The mountain roads were especially slippery.
Especially after the landslide, when heaps of rocks and mud had come down and blocked the way, even an off-road vehicle with extremely high ground clearance could not get through.
The mountain road was buried. Every step was dangerous, and beneath every inch of mud and rock could lie a cliff.
Huo Yuzhou jumped out of the off-road vehicle without a change in expression.
He had a compass, and he had watched the entire livestream that afternoon, so he could roughly guess where Nan Qing was.
The rain grew heavier and heavier. Fierce winds ravaged the woods, bringing down swaths of trees with trunks as thick as the mouth of a bowl.
His handsome face grim, Huo Yuzhou strode through the woods. The thunderous crash of a landslide came from the distance, but there was not the slightest hesitation on that exceedingly cold face. He did not even blink.
"Mr. Huo! Mr. Huo-"
Bai Yanxiu steeled himself and followed him in, but Mount Pingqiao was truly terrifying in the storm. He shouted Huo Yuzhou's name, finally drawing a sideways glance from him.
"Mr. Huo, you're here to look for Ruanruan too, aren't you?"
"This mountain is really too big. How about we split up? You keep going ahead, and I'll check over here..."
Bai Yanxiu cleverly chose a gentler slope, but the stern-faced man merely glanced at him before quickly turning away.
Not long after Huo Yuzhou left, his assistant's voice came through the walkie-talkie he carried.
"Mr. Huo, the search and rescue team is here. I'll arrange for them to go in right away!"
"You've already entered Mount Pingqiao, haven't you? But the weather is truly terrible today. I'm very worried about debris flows caused by landslides. Would you consider stopping for now? The search and rescue team is very professional-"
"Have them split into three teams and go to these three locations."
The man's deep, calm voice rang out. He tapped the walkie-talkie's screen and continued striding forward.
It was completely dark now. Muffled thunder rumbled in the distance, and the rain began to ease.
After an unknown length of time, Huo Yuzhou finally reached the place where Nan Qing had last appeared.
The downpour had washed away every trace. Broken rocks, rugged slopes, and trees snapped in half and blown askew lay before him. Huo Yuzhou pressed his lips together, cold sweat soaking his back.
His clenched knuckles turned white with the force of his grip. He dared not stop walking, dared not even imagine what Nan Qing might have encountered after falling.
He was still so young, raised in pampered comfort all these years, never having suffered the slightest hardship.
If he really had fallen down the mountain...
Huo Yuzhou felt as though a sharp claw had hooked into his heart. The imagined scenes brought a raw, bloody pain that left him scarcely daring to breathe.
After a moment's thought, Huo Yuzhou gripped a broken tree stump and stepped down one side of the mountain path.
The rain seemed to have eased.
Nan Qing was soaked through, but his leg was injured, and there was nowhere around him to take shelter. He could only shrink back a little, then a little farther, trying to get beneath the rock.
He did not know how much time had passed. In the pitch-black mountains, he could not see his hand in front of his face. All he could hear was the wind and rain. Even the birdsong he had often heard that afternoon was gone.
Nan Qing was tired and cold, his eyelids struggling to stay apart.
He pinched himself over and over to force himself to stay awake while continuing to conserve his strength, longing for the production crew to discover they were missing, call the police, and have someone come rescue them.
He heard a rumbling crash in the distance. Mount Pingqiao shook, and something rolled down the mountain, striking the huge rock above his head with a clang.
A landslide had happened somewhere. His chances of surviving were even smaller now.
Nan Qing bit his dry, peeling lip. Illness clouded his large, bright eyes, but a lingering hope of survival remained in their depths as he strained to listen to the sounds around him.
But as time passed, he, who had been trembling nonstop, began to feel warm again at some point. Even his body began to grow hot.
He tried hard to move his fingers, but his body seemed to have frozen stiff. Even his hands would not obey him. He could no longer manage the simple act of bending his knuckles.
Fear flashed in Nan Qing's eyes, and numbness spread along his spine.
He knew this state all too well.
Like a festering disease clinging to his bones, it had woken him from nightmares again and again over the twenty-odd years since he had transmigrated into this world. As he gulped for air as though drowning, the dense sweat on his forehead dripped down in streams.
He did not want to die.
But there was nothing he could do.
An individual's life was far too insignificant before nature, worth even less than the rock above his head. He could not fight the collapsing mountainside, nor could he wait for a new life beneath the debris flow that buried him.
He was not the protagonist shou blessed with a halo, nor was he anyone important in this world. He was merely loathsome, vicious cannon fodder.
His adoptive parents would abandon him, the older brother he had grown up with would abandon him, and the system would abandon him without hesitation too.
He eked out a wretched existence in this world where no one cared, until he died beneath a rock.
Becoming dry bones, covered by fallen leaves, his body rotting away.
If he died, he died.
Just a minor character. Who would care?
A brilliant white flash of lightning streaked across the sky, accompanied by a rumbling peal of thunder. But Nan Qing's hearing had deteriorated considerably, and even the thunder seemed quieter to him.
His body began burning again. He felt so, so hot, and even thought he might feel better if he took off his clothes.
But his fingers were stiff and his consciousness blurred. He could only hug himself behind the rock, numbly waiting for death to arrive.
A small stone rolled to his feet, and he seemed to hear a soft call.
Someone called him "Qingqing" in a gentle voice. Nan Qing felt as though he were dreaming. Perhaps his auditory hallucinations had worsened again, or perhaps he really was dying, and an angel with fluttering wings was coming to take him away.
But would an angel come for vicious cannon fodder who stirred up trouble like him?
Another "Qingqing," sounding like Huo Yuzhou.
Beneath the cold rock, Nan Qing tugged faintly at the corners of his lips.
It seemed that in this world, Huo Yuzhou really was the only one who had ever called him that.
Unfortunately, Huo Yuzhou was not an angel.
Unfortunately, even if Huo Yuzhou were going to save someone, it would not be him.
Still, it was good to hear someone gently call his name before he died, like someone dying of thirst in the desert seeing a mirage before death arrived.
Wasn't ending his life in a beautiful dream far better than despair?
His vision darkened, as though something had fallen.
Was it another landslide? Or was a huge falling rock about to finish him off?
Nan Qing struggled to raise his hands and cover his face.
He had loved looking pretty since he was little. If he had to die, he did not want to leave this world a bloody mess.
Unfortunately, this hateful world always seemed to be against him.
The growing shadow enveloped him. Nan Qing held his breath and closed his eyes, only to feel himself drawn into a broad, solid embrace.
The huge rock overhead had already blocked out the rain, yet for some reason, large drops of rain still fell onto his neck, soaking his skin.
Along with them came a familiar voice, like an auditory hallucination, coaxing him with the utmost care.
"Baby, your husband's here."
"We don't have to be scared anymore."