Chapter 37 After getting off the plane, Ren Xiyao was on the plane…
After getting off the plane, Ren Xiyao found a car rental company near the airport, asked around with the information she had done in advance, chose a red Prado, and signed the rental contract.
“Prado, high ground clearance, snow chains are ready,” the shopkeeper glanced at her slender frame and youthful face: “Young lady, you look quite young. Going to Western Sichuan this season? Do you have any driving experience?”
The car was an older Prado, with decent mileage and a reasonably healthy engine sound. She packed two cases of bottled water, a bag of compressed biscuits, a first-aid kit, and an oxygen cylinder into the trunk, and then bought a bunch of other things that she didn't know if they were useful or not, stuffing them all into the car.
My phone vibrated before I started using it; it was a message from Kwon Ji-yong: "How was your rehabilitation training today?"
She replied, "Normal," and then tossed her phone into the storage compartment.
Driving along National Highway 318, hailed as a "must-drive in one's lifetime," she could slowly detach herself and calm down by looking at the surrounding scenery. Her right knee injury throbbed slightly. Ren Xiyao rolled down the window, letting the cold wind rush in. Occasionally, cyclists flashed by on the roadside, carrying huge packs; she felt a sense of admiration for those who came to western Sichuan to cycle during this season.
She recalled what the team doctor said when Sister Xu was injured: "Psychological trauma is harder to heal than ligament or fracture."
At the time, she didn't feel anything. But now she has to admit that when she could no longer see any signs related to short track speed skating in her rearview mirror, she actually breathed a sigh of relief.
At a gas station in the evening, the convenience store TV was broadcasting sports news: "...The Chinese short track speed skating team announced its World Championships roster, and Ren Xiyao, who was previously injured, was not selected..."
The cashier glanced at her a couple more times while giving her change. Ren Xiyao pulled her baseball cap down low, grabbed her things, and left quickly.
The drive took quite a while; she wasn't driving fast. She set off in the afternoon and didn't arrive at Moxi Ancient Town until evening, where she went to a Tibetan-style guesthouse she had booked according to her travel guide. The guesthouse owner brought her butter tea: "You came alone?"
"Um."
"You look so young, young lady, you're really brave." The proprietress pointed to the hand-drawn picture on the wall: "You can go to Hailuogou tomorrow, but be careful about the weather. It might change."
Ren Xiyao thanked him, but was a little distracted as she went upstairs. She tripped on the wooden steps with her right leg, the pain making her vision go black. The room wasn't heated, but the stove was lit, so it wasn't too cold. She swallowed a painkiller, opened her notebook, and started scribbling. It was full of training plans and muscle recovery data, but she tore it up in frustration halfway through. Finally, she simply stuffed the notebook into the bottom of her backpack, out of sight, out of mind. She picked up the map again to study tomorrow's route.
Six hours earlier in Seoul, the agent, clutching the boarding pass, chased after the passenger to the security checkpoint: "Are you crazy? Can't we talk this over some more? Why don't we tell the CEO? What if the media takes pictures? Your frequent trips back and forth these days, even with cover, have already generated quite a bit of buzz in the media."
“Then let’s film it.” He put on his sunglasses: “Anyway, nobody believes that GD would go to an altitude of over 4,000 meters to chase after a girl in the dead of winter.”
Yesterday, he came across a photo on the team doctor's social media account from a week ago, showing Ren Xiyao's back as she went on the ice, holding onto the protective mat at the Beijing Rehabilitation Center. Even though the photo wasn't clear, you could feel the tension in her body. When he saw that photo, he felt something was wrong, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. The latest photo, however, shows an empty rehabilitation room.
He was really uneasy at the time. So he went to the corridor and dialed Li Enjing's number, who was currently competing in Europe. Skipping the formalities, he went straight to the point and asked, "Are you athletes very nervous when you get back on the ice after recovering from an injury?"
Lee Eun-jung paused for a moment before answering, "Yes, there is. Recovery always requires an adaptation process."
Kwon Ji-yong frowned and remained silent for a long time: "I feel something's wrong with Xi-yao. Do you feel it? She's been acting very strangely lately. She's been talking less and less."
Kwon Ji-yong's words made Lee Eun-jung nervous. After carefully thinking about the conversations over the past few days, she keenly sensed that something was wrong: "I'll go ask, senior, please wait a moment."
Lee Eun-jung hung up the phone hastily. Kwon Ji-yong took a deep breath to calm himself down. He returned to the recording studio to catch up. Regardless of Lee Eun-jung's outcome, he needed to finish quickly. He had to go see Ren Xiyao.
It wasn't until the final part of the song was finished that Li Enjing called around 5 a.m.: "I waited until the Chinese team finished training before I could ask Lin Shan, and it's true there's a problem." Hearing this, Quan Zhilong's heart jumped. Li Enjing continued, "I called the team doctor and coach, and they both told Lin Shan to focus on training and the competition, saying it was Xi Yao's idea. They wouldn't tell her anything more. I asked several people, and finally got some information from the assistant coach."
Lee Eun-jung sighed on the other end of the phone: "Training Center..."
The assistant coach said it was a 'mental adjustment period,' and that he was on leave.
"Going home?"
"No, the assistant coach wouldn't say at first. Lin Shan called Xi Yao's mother to ask indirectly, and found out she hadn't gone home at all."
"Where did it go? Is there a specific location?"
Kwon Ji-yong had already pushed open the door to his manager's office: "I've finished getting things done. I'm taking a two-week vacation. You can arrange the rest. Find me a reliable translator from western Sichuan. Someone who can get me from the airport to Moxi Ancient Town."
It was already evening when he got off the plane. He found a translator based on his agent's description. Without further ado, he told the translator to hurry to Moxi Ancient Town. The navigation showed it would take five hours to drive there, and his worry about Ren Xiyao's condition hung like a sword over his heart. Before hanging up, Li Enjing hesitated for a long time before telling him, "If we're going to use the term 'psychological adjustment,' it might be post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD)." Her exact words were: "She was injured twice in quick succession, and both times were serious injuries. Lin Shan told me she was injured in August 2013 and then again in 2014. It's very likely to trigger PTSD. PTSD is quite common among athletes. That's probably why the term 'psychological adjustment' is used."
When Ren Xiyao was awakened by a knock on the door in the early hours of the morning, it was still pitch black outside the window: "Who is it?"
Her down jacket collar was turned up to her chin, her hair was messy, and there was frost on her eyelashes. She quickly opened the door, and a blast of cold air rushed in: "You..."
He grabbed her tightly, so tightly it felt like he was going to break her ribs.
"Liar." His voice was muffled in the crook of her shoulder: "Rehabilitation training going smoothly? Hmm?" Ren Xiyao froze on the spot. His heartbeat pounded against her chest through two layers of down jacket, fast and heavy.
The landlady peeked out from under the stairs: "Young lady, your boyfriend is rushing over in the middle of the night, the roads are bad..." As she spoke, she led the translator next to her to the room.
Kwon Ji-yong looked up, his eyes red like a gambler who had stayed up all night. "Can you tell the truth now?"
Ren Xiyao sat on the edge of the bed, while Quan Zhilong squatted on the ground and applied a hot towel to her right leg.
"You dare to drive with your muscles so stiff?" He pressed his finger above her knee: "Doesn't it hurt here?"
She gasped in pain, but didn't flinch: "How did you find out?"
"It started when you stopped answering my video calls." He sneered, "Your replies have gotten shorter and shorter. Why don't you just say so?"
"I just want some peace and quiet right now. Can't we just leave everyone alone?"
“Yes, I just like to meddle.” He suddenly lifted her trouser leg, revealing the hideous surgical scar: “You, Ren Xiyao, are so strong! You’d rather run to this desolate, godforsaken place and step on the gas pedal at the edge of a cliff than tell me ‘I’m scared’!”
Ren Xiyao suddenly stood up, but then fell back down because her legs were weak.
Quan Zhilong kissed her. The kiss carried the chill of the high plateau and the salty bitterness of yak butter tea; it was devoid of technique, purely an emotional outpouring. Impulsive, yet not impulsive; at least at this moment, Ren Xiyao was genuine, not feigning calm and rationality. When they parted, both were panting.
He stepped forward and took her cold hand into his palm: "But you shouldn't be alone."
Ren Xiyao remained silent for a long time before a smile slowly appeared on her lips: "Do you know what I'm most afraid of right now?" She pointed to her right leg: "I'm afraid it will remember the feeling of falling down, instead of the feeling of winning the championship."
Ren Xiyao suddenly realized she was trembling. It wasn't from the cold, but something else, something else, rising from her chest, impossible to suppress. Quan Zhilong sighed and pulled her into his arms. This time, it was very gentle, as if handling something fragile.
They squeezed onto the single bed, and Kwon Ji-yong placed his palm on her back, feeling the rise and fall of her spine through her pajamas.
"I'll rest tomorrow, and I'll start driving again the day after tomorrow," he said.
"You can drive mountain roads?"
“Not really,” he said frankly, “but you’ve marked the ambulance station on your map.”
"It will be very tiring."
"I won't feel tired if I'm with you."
Ren Xiyao laughed out loud, then suddenly curled up. Quan Zhilong felt a small wet patch on the front of his pajamas.
“Two weeks,” she said in a muffled voice, “just two weeks.”
"Mmm." He pinched the back of her neck and said nothing more.
Outside the window, Mount Gongga gradually came into view. Dawn was breaking. The first rays of sunlight pierced through the clouds. The auspicious message of the sun illuminating the golden mountain resounded across this divinely blessed land.
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