I Woke Up And My Girlfriend Was Gone - Chapter 1

Chapter 1: The Encounter in Dunhuang

A vintage tourist bus sped down a desolate asphalt road. To the left, the Gobi Desert stretched endlessly toward the horizon; to the right, it did the same.

As the bus slowly rounded a bend, the scorching sunlight flooded one side of the cabin. It cast a reflection of a face—so plain it felt despondent—against the glass, which was streaked with dried water stains.

A deep purple hat was pulled low over jaw-length short hair, with a black earphone cord snaking out from underneath. Her thin lips, level with the ends of her hair, were pressed into a tight, downward line and painted a vivid wine-red.

Despite the height of summer, Zuo Yin wore a frayed palm-colored jacket. Sitting alone in the very last row, she exhaled an aura that practically screamed: Stay away. Approach at your own peril.

Several men in the front rows glanced back at her repeatedly, but not one dared to strike up a conversation.

Suddenly, the music in Zuo Yin’s earphones cut out. A caller ID flashed across the screen without warning. The bold white text pulsed frantically, much like the contact name itself: “The Madwoman.”

Zuo Yin was jolted awake by the vibration, her brow furrowing in irritation.

She squinted at the screen. After confirming the caller, she leaned her head back against the bright yellow “Gudetama” neck pillow on her shoulder, her expression indifferent.

The “madwoman” was none other than her mother, Zuo Lan.

The phone continued to ring, the vibration numbing Zuo Yin’s hand. She stared silently at the scenery outside. Lone, spindly Populus euphratica trees stood isolated in the sand, doing their best to dot the yellow wasteland with life.

So, I’ve finally reached Dunhuang…

Zuo Yin thought to herself. She answered just a second before the call timed out. “Hello.”

“You heartless little bastard! Where did you take my money?! I told you the other day I wasn’t going to support you anymore, and you took it seriously? You actually stole my money?! Fine! I raised you for nineteen years, and this is how you repay me? You’re just like your godforsaken father…”

Zuo Yin seemed prepared. She leaned her head back against the soft bus seat and started scrolling through her phone, letting the woman on the other end hurl a barrage of curses at her.

—She had indeed stolen Zuo Lan’s money to go on this trip.

As soon as she unlocked her screen, notifications flooded in. They were all missed calls from the “madwoman.” Between 10:00 AM and 5:00 PM, there were thirty-nine of them.

In her nineteen years of life, this was the first time Zuo Yin had seen her mother so preoccupied with her. It was also the first time anyone in the world had been this “fixated” on her.

No, it wasn’t fixation. It was…

“You owe me, do you hear? Don’t even think about leaving me! You owe me!” Zuo Lan’s voice grew shrill, as if she were screaming at the top of her lungs to vent the rage that had been brewing since she woke up. Or perhaps, since nineteen years ago.

Listening to the endless stream of profanity, Zuo Yin closed her eyes and mentally traced the character for “You,” wondering if Zuo Lan meant her, or her scumbag father.

Zuo Lan never said it out loud, but Zuo Yin knew: she didn’t look like Zuo Lan. She looked like her old man—the man who had abandoned his wife and child.

Finally, a long string of ragged, angry gasps came from the other end.

Zuo Yin checked the screen to ensure the call was still connected before speaking. “Are you done? I’m not leaving for good. I’ll come back for you.”

Zuo Yin’s voice was even colder than before, her dark eyes filled with a chilling frost.

Zuo Lan paused for a moment on the other end before nodding and threatening, “Fine! You said it! If you don’t come back, I’ll go to your school and make a scene! Don’t think you can just pat your butt and walk away. I’m telling you, Zuo Yin, I know exactly where your school is!”

Zuo Yin smiled. She knew Zuo Lan’s threats were just a mask for her inner insecurity. No matter how much she wanted to sever ties, she had to admit they were the same. No family, no lovers, no friends. Only that old, indestructible house buried in the bustling city.

So she wouldn’t abandon Zuo Lan. And Zuo Lan couldn’t abandon her.

“Mhm,” Zuo Yin hummed simply. She fished something out of her backpack and popped it into her mouth—a lychee-flavored lollipop.

The song that had been paused by the call resumed. Zuo Yin closed her eyes again, biting down on the lollipop to the beat of the music.

“I let the bullets fly, oh let them rain, My life, my love, my drive, it came fro… ain!”

…

As the sun shifted, hanging precariously over the peak of Mingsha Mountain, the vintage bus finally arrived at the first stop of the journey: the Crescent Lake Scenic Area.

The spring water nourished a small oasis in the desert, coaxing out a vast spread of green. Surrounded by the harsh yellow of the grit, this patch of greenery felt exceptionally precious.

Though sunset was approaching, the summer heat hadn’t dissipated. The dunes were baked hot by the sun. Zuo Yin pulled her sun hat lower. The heat seeped through her yellowed white sneakers, relentlessly invading her body.

“Hey girl, it’s so hot. Want to ride a camel to the foot of Mingsha Mountain?” A young man from a camel caravan walked over enthusiastically.

Zuo Yin glanced at the shimmering heat haze over the distant dunes and felt tempted. “How much?”

“100 for a trip,” the man said with a smile, citing a number that made Zuo Yin’s heart skip a beat.

Zuo Yin gripped the money in her pocket. “Forget it.”

“70! How about that?” Seeing her start to walk away, the man called out, “It’s August, it’s not getting any cooler soon. If you walk over there, you’ll be covered in sweat and your photos won’t look good. It’s not worth it, girl.”

Zuo Yin stopped. Looking at the red “100” on the wooden sign, she figured since she was traveling anyway, she might as well be comfortable. Besides… only an idiot passes up a discount.

“Fine,” Zuo Yin nodded.

The camel bells jingled crisp and clear in the vast desert. Long shadows fell across the yellow sand, moving slowly like an exotic painting.

The caravan slowed to a halt. The click-click of cameras filled the air as the guides, showing great service spirit, took photos for the tourists. The desert was filled with a lively atmosphere.

“Come on, girl, give us a smile.” The guide leading Zuo Yin’s camel raised his camera, wanting to take a classic tourist photo of her.

Unfortunately, Zuo Yin wasn’t the type to enjoy photos. She raised a hand to decline. “Sorry—”

“Sorry, I don’t like taking photos.”

An identical rejection rang out at the exact same time as Zuo Yin’s voice.

The voice was soft yet cool, standing out sharply in the scorching desert.

Zuo Yin turned toward the sound. The light hit the woman from behind, blurring her features. Only a crimson camisole dress tore through the monotonous cool tones of the space, its wearer’s slender, bony frame crashing into Zuo Yin’s vision.

The woman seemed to notice Zuo Yin, who had spoken in unison with her. In the coarse wind, she tilted her head to look over.

The desert wind blew silently. The woman’s dark brown eyes locked onto Zuo Yin’s with the precision of a key fitting into a lock. Long, straight black hair draped over her shoulders, delicately outlining her face. She looked like white paint spread by a brush—gentle, yet possessing a lofty solitude.

Both were momentarily stunned. Then, the woman quickly averted her gaze.

The camel bells began to chime slowly again. The bumpy path made the light in Zuo Yin’s vision flicker and dance. Her mind was entirely filled with the woman’s eyes.

They had looked so clear, even tinged with a hint of tenderness. It was as if a pure white flower had bloomed before Zuo Yin’s eyes, its complex, layered petals unfurling in the wasteland, gently enveloping the sand that met the sky.

Even the coarse wind seemed to turn gentle.

What kind of woman must she be? Zuo Yin couldn’t help but wonder.

The bells jingled on. The older ladies at the front of the caravan had finally taken enough photos, and the group continued toward the base of the mountain. The bumpy road and the chatter of the tourists washed Zuo Yin’s question away, making that brief contact feel like a dream.

The caravan arrived at the foot of the mountain just before the sun slipped away. Unwilling to use the crowded rope ladder, Zuo Yin found a shaded spot and began to forge her own path up a modest sand slope.

The slope was a test of patience. With every solid step she took, the shifting sand would drag her back half a step. The spot she chose was secluded but steep, forcing her to battle the flowing dunes.

The summer sun didn’t stop burning just because it was setting. After climbing for a while, Zuo Yin brushed her hair back; her hand was wet with sweat. She stood with one hand on her hip, fanning herself with the other, looking at the summit that was so close yet so far. Her straight back slumped slightly.

Normally, she wouldn’t mind running seven or eight laps around the school track. But seeing her efforts yield nothing under the blazing sun, her heart grew restless.

“Want to go together?”

A cool, gentle voice poured down from above. Startled, Zuo Yin turned her head. In her ears, the sound of that camel bell—hidden within that cool voice—rang out once more.

It was her.