MW CH40

Chapter 40: One Day, They’ll All Be Mine

Back in sophomore year, Teacher Liu from our wilderness survival class dragged us out for camping trips more than once—hands-on stuff. His team lists seemed locked in after the first outing, and somehow Mochuan and I got stuck in the same batch, even the same tent.

It was late fall, near winter break—our last field practice, I think. December in Beishi meant indoor heating, but outside, temps could dip to minus five Celsius.

At night, we huddled around a campfire, everyone hyped as Liu spun tales from his army days.

“Mountains change fast—especially high-altitude snow peaks. Weather forecasts can flop,” he said, segueing into survival tips. “If you hit extreme weather—wind, rain, snow, fog—get lost or can’t move, don’t panic. Stay calm. Find the nearest windproof, rainproof shelter. Use whatever’s around to keep warm and dry.”

“Next, check your condition—can you wait out the weather and backtrack? If not, phone if you’ve got signal, satellite if you’ve got that. Stay put for rescue.”

“Lastly, to help them find you faster, blow a whistle hard or burn branches for thick smoke to flag the team.”

A guy raised his hand. “What if there’s no comms, your teammate’s dying, freezing cold, thick fog, low visibility, and rescue’s nowhere in sight—how do you handle that?”

Someone laughed. “What, you stacking buffs for an ultimate challenge?”

The guy grinned back. “If extreme weather’s on the table, extreme scenarios are too, right?”

“Fair point!” Liu didn’t take it as a jab—he praised him. “Love that critical thinking. Yeah, it’s not impossible. If your buddy’s on the edge, first treat their wounds, keep them warm as you can, then adapt.”

His answer felt vague. Leaning back on my hands, I pressed, “What’s ‘adapt’ mean?”

Liu paused. “Assess the situation and yourself—can you get help, can they last till it arrives? That’s when you see what people are made of. On Everest, plenty watch teammates die right in front of them—can’t save ’em. One Sherpa per person still won’t cut it. No oxygen? Dead. Fall and can’t get up? Dead. Altitude sickness too much? Dead. Saving someone’s splitting your life with theirs for a shot at both making it—but fail, and you’re both gone.”

I raised an eyebrow, catching his drift. “So, leave them, I probably live. Help, maybe we both live—or both die. That it?”

Liu didn’t say yes or no—just went quiet.

“Depends who it is. Stranger? Pass. Family? I’d save them…”

“Parents? I’d die to get them out.”

“Sure, we say that now, but in the thick of it, minds flip—might ditch when you’d save, save when you’d ditch…”

In minutes, everyone chimed in with their gut calls, their “best” answers.

I snorted, stretched my arms high, and yawned. “Y’all can sacrifice whatever, but… I’m picking ‘leave.’”

Heads turned—surprise, skepticism.

I met Mochuan’s stare, glaring back, taunting. “What? Illegal to skip the hero act?”

He sized me up, then looked away to the fire, cool as ever. “Not illegal.”

Not illegal, so why you staring, punk?

I shot daggers at the back of his head, scooting away in disgust.

“Just don’t get why you’d lie,” Mochuan said, voice soft, slow, casual—like he was genuinely puzzled.

Being a hero’s overrated.

I woke groggy, vision sharpening bit by bit. A twitch of my fingers set off a shrill beep from the bedside machine.

Yan Chuwen and Sun Manman rushed over, fussing like hens.

“Bai Yin, you’re up! How you feeling?”

“Bro, anything hurt?”

My throat was sandpaper, chest throbbing with every breath.

“Thirsty. Pain,” I croaked.

Sun Manman dashed for water; Yan Chuwen gave me the rundown.

Broke a rib—not bad, no displacement, just rest and heal. Plus some scrapes from tumbling down the slope.

I sipped half a cup through a straw. Breathing too hard twisted my face in a wince.

“Sorry, bro—this is my fault,” Sun Manman said, guilt all over her.

I waved it off, weak. “Weather’s not on you. How’s Liang Mu?”

“She’s fine—downstairs on an IV,” she said, eyes welling up, still shaken. “They found us near midnight. I gave her oxygen—didn’t help. She was in pain, feverish. If rescue hadn’t come, I wouldn’t have known what to do.”

They tag-teamed the story of last night’s chaos.

The weather flipped too fast—the last Cenglu guide called an instant retreat.

A fork between the fourth and third peaks led to a village downhill, four hours on foot. They rushed down, only noticing we were gone halfway. Visibility was four, five meters tops—even the guide wouldn’t risk going back up. They hit the base and called local help.

“Three Xia folks lost on the south slope—two girls, one guy, young. When Waxiao sent word, I had a bad feeling—your group, maybe. Confirmed it was you. I freaked, called Mo—” Yan Chuwen paused, glanced at Sun Manman, and fudged it. “At the slope’s base, I couldn’t climb—just waited, stressing. You don’t know how I got through that night.”

His voice caught; he took a beat. “Around two or three a.m., they brought Manman and Liang Mu down. Manman asked about you right away—heard you were still missing, cried so hard she nearly passed out.”

Her eyes reddened again; tears fell without warning. “If anything happened to you, I… I’d never forgive myself.”

Her crying almost got me going. Dying like that—lame, no proper goodbye.

I raised a hand, beckoned her closer.

She wiped her face, leaning in, expecting words.

I smiled, plopped a hand on her head, and mussed her hair. “Made you worry.”

She sat a bit longer, then went to Liang Mu. Once she left, Yan Chuwen pulled his chair closer, lowering his voice. “You scared the hell out of Mochuan. He brought you here, stayed till you were out of danger, then headed back to Pengge.”

He filled in the skipped part.

“When I told Mochuan you three were missing, he insisted on coming to Waxiao with me. Cenglu folks there recognized him instantly—couldn’t figure why he showed up. He said he’d join the rescue team up the mountain. They lost it—wouldn’t let him, said you’d pissed off the Mountain Lord, brought this punishment. Mochuan argued he’s the Mountain Lord’s voice—Canglan’d calm once it sensed him…”

“Ignoring the clan, he went anyway—searched from dark to dawn, found you following your markers.”

Right—I’d scratched marks with rocks while chasing the dog. Dark hid them, but daylight let Mochuan spot them. Survival class trick we’d learned together.

“Too close…” I said, rattled. “Didn’t think the buffs could stack that high.”

Yan Chuwen blinked, then laughed. “Joking already? You’re holding up.”

The room went quiet. He stared off, drifting.

Exhausted, I shut my eyes to rest.

“Uh…”

Sleep scattered. I opened my eyes—him hemming and hawing, not spitting it out. “Just say it.”

He stalled forever. “When Mochuan got back, he went up Pengge’s long stairs—three steps, one kowtow—all the way to the Deer King Temple.”

“…What! Why?” I jolted, nearly sitting up.

He pushed me down. “Said he spoke wrong, acted wrong—begged the Mountain Lord’s forgiveness.”

Those stairs—thousands of them. Three steps a bow, hundreds of knocks? He’d raged at the Mountain Lord before—why the grovel now?

Pissed and anxious, I asked, “How’s he doing?”

“Better than you.”

His face looked honest; I eased up a bit.

“When’s this fracture heal?” Wanting to see Mochuan hit a peak I’d never felt—wished I could sprout wings and fly to the temple now.

Lying in the snow all night, I’d sorted my whole damn life.

“Doc says ten days in hospital, then rest. What’s the rush?”

“Yeah, real urgent,” I said, dead serious.

“Work stuff?” he pressed.

I locked eyes with him. “I’m rushing… to steal the Mountain Lord’s spouse.”

“…” Yan Chuwen’s face blanked.

“If this mess was the Mountain Lord’s wrath, It failed to kill me once—won’t get me later either.” Weakest tone, hardest words. “Its wife, its kid—one day, they’re all mine.”

He snapped back, sucking in a breath, hands clapping over his ears. “Auto-deleting the last minute—pretend I heard nothing.”