SA | Chapter 28

Noisy and Chaotic

After the funeral, Gu Deng suddenly fell ill with a fever so high he couldn’t even walk. Judy’s family returned to Anchorage as planned, while Zhang Li stayed behind to take care of Gu Deng until he recovered.

Gu Deng was in a daze all night, and Zhang Li stayed up with him until the fever broke at dawn. Only then did Zhang Li finally manage to catch a nap by the bedside.

Gu Deng’s illness came on fiercely, and at one point during the night, his condition was quite dangerous. But miraculously, by morning, the fever had subsided. When he woke up, he was in low spirits, staring blankly at the ceiling without blinking for a long time.

Zhang Li reached out to feel his forehead, confirming the fever had gone down, and called his name. It wasn’t until the third call that Gu Deng snapped out of it, smiling weakly at Zhang Li and softly saying thank you, his voice as light as a breeze.

Zhang Li was silent for a dozen seconds before asking, “What do you want to eat? I’ll make it.”

Gu Deng replied, “Anything is fine.”

Supplies were scarce here, and he was always considerate, never making unreasonable requests.

Zhang Li cooked a pot of congee, boiling rice in water until it blossomed, then adding fresh meat slices and green onions. The aroma was mouthwatering, and Gu Deng ate slowly but more than usual.

By noon, he was already able to get out of bed and move around, looking almost the same as before he got sick. But he kept zoning out, and no matter what Zhang Li asked him, he always responded with “okay,” “sure,” or “whatever you want.” He seemed easygoing, yet it felt like he was shutting himself off.

Zhang Li could somewhat guess that Carly’s death had affected him, perhaps reminding him of his grandmother, but it didn’t explain Gu Deng’s coldness towards him.

The night before returning to Anchorage, Zhang Li finally brought it up directly, asking Gu Deng if he wanted to talk.

Gu Deng sat by the window, weak light spilling in and outlining his vague silhouette. He stayed silent for a dozen seconds before slowly raising his head and saying, “Sorry, I don’t want to.”

The room fell into silence, the conversation ending before it even began. The increasingly uncontrollable situation made Zhang Li a bit anxious.

Beneath Zhang Li’s gentle exterior lay a deep desire for control. His life seemed random, but every part had an unshakable certainty. When things went as he planned, he felt a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction.

But Gu Deng couldn’t be planned or defined, and no matter how many scenarios Zhang Li imagined, it was hard to interpret accurately.

He could accept Gu Deng stuffing his backpack messily because he could fix that chaos. For him, solvable accidents weren’t accidents. But when Gu Deng said, “Sorry, I don’t want to,” Zhang Li felt a rare sense of helplessness.

He felt like he was being controlled by Gu Deng, like standing at the edge of a cliff, handing the safety rope to someone else.

Rationality told him he should retreat in time, but an invisible force pulled him, promising that the current unease, fear, loss of control, submission, and self-abandonment would lead him to ultimate happiness.

“Have you found a recording studio?” Zhang Li heard himself say, “Studios usually need to be booked in advance. If you need, I can…”

“No need,” Gu Deng said, “I’m not recording anymore.”

Zhang Li was taken aback, “Why?”

“Writing doesn’t help.”

“Is it because of Carly’s death?”

“Zhang Li,” Gu Deng suddenly interrupted, his tone gentle but firm, “Can we not talk about this?”

The conversation stopped again, and the next morning, Zhang Li found Gu Deng missing from the room.

He found Gu Deng on the beach, squatting alone by the sea, eyes reddened by the wind. Zhang Li thought he might be having dark thoughts, but Gu Deng just quietly watched the sea and returned at sunrise.

Zhang Li came out of the room, pretending to know nothing, and asked, “Went out?”

“Yeah,” Gu Deng said calmly, “Went for a walk by the sea.”

Zhang Li didn’t press further and took care of Gu Deng’s breakfast.

The breakfast was unusually quiet, the clinking of utensils making the atmosphere even colder. In this almost frozen silence, Gu Deng finished his meal.

Zhang Li suddenly spoke, “Ali asked me how you were doing.”

Gu Deng got up to clean the dishes, saying, “I’ll contact her later.”

But Zhang Li grabbed his wrist, looking up at him.

Gu Deng lowered his eyes, showing no emotion, “Anything else?”

After a long stare, Zhang Li finally relented, lowering his eyes as if admitting defeat, “Ali was just an excuse. I wanted to know how you were.”

Gu Deng was silent for a moment before regaining his composure, “Thank you for your concern, I’m fine.”

But Zhang Li didn’t let go, stubbornly saying, “You know I don’t mean just that.”

Gu Deng was silent for a dozen seconds, then sighed and sat back down, asking Zhang Li, “Why do you want to know?”

This time it was Zhang Li’s turn to be silent.

Gu Deng continued, “You’re used to helping others, aren’t you?”

Zhang Li remained silent because he didn’t know the intent behind Gu Deng’s words.

“Although we haven’t known each other long, I’ve indeed received a lot of help from you,” Gu Deng said to himself, “You’re knowledgeable, mature, and graceful. Not only can you solve problems, but you can also tolerate, comfort, and understand me. I once relied on and even enjoyed your help, telling you things even my psychologist didn’t know. But Zhang Li…”

Gu Deng’s tone suddenly turned unprecedentedly calm, “I don’t want to continue talking about these things with you.”

Zhang Li’s face twitched slightly, but he quickly controlled it, his voice a bit hoarse, “Why?”

Gu Deng closed his eyes, trying to stay calm, but couldn’t help the tremor in his voice, “Because… I don’t want to expose myself to you anymore.”

Zhang Li suddenly stood up, pacing back and forth in the narrow room like an anxious beast. But he sat back down, muscles tense, and said to Gu Deng, “It’s not that I don’t want to talk about myself, I just…”

“It’s okay,” Gu Deng smiled, “You don’t have to tell me these things.”

His words were considerate and gentle, but Zhang Li’s face visibly darkened. With Zhang Li’s build and aura, he could be quite intimidating when truly angry. But just when Gu Deng thought he would get mad, Zhang Li suppressed all his emotions, like magma cooling rapidly upon contact with seawater.

Zhang Li silently packed his luggage, cleaned up, and carried two heavy backpacks to the tarmac, starting the plane.

The long flight made the atmosphere even colder. Gu Deng didn’t want to talk, so he put on headphones and pretended to sleep.

The landing was quicker than he expected. Gu Deng looked around the unfamiliar airport, showing a confused expression.

“Why did we stop in Fairbanks?” According to the plan, they were supposed to fly straight to Anchorage.

“Refueling,” Zhang Li said, tossing out the words.

Gu Deng closed his eyes, asking no more.

Soon after, the plane took off again, but it didn’t follow the planned route.

Watching the deviating flight path, Gu Deng spoke up, “Zhang Li, are you flying the wrong way?”

Zhang Li stared straight ahead, his tone calm, “No.”

Gu Deng: “Anchorage is to the south.”

Zhang Li: “We’re not going to Anchorage.”

Gu Deng: “Then where are we going?”

Zhang Li turned to look at him but didn’t answer immediately. From his silence, Gu Deng sensed a tense message.

The plane flew over the vast plains, and at the end of the plains, a towering cumulonimbus cloud was growing, blocking the sky with an unavoidable presence. As they approached, the cloud continued to expand, like a monster living in the atmosphere.

As the plane got closer to the cloud, it continued flying forward at 300 kilometers per hour. The airflow and clouds outside the window retreated, while the massive cumulonimbus cloud approached with an oppressive force—they plunged into the white cloud.

There was no actual sensation, but when the plane entered the cloud, Gu Deng’s ears buzzed, and he instinctively closed his eyes.

At the same time, someone gripped his palm tightly.

The plane shook violently due to the turbulence, and even the noise of flying couldn’t cover the sound of Gu Deng’s pounding heart. In the most tense moment, Gu Deng even thought Zhang Li was going to take him to his death.

Gradually, the terrifying turbulence eased, and Gu Deng opened his eyes amidst the intense heartbeat, finding they were flying through the clouds.

Ahead of the plane was only a white mist, with zero visibility. Rationally, he knew the plane avoided obstacles using radar, but losing sight still put a lot of pressure on him, always feeling like they might crash into something at any moment.

Gu Deng was genuinely angry, shaking off Zhang Li’s hand and shouting, “Zhang Li, are you crazy? Where on earth are you taking me?”

Suddenly, in front of Gu Deng’s vision, a steep mountain peak sliced through the clouds, revealing its sharp, pure form. The soft snow at the summit was blown by the wind, sparkling like gold in the sunlight.

Gu Deng stared blankly at the scene, taking a long moment to come back to his senses, “Is this…”

“Mount McKinley,” Zhang Li said, “Six years ago, my brother had an accident here.”

The Alaskan mountains stretched endlessly, and Mount McKinley stood majestically. In the snow-covered mountains, the Ruth Glacier cascaded down, solidifying into a magnificent frozen river.

Gu Deng had no time to admire the scenery, his mind filled with Zhang Li’s earlier words. Zhang Li’s brother had an accident here? Why is he telling me this? Does Zhang Li want me to comfort him?

Gu Deng was still a bit angry, but thinking of this softened him. Yet he was still somewhat upset, so he decided: if Zhang Li didn’t ask for comfort, he wouldn’t offer it.

The plane circled the mountains to land, surrounded by snow-capped peaks, with a glacier covered in snow in the middle. Near the mountain, there was a small cabin with no signs of life. Mount McKinley rose opposite the cabin, showcasing the grandeur of North America’s highest peak. On the steep, knife-like mountain, figures moved slowly like ants, the silhouettes of a climbing team.

The sunlight was dazzling, and Gu Deng withdrew his gaze, hiding in the plane’s shadow. Zhang Li came over from the cockpit, and Gu Deng glanced at him without speaking.

Zhang Li was silent for a moment before saying, “I didn’t mean to hide it from you; I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

“Zhang Li, maybe you misunderstood,” Gu Deng looked up at him, his tone calm, “I don’t want to pry into your privacy, nor do I intend to use cold violence to force you to compromise. You don’t have to feel obligated to reveal anything to me. And as I explained before, I don’t want to treat you like a psychologist, talking about trauma, family, ideals, and the meaning of life.”

Zhang Li fell silent after hearing this, finally asking after a long pause, “Then what do you want to talk about?”

“I don’t know,” Gu Deng shrugged, “Maybe about eating, drinking, hobbies, gossip? Whatever ordinary people chat about while traveling, we can chat about.”

“Okay.” Zhang Li stepped back, creating some distance.

After a moment of silence, Gu Deng suddenly remembered something and quietly added, “Um… even though I said we should only talk about ordinary topics, if you’re feeling sad about your brother’s passing, I can still comfort you.”

“No need,” Zhang Li said, “I don’t want your pity.”

The words were too familiar, and before Gu Deng’s brain could process, his mouth moved first, “I’m not pitying you; I’m just feeling sad for you.”

Zhang Li: “…”

Even Gu Deng couldn’t help but laugh.

Strangely, with that laugh, all the previous awkwardness and irritation disappeared. Gu Deng nudged Zhang Li’s arm and said, “Can you stop being so sulky? We’re two adults, acting worse than middle schoolers.”

Zhang Li: “Where am I sulky?”

Gu Deng: “Where aren’t you? You’ve been pulling a face longer than a donkey’s the whole way.”

Zhang Li: “Can you blame me? You said you didn’t want to expose yourself to me anymore, doesn’t that mean you don’t want to continue with me?”

Gu Deng: “Is that what I meant? You’re the one who never says anything, leaving me to spill everything. It’s like we’re standing face to face, I’m almost naked, and you’re still fully dressed. How comfortable would you feel?”

Zhang Li: “…”

The conversation had reached this point, and even Gu Deng felt a bit embarrassed.

The analogy wasn’t very clever, so he added a patch, trying to salvage it, “I mean metaphorically, not that I actually want to strip in front of you.”

“I understand.” Zhang Li turned his face away calmly, though his ears were a bit red.