A dead silence hung inside the carriage, broken only by the occasional gust of wind outside and Li Chengyu’s heavy breathing.
Chen Yexun’s brow creased deeply.
Such a loud noise…
A cable car falling from the sky, crashing through the canopy, and coming to a heavy halt—the crash was probably audible miles away.
It was no different from ringing a dinner bell in a silent forest.
They had to leave as soon as possible.
Every extra second spent here increased the danger exponentially.
Once those madmen were drawn here and discovered them trapped in this “tin can on a tree,” the consequences would be unimaginable.
They wouldn’t even need to climb up—they could just bring tools and chop at the tree…
His eyes fell on Li Chengyu, who remained unconscious, his brow furrowed in pain.
A powerful subconscious urge, directly at odds with his logic, pinned him to the spot.
*Wait a little longer…
At least…
until his condition stabilizes…* He took a deep breath, forcing himself to remain calm.
Panicking wouldn’t help now; the exit was blocked, and they couldn’t go anywhere anyway.
The immediate priority was assessing their situation.
He shifted beside Li Chengyu, carefully avoiding the wound on his arm, and gently pressed his fingers to the side of his neck.
A faint but steady pulse vibrated against his fingertips.
Leaning lower, he brought his fingers near his cousin’s nose and mouth, feeling warm breath.
He was still alive.
Chen Yexun breathed a slight sigh of relief, but his heart surged back into his throat immediately.
He recalled the search results from earlier: falling into a coma after a concussion often signaled severe intracranial bleeding.
“He’s fine…
He probably just knocked his head too hard and passed out from the pain…” he muttered under his breath, as if reassuring someone who wasn’t there.
“He’ll wake up…
He definitely will…” Even though he knew how slim that hope was.
Shaking off his stray thoughts, he went to work.
He grabbed Li Chengyu’s bulging backpack and unzipped it to inspect the contents.
Inside were various snacks: spicy strips, chocolates, beef jerky…
Natural enough, considering they had planned to stay up all night on the mountain.
He unscrewed the thermos stowed in the side pocket; it still held more than half a cup of boiled water that had cooled.
Seeing the water gave Chen Yexun a little peace of mind.
With these, they could last at least two or three days.
Setting Li Chengyu’s pack aside, he picked up his own battered backpack, which was chopped open by the hatchet and smeared with blood and syrup.
Using his jacket, he carefully wiped the dried blood off the fruit knife.
Then, using the tip of the blade, he pried open the cans that had been ruined by blood or smashed by the hatchet.
Most were ruined.
In the end, he salvaged only a single undamaged can of yellow peaches.
Holding his sole “trophy,” he sat back down and turned his gaze toward Chu Yao, who was sitting silently with her knees pulled to her chest.
“Chu Yao,” he said, his voice echoing clearly in the cramped space.
Chu Yao looked up, terror and confusion still lingering in her eyes.
“The situation isn’t good,” Chen Yexun said in plain terms.
“The crash was way too loud.
It’s very likely to draw *them* here.
The longer we stay, the more dangerous it gets.” He paused, glancing at Li Chengyu.
“I want to stay until my cousin’s condition improves.
But if we do…
the odds of all three of us surviving will only keep dropping.” His gaze shifted back to Chu Yao’s face, his tone calm yet grave.
“So I’m giving you a choice.” Picking up the hatchet, he pointed at the lifesaver of a tree outside the window.
“This tree trunk isn’t extraordinarily thick.
I can try using the hatchet to chop out a hole at the bottom big enough for a person to crawl through.
You can climb down along the trunk.
We’ll split the food and water half and half.
You…
can leave on your own.” Chu Yao listened quietly, her expression unchanged.
The moment he finished speaking, she shook her head lightly without a hint of hesitation.
“I’ll stay,” she said softly, yet her voice was crystal clear.
Chen Yexun blinked in surprise.
He had anticipated all sorts of reactions—fear, hesitation, even relief—but never such a calm refusal.
“Why?” he couldn’t help asking.
“It’s the best—” Chu Yao interrupted him.
She raised her head, her gaze drifting past Chen Yexun as if looking somewhere far outside—or perhaps at nothing at all.
“If…
if infected really get drawn here and surround the bottom,” she murmured, her voice carrying a heartbreaking composure, “…I can find a way to jump down and run in another direction.
That should…
draw some of them away from you.” Chen Yexun’s pupils contracted.
He was completely stunned.
Chu Yao turned her head to look at him, a fragile, almost pleading look in her eyes.
“But…
I hope…
if that day comes, you’ll give me the knife.” “Why?” Chen Yexun asked, his voice dropping unconsciously.
“Because I…
am really afraid of pain.” Chu Yao forced her lips into a tentative smile, but it looked worse than crying.
“If…
if they catch me…
I want it to be over quickly.” Chen Yexun fell completely silent.
Looking at the woman who had been trembling and vomiting not long ago, he had never imagined that beneath her quiet exterior lay a resolve so resolute—and perhaps even brave.
She wasn’t seeking protection; she was planning a dignified end.
Silence settled over the carriage once more.
After a long while, Chu Yao seemed to recover a bit.
She asked softly, “Um…
I still don’t know your names.
I can’t…
die without even knowing the names of my saviors, right?” Chen Yexun looked at her and spoke slowly.
“Chen Yexun.
And he’s my cousin, Li Chengyu.” “Chen Yexun…
Li Chengyu…” Chu Yao repeated softly, as if committing the names to memory.
She nodded, as though fulfilling an important task.
After another brief silence, she asked in a low voice, “Do you…
mind listening to my story?” Leaning against the cold wall of the carriage, Chen Yexun felt the aches throbbing across his body and nodded.
“Go ahead,” he said, closing his eyes, a subtle trace of fatigue in his voice.
“We’ve got nothing else to do anyway.
Pass the time.”