Everything happened too quickly. Just moments ago, Li Zhu was still trying to understand what was happening, and suddenly he found himself facing the end of his life. This was too dramatic, he thought. Before the sand reached his mouth, he was still a bit dazed, not fully aware of his immediate situation. Reflexively, he tilted his head back, raising his face upwards so that his nose could be submerged last. At the same time, his hands struggled to spread out in the wet sand.
It was impossible to spread them completely, but he managed to prop his elbows up, resembling a chicken dance, increasing the area of force. Finally, when his face was almost level with the ground, the sinking stopped.
His face was facing the sun, and breathing became extremely difficult, partly due to the immense pressure of the sand and partly because he was directly afraid that any vibration would break the balance of support between him and the sand. Just three more centimeters, and he would be suffocated by a thin layer of sand.
The intense sunlight made it hard for him to open his eyes; everything was a blinding white, and the temperature on his face rose sharply. How long could he hold on? In his dazed state, he finally began to contemplate this serious question—how long could he last in this situation?
The area of his face was not large, and the sand was still quite damp. The moisture entering his body significantly increased his chances of heatstroke and shock. If he could hold out, then by evening, as the moisture evaporated, the surface of the sand would become lighter and drier, and he might find a way out. Moreover, as the temperature cooled, he could regain his strength.
Just getting his face sunburned, he thought he wouldn’t die from exposure by tonight. However, even if he didn’t get burned, once he managed to crawl out, his face would still resemble Li Kui from a Beijing opera.
Another possibility for rescue was that his superpower might explode, allowing him to crawl out from the sand pile and save himself. But that kind of intelligence was too much for him.
As Li Zhu pondered this, the blinding white light of the sun was suddenly obscured. He opened his eyes and saw Su Wan standing in front of him, saying, “Wow, what a great place to take a leak!”
Li Zhu couldn’t speak; if he opened his mouth, sand would pour in. Su Wan found it amusing and reached into the sand, grabbing his collar and pulling him up. Li Zhu didn’t struggle, and in a few moments, he was pulled up.
He noticed that Su Wan was wearing a strange pair of large shoes, the soles resembling two tennis rackets. He asked curiously, “Where did you get this sand gear?”
“This is a fan I bought for you guys. Aren’t you afraid of the heat?” Su Wan replied. “You’ve been here before, right? Why are you not as cautious as this newbie?”
Upon questioning, he learned that Su Wan had woken up with Yang Hao, who had run off too quickly. When Li Zhu spotted Yang Hao, Su Wan was still climbing the sand dune behind him.
Yang Hao was also pulled up, but Liang Wan was nowhere to be seen. Su Wan offered Li Zhu a cigarette, saying, “Have we crossed over? How did we suddenly end up here?”
Su Wan’s cigarettes were all wrapped in cling film, so they hadn’t gotten wet despite the journey. Li Zhu felt a surge of emotion. He couldn’t quite articulate what he was feeling, but he suddenly looked at Su Wan with newfound respect.
Su Wan was an extremely meticulous person. Previously, Li Zhu thought he was overly dramatic, a bit of a nuisance in Beijing dialect. But now, this cigarette made Li Zhu think he was impressive.
“We must have been unconscious for four or five days. They brought us here and then dumped us.”
“Not at all.” Su Wan raised his wrist to show his watch. “It’s only been 7 hours since we were thrown into the water. Unless they have a UFO or a giant helicopter from the U.S. Navy, it’s impossible that we were simply ‘transported’ here.”
“Are you sure?” Li Cu was surprised.
Su Wan nodded. “But we don’t have parachutes. The likelihood of that is low.” As he dragged Li Cu slowly toward the shore, he added, “Is this really Inner Mongolia? Dapeng, I feel like you might have been tricked.”
Li Cu took a few puffs of his cigarette, and the dizzy feeling gradually faded. His pupils dilated, and every pore on his body stood on end. He snatched Su Wan’s wrist to check the watch, and sure enough, it was as he said.
“Are you sure your watch isn’t broken, or hasn’t been tampered with?”
“This watch costs 6888 yuan, it’s called Songkuo, and it’s a GPS watch that can correct the time via satellite. Of course, there are no satellites here right now. Otherwise, I could even know the longitude and latitude. But this watch is password-protected; there’s no way they could crack my password in this short amount of time.”
“Maybe they already knew; they might be very capable.”
“Impossible. I updated the latest password in the train’s restroom just before I boarded.” Su Wan said, “When you told me these people are impressive, I took it seriously. The password changes four times a day; unless they bribed my spirit behind me, there’s absolutely no way anyone could know my password. Moreover, this password is a digital one. It has 8 digits; there’s no way it could be cracked in 7 hours.”
Li Cu still didn’t believe it. How could they have done it in 7 hours? Did they have the ability to teleport? Or, as Su Wan said, did these people have some new type of vertical takeoff and landing aircraft?
No, no, no, absolutely impossible.
However, Su Wan’s words made Li Cu feel that it was indeed unlikely he could have been unconscious for that long. If a person were unconscious for 3 to 4 days, it would be very uncomfortable; muscles wouldn’t recover directly. Even if one just sat for 4 days, the muscles would deteriorate.
“I have another piece of evidence to prove that we were unconscious for at most 7 hours,” Su Wan said, pulling out a box from his bag. It was a takeout box for Tokyo pudding.
“You brought this kind of snack?”
“Not only did I bring it, but I also chilled it. There are three in total. One for each of us.” Su Wan handed it to Li Cu and Yang Hao. The three of them looked up in the desert and swallowed the cold pudding.
Li Cu let out a sigh of relief when he saw that the box was an insulated one with a few ice cubes inside.
He understood what Su Wan meant; if it had been 4 or 5 days, the ice in this box would have melted long ago.
It was strange; it felt like magic—changing forms, shifting dimensions, legendary scrolls. Completing a journey that would normally take at least three to four days in just 7 hours was absolutely impossible!
Moreover, this was a desert. Even if there were complete traffic control and one used an F1 car to sprint at full speed, it would still be impossible to achieve.
Li Cu shook his head in confusion and made an incomprehensible gesture. Yang Hao then said, “What’s so strange? If we couldn’t have arrived here in 7 hours, then we simply haven’t arrived. This place might be somewhere familiar to us.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Where would you find so much white sand to create this kind of scenery? Do you think that after playing with us, we would all start laying golden eggs? They’re putting in so much effort to mess with us,” Su Wan retorted angrily.
Li Cu heard Yang Hao’s words, but another emotion surged in his heart. He didn’t immediately grasp that flash of insight; instead, he hesitated for a moment. Suddenly, a possibility emerged. He pressed down on the thought three times, but he couldn’t suppress it. He realized something was wrong, and cold sweat began to pour down his back.
“Wait, what Yang Hao said about the possibility might be right.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Su Wan said. “We’re reasoning here, not telling a story.”
“Listen to me. I flew from Beijing to Inner Mongolia, and then drove for several days into the desert. I don’t know the way; I don’t recognize the scenery along the road. So, are they really driving into the desert?”
“Then where are they going?”
“What if they’re heading back to Beijing? If they drove the car back? Driving from Inner Mongolia to Beijing, even if they went directly back from Badanjilin, it would only take about 1 day and 9 hours of travel. Military vehicles go faster,” Li Cu said.
“What do you mean? Be clear,” Su Wan said, now even he was confused about the question he had raised.
“I mean, I flew from Beijing to Inner Mongolia, then got into their car. Their car didn’t take us into the desert; it was actually driving back to Beijing. Because I don’t know the way, I couldn’t notice anything unusual, so I kept thinking we were heading deep into the desert. You’re right; maybe I wasn’t even in Badanjilin at that time. No, that’s not the right way to put it. We aren’t in Badanjilin now either. This—this white desert is not Badanjilin.”
“Then where is this?”
“I don’t know. In 7 hours, we could have circled around Beijing; we might be anywhere within that circle.” Li Cu bit his lower lip. “Damn it, someone has played us all.”