Chapter 55: Old Wang Has Disappeared

At this moment, Li Ling and the others came over as well. When everyone saw Zayi, they were filled with anger. Several of the boys, visibly agitated, started toward him, but I stopped them. My authority within the group was still considerable, so no one took action. In truth, I didn’t believe there was truly a right or wrong in this situation. My earlier outburst had been a moment of anger. Now, thinking it over, Zayi didn’t have a deep connection to us at that critical juncture; our relationship was merely transactional. There was nothing wrong with his decision to leave us behind—after all, everyone looks out for themselves. Besides, he was in a sorry enough state already; there was no need to make things worse for him.

Zayi, realizing he couldn’t escape, immediately stood up with exaggerated enthusiasm, loudly invoking Allah’s blessings. His expression changed so quickly it was almost farcical—he couldn’t have been more transparently insincere.

We helped the weaker girls onto the camels and set off again. Our food supplies were still adequate, but water was running low. Wang Zhi and I had filled our flasks at the small lake in that strange village, but we each only carried one canteen and hadn’t brought much. Zayi was even worse off—he was almost out of water entirely. In the desert, water is far more precious than food.

But now, with Zayi guiding us, we no longer feared getting lost. True, his character was questionable, but he was said to be a living map of the desert, so he must have some real skill. According to him, the desert’s terrain constantly shifted, especially after the black storms that had altered many routes. Still, with him leading us, we were sure to get out—though it would take longer, perhaps another two or three days.

I asked him what he would do if his water ran out. Zayi hesitated, mumbling, but as soon as I shot him a look, he blurted, “Then... then we’d have to drink camel blood.”

Camel blood—so that was an option. I guessed the old fox hadn’t wanted to mention it at first, fearing we’d set our sights on his camels. But if things got desperate, there would be no other choice. During our afternoon rest, we divided up the water and calculated that if we rationed carefully, it might last two more days. Clearly, we had to quicken our pace. According to Zayi, this season brought unpredictable desert weather. If we encountered another storm, we’d be in grave danger—and there would be no more oases along the way.

I asked Zayi about the others—Old Ghost’s group should be a day ahead of us. They’d definitely try to come after me for those two pills. But now the pills were with Li Ling, and this had to remain a secret; otherwise, Li Ling would be in danger. I wasn’t worried for myself—I could take whatever came—but it was different for her. I shared my thoughts with Li Ling, and after considering it, she told me, “When we get back, I need to first comfort Liu Min’s family. After all, this is a terrible loss. Then I’ll return to M Country, where the equipment is more advanced, and I can try to decipher the pills’ mysteries as quickly as possible. Once I succeed, I’ll notify you immediately, and then come back so we can study them together.”

As I looked into Li Ling’s eyes, I couldn’t shake the feeling she already knew my secret. Yet I was certain she couldn’t possibly know. It was a strange sensation.

After two days of trekking through the desert, our water was nearly gone. Everyone’s canteen was down to the dregs. No matter how frugal we were, it wasn’t enough. Zayi told us that after about two more hours’ walk, we’d see the highway. Once there, we’d find passing vehicles—desert travelers usually carried spare water tanks, so we’d have water again.

His words were encouraging, but aside from me and a few stronger boys, most people were too exhausted to even respond. I was so parched that I bitterly regretted drinking most of my water in one go while chasing after Zayi. I had assumed the old fox had plenty, but he turned out to be even worse off than we were.

I grunted in reply, barely able to speak, but quickened my pace. The group, dragging their bodies to the limits of endurance, trudged on for more than two hours. At last, we saw the highway—supposedly the road leading to the border station, with some state-run factories along the route. Though this was a no-man’s land, transport and supply trucks still passed by from time to time.

Everyone was so spent that we collapsed onto the ground to rest. Half an hour passed with no sign of a truck, so with no other choice, we stood up and continued walking.

As we pressed on, a girl with weaker health finally couldn’t go on. She’d had a slight fever before, and now was suffering from dehydration. We pooled all our remaining water and gave it to her, but her condition was still critical. Just as anxiety gripped us, a green military truck appeared in the distance, slowly making its way toward us.

Two PLA soldiers were delivering supplies. The moment they saw us, they jumped out of the truck. After we explained our situation, they responded with great kindness, drawing water from their tank for us and giving the girl medicine, which improved her condition. They confirmed what Zayi had said: it was about thirty kilometers to the next town—a day’s walk at our slow pace. The soldiers had a mission and couldn’t delay, so after leaving us enough water and emergency medicine, they departed. We were deeply grateful.

By midday, the girl was recovering; it was only a brief faint brought on by dehydration, and she was soon able to sit on a camel. With water, our strength returned, and we pressed on. As night fell, we didn’t stop to rest but took advantage of the darkness to hurry forward, finally reaching the town in the middle of the night.

Zayi told us this was Dawa Town. In truth, it was little more than a large village. Our arrival caused a stir—such a peaceful place rarely saw more than the occasional transport truck, and never so many people, especially young students. The town chief hurried out to inquire. Li Ling identified herself and showed her credentials, which reassured him. He welcomed us into the town’s guesthouse, which was really just a large room and a spacious courtyard.

There were two dormitories—one for men, one for women. It was late and we felt a bit embarrassed, but the town chief was extremely hospitable. As he put it, it had been years since anyone had come for tourism or research, and it was an honor to host teachers and students from the capital.

The local people were warm and, despite the late hour, prepared us a hot meal. After ten days of eating nothing but compressed biscuits, every bite was delicious.

After the meal, we all slept soundly. Early the next morning, Li Ling came to find me, her brow furrowed and her face grave. I knew something was wrong. Her first words were, “Professor Wang is missing!”

I was shocked, my mind unable to process it. “What did you say? Missing? How is that possible? He’s a grown man, not suffering from dementia. What nonsense is this?”

Li Ling, growing anxious, pinched me and said, “Oh, you’re confused! I mean Professor Wang is missing—he disappeared in Kashgar.”

Li Ling was flustered, and it took me a moment to grasp what she meant. Gradually, she explained. That morning, she’d contacted the outside world using the town government’s only landline. That’s when she learned that Wang Wenshan, who had originally planned to join us, had called as we were preparing to enter the desert to say he was needed for an important research project at the Archaeology Institute and couldn’t come for now, but asked to be contacted if anything happened.

Li Ling had thought it odd—Professor Wang valued the ancient Guli culture above all else, so his sudden change of heart was strange. Still, she didn’t question him, merely telling him to keep her informed.

Unexpectedly, on their third day in the desert, Wang Wenshan had traveled alone to Kashgar, without even his assistant. After arriving, he contacted the local government, who took notice due to his status: a professor from the capital, holder of numerous titles and administrative rank equivalent to a deputy county chief—a prestigious position in those parts. Naturally, the government looked after him, arranging the town’s only and best hotel and assigning a staff member to serve him.

But Professor Wang locked himself in his room and didn’t emerge for a whole day. The next day, when the office director knocked and got no response, he grew worried that the elderly professor might have a heart condition or other illness—many visitors suffered from the local climate. Entering the room, they found Professor Wang gone. The hotel’s limited security cameras showed no footage of him leaving through the main entrance. He had disappeared without a trace.

Given his status, the disappearance of a capital professor from a county hotel was a major incident. Both the capital and local governments were now searching for him. We, being deep in the desert, had known nothing of this until now.