For a moment he stood there, dazed and irritated, then slammed a fist against the iron gate.
Just then, a woman's voice sounded behind him.
"Who are you looking for?"
A Jin turned to see a woman in her early thirties, heavily pregnant, dressed casually like a neighborhood local.
He hurried over.
"Does Lin Wan live here?"
"Wanwan? She just came back yesterday. Went out early this morning."
Relief hit first—sharp and bright—
Then a fresh wave of alarm.
"Do you know where she went?" he asked quickly.
The woman looked him up and down, suspicion in her eyes.
"And are you…?"
"I'm her boyfriend."
"Huh? Didn't her boyfriend die?"
A Jin paused, but before he could explain, the woman's expression cleared.
"Oh, I see. A new one."
He answered with a slightly awkward hum.
"Do you know where she went?"
"She went to the mountains outside the city, to pay respects to her grandmother's grave."
He blinked, then realized it made sense. Qingming had just passed.
"She should be back by noon," the woman added warmly. "If you want, you can wait at my place. No need to be shy, Wanwan and I are very close. She borrowed a candle from me yesterday."
"No, thank you. Just tell me the name of the place she went to."
"You're going to look for her?" she asked, surprised.
He nodded.
She rose on tiptoe and pointed east.
See that mountain over there? That's Erlong Mountain. Her grandmother's buried there. You'll have to take a taxi—it's pretty far away. And with all that wilderness, how are you going to find it?
He didn't wait for her to finish.
He thanked her and strode away.
At the end of the street, he hailed a taxi straight to Erlong Mountain.
At the foot of the mountain, the road ended. The car could go no farther.
A Jin handed the driver three hundred yuan.
"Wait here for me."
Then he started up the mountain.
He knew it was a stupid way to search.
But he couldn't wait.
As long as he hadn't seen her, hadn't heard her voice, he couldn't breathe properly.
He hadn't rested in more than thirty hours.
His temples throbbed with every step; his eyes burned and felt swollen.
He didn't need a mirror to know he probably looked like a rabbit.
His stomach was empty, but he didn't feel hunger.
His legs moved like wound-up springs—mechanical, stubborn—
As if only the sight of her could stop them.
It was another cloudless day.
Spring sunlight poured down the mountainside—
Trees sparse at mid-slope, the open patches almost glaring.
Birdsong rang occasionally from the woods.
As he climbed, A Jin cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted her name, again and again.
Sometimes a flock of sparrows burst from the branches, beating their wings away—
But only his own echoes answered him, bouncing back and forth across the mountain,
Making him feel especially small and helpless.
He suddenly thought of that autumn morning last year.
Back then, his worry had outweighed his fear.
Now, fear filled him completely.
The thought that he might never see her again—
That he might lose her forever—
Made his nose sting.
He stopped, bowed his head, wiped his face, drew a few slow breaths—
And kept going.
—
When he rounded a bend and saw the scene ahead, he thought he was hallucinating.
Then joy crashed over him.
He took several long strides forward, calling out:
"Wanwan!"
Lin Wan was wearing an army-green utility coat that blended right into the landscape.
A red floral silk scarf wrapped her neck, making her face look even paler by contrast.
She stared at him approaching, dazed.
In a low voice, she murmured,
"It really is you…"
A Jin was overwhelmed—anger, relief, exhaustion, all tangled together.
He wanted to scold her—harshly.
But the confusion in her eyes melted his temper.
He crouched down naturally, took her hand, and muttered,
"Wanwan, you scared me half to death."
"What are you doing here?" she asked.
"You still have the nerve to ask? You disappeared without a word and made me search everywhere. I thought you'd…"
"You thought I was going to kill myself again?"
He didn't notice that he had grown used to looking up at her from this slight crouch.
He didn't answer, only softened his tone.
"As long as you're alright. Finished at your grandma's grave?"
"Yeah."
A Jin stood and held his hand out to her.
"Let's go down. The driver's waiting at the foot of the mountain."
When she didn't move right away, he asked,
"Want to rest a bit longer?"
Then he saw her shoes and frowned.
"Where's the other shoelace? How did you even make it up here like this?"
Lin Wan shook her head and took his hand, borrowing his strength to stand.
They walked a few steps before she whispered,
"I thought you'd only be back tomorrow…"
He snorted.
"You thought? You probably also think the earth is flat. Didn't I say you have to report everything to me, big or small? And something this big, you actually—"
"There you go again," Lin Wan muttered, rolling her eyes.
"Alright, alright, I'll stop nagging," he conceded. "Just be more careful in the future."
"There is no future," she said quietly.
His steps halted.
His grip tightened around her hand until she drew in a breath of pain; only then did he loosen it a little.
Without turning his head, he said hoarsely,
"Lin Wan, when I say 'future,' I mean every single day between now and the moment you leave."
The air grew heavy.
Neither of them spoke after that.
They walked in silence.
The path downhill was much easier, and A Jin unconsciously quickened his pace.
When he noticed Lin Wan lagging behind, he slowed to match her.
After a while, her legs suddenly buckled and she nearly fell.
He caught her just in time—
And her face startled him.
She was even paler than before.
Something was wrong.
"Wanwan, what's the matter?" he asked anxiously.
Leaning on him, she shook her head.
He didn't believe it for a second.
He grabbed her shoulders.
"Wanwan, be honest. Did you take pills?"
Her reddened eyes, tightly-knit brows, the way he looked—so tense, so panicked—
Struck her as almost absurd.
She gave a faint, breathless laugh.
"No. I just got bitten by a snake."
He froze.
Then anger burst out.
"Why didn't you say so earlier? Where?"
She pointed to her right ankle.
He helped her sit, rolled up her jeans—
Her lower leg, just above the ankle on the outer side, was swollen and bruised,
Two deep puncture marks in the center.
A shoelace was tied tightly a little above the wound.
A Jin's brows were knitted even tighter.
He untied the lace and fastened it lower, nearer the wound, pulling it firm.
"What does it feel like?" he asked.
"Numb."
He pressed around the area.
"Does it hurt?"
"A little."
He settled himself, lifted her right calf onto his lap, and pulled a folding knife from his pocket.
Before he did anything, he turned her face away.
Then, with the tip of the blade, he cut a small cross into the bite.
He raised her leg to his lips.