Chapter 21
The temperature was bearable the day the two European clients landed. At six in the morning, Meng Zixian picked them up at the airport, transferred them by helicopter to the canyon's airport, and then, at the south rim, switched to a high-riding SUV for the fifty-kilometer drive into the canyon. The two old men, unable to bear the bumps, rolled down the windows, only to be blinded by the scorching wind. They asked Meng Zixian to stop the car and stuffed ice cubes from the trunk.
Meng Zixuan glanced at them in the rearview mirror. They were both in their early forties, broad-shouldered and strong, with a tanned complexion. They must have a habit of outdoor sports. He had confirmed before leaving that they had no underlying health conditions.
Arriving at South Bass Camp, Meng Zixian was packing the three people's backpacks in the back of the car. Seeing Meng Zixian pouring white powder into their water cups, Tom Weiss jokingly asked, "Is this methamphetamine, bro? I might need a little adrenaline, but no strong drugs. I don't even touch caffeine normally."
Meng Zixuan's face was expressionless as he replied, "1000 mg of sodium, 200 mg of potassium, and 60 mg of magnesium."
Meng Zixuan received a message on his phone. There was still signal at the southern edge of the canyon, but it was only one bar deep in the canyon, and it was disconnected from time to time.
Shen Huan: But they told me that the layoffs were your decision.
Weiss, who had just rolled up his short-sleeved shirt, revealed his muscular arms. He bent his elbows, clenched his fists, and said to Schmidt, "I treat my body like a temple. My body fat percentage is always at 12%."
Meng Zixuan turned off the phone screen. Even though he knew she wouldn't understand no matter how he explained it, he still wanted to explain it again.
He recalled the time in the barracks when a soldier poked his head in and said, "Lieutenant, your wife's phone number." Meng Zixian was signing with his eyes downcast. When he heard this, the corners of his mouth unconsciously lifted, but quickly tightened again. His fingers tapped twice on the paper on the table, a brisk rhythm. They had a quarrel the night before, but Chen Huan couldn't hold his temper and would definitely call him the next day. The second lieutenant across the table stared blankly at the paper, not daring to raise his head. Meng Zixian asked him to wait, put down his pen, and got up to leave the office.
At the bottom of the canyon, Meng Zixuan pulled out the satellite phone from his backpack and called Chen Huan. Initially, he was sincere, telling her the signal was poor in that area, so he didn't receive the call. As always, Chen Huan could provoke him with a single sentence. She replied coldly, "Of course, you like places with poor signal the most."
Meng Zixuan's jaw muscles tightened, and he said nothing more.
Chen Huan spoke to himself. "At first, I called once a day, then once every three days, and finally, nothing for a week." But could I complain? Of course not. I had no idea what was happening on the front lines. You were saving lives in a hurricane, building roads and bridges for refugees. I had to sit in the kitchen every day and bake cookies, and I had to bake with a smile on my face. If the wives around me saw that I didn't bake cookies filled with love, they'd talk about how inconsiderate I was.
Meng Zixuan did not refute. He deserved it. He owed her.
In early February of that year, Shen Huan called him and told him that a vacancy had suddenly become available in the professor's field research group, which was to go to the Panama Canal in the spring to collect environmental data.
They had been apart on and off for four months before that. Meng Zixuan said, "Don't go. I'll be back in North Carolina in late March." March 29th was her first birthday after their marriage, and he wanted to celebrate it together.
So Chen Huan did not go. Meng Zixian also returned to Fayette on March 20th.
On the afternoon of March 22, he received a call from his superiors that a landslide had occurred in Oso, Snohomish County, Washington, and a mudslide had submerged a rural community. Company E of the 2nd Battalion, 182nd Infantry Regiment, as an elite light infantry that had completed mountain search and rescue training, was sent to the disaster area for support.
Meng Zixuan took the combat uniform out of the dryer and put it on again.
When he opened the door and left, Chen Huan was in the kitchen baking cookies. It was her first time baking cookies; she'd just started attending the Army Family Support Group fraternity. The kitchen smelled of burning. Chen Huan's arms were covered in large, light-yellow oven mitts. She threw them off and yelled, "I'm never baking cookies again! You'll never eat my cookies again."
The accounts of those years were unclear, and it was probably that he owed Chen Huan more.
There was a delay on the satellite phone, and after a few seconds of silence, Chen Huan's voice resurfaced. She said marriage wasn't for you, that you should spend your life with your family, your country, and the world. "I've even prepared a wedding gift for you: ten military armbands, which I'll help you put on your face. You'll wear your Army combat uniform at the wedding, accompanied by the 3rd Infantry Division band. You'll also trade your electric guitar for an M4, and your ring for a grenade—all the things you're most comfortable with..."
As she spoke, she laughed out loud, and Meng Zixuan laughed too.
Shen Huan asked him why he wanted to go to the Grand Canyon. The company was about to die, but he still had nothing better to do and asked his foreign friends to go hiking.
In fact, she knew that the 1.5 billion euros from Weiss and Schmidt's family office would be invested in Xuan Tao, and she was quite happy last week. Meng Zixuan asked, "What else should I do? Watch over Li Ting in the ward?"
Chen Huan sensed sarcasm. She asked, "You're so impressive, why do you have to be so complicit with that idiot Wu Ruifeng? Don't you know that firing me is just a face-saving measure? The current bad debts are just the realization of risk. What does the model have to do with it? And you were the one who originally developed risk control. If anyone needs to be laid off, it should be you."
Meng Zixuan didn't say anything. It was true, firing her was a face-saving project.
Chen Huan said, "I see you have 1.5 billion euros here and 1.5 billion US dollars there, so you don't need Chen Yue's money. Why don't you let me go?" Her tone made it seem like layoffs were just a game, something to beg for or negotiate.
Meng Zixian explained that these were two different things. The overseas investors' money was used to maintain the fund's size, with a portion held in a dedicated account and another used to resolve debt. Chen Yue's investment was aimed at acquiring Xuan Tao's equity and placing it within a newly established holding company. "You can't even tell the difference. Laying you off was the right decision."
He continued, I am not Li Ting, I will not put my vase in the company, and I will not pay for his interests.
This made Shen Huan speechless. But after hearing her silence for a long time, he felt a little regretful, which made him even more annoyed. Meng Zixuan hung up the phone.
The hike was nine miles long, generally flat, with only one steep incline. He estimated it would take at least three hours to complete, avoiding the peak heat of midday. Meng Zixian checked the three people's backpacks for water bottles and freeze-dried items, and had them check their GPS, backup power supplies, and hiking poles. He put the first aid kit, water filter, and other miscellaneous items in his own bag. He had already gone to the supply station to store his clothes and lightweight tent.
He weighed them and found that the two men's backpacks weighed about twenty pounds, and his own weighed thirty pounds.
Before setting off, Meng Zixian told Schmidt that his backpack straps were too long and that hanging the bag on his hips would make his center of gravity unstable. Schmidt said it was okay and that it was easier this way.
After three miles, Schmidt began to complain of back pain. Meng Zixian said, "Tighten the straps, hold the bag against your mid-back, and lean forward slightly when you walk. This way, gravity will help you move forward."
"Okay, okay, you make a lot of sense." Schmidt shortened his shoulder straps, then complained of sore shoulders after walking for a while. He reached behind his hips to support the bag, trying to take some of the weight off his shoulders. Weiss teased him, saying he looked like a penguin. Schmidt retorted, calling him a piss pot, saying he'd peed three times in an hour and drained his water bottle. Weiss called him a sissy, "You're so slow! I've even had a sip of your water! Isn't Bass Valley Campground just up ahead?" Schmidt quipped, "That's a dry camp. Are you planning on drinking your urine to quench your thirst?"
Meng Zixuan quickened his pace. The two men couldn't keep up with him, so they had to shut up and hurry on.
After walking a little further, their occasional chatter stopped, and they suddenly became as quiet as sheep. This wasn't a good sign; Meng Zixuan had to chat with them every three to five minutes. For outdoor enthusiasts without specialized training, mental and emotional collapse often precedes physical exhaustion. Weiss weakly shouted that he couldn't go any further and demanded a bus pick him up. But he must have known that was nonsense; there was no way a car could get in along this stretch of road.
Weiss said, "Then send a helicopter and lower a rope down." He went to rip Meng Zixian's backpack to get his satellite phone.
Meng Zixuan didn't give it to him. "If you were rescued by a helicopter, today would be a lifelong shame for you."
Weiss gritted her teeth, "Whether it's shameful or not depends on me not dying here!"
"You won't die."
"Are you God?"
"God is not here. You can only trust me. Get out of this valley and then go find God."
For the last 2.5 miles of the journey, Meng Zixian reorganized the three people's backpacks, carried a 60-pound bag on his back and led the way.
Because they rested so long, they set up camp near midnight. The sun was too strong, and Schmidt suffered from heatstroke, vomiting and slurring his words. Meng Zixian carried him to a nearby stream to cool down. That night, they pitched their tent between a few bare, veinless acacia trees. Weiss's hands trembled as he gripped the carbon fiber pole, and tying a single knot took him several minutes.
Three days later, they returned to the palatial hotel in Las Vegas. Weiss told Meng Zixian that their relationship was like ice and fire. "But brother," Weiss patted his shoulder, "you don't believe in God?" Meng Zixian replied that he used to believe in God. Weiss, who had been leaning back in his bar chair, sat up straight after hearing this. He asked, "What happened next?"
Meng Zixuan didn't answer.
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