Chapter 17

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Departing from Ordos, they took the Rongwu Expressway, with their tentative destination set for Wuhai.

Sometimes, Duan Qingshen would forget that this journey wasn’t bound by any schedule. It was a holiday without edges, an unplanned journey into the unknown.

When it began to rain at the Forty Li Liang Service Area, Liang Yuanxing sat inside Duan Qingshen’s car, gazing out. The untinted window was covered in ripples of water, distorting the image of Duan Qingshen as he approached the vehicle.

“Bang!”

Duan Qingshen climbed into the car, closed the door, and placed the bagged bread, snacks, and drinks they had bought onto the back seat.

“I thought the northwest was arid and rarely had such heavy rain,” Liang Yuanxing said, pulling out some tissues for him.

“It does rain sometimes,” Duan Qingshen took the tissues, wiping his face and hair lightly. “But it won’t last long. The forecast says it’ll stop by four in the afternoon.”

Liang Yuanxing looked at him with a knowing glance. “We don’t have any urgent matters, do we?”

“…No,” Duan Qingshen pulled out a can of coffee, paused with the tab open, then repeated, “No.”

Liang Yuanxing squinted, nodding slowly like an elder. “Exactly~ So don’t worry about how long the rain will last.”

“Hiss,” Duan Qingshen teased, cooling Liang Yuanxing’s face with the cold coffee.

“Hey!” Liang Yuanxing stared at him in surprise.

“The kid’s got some nerve acting all high and mighty,” Duan Qingshen chuckled as he took a sip of his iced coffee.

“Adults can sneak attack, huh?”

The mischievous adult smiled slyly.

There were quite a few people waiting for the rain to pass at the service area. Large trucks were parked at the outer spots, while cars lined up near the drivers’ rest house. Everyone waited quietly for the rain to cease.

Forty Li Liang was a fairly large service area, rain pelting the roofs of every vehicle. Liang Yuanxing kept watching the window; soon a shallow layer of water pooled on the ground, like a mirror.

The rain intensified. Beside the drivers’ rest house, seven large red characters read “Forty Li Liang Service Area,” appearing as if they might be washed away by the rain. Across from it, standing tall despite the storm, was the “China Petroleum” station.

No one walked outside; people sheltered inside or stayed in their cars. Liang Yuanxing’s motorcycle was parked inside the gas station, and only a few vehicles slowly passed on the highway.

The rain was so heavy that the world seemed trapped inside a snow globe. Liang Yuanxing leaned back, staring blankly outside. Neither of them spoke. The parked cars and the wild animals of the grassland alike remained motionless amidst the downpour.

Then, unexpectedly, Duan Qingshen started the car.

The vehicle jolted suddenly, startling Liang Yuanxing who shuddered. “Damn.”

“Did I scare you?”

“Ah,” Liang Yuanxing thought it over, “A little.”

Duan Qingshen smiled. “Next time, I’ll send you an email to warn you before I start the car.”

“Fine,” Liang Yuanxing nodded. “Weekdays, 9 a.m. to 6 p.m.”

“Where are we going?” Liang Yuanxing buckled his seatbelt.

“I found a store selling camping gear just off the upcoming exit,” Duan Qingshen said, driving there to buy some supplies.

Liang Yuanxing looked puzzled. “So what about my motorcycle?”

“It’s pretty expensive, nearly a hundred thousand yuan,” Duan Qingshen tried to suppress a grin as he carefully reversed the car out. “We’ll loop through Forty Li Liang Township and then get back on the highway.”

“Oh~” Liang Yuanxing acknowledged the plan as reasonable.

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Because of the heavy rain, cars on the highway barely reached speeds of 50 or 60 km/h. Everyone drove with hazard lights on, no road rage, no emergency lane overtaking—just safe distances and steady speeds.

Nature only needed a slight nudge to restore human rationality.

Duan Qingshen slowly approached the toll station. Many chose to exit here, and only when they reached the store’s entrance did he understand why—this place was fairly comprehensive. It sold camping equipment, daily necessities, snacks, and vehicle supplies.

Indeed, a great spot to stock up for a road trip.

“Are we camping?” Liang Yuanxing asked, watching Duan Qingshen examine an unfolded tent in the store.

Duan Qingshen crouched to test the frame’s flexibility. “Yes, places with pristine dark skies usually don’t have lodgings.”

Liang Yuanxing crouched beside him and glanced at the tent on the ground. It was silver, with a card attached listing the price and two lines of description:

Windproof and rain-resistant.

Opens in one second with no setup required.

“Let’s get this one. Also, two folding camping chairs,” Duan Qingshen said.

“Okay!” Liang Yuanxing nodded. “Anything else?”

“A chainsaw,” Duan Qingshen replied.

Liang Yuanxing looked at him, asking, “Did I offend you recently?”

“?” Duan Qingshen was puzzled. “What are you thinking?”

“There’s only you and me on the road ahead. Isn’t the chainsaw meant for me?” Liang Yuanxing pointed to himself.

Duan Qingshen wanted to tap him on the head. He stood up, grabbed the packaged tent from the shelf, and was about to ask the store owner where the chainsaw was when he suddenly found he couldn’t move forward.

Looking down, Liang Yuanxing had grabbed his calf. “Duan, my leg’s numb from squatting.”

He lifted Liang Yuanxing up.

The store owner looked nothing like the typical Inner Mongolian uncle Liang Yuanxing had imagined. He was a slender middle-aged man wearing glasses.

“Oh, chainsaw?” the owner said. “I only have small handheld ones.”

“That’s fine. I want a cordless chainsaw and an ordinary saw,” Duan Qingshen said.

Beside the register were stacks of transparent snack bags labeled in large characters, “Inner Mongolia Specialty.”

The owner went to get the chainsaws from the back. Duan Qingshen, probably from the eager look in his eyes, asked, “Want to try some? Should we buy a pack for the car?”

“Is it tasty?”

“Dairy products are usually… not bad,” Duan Qingshen grabbed a bag. “Try it.”

After packing their purchases into the car, Liang Yuanxing held the bag of dairy chips on the passenger seat, examining it.

“Open and eat,” Duan Qingshen said.

“Can I eat it in the car?” he asked.

Duan Qingshen adjusted the GPS. The rain was tapering off. He set the location to the highway entrance near Forty Li Liang Township. “Once we enter the uninhabited area, we’ll probably have to eat and sleep in the car.”

“Oh.” Liang Yuanxing tore open the bag, realizing, “So you bought the chainsaw to protect against wild animals? Then why get an ordinary saw too?”

Duan Qingshen gripped the steering wheel. With water streaks on the rearview mirror, he watched the parking sensors as he slowly backed out. “Car horns can scare off wild animals. There’s no security coverage in the uninhabited area, so the real threat isn’t animals—it’s people.”

“Hm?”

The scent of rich milk filled the car. The milk chips were like cookies but chewier than usual.

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It turned out buying food for Liang Yuanxing was always the right choice. He wasn’t even curious anymore about what defending against people in the uninhabited zones really meant.

After his “Hm?” of surprise, Liang Yuanxing’s expression turned delighted. He handed a chip to Duan Qingshen. “This is so good! Try one!”

Duan Qingshen popped it into his mouth. It was indeed delicious—a pure fresh milk flavor with a texture somewhat like thick coconut flakes.

But Liang Yuanxing’s reason was only swayed briefly by food. After swallowing, he asked, “Then why get a normal saw as well?”

“Some handheld electric saws can detect fabric and skin, automatically shutting off on contact. If we meet someone in the wild who isn’t scared off even by a chainsaw, then we use the ordinary saw,” Duan Qingshen explained.

Liang Yuanxing’s eyes lit up; he almost looked eager.

Fortunately, Duan Qingshen was driving and didn’t see that look, or he might have lectured him.

Because his gaze said, “Bring on the bad guys, I’m terrifyingly tough.”

After two hours of to and fro, they got back on the highway and returned to the service area. By then, the rain had stopped. The sun hadn’t immediately come out, and the air no longer carried the unmistakable dampness. Half the ground was dry. Liang Yuanxing stepped out, looked up, and inhaled the air. It was very different from the scent after rain in the south.

“I’m going to ride my bike!” Liang Yuanxing shouted over the strong wind. “Can you seal that bag of milk chips for me?”

“No need,” Duan Qingshen said. “Snacks don’t get soft here.”

“But they might spill,” Liang Yuanxing replied helplessly.

“…Oh.” That was true.

Liang Yuanxing, helmet in hand, was almost at the gas station when he quickly returned to Duan Qingshen’s car.

Duan Qingshen paused, then understood. He opened the door, got out, and reopened the sealed bag of milk chips, handing it to him.

Sure enough, Liang Yuanxing popped three chips into his mouth, gave an “ok” sign against the howling wind, and turned back to his motorcycle.

He really loved that snack.

Duan Qingshen glanced down at the packaging and realized it was probably a homemade family snack made without any commercial labeling—no trademark, not even a production date.

Apparently, the store owner’s family made it at home and made extra to sell, placing it in disposable sealed bags marked “Inner Mongolia Specialty.”

At that moment, Duan Qingshen’s first thought wasn’t, “Wow, I’ve bought unregulated food,” but a pang of regret that Liang Yuanxing loved it so much and wouldn’t be able to buy it once they left Inner Mongolia.

Snapping back to reality, he heard two honks from the motorcycle, urging him on. He got in.

They finally reached Wuhai that day, albeit late. Duan Qingshen had already searched for some restaurants still open and headed straight into the city with Liang Yuanxing.

By the time they arrived downtown, it was nighttime.

He pressed the walkie-talkie: “Assistant Liang, Mongolian hotpot, lamb skewers, iron pot stewed noodles, or a restaurant?”

Liang Yuanxing was riding his bike, and through the helmet’s echo, he heard himself swallow.

What was Mongolian hotpot like? What did iron pot stewed noodles taste like—just hearing about it made him hungry enough to eat three pounds. Lamb skewers needed no explanation—this was Inner Mongolia, after all. The restaurant must have local dishes he’d never tried before, like the first time he ate sea intestine rice in Shandong.

So Assistant Liang proposed a plan that, on the surface, sounded very reasonable—

“Boss Duan, can we pack the iron pot stewed noodles and order lamb skewers for delivery while we have the hotpot?”

Duan Qingshen was silent for a moment, then replied on the walkie-talkie: “So… no restaurant, right?”

“We’ll eat at a restaurant tomorrow before we leave,” Liang Yuanxing said.

“Hm, hearing you plan it this way, I thought we might not even survive till tomorrow.”