The engine of the 2000 roared to life. Old Hu carefully maneuvered it out, his expression almost reverent. As soon as the car was out, the others immediately began loading supplies onto the trunk and the roof. However, instead of helping, Old Hu remained seated inside, touching this and that, his face filled with the giddy delight of someone who had just stumbled upon a long-lost treasure. To top it off, he even fetched a pristine white towel, dampened it, and began meticulously wiping down the vehicle.

  "Hey, Chef Hu, what’s gotten into you? Wiping down the car at a time like this?" Jiao Jiao stood outside, watching him with amusement, as if he were some sort of rare curiosity.

  "You wouldn’t understand," Old Hu replied with a nostalgic sigh. "This was my dream back in the day. When I was younger, only city-level officials had the privilege of riding in one of these. I used to dream about owning one myself!"

  His face lit up with a rare, unguarded excitement as he wiped the car. For once, there was less of his usual cunning and more of a wistful longing.

  Jiao Jiao folded her arms and smirked. "Come on, you were a renowned chef! Are you telling me you couldn’t even afford a run-down 2000?"

  Old Hu let out a heavy sigh, his wiping motions slowing down. His voice carried a hint of regret. "I used to gamble—a lot. Any money I made was gone in less than half a month. That’s why people called me ‘Hu Gone-Gone.’ On top of that, I racked up a mountain of debt. My wife ran off with a small-time businessman who drove a 2000. And yet, I still loved this car. It just looked so damn cssy to me. Eventually, after years of scraping by, I finally saved enough to buy a second-hand 2000. But before I could even get used to it, this damn apocalypse hit. The car I had just bought, barely warmed the seat, and it was already gone."

  Jiao Jiao chuckled. "I guess the saying is true—there’s always a tragic side to every detestable person. Who would've thought that even you, Chef Hu, had such a heartbreaking past? But hey, don’t feel too bad. That bastard who stole your wife? For all you know, she might have turned into a zombie and taken a nice, juicy bite out of him by now. You should be grateful. Otherwise, you might have been the one getting chomped!"

  She giggled, covering her mouth, leaving Old Hu flustered. Frustrated, he unscrewed a bottle of Wuliangye liquor, ready to drown his sorrows, only for Jiao Jiao to snatch it away and toss it onto the car roof. Hands on her hips, she scolded, "You pnning on drinking and driving?"

  "What? Who’s gonna stop me? The cops? Hell, I could run around butt-naked now, and no one would care!" Old Hu was so furious he nearly spewed blood. He had no idea why he and this little firecracker were always at odds. Other than Cao Mei, she was the only one who constantly got under his skin. Back in the old days, he would've smacked any woman who dared to challenge him like this.

  Jiao Jiao rolled her eyes. "Please, like you’d actually have the guts to streak. You’d probably scare the zombies to death first!" She rummaged through the supplies on the roof and pulled out a bottle of dark liquid, shoving it into Old Hu’s hands. "You might not care about your own life, but at least think about the women in this car. Drowning in old regrets with booze? You know what separates you from Lin Tao?"

  "What... what difference?" Old Hu blinked, suddenly feeling a little nervous.

  "The difference is, he actually acts like a man!" Jiao Jiao decred, hands on her hips.

  "What?!" Old Hu shot up in outrage, only to smack his head on the car roof. Clutching his skull, he roared, "Bullshit! You little brat, you dare say I’m not a man? I... I might be rough around the edges, and sure, maybe I’m a bit of a bastard, but I am all man!"

  Jiao Jiao giggled again, her ughter light and teasing. "Oh? When did I call you a bastard? As for being rough—yeah, you’ve definitely got that down with your outdated slicked-back hair. But if you’re talking about the charming kind of bad, the kind that real men have? Sorry, you don’t have it. If you mean the bad kind that makes you look like a thug, then sure, you fit the bill. But don’t think I can’t see through you. Deep down, you’re just a softie. The way you turned pale at the sight of that zombie earlier? Priceless. The day you manage to be half the man Lin Tao is, I’ll be the first to throw myself at you. Any position you want! Hahaha, now shut up and drink your soy sauce, Chef Hu..."

  "You..." Old Hu was fuming, his face almost purple with rage. He had never been insulted like this before—especially not by a young woman. He couldn’t argue back, and hitting her was out of the question; Lin Tao would skin him alive. Looking at the bottle of soy sauce she had shoved into his hands, Old Hu slumped in his seat, feeling utterly defeated.

  Seven people and a dog rode in the Leopard, leading the way. Behind them, Old Hu, now wearing sungsses, drove the bck 2000 with four women as passengers. In the front seat, Jiao Jiao eagerly rummaged through the glove compartment, searching for a CD that suited her taste.

  Old Hu clenched an unlit Cuban cigar between his lips, flipping his windproof lighter open and shut, clearly hesitant. Finally, with a sheepish grin, he turned to Jiao Jiao and asked, "Heh, Jiao Jiao, uh… mind if I smoke?"

  "Absolutely not! Besides you, it’s all women in here! And your cigar is way too thick. You’ll suffocate us all!"

  Jiao Jiao exaggerated by making a gesture indicating its thickness, making Old Hu swallow involuntarily. Finally, she found a CD she liked, slid it into the pyer, and as a soft melody filled the car, she stretched with a satisfied sigh. "Ah~ air conditioning and good music. Feels almost like the old days… Hey! Why are you still biting that cigar? Still dreaming, huh?"

  "I’m just holding it! Not actually smoking!" Old Hu muttered, stuffing the cigar back into its case. Looking ahead, he noticed Lin Tao in the Leopard, also with a cigarette between his lips. Unlike him, though, Lin Tao had a pair of delicate white hands reaching over to light it for him. Old Hu scowled—six women in Lin Tao’s car, and not a single one compined. Some guys just had all the luck.

  "Who will walk this path with me… If I take a wrong turn, will it lead to another dead end..."

  The Leopard’s speakers pyed an old familiar tune, and Lin Tao’s thoughts drifted far away…

  By dusk, the sky was abze with red, the nd stretching out in endless monotony. There was nothing but sand and the occasional tuft of struggling grass. Ruins of colpsed buildings dotted the ndscape, their original purpose lost to time.

  Lin Tao’s boot crunched on something metallic. Looking down, he brushed away the sand to reveal a green road sign:

  "Yangtze Third Bridge - 5KM."

  He raised his binocurs, adjusting the zoom. In the hazy horizon, the remains of a silver bridge stood broken and scattered, looming over a dry riverbed.

  The Yangtze had run dry.

  A bridge once alive with motion now y in ruins, whispering its tale of sorrow and helplessness.

  Lin Tao returned to the car, his expression heavy. The women inside sensed something was wrong but chose silence. They were smart enough to know—if he wanted them to know, he would tell them. If not, it was probably for their own good.

  He chose not to drive forward. Instead, he parked, ordered the group to set up camp, and quietly lit a cigarette.

  Some truths, like the dried river, were too heavy to share.