SES Chapter 72 Part 1

Chapter 72

The driver wasn’t wrong.

In fact, even before they reached Sizhai, it already felt like they were winding their way through endless mountains. Yan Hongsha pulled up Google Satellite Maps on her phone for Mu Dai to see — the entire screen was filled with deep green, light green, big patches of green, small patches of green, dotted here and there with a few distant place names. The roads connecting them were so thin they looked like white threads.

By then, there were no more provincial or national highways — only county roads.

They arrived in Sizhai around noon. The car stopped near the county’s farmers’ market. The town was small; according to online information, the entire population was under twenty thousand, with ethnic minorities making up 80%. Sure enough, as soon as they got out, Mu Dai noticed that people’s clothing was quite different from what she was used to seeing. Many women wore their hair in buns, pinned with either silver or wooden hair sticks.

Mu Dai found it curious and refreshing. Even though Yunnan was also home to many ethnic minorities, this place still felt different from Yunnan.

Old Man Yan found a restaurant and invited the driver to join them for lunch. While waiting for the food, he sent Yan Hongsha and Mu Dai to buy supplies, specifically telling them to get a shovel.

Baijing was in the mountains, and they would probably have to eat outdoors. Since they couldn’t eat meat, they could only buy dry flatbreads, bread, and vegetarian instant noodles. Each of them ended up carrying a large plastic bag full.

They bought a small shovel, about a meter long. The shop owner even sharpened the blade for them and wrapped it in thick cardboard so it wouldn’t cut them or anyone else on the way back.

As they made their way through the bustling farmers’ market back to the restaurant, Mu Dai noticed that a lot of people were smiling at them with their lips pressed together. She was puzzled until she turned around — and couldn’t help laughing.

Yan Hongsha had the shovel slung over her shoulder, the big bag of food hanging from the handle, swaying with each step she took.

When she saw Mu Dai looking, she rolled her eyes. “What?”

Mu Dai said, “Your image, Hongsha. You really don’t care, do you?”

Yan Hongsha said righteously, “What’s wrong with it? Look around this market — there aren’t any handsome guys here, so why bother with image?”

Then she asked, “You want to hang yours here too? It’s more balanced if I carry one in front and one in back.”

Without hesitation, Mu Dai hung her bag on the “back end” of the makeshift pole.

Yan Hongsha frowned. “You’re really not shy about it, huh?”

Mu Dai, hands now free, happily started browsing the stalls. When she passed an egg vendor, the seller held up a long string of eggs and called out, “Miss, want to buy a string of eggs?”

Just like in parts of Yunnan, the eggs here were tied together with braided rice straw, strung like little lanterns. Each string had about ten eggs, and Mu Dai bought two, hanging them on Yan Hongsha’s “carrying pole” as well.

Yan Hongsha protested, “Why don’t you buy me a straw hat while you’re at it? I’ll look exactly like a vegetable seller.”

Mu Dai said, “We can’t eat meat on the road, but we can fry eggs.”

She tapped the blade of the shovel. “I’ve seen people use a shovel like a flat pan to fry eggs. Works great.”

So they also bought a small bottle of cooking oil.

By the time they got back to the restaurant, the food had already been served. Mu Dai and the others ate all-vegetarian dishes, but they had ordered fish and meat for the driver. When they were done, the driver wiped his mouth and said, “I’ll drive you a bit further down the road.”

Mu Dai froze for a second before realizing — while she and Yan Hongsha had been shopping, Old Man Yan must have discussed something with the driver.

“Further down the road” — that was the real destination.

She and Yan Hongsha agreed to sit on opposite sides of the van so they could each note the landmarks along the way, leaving more clues for Luo Ren and the others.

But before long, something unexpected happened. Yan Hongsha suddenly cried out, “I just saw a shop sign that said ‘Guangxi.’ Aren’t we in Guizhou?”

Old Man Yan didn’t answer. The driver glanced at her in the rearview mirror and said, “Miss, Sizhai is right on the Guizhou–Guangxi border.”

The van turned onto a dirt road, jolting them so much they felt dizzy. Mu Dai had to grab the handle above the door to steady herself. After an unknown length of time, Old Man Yan suddenly said, “Stop.”

The van coasted a few more meters before halting.

Old Man Yan got out. Mu Dai and Yan Hongsha, puzzled, followed. The driver helped unload their luggage and told Old Man Yan, “Old sir, when you’re ready to head back, give me a call. Even if I’m not here, I can get a friend to take the job.”

He waved, turned the van around, and drove off, leaving a cloud of dust behind.

Mu Dai was shocked. “We’re here already?”

It was dead quiet — mountains in every direction. Old Man Yan sat down on a roadside rock and said, “Wait.”

Wait for who? Was someone coming to pick them up?

Yan Hongsha gave Mu Dai a wink and went to try prying information from Old Man Yan. Under her gentle persistence, he finally pointed at the dirt road and said, “This road leads to a village. Usually, on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, villagers go to the market early in the morning and return at night. Today is Wednesday. If we wait a bit longer, we can catch a ride.”

Mu Dai couldn’t sit still. She wandered around checking the terrain, took a photo and sent it to Luo Ren, then decided it wasn’t enough. She climbed a conspicuous tree and braided several of its branches together.

She sent Luo Ren another message: “The mountains all look the same here. Don’t get the wrong one — this is the tree with the braided branches.”

Luo Ren replied: “Got it, girlfriend.”

Only then did Mu Dai climb down.

As the sun was about to set, they heard the rhythmic clop-clop-clop of hooves. A mule cart appeared at the end of the road, driven by a sturdy young man of about twenty. He wore a shirt with a diagonal front and had his head wrapped in a turban. Old Man Yan waved him down and explained they needed a ride.

While they talked, Mu Dai couldn’t help looking at the passengers — men, women, and children — and at the many baskets on the cart. Some held fresh vegetables, others embroidered clothing that hadn’t sold. The women’s clothes were all trimmed with decorative edges. One young woman wore a flowered bamboo hat and looked particularly striking.

Unfortunately, aside from the driver, their Mandarin was poor.

After some halting exchanges, Mu Dai learned they were from the Maonan ethnic group.

The driver’s name was Zhama. He was friendly and let them on board after just a couple of sentences, even helping Old Man Yan up.

The cart swayed as they continued on their way.