Chapter 26: A Night in the Great Desert

After hauling her up, everyone breathed a sigh of relief. The girl was still shaken, collapsed on the ground with no strength, tears streaming down her face. We barely had time to catch our breath when Zay urged us to hurry back. The wind was picking up, and the quicksand could easily spread. Without further delay, we hurried back to the shelter we had found earlier.

Back in the shelter, everyone wanted to know why they had run so far. The girls in question, faces flushed red, hung their heads in embarrassment and said nothing. No one pressed the matter further, though the fear lingered with us all.

The space was cramped, and no one got much rest that night. At first light, we set out again.

The sand dunes rolled forward in waves, like an invisible giant hand peeling away layer after layer of the desert. The vast wilderness, the deathly stillness of the sea of sand, evoked a sense of solemn grandeur.

Throughout that day, the initial excitement we’d felt upon entering the desert had faded. The endless expanse was magnificent, but after hours of trudging through it, a sense of futility set in—as if we would never reach the end. We had ample supplies of food and water, so no one was stingy. Whenever we were thirsty, we drank deeply; when tired, we took short breaks. To pass the time and stave off boredom, we sang songs together. Along the way, we came upon a small ruin—likely the remains of an ancient Western Kingdom. In the old days, these tiny kingdoms dotted the region: a settlement the size of a village could call itself a nation, warring with neighbors over resources and land.

This particular site had clearly been visited by many explorers; nothing of value remained. We gave it a quick look, took a few photos, and moved on. The students, though, lingered with reluctance, their faces alight with curiosity.

That night, we found a good place to camp—another ruin, where the remains of several stone houses stood, half-buried in the sand. Li Ling explained that it was probably an ancient post station. There were several stone buildings, much roomier than before. That night, we made a fire; with no wind, we could finally eat a hot meal. After we were fed and warmed, Zay proposed taking turns keeping watch.

"There are many unknown dangers in the desert at night," he said. "We need to stand guard."

He didn’t elaborate, only gave a few examples to remind us. That night, we split into groups; the girls were exempt. Each group had two or three people, and with so many of us, each shift lasted less than two hours—a light duty.

I was paired with Liang Qiu—a clever fellow who always called me "Brother Yun." I rather liked him. We agreed to call each other at shift change. But in the deep of the night, I woke up, still half an hour before my turn. Unable to sleep, I stretched, lit a cigarette, and stepped outside. To my surprise, no one was there; the fire had gone out, its embers only slightly warm to the touch—it had been out for a while. I looked around—no one was on watch. Could they have sneaked back to sleep? It seemed these students really were unreliable. But then I realized, the previous shift had been manned by two seasoned old hands—Old Zhang and Old Li. They wouldn't make that mistake. Maybe they had just stepped away to relieve themselves. So I went looking for them nearby.

The desert night wasn’t pitch dark; even without a flashlight, I could see fairly well. I searched the area but saw no one. Had they really fallen asleep? It wasn’t my business to scold them, so I returned to the fire. The wind was mild, and with solid fuel, I soon had the fire blazing again. Gazing into the vast desert beneath the night sky, I suddenly felt carefree.

To be honest, poison isn’t the sort of thing that lets you feel your life ebbing away bit by bit. It can lie dormant, only to erupt one day and snatch your life in an instant. That kind of suddenness is almost merciful compared to the slow approach of death.

Lost in thought, I was startled by a faint sound—a creature moving. My hearing is sharp, and though the sound was soft, I caught it. The gait didn’t sound human. Alert, I gripped my black-gold dagger and moved quickly toward the noise. As I approached, the sound abruptly stopped, perhaps sensing my approach. I scanned the area but heard nothing more. I doubted myself—it had sounded so real, I couldn't be mistaken. Gathering myself, I leapt atop the stone house for a better view. From this vantage, everything was clearer—just stones, nothing else.

Then I spotted two figures moving in the dark—definitely human. They approached with a relaxed gait, not at all like strangers. Soon I recognized them: Old Zhang and Old Li.

They didn’t see me at first and headed straight for our camp. I jumped down and caught their attention. I asked where they’d been. Old Zhang rubbed his hands and said, "I saw something that looked like a deer—it wasn’t moving fast. I thought I’d try to catch it for dinner tomorrow. But the more we chased, the farther it ran."

So, during their watch, they’d seen an animal strolling by and tried to catch it. But it soon outpaced them and disappeared. I asked how long they’d been gone; both replied, "Just ten minutes or so." But when we checked the time, their faces turned to surprise: "How could it be over an hour? It felt like only ten minutes."

They were older men, so I let it go and told them to get some rest; I’d take over the watch. Liang Qiu soon woke up on his own, came over, and bummed a cigarette. We sat together by the fire, smoking.

I was still pondering that mysterious noise when it came again. I asked Liang Qiu if he’d heard it. At first, he said no, but after a moment, he admitted he could hear it faintly. For all his cleverness, he was a timid soul and seemed a little scared. This time, I listened closely and pinpointed the direction. I was about to investigate when Liang Qiu grabbed my arm, insisting he come with me—he didn’t want to be left alone. I agreed but told him to keep quiet.

We drew closer to the source; the sound of shuffling sand was very near. When I thought we were almost upon it, I darted forward, landing atop a large boulder—and what I saw nearly stunned me. What kind of creature was this? It looked about the size of a deer, but its head was unmistakably lupine, with a bluish face and two long, exposed fangs—a little monster, really. I had never seen or heard of such an animal.

The creature was crouched, gnawing on something. My sudden appearance startled it; it looked up at me for a split second, then dashed away at an incredible speed—impossible to catch.

Liang Qiu came running up, panting heavily. "Brother Yun, what was that? Was it a deer?" he asked.

I didn’t want to frighten him, so I replied offhandedly, "Maybe—it was too quick, I didn’t get a good look." Watching the direction the creature had fled, I said, "Let’s head back. It’s too fast for us."

As we walked, Liang Qiu insisted, "It must have been a deer. I’ve seen on TV that there are deer in the desert. Maybe this is one’s resting place." I let him talk, lost in my own thoughts. The creature’s appearance was unnerving—especially in the darkness. Still, I’d faced my share of strange things and wasn’t afraid, just puzzled. And then there was what Old Li and Old Zhang had said—both were experienced in archaeological work, not the type to lose track of time. Yet they were convinced they’d only been gone ten minutes, when more than an hour had passed.

Back at the fire, I added more tamarisk wood, lost in thought. The mysterious sound was gone—likely caused by that creature, which had been gnawing at something. But when I checked, there was nothing there. What had it been doing? I resolved to come back and look again, but Liang Qiu was too timid to stand watch alone. If he followed me and something happened, it would be trouble. I decided to wait until the next shift to investigate alone.

Soon, the next group arrived—two other students. I knew one of them, Zhang Jianshe, a steady young man. I told Liang Qiu to get some rest and said I was going to relieve myself. They just nodded and cautioned me to be careful—ever since the incident with the girl and the quicksand, everyone was wary of venturing too far from camp.