramped, surrounded by rocks. One was only ten centimeters above him, supporting itself against a few others, so close that if he stared for a while he would cross-eyed.

Ji Ruan propped himself against the stone wall and shifted slightly to the left, freeing himself a relatively wider space, at least preventing that rock from potentially crushing his face.

He tilted his head and, from the corner of his eye, noticed what seemed to be a person not far away, pressed against the wall. With the rocks obscuring the view, he could see a hint of light gray knitwear; they seemed to be awake as well, moving a bit.

Ji Ruan’s heart raced as he recognized who it was.

It was Cheng Zizhang!

So they hadn’t been scattered, and Cheng Zizhang was lying safely nearby!

Finding a friend alive in a dire situation was no less exhilarating than being reborn; after all, no one wanted to endure alone in a place as cold as an ice cellar.

Cheng Zizhang appeared to be struggling to regain her composure, trying to sit up several times without success.

Ji Ruan didn’t know where the strength came from, but he pushed against the large rock in front of him, squeezing through the narrow gap.

Though Cheng Zizhang was still surrounded on all sides, there was slightly more space here, enough for both of them.

“Senior? Are you okay? Senior—”

Ji Ruan’s hand pushing Cheng Zizhang suddenly halted.

He tilted his head like a fledgling creature and then abruptly touched his ear, his expression turning terrified.

Indeed, the external device had long since been thrown who knows where.

No wonder he hadn’t heard any sounds upon waking; no wonder he felt a haze over his own speech!

Cheng Zizhang seemed to have finally gathered enough strength to clamber up, leaning against the rock to catch her breath. She reached out to pull him.

Ji Ruan saw her lips moving; she must have been calling his name, but perhaps due to her weakness, her voice was too soft for him to hear.

Ji Ruan held his patience and moved a bit closer to Cheng Zizhang, giving a somewhat bitter smile.

He glanced at Cheng Zizhang, and aside from a few scratches on her cheek, there were no other visible injuries. Right now, she just seemed to have not fully recovered.

He breathed a slight sigh of relief; in this situation, not being injured was already a stroke of luck. At least they could wait a bit longer for rescue. If either of them was hurt, the situation would become much more complicated.

The lighting here was dim, and Cheng Zizhang’s lips continued to move as she spoke to Ji Ruan. He tugged at her sleeve, shaking his head, pointing to his ear.

“I lost my external device. I can’t hear you; don’t speak, conserve your strength…”

He spoke slowly, needing to carefully pronounce each word due to the lack of clarity, but his voice still sounded harsh.

Cheng Zizhang was stunned for a moment, seemingly frozen, and after a while, her lips moved again, her eyes gradually reddening.

Ji Ruan smiled again, shaking his head and softly saying, “It really doesn’t matter.”

His cheeks were dirty, and his complexion was poor, but even so, his eyes sparkled, like a guiding star in a dark valley, particularly well-behaved when he smiled.

Even a little angel, despite falling into a quagmire, remains a little angel, desperately fluttering its mud-stained wings without wanting others to sorrow for him.

Cheng Zizhang’s eyes turned redder, her heart aching: “Little Ruan…”

After saying a couple of words, Ji Ruan felt a bit exhausted, finding it somewhat difficult to breathe. It felt like he could never take a deep enough breath.

He slowly leaned back against the stone wall, not understanding why he was so tired.

It was too cold here; the stones were icy, hard, wet, and slippery, and he was completely soaked. Ji Ruan felt that with his current body temperature, he wouldn’t be able to endure until his clothes dried without freezing to death.

Suddenly he thought of something, and with a start, he opened his eyes, reaching into his pocket for his phone. But he lacked the strength; the usually small device felt as heavy as a thousand pounds, dragging his wrist down.

Taking a deep breath, he turned on the screen, and surprisingly, it wasn’t completely broken. Though the screen was shattered and the touchscreen wasn’t very responsive, it seemed still usable.

Ji Ruan seemed to see a glimmer of hope. He flipped to the dialing pad to call for help, only to realize belatedly that there was no signal. The signal bars at the top showed a gray ‘X’, coldly cutting off all contact with the outside world.

The warmth in his blood quickly cooled down again.

Plop—

A small drop of water landed on the phone screen, flowing down through the cracks, and Ji Ruan paused.

Plop plop—

More and more drops of water began to fall, hitting the screen, splashing onto his fingertip.

Where was this water coming from?

The surrounding rocks couldn’t possibly be dripping this much suddenly.

Ji Ruan quickly raised his head. In the darkness, through the stacked obscuring stones, he saw a small opening in the upper left, a hole only a few inches in diameter from which rain droplets continued to fall.

It was likely a gap left by the collision of rocks during a collapse, allowing him and Cheng Zizhang to survive without suffocating.

Ji Ruan turned on his side and, feeling along the damp stone wall, half-knelt to look out of the small opening. He saw a scene of desolation; the sky was heavy, and all around were fallen rocks, weeds, and broken branches, resembling another kind of apocalypse.

Though he couldn’t clearly identify the path, at least it indicated they weren’t buried very deep. Perhaps… perhaps there would be a signal?

Ji Ruan raised the phone towards the hole to try and catch a signal, but his strength was too weak, and his raised hand shook violently in the rain.

He stared intently at the screen, hoping for a miracle, but no matter how he moved, the gray ‘X’ remained coldly in place, showing no signs of change.

Ji Ruan was unable to lift it any longer, and his hand fell back down in despair.

It’s okay, no signal doesn’t matter; they weren’t buried deeply. Even if they couldn’t contact the outside, as long as the rescue team arrived, they should… they should be found soon, Ji Ruan thought naively, but his heart beat uneasily.

The rain had abated significantly, drizzling onto Ji Ruan’s face. He took a deep breath but only smelled the strong scent of wet tree mixed with rainwater.

The cold air filled his lungs, and he began to feel dizzy again.

Ji Ruan rested his forehead against the back of his hand, closing his eyes in an attempt to alleviate the feeling, but it was of little use. This feeling was reminiscent of low blood pressure upon waking, a lingering dizziness that left him with absolutely no strength.

If he were at home, Gu Xiuyi would surely pick him up and carry him back to bed, then feed him saltwater. If he acted spoiled, the man would wrap him tightly, softly coaxing him, and he’d be very warm.

Ji Ruan’s nose tinged with acidity, and he suddenly felt like crying. It was so cold here…

“Little Ruan!”

Cheng Zizhang seemed to cry out to him, her voice a shrill murmur ringing in his ears.

Ji Ruan turned his head to see Cheng Zizhang’s face filled with horror.

In the darkness, her hair was wet and clinging to her cheek, her eyes wide as she stared at a certain part of Ji Ruan’s body, as if she had seen something terribly frightening.

Before Ji Ruan could react, Cheng Zizhang crawled over on the ground, pressing her hands against Ji Ruan’s calves: “…Little Ruan… your leg… how is it… hurting…”

Her lips moved rapidly, but Ji Ruan could only catch a few vague words.

Following Cheng Zizhang’s movements, he looked down at his calves and his pupils constricted.

By the faint glow of his phone screen, he saw Cheng Zizhang’s hands covered in blood where they pressed against his leg, blood seeping out between her fingers and dripping down his pant leg.

The white canvas shoes were already stained a deep red, and the rock face where he had crawled left a long trail of blood, diffusing in the rainwater like ink, spreading outwards.

He must have scraped his leg against a rock when being buried.

But he felt no pain at all.

The adrenaline surging from sudden injury numbed Ji Ruan’s senses, so much so that the moment he saw the blood, his mind was filled with a ‘buzzing’.

He suddenly felt weak, like a kite whose string had been cut, collapsing back down. His already poor complexion turned whiter and whiter, until it was nearly transparent.

The rain stopped, and a long warning line was set up at the mountain’s exit.

The second wave of rescue teams had been inside for nearly an hour, but there was still no news.

Gu Xiuyi repeatedly confirmed the communication signal, futilely dialing Ji Ruan’s number again and again even though he knew there was zero signal.

He couldn’t enter the mountain, couldn’t go find Ji Ruan personally, and couldn’t add trouble to the rescue team. In the face of such a major disaster rescue, any slight interference could lead to irretrievable consequences.

So all he could do was wait for news, contact the hospital, and prepare for the worst.

But this kind of torment was no less than a slow torture, worse than death.

He yearned to directly rush into the mountain and dig Ji Ruan out, but he also understood this was an unrealistic fantasy. Rationality and impulse intertwined, like a dull knife repeatedly slicing through Gu Xiuyi’s taut nerves, making his head throb.

Gu Xiuyi had never felt so powerless.

Since birth, he had enjoyed endless power and status. Whenever he wanted, there was nothing he couldn’t obtain. The most difficult matters could be easily handled as long as he used his brains and skills. Therefore, he never believed in fate and luck.

He even looked down from a high position, believing only failures would kneel in the mud, groveling to the heavens for that nonexistent stroke of luck, while those at the end of their road would yearn for pity.

But now it was different.

For the first time, Gu Xiuyi truly felt how little he could do under the pressure of nature.

In the dark sky, the high mountains loomed like a giant grave, pressing down lifelessly on Gu Xiuyi, crushing his chest, leaving him breathless yet still providing a faint gap for survival, tormenting and not allowing him to die.

“It’s… it’s fine…” Song Ling spoke cautiously, watching Gu Xiuyi’s extremely sullen expression as he offered him a glass of water. “This mountain isn’t high, and the road they’ve taken isn’t long. They will be found very soon; everything will be fine!”

Gu Xiuyi tightly pressed his lips together, and upon hearing this, imperceptibly nodded, but he pushed away Song Ling’s hand with the water.

“Report, report!” The walkie-talkie from the command center nearby crackled with static. Gu Xiuyi turned his dry eyes to look.

“…Four collapsed points have been discovered, and searching all of them will take at least three to four hours…”

“…One of the locations is particularly serious, with large rocks fallen and breaking the barriers. There is a possibility of being swept into the river. Requesting instructions…”

Damn it! Song Ling’s heart plummeted, immediately denting the mineral water bottle in his hand.

In front of him, Gu Xiuyi stood still, his face devoid of expression, unable to react at all, as if his soul had suddenly been extracted, leaving behind a seemingly indestructible shell.

Song Ling was anxious, wanting to pat his shoulder but daring not to extend his hand, wanting to say something yet too afraid to speak.

He wanted to comfort Gu Xiuyi, assuring him everything would be fine, that it was just a possibility of being swept into the river—a worst-case scenario—but Ji Ruan was so good and his luck surely wouldn’t be bad; he wouldn’t turn out to be that unlucky.

But he couldn’t say it. He knew such comfort was flimsier than a joke.

“Buzz buzz—”

It seemed something was vibrating.

Where was the shaking coming from?

Song Ling looked around and finally his gaze landed on Gu Xiuyi’s phone.

It seemed to be receiving a signal; there was an incoming call from someone with a little cherry icon.

In that moment, Song Ling saw Gu Xiuyi’s eyes widen, as if suddenly infused with life.

Then all the hostility within him transformed into overwhelming joy, a joy a hundred times greater than a poor person winning fifty million or a cancer patient learning of a misdiagnosis.

He felt Gu Xiuyi’s eyes were red, his hand shaking terribly as he pressed the answer button.

“Don’t be afraid, Little Ruan, I’ll be gentle…”

Cheng Zizhang lit up her phone, carefully rolled up Ji Ruan’s blood-soaked pant leg, and upon seeing the wound, tears fell.

Ji Ruan couldn’t quite hear what Cheng Zizhang was saying, but he knew she was crying. He could only muster a forceful pull at the corners of his mouth: “I’m fine, it doesn’t hurt…”

But his voice was so weak that even he could hardly hear it; even pulling his mouth upward took all the effort he had.

“How could it not hurt!” Cheng Zizhang’s hands were covered in blood as she tried to find something to stop the bleeding, but all around were bare rocks, leaving her frantic and crying even harder.

Ji Ruan’s calf had a long gash at least ten centimeters long. Without even mentioning how deep it was, it was definitely gaping and raw, and dark red blood ebbed from the gruesome wound, trickling down his ankle like a meandering stream.

Cheng Zizhang wiped her face with the back of her hand, trying to find something useful, when suddenly a piece of clothing was offered towards her. Ji Ruan, pale-faced, was still smiling.

“You’re still smiling?” Cheng Zizhang chided.

Ji Ruan didn’t want to smile, but as Cheng Zizhang wiped her face, she got blood on her cheek and seemed so frantic that it looked a bit ridiculous.

But that sentence was too long for Ji Ruan, and he couldn’t finish it; it had taken him a long time to muster the strength to take off his shirt. Now, even opening his eyes felt laborious.

“Wipe your face, then help me bandage it, senior…”

The surging adrenaline began to subside, and pain gradually surged back in. Ji Ruan couldn’t speak anymore; the small space was filled with a strong scent of blood, making him feel unbearably nauseous.

His throat moved up and down with great effort, offering Cheng Zizhang a weak smile.

Cheng Zizhang, tear-stained, took the shirt but didn’t heed Ji Ruan’s words to wipe her face first. Instead, she pressed it firmly against Ji Ruan’s wound, then wrapped it tightly to try to staunch the bleeding.

Ji Ruan began to see black fog swirling in front of his eyes, fatigue crashing in on him, but he knew this was due to the loss of too much blood.

He couldn’t sleep, absolutely couldn’t sleep; if he fell asleep, it would be over…

He desperately forced his eyes to remain wide open, summoning every ounce of willpower to keep himself awake, but weariness and weakness were like demons clawing from the abyss, pulling at his blood and skin to drag him back in.

In the final moment, as if predetermined by fate, Ji Ruan pressed the phone screen on again.

Then he saw the gray ‘X’ on the signal bars disappear, transforming into a faint little dot of black.

“Ah, Ji Ruan!” Cheng Zizhang cried out, her voice filled with terror as she watched Ji Ruan’s actions.

In that instant, Ji Ruan instinctively scrambled up, raising the phone towards the small hole above.

He felt a rush of strength as if reanimated. When the signal blossomed into two bars, he didn’t hesitate to call Gu Xiuyi’s number.

He still had some remaining rationality, knowing he should be calling for rescue—110, 119 were both good—then accurately reporting his location, injuries, and number of trapped people, before waiting for help.

But he was too exhausted to say that much; the outside world was barren, and he didn’t even know where he was buried. Yet if it was Gu Xiuyi, even if his words were jumbled, he would surely be able to find him.

Alright… it was also because he wanted to hear Gu Xiuyi’s voice again.

Moreover, Gu Xiuyi had promised him that he would never ignore his calls again.

He had promised.

Ji Ruan maxed out the volume, pressing the phone tightly against his left ear, his heart pounding sharply.

After a beep, the call was quickly connected.

“Ji Ruan?!”

Ji Ruan’s left ear had poor hearing, and Gu Xiuyi’s voice came through the receiver as if filtered through an entire forest, interlaced with fragmented human sounds and ethereal echoes.

But Ji Ruan still heard it.

Tears streamed uncontrollably down his face; he had been able to smile in front of Cheng Zizhang, but for Gu Xiuyi, just listening to his voice was enough to cause him to collapse.

He gripped the phone tightly, almost afraid that what he heard was an illusion, trembling out, “Gu… Gu Xiuyi…”

Gu Xiuyi’s heart shattered.

Ji Ruan’s pronunciation was strange, choked by sobs, like a little child just learning to talk.

Gu Xiuyi knew he was likely having trouble hearing, perhaps he had dropped the external device midway or was injured. Gu Xiuyi didn’t know and didn’t dare to think about it.

“I’m here, I’m here, baby.” He raised his voice on the phone, turning and rapidly heading towards the rescue center.

When someone suddenly clapped a hand on the shoulder of the rescue team leader speaking loudly into the walkie-talkie, he was momentarily stunned. The person calling him had a terrifyingly dark expression but mixed in was an odd joy and tension, creating an intense pressure that felt chilling.

Gu Xiuyi couldn’t spare a thought to notice anyone’s expression and directly switched to speakerphone: “Ji Ruan? Baby, don’t be afraid. Now listen carefully to what I say—”

The team leader recognized it was important; at least someone was alive and able to make a call, which was tremendous good news. He quickly raised his hand, signaling for everyone to be quiet.

But the student on the other end was speaking strangely, his articulation somewhat muddled, and at first glance didn’t sound much like a college student.

The man briefly comforted him, then with extreme clarity and deliberation questioned him as if he were addressing a child.

“…Are you with Cheng Zizhang? Are you injured?…”

“…It doesn’t matter if you don’t know where you are; think carefully about the surroundings before the collapse. Are there any distinct signs or special things? Anything at all…”

“…It’s okay, baby. Everyone is working hard to rescue you. We will find you quickly, but if you can provide some information, we can meet faster. Don’t you think?…”

Everyone held their breath, waiting for a response, each second feeling infinitely prolonged.

The team leader’s gaze fell upon the tall man beside him, whose fingers gripping the phone turned white with tension, showing every muscle in his body was tense.

Yet, every word he spoke was astonishingly calm, even gentle. If one didn’t witness it in person, it was hard to imagine he was actually in such a state of fear.

“There… there’s a sign…”

Finally, the student on the other end spoke up. The team leader immediately shifted his attention from the man to listen intently to the words on the phone. The boy’s voice trembled, but he was working hard to articulate each word clearly.

“There was a forest fire safety sign ahead… I only saw it once from when I descended to the point of the collapse…”

The team leader clenched his fist tightly, instantly pulling up the satellite map, where all the signs on the mountain were recorded. The first fire safety sign on the road down indicated their precise location.

He pressed the walkie-talkie button with a tone that left no room for doubt: “All units, proceed directly to collapse point D for rescue. Confirming that someone is trapped…”

As he spoke, the weeping voice could be heard on the phone, and that understanding student finally couldn’t restrain himself, bursting into tears:

“Senior is… but I… I’m bleeding, Gu Xiuyi… so much blood…”

The team leader saw the slightly relaxed expression on that man’s face suddenly turn terrifying, an indescribable pain that felt as profound as the heavens collapsing.

He pressed the walkie-talkie: “Attention! Two individuals are trapped, one is wounded and bleeding. Accelerate the pace!”

Ji Ruan slid down against the wall, his eyes closing amid Cheng Zizhang’s sobs.

In the end, Ji Ruan could no longer hear Gu Xiuyi’s voice. Perhaps the signal had failed again, or perhaps he couldn’t hold on any longer.

He wasn’t sure how much Gu Xiuyi heard; he only felt as if all the blood had drained from him, and he couldn’t muster even a trace of strength.

From the slit between his heavy-lidded eyes, he saw Cheng Zizhang on the phone, trying to maintain contact. She held the device in her hands, her lips moving rapidly, but she seemed anxious, finally lowering her hand as she hunched over.

It seemed it really was a signal problem…

Ji Ruan’s thoughts began to drift away slowly. His heart’s beating grew irregular; at times, it slowed to almost a stop, and at other times, it raced frantically and painfully, like a tugging pain.

Ji Ruan had never truly lived well, feeling unfamiliar with most of the beautiful things in the world but being particularly familiar with death.

He clearly understood that he was experiencing a heart rate irregularity, a sign of imminent shock from excessive blood loss.

But the most beautiful thought he could muster was simply wishing that Gu Xiuyi would hold him again.

The enormous abyss surged up again, and Ji Ruan struggled at its edge for a long time before ultimately falling in.

The water inside was colder than he had imagined.

He floated for a while, suddenly surfacing to hear distant noises and a girl’s cries. Was it Cheng Zizhang?

But before he could think clearly, the tide rose, and he sank down once more.

This time, he sank for a long while, a heavy weight pressing on his chest, making it hard to breathe. He struggled to gasp for air, but it was of no use.

Until the second before he was about to suffocate, he suddenly gasped in fresh air, surfacing again.

But this time, it was someone who pulled him up.

Someone was holding him, and it was particularly, particularly warm.

Ji Ruan couldn’t open his eyes, but he knew it was Gu Xiuyi; he could smell his scent.

Ah… I’m saved, Ji Ruan thought.

Saved while still alive.

How wonderful.