[[1] Thank Heaven and Earth]
Xishuangbanna is humid.
This lush, beautiful land south of the Tropic of Cancer boasts well-preserved tropical rainforests.
Every April, as the rainy season begins, the rain falls, stops, falls again, in an endless, tireless cycle.
After a heavy downpour, the setting sun suddenly emerges.
Its lingering glow filters through layers of mist and clouds, spilling into the Dai villages nestled within the rainforest, illuminating the golden spires of the Buddhist temples and steaming the blue tiles of the stilt houses.
The Water Splashing Festival is next week, and the number of tourists in the village is gradually increasing.
Liang Youyun disliked festivals. Festivals were too lively, and where there was liveliness, trouble was prone to arise.
She was long past the age of scouting for handsome men on bustling festival streets.
Monotonous, fragmented work had already given her astigmatism; she couldn’t quite focus on those heart-fluttering faces anymore, nor did she care which girl might have caught their eye.
All she cared about was that no chaos erupted during the festival period. Otherwise, as the village’s first secretary, she would have to shoulder some responsibility.
With less than half a year left before her village assignment ended, if she could just peacefully get through these final days “in the countryside,” she would smoothly and steadily return to Beijing.
A beautiful grassroots work record, a promotion, a raise—just thinking about it was delightful.
Recalling her first arrival in Xishuangbanna two years ago, it had been truly awful.
Liang Youyun’s unit was a key state-owned enterprise in the national medical and wellness sector, with branches across the country. For nearly a decade, it had been involved in rural revitalization work.
The company’s strategic deployment was excellent, but unfortunately, due to disagreements among top management, its implementation was slow, and the workplace environment was concerning.
Even an old-timer like Liang Youyun, who had little ambition and no desire to engage in office politics, had been set up.
For others, a village assignment might be a strategic delay; for her, it was a move of last resort.
She was a “casualty” in the “palace intrigue” between the “pro” and “con” factions within the company.
Fortunately, time flew. Although the two-year village assignment had been tough, it was nearing its end.
During this period, Youyun had accumulated a wealth of practical experience and had even managed to settle down and engage in some theoretical research, successfully publishing two professional papers.
Even more interestingly, she had avoided the company’s major reshuffle. The two factions in the “palace intrigue” had ultimately inflicted heavy losses on each other, forcing the group headquarters to “reform the cabinet” and replace a batch of leaders.
Coincidentally, a new leader had come to Yunnan on an inspection tour last year and had specifically come to see her. He mentioned that the deputy director of the General Management Office would be transferred next year and that the position urgently needed a suitable candidate, hinting that he was waiting for her return to promote her.
Youyun accepted this news with a reassured smile. It made sense, after all. As an “old hand” familiar with the company’s situation, acquainted with leaders big and small, and having supported the border regions for two years, a promotion was surely what everyone expected. It was a bit like the half-return of a favored imperial consort to the palace, carrying a glimmer of hope for a comeback.
Before leaving, the leader shook her hand and said with conviction, “Comrade Liang Youyun, stand your final watch well. We look forward to your smooth return to Beijing!”
Youyun understood the underlying message. “Smooth return to Beijing” was the minor point; “stand your final watch well” was the major one. The leader was indirectly reminding her not to make any mistakes in her work. No mistakes meant don’t stand out, don’t take the lead, don’t innovate, don’t meddle unnecessarily. Only by passing through quietly and smoothly could everything be secure.
But, heaven seldom grants our wishes.
The more one hopes for stability, the less likely it is to come.
And so, today’s incident had run right into the muzzle.
The village where Liang Youyun was stationed was called Manle.
“Man” means “village” in the Dai language. The Dai villages around Jinghong usually start with “Man”—Manzhang, Mandiu, Manyuan, Manhena. Many villages have been developed into highly commercialized tourist attractions.
Manle Village is also under development. Surrounded by rainforest, rainforest trekking has become its biggest selling point.
But as beautiful as the rainforest is, it is not safe.
The edge of the rainforest blends with the village, the boundary blurred. The local Dai people have grown accustomed to this rustic way of life over the years, finding nothing unusual about it. But to outsiders, it’s a different story—this is the perfect place for “adventure.”
Many tourists set out from the village into the rainforest, ignoring the more than twenty established trekking routes, opting instead for routes shared by fellow travelers on social media, arrogantly attempting to showcase human cleverness and pride in the face of nature.
Early this morning, three college students embarked on a “spontaneous” trip, entering the rainforest from the village and disappearing without a trace.
The situation is urgent, posing significant safety risks, and the police have been notified. The entire team has been searching for them, but as the day draws to a close, there is still no sign of the students.
A heavy rain has just fallen, and as the sun begins to set, another storm brews in the eastern sky.
Liang Youyun and her colleagues decided to split up.
But while splitting up was real, the action was not. Over this matter, she hadn’t eaten all day, her stomach aching from hunger, her head dizzy and vision blurry. She could barely walk anymore. If she didn’t replenish her energy soon, she’d collapse before the students were found.
She had been mentally preparing herself along the way, but the more she thought about it, the more frightened she became, her temples throbbing.
To be fair, even if blame were assigned, it likely wouldn’t ruin her reputation as an “outsider” village cadre. Moreover, earlier this year, she had proposed installing protective fencing along the village’s boundaries, though there had been no follow-up.
What she truly feared was the negative social impact—accusations that village cadres were negligent. Online public opinion these days is terrifying, its direction shifting unpredictably. A single careless remark could drown you.
Since the incident, calls from Beijing hadn’t stopped, worried that a single misstep on her part could trigger public backlash and a chain reaction, leaving the company to take the blame.
Youyun was timid and deeply afraid—afraid that because of this, she might not only be unable to return to Beijing but also lose her job.
Further ahead lay the depths of the rainforest.
Liang Youyun stopped in her tracks. She was human, after all, and she was scared. The faint cries of wild elephants echoed in her ears, and birds flapped their wings in panic, fleeing from the canopy of the towering trees. Like a startled bird herself, she glanced around nervously.
“Everyone has their own fate,” she sighed. In this situation, it was best to take care of herself first.
Whether the company fired her or not, she had to make it back alive. She couldn’t starve to death here.
So, she found a slender fallen tree trunk lying across the path, sat down, and prepared to eat.
Thick mist rose around her, the surroundings lush and green—a scene straight out of a fairy tale, perfect for a “picnic.”
She first took out her water bottle from her backpack. Inside were locally grown small green limes, halved, with a few tiny seeds slipping from the flesh and slowly sinking to the bottom.
She shook the bottle, the juice quickly blending with the water, then tilted her head back and took a hearty gulp.
So refreshing!
She loved this sour taste, so sharp it made her frown.
On a day like this, at this hour, she should have been back home from work, brewing a pot of raw pu’er tea or grinding a cup of fine coffee, curled up in bed watching a show or reading a book—utterly content.
But instead, she had to deal with this troublesome mess! What rotten luck!
She couldn’t go any further; if she did, she’d end up lost herself.
Life is fated, but she hoped the generous rainforest would forgive foolish humans and spare the three children.
She had just sat down when bloodthirsty mosquitoes caught her scent, buzzing around Youyun’s head, waiting for a chance to bite.
She quickly pulled a plastic bag from her backpack, inside of which was sticky rice wrapped in banana leaves. Carefully unwrapping it, she brought it close to her nose—the sweet aroma was overwhelming.
She devoured it ravenously, bite after bite. Halfway through, she suddenly heard a dull thud—as if something had fallen from a height?!
Oh no!
Liang Youyun sprang to her feet, looking toward the source of the sound, ears alert, heart suddenly racing.
Could it be a wild elephant? Too big a target, unlikely. Monkeys? Impossible, monkeys wouldn’t visit such low shrubs. A tiger? Xishuangbanna has tigers—light-footed, fierce-faced, and capable of eating people! Compared to mosquitoes, this one could truly devour a person!
Shivering all over, Liang Youyun instinctively pulled a Dai knife from her bag, unsheathing the blade, assuming a posture ready for a life-or-death struggle.
Still, she held onto a sliver of hope—it probably wasn’t a tiger. This place was too close to human settlements; a tiger wouldn’t come here without reason unless it had nothing to eat. But how could the bountiful rainforest mother ever let her tiger son go hungry?
Sure enough, faint, muffled human sounds came from behind the trees, as if covered by dead branches and rotting leaves.
Liang Youyun didn’t dare relax. Hunched over, she maintained her combat stance as she inched closer, every cell in her body on high alert, as if her entire being were ears and eyes. As she did, the sound became clearer.
“…Hey… is anyone there…”
Yes, that was it, clear and unmistakable.
The breathing was heavy, like the desperate gasp of someone with asthma clinging to life.
She quickened her pace, pushing through the tangled tall grass and parting the hanging aerial roots, about to find hope, when she nearly tumbled headfirst—there was a large pit right in front of her!
Fortunately, she reacted quickly and stopped in time. If she had fallen in, she would surely have died.
But upon closer inspection—wait, there was someone inside! A living person! A living man!
The man stood frozen in place, looking up, staring blankly at Liang Youyun.
The setting sun cast long shadows, and the pit was shrouded in darkness, but his eyes shone like reflective pools of water, glistening and bright.
Looking into those eyes, Youyun felt inexplicably dazzled by the man’s intense gaze—a gaze filled with the joy, wonder, longing, relief, and indescribable gratitude of someone rescued from the brink of despair.
It made her suddenly wonder if he might burst into tears the next second.
—As it turned out, she was overthinking it.
People are always eager to place themselves in the role of savior, forgetting whether they even have the ability to do so.
The man in the pit let out a long sigh, his tension instantly easing. He lowered his head, closed his eyes, placed his hands on his hips, and said calmly, “Thank heavens!”
See! The ungrateful human—she was the one who had discovered him trapped here, yet he thanked heaven and earth, but not her first.
“How did you fall in?”
Liang Youyun sheathed her knife and glanced at the man at the bottom of the pit, mimicking his stance by placing her hands on her hips. The heroic spirit of “rescuing a damsel in distress” was dampened by his muttered “thank heavens.”
“Are you hurt?” she asked, noticing his dazed expression.
He shook his head woodenly. “I’m fine.”
Was he too shocked to speak? In any case, he was painfully quiet.
Youyun didn’t dwell on it. At least she had found a student, even if it was just one.
But first, she had to get him out.
Just then, the man pointed upward and said, “My backpack is still up there. There’s a rope inside.”
Youyun noticed a black backpack hanging from a tree branch near the pit, likely dislodged when he fell in.
The pit was about three to four meters deep—roughly the height of a tall room. If not for the slightly sloped walls and the soft mud at the bottom, the man might not have survived.
Securing the rope wasn’t difficult, but Youyun had no wilderness survival experience. Though she thought she had tied it tightly enough, the knot slipped at the last moment, and the rope came loose from the tree trunk with a sharp “whoosh.”
Youyun reacted quickly, grabbing the end of the rope just in time.
Unfortunately, the man in the pit was already climbing with considerable force, and he was likely not light.
Caught in the tug-of-war, she couldn’t regain her balance in time. Together with the rope and the man, she tumbled headlong into the pit.