Chapter 33: Crossing Mountains and Seas (1)
Alcohol can send your highs soaring, but the crash when you sober up is just as brutal—starting with your body’s functions lagging, drained and hollowed out. The sunlight was too harsh to fully open your eyes.
Including the girl in front of him—he couldn’t quite see her clearly either.
“Do you know how much you drank?” the girl beside him said. “Almost two bottles. Forty-something percent alcohol. We force-fed you hangover meds three times.”
Lin Yiyang was thirsty, his throat parched, as if he’d trekked through a wasteland for three days and nights. “Hangover meds don’t do much after the fact.”
He was telling her a basic fact, silly girl, clueless about everything.
“I know… but we had no choice.”
And all three doses of hangover meds had been vomited up—none of it stayed down.
Later, everyone discussed that if he was still suffering in the morning, they’d have to send him to the hospital. Fortunately, Lin Yiyang had a high alcohol tolerance—even that much hard liquor could be metabolized by his body. His brothers kept forcing water down him, terrified he’d burn up from the inside.
Yin Guo, full of heartache and irritation, headed to her match. Meanwhile, Meng Xiaodong—sobering up first—looked at her and said, “You’ll probably play well today.” He’d watched Yin Guo grow up and knew that the more upset or provoked she was before a match, the better she performed—like some kind of reverse psychology.
Sure enough, she and another senior teammate advanced to the semifinals together.
“Do you remember taking a shower?” She propped herself up on her elbow, watching him.
He shook his head—lying, because he actually remembered.
“Then you don’t remember eating noodles?” She had fed him bite by bite.
He still shook his head, sitting up slightly.
His upper half was in a shirt, but all the buttons had been undone—Yin Guo had unfastened them one by one so he could sleep more comfortably. The blanket had slipped from his collarbone down to his waist.
Behind the lamp on the nightstand was an unopened bottle of water. He grabbed it, twisted off the cap, and gulped down a large mouthful. His body was desperate for water—he could actually feel the cool stream sliding down his throat, reaching his stomach, seeping deeper into his organs.
He was coming back to life.
Truthfully, this was nothing. Back when he was in the western regions of China, the most brutal drinks were the “mounting” and “dismounting” liquors—fiery spirits that scorched his throat, making him wonder if he was drinking pure alcohol. Then there was the raw beer brewed across the country—easy to drink, even easier to get drunk on, far more potent than any of these foreign liquors.
This time, he had been drinking “heartbreak liquor.” He knew he’d collapse—he just worried it wouldn’t be bad enough, that he wouldn’t be drunk enough—so he returned to his room and downed the remaining dregs of several bottles in one go.
A man shouldn’t always drink heartbreak liquor.
Everyone lives for today, waiting for tomorrow. Yesterday should be tossed aside—utterly useless.
He set the water bottle back down. The girl in front of him seemed to be plotting something.
He waited to hear it.
“Then… do you remember what we did?” Yin Guo asked.
She was nervous as she said it, wanting to tease Lin Yiyang— You got handsy when you were drunk . But in the end, her shyness got the better of her. After hemming and hawing, the joke never landed, leaving the room in an uneasy silence.
“What did we do?” he asked.
A man’s hands—whether the pads of his fingers or the edges—were much rougher than a girl’s. His thumb brushed over her lips. “Tell me.”I still remember when we first met—he referred to her and his cousin as "kids" in front of Wu Wei and outsiders. Kids who hadn’t yet been weathered by society, whose gazes still carried a clear, untarnished innocence. Little girls, young girls.
He was unbuckling his belt, the zipper of his pants sliding down.
Lin Yiyang gripped her wrist, pulling her left hand beneath the blanket. Adrenaline surged as her fingers brushed against the fabric of his dress pants, then higher, to the soft cotton above…
She panicked. "I was just joking."
Lin Yiyang held her small hand, interlacing their fingers. "Did Jiang Yang or the others say anything unnecessary later?"
"No… nothing much."
Her heart swelled violently, pounding against her eardrums. The first time she saw his tattooed arm in the apartment, she should have realized—beneath that gentlemanly exterior lurked a beast.
The conversation continued, entirely under Lin Yiyang’s control—
"What day is it today?"
"Sunday. Noon."
"Is the competition over?"
"It ended… this morning."
The two-week U.S. Nine-ball Open had concluded, with the Chinese team achieving remarkable results. The women’s team secured both silver and bronze, while the men’s team also delivered commendable performances. Nine-ball had always been more dominant in women’s events, and she had taken silver—the best result among the Chinese female players this time. But with him asking these questions in this situation, she couldn’t focus at all.
All she could think was, Hurry up, just finish already…
When the room grew quiet to an extreme, when one’s mind narrowed to a single point, countless sounds usually unnoticed became audible: the rhythm of his breathing, the weight of it, her own, the rustle of fabric against the bedsheet.
And then, his final words: Come here. Kiss me.
As if under a spell, she leaned in. Before her lips could meet his, his hand cradled the back of her head, pulling her into a deep, forceful kiss. The muscles in his arms tightened with strength, the unfamiliar scent of male hormones flooding the room.
The window was cracked open, yet not a breeze stirred.
The sun was fierce today, its rays piercing through the glass to scorch her back, leaving her restless.
Yin Guo panted lightly, meeting his gaze—only to feel as if the sun behind her had drained her completely…
Lin Yiyang’s throat bobbed slightly. For the first time, unsatisfied, he only wanted to hold her tighter.
In a low voice, he said, "Go wash your hands."
Then he released her.
Yin Guo dashed to the bathroom at sprint speed, lathering every inch of her hands with a small complimentary soap bar, still wondering how she’d been foolish enough to make such a reckless joke. Why did I have to provoke him?
Milky foam gathered between her fingers as she scrubbed…
Scrubbed and scrubbed…
Lin Yiyang walked into the bathroom with fresh, clean clothes in hand. Yin Guo didn’t even dare glance at him in the mirror, tossing the soap into the ceramic dish before bolting. She didn’t notice the soap slipping into the sink—Lin Yiyang had to fish it out.
He emerged wearing jeans, shuffling in the hotel’s white slippers, and sat beside her on the very edge of the sofa. He’d thought a shower would help, but now he just wanted to carry her back to bed.
Especially when he looked down and saw her bare feet dangling over the sofa’s edge, her toenails neatly polished and smooth…
"Rest for a bit," he said. "I’ll take you to see the sunset later."
"Sunset?" It was still noon. What sunset?“Right, the sunset, to Hawaii.” He went to gather the dirty shirt and trousers from the bathroom, rolled them into a ball, stuffed them into the hotel’s paper bag, and prepared to send them down to the lobby for dry cleaning, planning to pick them up later.
Hawaii?
Clearly, Lin Yiyang had made arrangements long before coming to watch the match.
He had asked Meng Xiaotian for Yin Guo’s passport details, booked the flights and hotel—everything was set, just waiting for the competition to end.
He wanted to take Yin Guo to the Big Island to see the Kīlauea volcano, to witness the meeting of seawater and lava at the heart of the Pacific, to stand on a volcano with constant eruption warnings, to sleep in a tent amidst the aura of death, and to watch the sunset and the starry sky.
He didn’t want to waste the last three days. And since Yin Guo was already in the U.S., it was convenient.
So, in early April, right after Yin Guo won the silver medal, she followed Lin Yiyang on a long flight from their current city, with a layover, enduring over ten hours of travel and breaks—equivalent to the time and distance of returning to China…
At 5:46 a.m. on Monday, Yin Guo stepped out of the airplane door, followed the passengers down the long boarding stairs, and finally stood where Lin Yiyang had wanted to bring her.
They hadn’t brought any large luggage, only having her pack heavy winter clothes. As they disembarked, the sky was just beginning to lighten. Yin Guo tugged at his backpack strap, letting him lead her through the crowd, still dazed.
Zheng Yi’s WeChat messages were still lagging behind, asking about the previous city.
Zheng Yi: Sobered up yet?
Yin Guo: Yeah.
Zheng Yi: How was it?
Yin Guo: …
Zheng Yi: Did you buy condoms to start a sex toy side hustle?
Yin Guo: Don’t rush me…
Zheng Yi: I’m rushing, thanks.
Yin Guo: Didn’t you say the faster you sleep with someone, the faster you can dump them?
Zheng Yi: Then I thought—if it’s a top-tier guy, you gotta go for it. What if the world ends tomorrow? Can’t let that opportunity slip.
Yin Guo: Just got off the plane. Not happening.
Zheng Yi: ????
Yin Guo: He’s taking me to see the sunset.
Zheng Yi: ???????
Zheng Yi: Does he have any brothers? Or sisters—I’m not picky.
Yin Guo: Probably… I’ll introduce you if I get the chance.
At the airport exit, he rented a dark gray car, bundled Yin Guo inside, turned on the GPS, and headed straight to the hotel to check in. To the left was land covered in black volcanic ash, to the right the same, and ahead—endless.
Bathed in orange-red sunlight, listening to the English GPS voice, she slowly dozed off. She woke to the sound of rain pelting the window. Turning her head, she asked sleepily, “How long have we been driving?”
“About twenty minutes. You can go back to sleep,” he said.
Lin Yiyang had a habit of steering with just his right hand while driving. The intricate, beautiful nebula tattoo covering his outer arm had been done in three sessions by a friend he knew, as she’d once asked in the apartment.
She stared at it for a while, rubbing her eyes to focus. Through the driver’s window, she saw a splash of red flowers—or maybe red grass—against the wild black landscape.
It felt like a dream.This man—last night at the airport, watching him lean one hand on the half-height machine while checking in, she had wondered: was this a dream? Ever since that citywide snowstorm, she had been trapped in a long, fantastical dream. A man named Lin Yiyang had pushed open a wooden door, his hand resting on the rough, aged metal handle, snow covering his body and hat.
That day marked the end of January.
…
The rain grew heavier, misty and obscuring the road ahead.
"Let’s talk about something. I don’t want you to get drowsy while driving," she said softly.
The navigation system kept prompting them to drive straight ahead. Of course, there were no side roads here anyway.
Yin Guo watched his hands on the wheel, his long fingers loosely gripping it, and remembered how he had clasped her hand, sliding his fingers between hers. She thought of the soft white sheets, of something flowing between their tightly intertwined fingers and palms.
"Can we park here?" she asked.
She spotted a sign indicating lava flow and an underground cave nearby, with a few cars already parked. It shouldn’t be a problem. This island was a popular self-drive destination—rest stops were probably allowed anytime.
Lin Yiyang braked, smoothly pulling over onto a safe roadside elevation. The area appeared barren, covered in black volcanic ash, yet tufts of grass stubbornly sprouted along the roadside, emerging from any patch of earth they could break through.
The engine remained on, humming faintly.
"Let’s get out and see the lava formations. Maybe some volcanic flowers too," he said, pressing the seatbelt release with his thumb. The black strap snapped back into its red casing, retracting as if to stay out of their way.
"I want to talk to you."
"About what?" He leaned over to unbuckle her seatbelt.
The seat slowly reclined. His warm breath brushed her cheek as he asked, "Adult talk, or just casual?"
Since leaving the hotel, they had been constantly on the move—airports, flights—never finding a quiet, uninterrupted moment alone. Once their bodies had touched, kisses no longer sufficed. The hunger for novelty, the insatiable curiosity about each other, refused to be tamed.
It felt like he hadn’t kissed her in over a dozen hours.
"Last night…" Yin Guo glanced at him and whispered, "Did it feel good?"
She was genuinely curious. Was it different from doing it herself?
Her finger traced the fabric of his collar, gathering tiny wrinkles under her fingertip before smoothing them out again.
Rain hammered against the car roof with enough force to feel piercing.
They didn’t know whose car this was, who might have sat here before. Today and tomorrow, it belonged only to them.
His answer came easily: "It did."
"How was it different from doing it myself?" Once the first adult question was out, the rest came easier.
"From doing it yourself?" He considered the distinction. Physically, the motions weren’t so different. The real difference lay in the psychological fulfillment—seeing her face had made every abstract fantasy concrete, all of them her.
"Hard to explain," he said with a laugh, dodging the answer she wanted. "About the same."
Yin Guo’s curiosity was partly satisfied, but she still felt a little defeated. "Hard to explain" and "about the same"—didn’t that mean all her effort was wasted? Though, truthfully, she hadn’t done much. He had guided her every move, his hands over hers.Her thoughts began to wander again: "Would it be about the same with someone else?"
Lin Yiyang's drunken question bore a striking resemblance to the hypothetical scenario in her mind. She also wanted to ask him: Lin Yiyang, after being with me, have you ever felt that I don't match your expectations? Will the novelty gradually fade away?
A sincere first love is tormenting—wholehearted devotion coexists with constant fear of loss. Before experiencing it, one doesn't know how to give; after experiencing it, one no longer gives in the same way.
"With someone else?" An unexpected turn in the conversation.
...
Lin Yiyang fastened her seatbelt again.
Holding the steering wheel with his right hand, he turned onto the highway amidst the fluctuating sounds of rain—now loud, now soft, now near, now distant—and glanced at her with an amused smile. "Little girl, tell me the truth—what do you take me for? Just anyone who can come up and touch me whenever they please?"
OpenNovel