SA | Chapter 13

Trust Issues

Gu Deng zipped up his pants and returned to the tent, feeling utterly defeated. Zhang Li was still standing at the entrance, silently watching him.

It wasn’t until Gu Deng took off his jacket and crawled into his sleeping bag that Zhang Li came inside and zipped up the tent. The small space was silent, so quiet they could hear each other’s breathing.

“Zhang Li.”

“Yeah.”

“Why did you go out just now?”

“…”

“Answer me.”

“I was worried something might happen to you.”

Click—

Gu Deng turned on the tent light. This action was actually silent, but Zhang Li felt like he heard a sound.

Gu Deng knelt in the low tent, looking down at Zhang Li. “Let’s talk.”

“What?” Zhang Li squinted against the light.

“I know you’re worried about me, but I hope you can give me some space to be alone. I’m not a kid; I can take care of my own safety.”

The tent was quiet for a moment, and they could even hear the wind howling outside. Then Zhang Li said, “No.”

Gu Deng took a deep breath, trying to control his temper. “Zhang Li, I’m not joking with you. I don’t like being watched.”

“Anything else is negotiable, but not this,” Zhang Li said. “The dangers in Alaska far exceed your expectations. Besides reindeer and mountain finches, there are also brown bears just out of hibernation and hungry, and packs of wolves hunting together. Even if we don’t encounter those, there are still extreme cold, avalanches, and even mosquitoes and ants. Gu Deng, I understand you want space, but I really can’t let you out of my sight.”

When he said this, Zhang Li’s tone wasn’t urgent; it was quite calm. But he naturally had an intimidating presence, and when he wasn’t smiling, he exuded pressure.

This pressure stimulated Gu Deng’s nerves, making him almost immediately retort, “I admit you have a point, but your all-around monitoring is basically a sign of distrust.”

“I don’t distrust you,” Zhang Li’s eyes were pitch black in the narrow tent as he looked at Gu Deng, speaking each word clearly. “I believe you know the way back, that you won’t go out of radio range, and I even think you wouldn’t risk your life. But you’re ignoring one thing—personal ability is only a small part of wilderness survival.”

Gu Deng pressed his lips together, saying nothing.

“Gu Deng, I know it might be hard for you to accept right now,” Zhang Li softened his tone and continued, “but I’ve seen too many experienced survivalists lose their lives. They can be lucky countless times, but an accident only needs to happen once to take our lives.”

Gu Deng remained silent. He didn’t like the feeling of being distrusted, nor did he want others to think he was incompetent. But he couldn’t refute Zhang Li; Zhang Li had far more experience in wilderness survival than he did.

Gu Deng didn’t say anything else, turned off the light, and curled up in his sleeping bag. The wind outside grew louder, making the tent rustle as if the earth was crying.

The strong wind, extreme cold, and occasional cries… everything around reminded him that this was the Arctic Circle, the Alaskan wilderness, a place teeming with wildlife, with only the two of them within a 100-kilometer radius.

This should have been a scene full of destiny and healing, but he was actually arguing with Zhang Li.

But Gu Deng wasn’t really that mad at Zhang Li; he was more disgusted with himself for being a burden.

He finally decided to give up on creating music and muster the courage to try something else, but it seemed… he couldn’t do that well either.

Besides music, he didn’t have any particular field he liked, nor did he know what he truly wanted to do.

Back during his creative bottleneck, people suggested he try acting or become a business owner, or at least learn from other celebrities and join variety shows or live streaming. With his years of accumulation, switching careers wouldn’t be a problem.

But Gu Deng didn’t like those options; he felt they weren’t what he wanted to do. Life is short, and he didn’t want to waste it on things he didn’t enjoy.

So he left home, hoping to find answers through travel, to find something he could be passionate about, something worth dedicating his life to.

His first trip to Alaska ended in an attempted suicide, and he followed Zhang Li to the Arctic to see the reindeer migration. Nature temporarily healed him, but it still couldn’t solve his dilemma.

He was still a failure, still unable to do anything well, achieving nothing.

It’s hard to believe this was his situation approaching 30.

When he was young, even in his early 20s, he imagined his 30-year-old self to be determined, elegant, full of strength, in the prime of life.

But in reality, he was depressed, suddenly facing a severe life crisis, even more confused, pained, and lost than before.

While others his age were charging forward to the next stage of life, he was stuck in place, even regressing, having to deal with unresolved issues from his developmental years.

How did it come to this? Where did it all go wrong? How did he end up like this?

Gu Deng curled up in his cold sleeping bag, suddenly feeling a bit sad.

·

He didn’t sleep well in the latter half of the night, tossing and turning for a long time before finally feeling sleepy, only to hear Zhang Li making noises next door.

At first, Gu Deng thought Zhang Li was awake, but then he heard a series of painful groans. Gu Deng called his name softly, but got no response, so he guessed Zhang Li was having a nightmare.

After a while, the groans stopped, leaving only heavy breathing. Then, Zhang Li’s breathing became lighter and finally quieted down. His nightmare was over. Gu Deng closed his eyes and followed him into sleep.

He woke up again because of the alarm. There was no one by the bed, and the sound of Zhang Li cooking came from outside the tent.

It was too cold; as soon as Gu Deng opened a gap, the cold air rushed in, so he shrank back into his sleeping bag, extending a hand to feel around the tent.

But where were his clothes? The tent was so small, it shouldn’t be hard to find them.

Gu Deng was about to ask Zhang Li when he opened the sleeping bag next to him and found his clothes stuffed inside by Zhang Li.

Wool pants, fleece jacket, down coat… even the socks were warm.

Gu Deng dressed with mixed feelings, unzipped the tent, and crawled out. At a glance, he was stunned.

The scenery outside the tent had completely changed. Yesterday, it was clear skies, with glaciers stretching endlessly under the sun. But now, there was only a thick fog around him, with visibility no more than five meters, and even the mountain pass had disappeared.

He couldn’t see anything, as if the whole world had abandoned him. Gu Deng’s heart raced, and he felt a fear of being abandoned by the world.

In the city, dense fog is more of a spectacle, affecting traffic efficiency but not much else in daily life. But in the wilderness, dense fog feels like deprivation, cutting off sunlight and vision, making everything around mysterious and unpredictable, as if a terrifying creature could appear at any moment.

“Zhang Li,” he called out.

Fortunately, a bright orange appeared quickly in the fog—it was Zhang Li’s orange jacket.

“What’s up?” Zhang Li asked as he walked over.

Gu Deng finally breathed a sigh of relief. “Why is it so foggy?”

“The mountainsides are always foggy; it usually clears after sunrise,” Zhang Li looked towards the sunrise direction and added, “but today it’s cloudy, so we might have to climb in the fog.”

Sure enough, the fog hadn’t cleared after breakfast. They wiped the dew from the tent, packed up all their gear, put on snowshoes, and slowly headed towards the mountain pass.

Not far from them, a herd of deer, led by a doe, crossed the pass one after another, migrating to the coastal plains of the Arctic Ocean.

Gu Deng carried his snowboard and heavy luggage along the ridge, gripping his trekking poles tightly, each step an arduous effort.

The higher they went, the worse the visibility became. Besides himself, Gu Deng could barely see anything, only able to follow Zhang Li’s footsteps slowly forward.

The bright orange jacket flickered in and out of the fog, like a lighthouse guiding the way. Occasionally, when Gu Deng lagged behind, Zhang Li would stop to wait for him and remind him to watch out for snow and loose rocks.

After two hours of this, they finally reached the pass.

The wind whipped their clothes, but the fog still hadn’t cleared. Occasionally, a deer would pass by, quickly disappearing into the fog.

The good news was that the snow was thick on the mountain, allowing them to use snowboards to descend, but choosing a route was a major issue. The fog obscured vision, and a slight mistake could lead to hidden rocks, crevasses, or even avalanches.

But no matter how dangerous, they had to keep moving forward. Zhang Li led the way, with Gu Deng following closely, trying to maintain a visible distance.

The first half went smoothly until they were halfway down the mountain when a reindeer suddenly charged from the side. Gu Deng made an emergency turn to stop his snowboard. He avoided the reindeer but lost sight of Zhang Li.

The sky was still dim, and Gu Deng’s breathing was rapid, fear gradually creeping in. But having just gone through an extreme sport, endorphins and adrenaline reduced his fear and boosted his confidence. After a brief moment of thought, Gu Deng decided to continue sliding down.

After turning a corner, he saw the bright orange figure. Zhang Li had been waiting ahead, only ten meters away. Gu Deng breathed a sigh of relief and mentioned he had just encountered a deer and almost lost Zhang Li.

“Don’t worry,” Zhang Li said. “I can see you.”

Gu Deng suddenly paused.

“What’s wrong?” Zhang Li asked.

Gu Deng finally snapped back and shook his head. “Nothing, let’s go.”

It took them an hour just to descend the mountain. Backcountry skiing is not like groomed trails, not even like the big powder snow in ski resorts. The snow here is uneven, with jagged rocks, leaving no room for distraction.

An hour of highly focused skiing left Gu Deng with a sore neck, aching shoulders, stiff thigh muscles, and a body that felt terrible. He thought they had reached the foot of the mountain, but looking up, there was another steep slope.

It turned out they had only crossed one mountain, and the Brooks Mountain Range was over 100 kilometers wide. Even though they chose a relatively narrow section, it was still dozens of kilometers.

Looking at the mountain hidden in the fog, Gu Deng felt the urge to give up. But this was only their first day, and Gu Deng couldn’t afford to lose face, so he gritted his teeth and followed.

They spent the entire day traversing the fog-covered mountains, sometimes ascending, sometimes descending, until 7 PM when they finally found a place to camp and rest. By then, Gu Deng was so exhausted he could eat a horse, quickly finishing a bag of rice and still wanting more.

Gu Deng licked his lips, realizing he hadn’t had such a strong appetite in a long time.

And he suddenly noticed that throughout the entire day, he hadn’t thought about any abstract concepts like the value of life, meaning, or self-fulfillment. All that mattered was survival, keeping up, staying alive, nothing more. Maslow was indeed too authoritative.

After dinner, Gu Deng took off his heavy hiking boots, did a simple wash, and dove into his sleeping bag.

He was exhausted, but as soon as he closed his eyes, his mind was filled with the day’s events. Climbing, skiing, traversing the fog… even though he was lying down, he felt like he was still walking.

To prevent bears, Zhang Li sealed the food in scent-proof bags every night and hung them away from the camp. By the time he returned, Gu Deng was already asleep, curled up in his mummy sleeping bag, breathing heavily and evenly.

For Gu Deng, it must have been too exhausting. But he didn’t say anything, just kept following closely.

Zhang Li wanted to reach out and touch Gu Deng’s cheek or help him relax his body. But in the end, he just quietly watched for a while, then took off his coat, turned off the light, and went to sleep.