Still Frame Chapter 3
byChapter 3: Escape Romance (3)
When the rain stopped, Wen Jin also woke up.
There was a faint red mark on his forehead, making him look less aloof. The sky outside had darkened considerably; if they didn’t leave the forest soon, the night would become very dangerous.
The quiet, harmonious moment they had just shared emboldened Zhang Liuxin. Before Wen Jin could react, he reached out the back of his hand and pressed it against Wen Jin’s forehead.
“Hiss…” Wen Jin frowned.
“It seems hotter.”
Zhang Liuxin withdrew his hand and checked his own temperature.
“I’m fine, let’s go,” Wen Jin said, putting on his jacket and standing up.
The forest smelled of humus after the rain, and the path had become much harder to traverse, posing a significant challenge for Zhang Liuxin, who relied on his exoskeleton to walk normally.
Not wanting to be a burden, Professor Wen, in a rare moment of compassion, extended his hand to Zhang Liuxin.
“Thank you.”
Zhang Liuxin took his hand. “Which way should we go? This place doesn’t look like it has people or signal.”
“Follow the river.”
Wen Jin spent most of his time in the laboratory, and Zhang Liuxin had almost forgotten he had wilderness survival experience. Then he remembered Wen Jin had spent some time in the military, which explained his excellent stamina.
“What about Weitingzhou?”
Judging by the sky, it was almost their originally scheduled landing time. Their sudden disappearance and loss of contact would surely worry the State Committee, and with the Wen family involved, things were probably in utter chaos.
But Professor Wen, the protagonist of this drama, remained cold-faced throughout, seemingly devoid of emotion except for self-annoyance.
“You’re worried about the State Committee?”
Zhang Liuxin was all too familiar with Wen Jin’s sarcasm. It was true; if a professor of Wen Jin’s caliber and the esteemed eldest young master of the Wen family weren’t worried, why should he be?
They followed the river for an unknown distance until they finally saw a wooden cabin. A small lamp hung by the door, conspicuously bright in the darkening forest.
Zhang Liuxin knocked on the wooden door. It quickly opened, revealing the weathered face of a middle-aged man.
“Hello, we are…”
Click.
Before he could finish, a dark gun barrel was pointed directly at his brow. Zhang Liuxin gasped and instinctively raised his hands.
Wen Jin stirred beside him and spoke, “We had an accident. Could we stay the night? We will leave at dawn tomorrow.”
The man’s gaze didn’t waver, and he shifted the gun to point at Wen Jin.
Not a ripple disturbed the ink-dark phoenix eyes of Wen Jin. The brow bone cast a cold, sharp shadow, and his eyelashes didn’t even tremble. His expression was indifferent, as if facing a boring, tedious pantomime.
It was then that Zhang Liuxin noticed the man’s dark, olive-green pupils glinting in the dim light. He suddenly remembered that, according to Wen Jin, this was Bernlin State, an isolated island state where the language was different from the major states outside. The man likely couldn’t understand what they were saying.
“Wait!” Zhang Liuxin said in Bernlinian, finally seeing a change in the man’s eyes.
He subtly tugged at Wen Jin’s sleeve, signaling him not to move.
“Look at our clothes, we are not bad people,” Zhang Liuxin hadn’t spoken Bernlinian in so long and was frantically searching for vocabulary. “My husband and I were in a hijacking, and the plane crash-landed. We walked a long way to get here. Please let us stay the night.”
Zhang Liuxin pointed to his own eyes. “I have half Bernlinian blood.”
The man stepped aside, letting the light from inside spill out. Seeing Zhang Liuxin’s olive-green eyes clearly in the light, he finally lowered his hunting rifle.
“Come in.”
Zhang Liuxin sighed in relief and told Wen Jin, “He said we can go in.”
The wooden cabin was small and simply furnished. The man poured them water and offered them seats on the sofa.
“Where are you from?”
“Yinzhou.”
The man’s expression softened considerably toward Zhang Liuxin. When his gaze shifted to Wen Jin, the sharpness in his eyes intensified again.
Zhang Liuxin pressed Wen Jin’s hand, patted it, and smiled warmly at the man. “He’s not very talkative, please bear with him.”
The man eyed them suspiciously. “Are you two really a couple?”
The smile on Zhang Liuxin’s lips stiffened slightly, especially when Wen Jin suddenly asked, “What did he say?”
“Yes, we’ve been married for seven years.”
At this moment, he was more knowledgeable than Wen Jin, so he lied through his teeth. “He said you look handsome and asked if you’re a celebrity.”
Wen Jin scoffed.
“My name is Chen Liu, and he is Yue Zhuo. May I ask your name?”
The man was likely a forest ranger; Zhang Liuxin had seen a license hanging by the door.
“Tuer.”
“Brother Tuer, do you have a first-aid kit and some anti-inflammatory medicine? He’s injured and has a slight fever.”
Tuer nodded. “I’ll go look.”
As his back disappeared into the living room, Zhang Liuxin relaxed, rubbing the back of his neck. “He went to get the first-aid kit. That wound needs to be dressed.”
Wen Jin hummed in acknowledgment. “Ask him if we can take a shower.”
Zhang Liuxin: “…Don’t joke, how can we shower now? I saw he has a satellite phone. We should call home later.”
Tuer returned with the first-aid kit. Zhang Liuxin quickly took it and thanked him.
“Take the anti-inflammatory medicine first.” Zhang Liuxin broke off the pill and handed it to him with water.
“I’ll dress the wound myself.” Wen Jin selected iodine and alcohol from the kit.
“It’s awkward for you to do it. Let me.”
Zhang Liuxin looked at the wound, and before spraying the alcohol, he warned, “This will sting a bit.”
Wen Jin looked away, allowing him to proceed.
Zhang Liuxin felt a pang of concern, worried that a scar might be left on Wen Jin’s beautiful skin, so his movements became extra careful. This earned him a remark from Wen Jin: “Are you tickling me?”
At that moment, Tuer interjected, speaking only to Zhang Liuxin in Bernlinian. “What did your husband say? He seems very impatient with you. Is your marriage okay?”
Why bring that up? Why were people from this state so sharp-tongued…
“That’s just how we interact. He was thanking me.”
Zhang Liuxin finished applying the gauze and stood up, returning the first-aid kit. Because his left leg suddenly gave out, he lost his balance for a moment, his vision blurring as he nearly fell backward. Fortunately, an arm appeared from behind and caught him, causing him to stumble into a warm chest.
“Sorry.” Zhang Liuxin quickly moved off Wen Jin’s lap, only to be pressed back into the sofa by Wen Jin’s hand on his shoulder.
Wen Jin picked up the first-aid kit with one hand, straightened his collar, walked around, and handed it to Tuer.
Tuer curiously examined the exoskeleton on Zhang Liuxin’s left leg. This time, he wasn’t so outspoken, suppressing his curiosity and swallowing his questions.
Facing such a gaze, Zhang Liuxin simply smiled and said in a calm tone, “I was in a car accident before. My leg isn’t very cooperative.”
Tuer nodded in understanding, his gaze softening considerably.
“Could we borrow the satellite phone? We need to contact our families.”
“That’s bad luck. The phone just broke today. I was planning to go to town tomorrow to fix it. How about this: you come with me to town tomorrow. My sister lives there, and she has a phone and signal. It will be easier to contact people.”
“Okay, thank you.”
Tuer pointed to his own eye corner and said to him, “Chen, your eyes are very beautiful. It’s rare for locals to have such bright olive-green pupils.”
Wen Jin noticed the gesture and looked over, his dark gaze following Tuer’s pointing finger until it landed on Zhang Liuxin’s face.
Zhang Liuxin could accept compliments from strangers but felt uncomfortable under Wen Jin’s direct stare. He subtly turned away and replied, “It’s inherited from my mother.”
“Then your mother must be a great beauty.”
Wen Jin was tired of the two of them communicating in a language he didn’t understand right in front of him. He said, “I’m tired.”
Professor Wen was a young master at home, and he expected to be one here too. Zhang Liuxin sighed internally, thinking that if they stayed here for two more days, Tuer would definitely realize their marriage was full of problems.
“Brother Tuer, is there somewhere we can rest? He’s injured and needs to sleep early.”
Tuer: “You’ll have to rough it for the night. I live alone here, so there are no extra rooms, but I have extra quilts and mattresses for a floor bed.”
“That’s fine.”
Wen Jin watched as Tuer spread a dark, lumpy bundle on the floor.
“Brother, lend a hand,” Tuer shot Wen Jin a look.
Wen Jin couldn’t understand the words but could read the look. Zhang Liuxin tugged at his sleeve and mouthed, “Help.”
“…”
After setting up the makeshift floor bed in what looked like a storage area, Tuer left them with a small kerosene lamp.
Wen Jin seemed unfamiliar with the kerosene lamp. Zhang Liuxin noticed his gaze lingering on the dancing flame. In moments like this, he often displayed a quality that belied his age and status.
“Are you going to stand there all night?” As soon as Wen Jin spoke, the fleeting tenderness in Zhang Liuxin’s heart vanished.
Zhang Liuxin resignedly squatted down, his fingers stiffly pulling back the corner of the quilt. Wen Jin was already lying down. The dim yellow light flickered on his delicate skin, giving him an oil-painting quality. Even in this simple environment, a beautiful person was transcendent.
“Zhang Liuxin.” Wen Jin called his name again.
Zhang Liuxin tucked himself into the quilt, sticking close to the edge of the mattress, maintaining a half-arm’s length distance from Wen Jin.
“Don’t use our real names in front of Brother Tuer. Just call me Chen Liu.”
“Chen Liu,” Wen Jin repeated, then asked, “What did you tell him my name was?”
Zhang Liuxin froze. He stalled for a long time. After so many years as a host, facing Wen Jin often made him revert to the stuttering manner of his student days.
“Yue, Yue Zhuo,” he finally steadied himself and continued in a calm tone. “I think you’ve used that alias before.”
Wen Jin didn’t speak this time. After a while, Zhang Liuxin felt his breathing become very light and steady. Assuming he was asleep, Zhang Liuxin finally let out a breath, gently lifted the quilt, sat up, and began dismantling his exoskeleton in the dim lamplight.
“What are you doing?”
A male voice suddenly came from behind, causing Zhang Liuxin’s hand to tremble, making the mechanical click sound even more jarring.
Zhang Liuxin felt the person behind him sit up, and then the voice came from very close, almost right behind his ear, carrying a hint of sleepy hoarseness. “What time is it?”
Wen Jin’s voice, like the man himself, was like a dark river beneath ice. It now ground heavily against Zhang Liuxin’s eardrum. Yet, his body temperature was high, like the burning kerosene lamp, scorching his back from a boundary-crossing distance.
“I don’t know.”
It was too close. Zhang Liuxin didn’t dare move, only feeling the heat behind his ear, a warmth that pierced straight to his heart.
Wen Jin finally pulled back, seemingly fully awake, and sat beside him. “Let me.”
The next second, that long, slender hand landed on the black mechanical exoskeleton. Wen Jin was a man of few words, but his movements were practiced. Just as he operated precise instruments in the lab, he easily detached the exoskeleton and placed it neatly aside.
Zhang Liuxin was stunned. He wanted to ask Wen Jin why he knew how to do this, but Wen Jin had already withdrawn his hand and returned to the other half of the quilt. Their distance returned to half an arm’s length. Wen Jin’s cold voice came from a slightly farther distance behind him. The intimacy and warmth of that brief moment were gone. “Time to sleep.”
Zhang Liuxin swallowed his questions and boundary-crossing thoughts, simply concluding that Wen Jin was just too clever.