"What to do When the Pretty Woman I Kissed is My Best Friend's Professor" - Chapter 125

“You’re back?” When Shen Jinrong returned, Granny Shen was talking to Tan Ning on the sofa. Seeing the bag in her hand, Granny Shen leaned closer: “What did little Yan send?”

Shen Jinrong lifted the bag: “Italian sausages.” She placed the bag on the table and, seeing the clock in the center of the living room point to eleven, rolled her sleeves up to her elbows: “I’ll start cooking. What are we having for lunch?”

“My mom bought groceries and is coming over now,” Tan Ning said.

Shen Jinrong raised an eyebrow slightly: “Then I’ll start the rice.” As soon as she finished speaking, the doorbell rang. It was Tan Ning’s mother. She went and opened the door, exchanged a few pleasantries with Tan Ning’s mother, and then began to cook.

In the living room, Mother Tan chatted with Granny Shen: “I’m relieved to see you well. Ning Ning told me you were hospitalized, and it scared me.”

Granny Shen smiled: “It’s nothing, nothing. It’s just that people get frail as they age. There are always little aches and illnesses.”

“Fortunately, it’s all sorted out.” Mother Tan sighed in relief: “Even if that woman is an intellectual, how could she do such a thing!”

Granny Shen wasn’t as angry as Mother Tan. She smiled and patted Mother Tan’s hand: “It’s fine now. Jinrong handled it. I’m old; I’ll just leave these things to the children to deal with.”

The two chatted for a few more minutes. Granny Shen suddenly asked, “You two are both here with me, but where is the little girl?”

“My dad is watching her, don’t worry,” Tan Ning interjected.

Seeing the two elders engrossed in conversation, Tan Ning quietly slipped into the kitchen. Shen Jinrong heard the door creak behind her, turned to look, and seeing it was Tan Ning, showed no reaction, continuing to wash the vegetables: “Here to help?”

“I felt awkward standing out there,” Tan Ning shrugged: “I’m here to be your assistant.”

Shen Jinrong said, “Oh,” and remained silent.

“Speaking of which, I didn’t even know Yan He had gone to Italy,” Tan Ning tried to make conversation.

Shen Jinrong’s expression didn’t change, at least Tan Ning couldn’t see any difference: “Is that so?”

“It’s quite a coincidence,” Tan Ning said deliberately.

“It is a coincidence.” Shen Jinrong smiled. Tan Ning keenly noticed that whenever Yan He was mentioned, Shen Jinrong’s expression always held a kind of uncontrollable tenderness.

“My mom was just telling the old lady that she plans to go to Hainan for the New Year this year,” Tan Ning asked her: “What do you think?”

“Hainan?” Shen Jinrong paused her vegetable washing. She shook the water off the greens and asked, “Why the sudden idea to go to Hainan?”

“We talked about it last New Year,” Tan Ning smiled helplessly: “It’s good to go somewhere a bit further south where winter isn’t so cold. It should be better for Grandma’s health.”

“I don’t mind. You have to ask Grandma,” Shen Jinrong expressed her opinion: “If you go, let me know in advance so I can take care of some work beforehand.”

She placed the vegetables on the chopping board and pulled out a kitchen knife. Then, her slender, fair hand gripped the knife. As she chopped the vegetables, Shen Jinrong wondered, What about Yan He? Will she be back for the New Year?

“Teacher Yao! There’s still no signal!” Yan He, who was being thought of by Shen Jinrong, sneezed. She continued pacing on the roof of the hotel. Her phone still had no signal, so she simply crouched there and shouted down to Yao Yao, who was standing below.

The hotel they were staying in was a small two-story building, and many reporters were living there. Yan He’s next-door neighbor was a foreign journalist; they only exchanged nods in greeting.

“Impossible!” Yao Yao pointed in a direction and shouted loudly with her hands cupped around her mouth: “Try jumping again?”

Yan He looked at her phone in frustration. The photos she tried to send to Ms. He had been circling for a long time, and not a single one went through. The signal was a pitiful single bar a moment ago, but now it was gone altogether.

“No signal! I’m coming down now!” Yan He climbed down the stairs.

Yao Yao was also sweating profusely: “How about I go borrow the satellite phone from Wang Lushan? Are you in a hurry?”

Yan He said, “Not really.” She just wanted to tell Ms. He and Mr. Yan that she had arrived safely, but she had told her parents before landing that the signal here was bad, so they should understand.

“It’s fine. We’ll go to the embassy tomorrow and borrow a phone.” Yao Yao patted Yan He’s shoulder, but seeing her dusty face, she laughed: “Alright, alright, hurry up and wash up. Let’s go have breakfast; we have a meeting later!”

Yan He washed up and came out, then followed Yao Yao to the meeting room. Wang Lushan, seated at the head, generally assigned tasks. Yan He was assigned to follow Yao Yao and a few others to the Twin Towers with a local guide first.

The local guide could speak Chinese, but not very fluently; it was barely understandable. Sitting in the driver’s seat, he introduced the Twin Towers to them: “According to geologists’ speculation, these two towers should be almost six thousand years old.”

Six thousand years—what did that mean? While human civilization was still stumbling forward, these two masterpieces of nature had already been born.

Yao Yao asked, “So, is there really singing?”

“That’s hard to say. It depends on luck,” the guide, whose skin was slightly dark, smiled, revealing two rows of neat white teeth: “There are also legends about sirens singing at sea. It might just be some natural phenomenon, but our understanding of nature is still far from enough, so we briefly attribute these phenomena to myths and legends. However, more research suggests that the ‘singing’ of the Twin Towers should be the mingsha [singing sand].”

“In our local area, we sometimes say that hearing a beautiful sound means the city has accepted you,” the guide shrugged, looking at them: “I hope you can receive a blessing.”

“There is a Singing Sand Mountain in Dunhuang, China. Is there some similarity?” Yao Yao briefly explained Singing Sand Mountain to the guide.

The guide looked thoughtful: “If that’s the case, the principle is likely the same. It’s just that two high towers have formed here.”

Yan He listened from the back seat. After a while, she saw the scenery ahead gradually stained yellow with sand. She knew they were gradually driving into the desert area. The sea and the desert were not far apart. On a clear day, you could see the coast from the desert in the distance—at least, that’s what the guide said.

They drove for more than half an hour and finally reached the Twin Towers. When she saw the outline from afar, Yan He sat up straight. She vaguely felt that the Twin Towers in front of her were slightly different from the ones printed on the postcard she bought; looking at them with the naked eye, they seemed to carry more traces of time—as if they had become taller and also more isolated.

But the overall outline was similar.

The guide drove the car, squinting and smiling: “It seems we are very lucky today.”

The people in the front passenger seat raised their SLRs and began to take photos. Yan He only heard the “click, click, click” of the shutters. She also took out her phone and started taking pictures.

The Twin Towers gradually became clearer until their full appearance was visible. They parked the car about five hundred meters from the towers, grabbed their equipment, and walked over.

The sky was clear and cloudless. The air was somewhat humid, which made the visibility even sharper. Yan He recalled what the guide had just said. She turned her head to look in the direction they had come from, which was also the direction of the sea. Sure enough, she could see a small patch of blue ocean in the distance.

She raised her phone and took a photo of that ocean. Yellow sand and the ocean—two things that seemed naturally impossible to appear together—had appeared simultaneously, just like the snowflakes that fell on the Sahara Desert that year.

Yan He was wearing boots today. Following the guide, she walked towards the Twin Towers, sinking slightly with each step. Even so, a lot of sand fell into her shoes. She wasn’t walking fast. Seeing the cameraman ahead already setting up his shot and preparing to shoot, Yan He quickly caught up with Yao Yao.

Yao Yao turned and smiled at her: “Is it too sunny?”

Although it was winter sun, they were close to the equator, so it was still quite warm. Yan He, however, felt it was just right. She was even sweating: “It’s fine, Teacher Yao.”

Yao Yao nodded, smiling: “Good. If you can keep up, we’ll help the cameramen later.” Securing equipment in the desert was not easy after all.

The guide lit a cigarette, smoke curling around him, and after a while, he spoke: “This is a gift from nature.”

He spoke in the local language, which Yan He and Yao Yao didn’t understand. He then realized and translated it into Chinese for them. Following that, he added: “Our country is poor. We hope your arrival can inject new vitality and life into it.”

Yan He thought that Sperato still had this chance, but other countries nearby were already ravaged by war, and it would likely take decades for them to recover. Sperato was a small country. In this era, it was fortunate not to be affected by war, but it was also unfortunate—few people cared about its rich internal history.

Yao Yao’s voice was firm: “This is what we are here to do.”

They were protecting the heritage of all mankind. Culture and civilization should be protected by all human beings. Perhaps many things could be given up, but past history could not be forgotten.

As long as something was buried in the desert—gradually revealing itself with the blowing wind—as long as the wind continued to blow, life and culture would not cease.

As the group finished their preliminary filming preparations and were about to leave, they saw a row of camels marching forward in the distance above the desert. Yan He didn’t know their destination or how long they had existed, but as long as life persisted, these accompanying elements would never stop.

They walked back to the car. The accompanying photographers began to pack up their equipment. Just as they were about to get in the car, a strong gust of wind swept in, carrying a faint scent of the sea breeze—it blew over the nearby ocean, over Sperato’s streets that had existed for thousands of years, and passed right by them.

Then, the wind swirled and hit the two naturally formed towers.

A lingering, naturally beautiful music, carried by the sound of the wind, gradually emerged.

Like the wind passing through the treetops, like spring sunshine.

Yes, they were lucky enough.

—Yan He thought this.

She suddenly wanted to share the scene with Shen Jinrong entirely, but by the time she took out her phone to film, the wind had stopped—as if its appearance was solely to allow these foreign visitors to appreciate Sperato’s beauty.

—This was something that could not be replicated. They were the lucky ones here.