ATLAS TRANSLATES

Soon, they weren’t the only ones who noticed. The two rows of cable cars – one going up the mountain and one going down – began to fill with noise. Some people were screaming, others were crying, and some were cursing, their voices rising and falling in waves.

Chu Zhi had just been thinking how the cable cars looked like a string of gourds, and now here she was, strung up like one of those gourds with no way down.

She checked several times – the cable car had definitely stopped moving. They had simply lost power.

Although the hotel receptionist had warned her that the Cangyan Mountain scenic area frequently experienced power outages, Chu Zhi never imagined it would happen while they were still suspended in the cable car.

Talk about bad luck.

The glass-walled cable car hung in mid-air, with nothing but rocky cliffs and ancient forests below. The view that had seemed breathtakingly beautiful just moments ago now looked terrifying under these uncertain circumstances.

Chu Zhi glanced out through the glass a few times before quickly pulling her gaze back. Before she realized it, her legs had started to feel weak.

She huddled in the middle of her seat, not daring to move, her grip tightening on her backpack until her delicate knuckles turned white.

At first, she didn’t speak. Her lips were pressed together, her dark eyes filled with unease as she stared unblinkingly at Lu Jiaheng sitting across from her, not daring to look anywhere else.

Lu Jiaheng simply let her stare.

The noise around them was chaotic. As time passed, the suspended tourists became increasingly agitated. Behind Chu Zhi’s car were two women who could be seen through the glass window, holding each other and sobbing uncontrollably.

They had been hanging there for over half an hour now, seeing nothing but mountains and water, receiving no information, unable to do anything but wait in vain.

In the cable car closest to them below, the two women’s crying became increasingly desperate and heart-wrenching. Each sob made Chu Zhi’s heart tremble. Although she hadn’t thought it was that serious at first, the surrounding atmosphere made everything feel increasingly terrifying.

Chu Zhi tried her best not to overthink, wanting to talk to distract herself. She looked at the person sitting across from her.

Lu Jiaheng seemed as lazy and relaxed as ever. He had only frowned slightly when they first realized what was happening, but after that, he appeared largely unaffected, sitting casually across from Chu Zhi.

Noticing her gaze, Lu Jiaheng turned his head slightly to look at her. The corner of his lips curved up as he smiled reassuringly at her, just about to speak—

Chu Zhi suddenly reached out and grabbed Lu Jiaheng’s wrist. Her hand was small, unable to fully encircle his wrist, her fingertips ice-cold.

“S-s-senior Lu, d-don’t be scared! It’ll be over soon!” Chu Zhi stammered, her words barely coherent.

Lu Jiaheng: “…”

The girl’s hand was soft and cold, like pudding just taken from the refrigerator, pressing softly against his warm skin.

Her grip wasn’t light, holding him tightly, her palm slightly sweaty.

Lu Jiaheng lowered his eyes to look at her hand, her skin almost pale white, the blood vessels visible in the sunlight.

“What should I do,” he said softly, “I’m very scared, I can’t wait any longer.”

Chu Zhi tightened her grip on his hand, trembling: “Don’t be afraid! It’s, it’s, it’s okay, Senior!”

Lu Jiaheng’s lips were naturally pale, and now with his eyes downcast, his sharp features seemed softened, his pressed lips giving him an oddly vulnerable appearance.

The cable car at Cangyan Mountain was very small – Chu Zhi couldn’t even stand up inside it. Seeing him looking different from usual, and remembering how he had been sitting quietly across from her since they got on, not moving at all, she suddenly became worried: “Senior, are you afraid of heights?”

Lu Jiaheng paused slightly, blinking slowly.

He seemed to think for a few seconds, then nodded seriously: “Yes, I’m a bit afraid of heights.”

Chu Zhi’s face showed an ‘I knew it’ expression. She carefully scooted forward in her seat, releasing her grip on his wrist.

Lu Jiaheng felt slightly disappointed, staring blankly at his wrist that had just been held, but before he could react, the small girl suddenly leaned forward and wrapped both arms around him in a hug.

Lu Jiaheng froze.

Their legs still separated them by quite a distance, and her arms were short, only able to hook around his sides, but her upper body had completely collapsed forward, directly pressing against his thighs.

The soft sensation pressed against his legs, carrying the girl’s body warmth and a faint sweet scent.

Like vanilla milkshake, or cream cake.

Lu Jiaheng’s mind went completely blank, as if it had been formatted, dazed for three seconds.

Then he came back to his senses, his first thought being to contradict Cheng Yi.

Who said lolis were all flat?

Lu Jiaheng stayed frozen, not daring to move, his fingers curled, experiencing for the first time what it meant to be at a complete loss.

He wanted to push her away.

Yet he didn’t want to push her away.

Kingfishers called in the distance, clouds floated high and thin, and the sky was a saturated blue.

Lu Jiaheng’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he allowed himself to be hugged by the girl, not daring to move at all.

Being suspended hundreds of meters in the air wasn’t nearly as heart-stopping as her embrace.

He slowly lowered his eyes to look at the girl before him, her head bowed, her long hair falling forward to reveal a stretch of fair neck.

She didn’t raise her head, clearly terrified herself, but like an ostrich with her head buried, she still maintained a protective stance, tightly holding his arms and hugging him, her soft voice comforting: “Senior, don’t be scared, don’t be afraid, it’s okay, it’s just a power outage, it’ll be fixed soon.”

Lu Jiaheng didn’t speak.

Chu Zhi thought he was quiet because of his fear of heights, so she released one hand to gently pat his arm while raising her head.

He stared at her unblinkingly, dark eyes containing a dim light.

Chu Zhi snuck a glance outside, about to speak when her phone rang.

Lin Tong was in the cable car above them, looking down. They were in front, at a higher elevation than Chu Zhi and Lu Jiaheng, though at this point the difference hardly mattered.

Chu Zhi let go and sat up straight, fumbling for a while before finding her phone. With stiff fingers she answered, and as soon as Lin Tong’s voice came through, Chu Zhi’s small face crumpled: “Tong Tong…”

While talking to her, she turned and knelt on the seat, looking up. With this movement, whether it was an illusion or not, the cable car swayed slightly.

Chu Zhi froze, not daring to move again.

She knelt on the seat, talking on the phone with Lin Tong, her face pale as she bravely said: “Don’t worry, I’ll protect Senior well.”

“…” Lu Jiaheng let out a soft laugh.

The phone signal was quite poor at that height, and after speaking intermittently with Lin Tong for a while longer, she hung up and carefully turned back to sit properly.

As soon as she hung up, Lu Jiaheng immediately leaned forward, naturally reaching out to grab one of her hands in his.

Chu Zhi blinked.

Lu Jiaheng held her hand tightly, his fingers long and beautiful, palm bones slightly protruding, veins faintly blue.

His eyelashes lowered as he said softly: “I’m scared.”

Upon hearing this, Chu Zhi instantly became strong, suddenly feeling the weight of a mountain-like responsibility on her shoulders, along with a strange maternal instinct.

She, who wasn’t afraid of heights, was terrified being suspended like this, let alone Senior Lu.

He probably hadn’t wanted to ride this in the first place but didn’t want to make them climb the mountain just because of him.

She immediately pulled her hand back, then used both hands to envelop his one hand – one hand wasn’t enough to cover it, so she used both: “Don’t be afraid! Don’t be scared! Let me tell you a story, Senior.”

Lu Jiaheng looked up, pressed his lips together, and nodded.

Chu Zhi leaned forward slightly, holding his large hand with both of hers, and told “The Nightingale and the Rose.”

Her voice was soft but not sticky, clear and pure, speaking in a refreshingly comfortable way.

Chu Zhi had been scared too, unsure and bottomless in her heart. Once in this situation, her active imagination would become particularly terrible – she would start imagining the cable car losing control, sliding down with a screech and smashing into the mountainside. Or the steel cable snapping, the car falling with a crash.

This was also why she never rode roller coasters at amusement parks – she always felt the safety belt would come undone.

But now there was someone who needed more comfort, so she forced herself to be brave. Surprisingly, as she told the story, she almost forgot about their situation and became less afraid herself.

“The Nightingale and the Rose” was a well-known story about a young student who needed a red rose to ask his beloved to dance with him. A nightingale heard this and let a rose tree’s thorn pierce its heart, singing with the moonlight as company. By dawn, its blood had dyed the rose red, but the nightingale died silently.

The student took the rose to his beloved, but she still rejected him for being poor. Angry, he threw the rose onto the road where it was crushed by carriage wheels.

By the end of the story, Chu Zhi’s eyes had turned red. She released Lu Jiaheng with one hand to rub her eyes vigorously, muttering: “The nightingale was so stupid.”

Lu Jiaheng leaned forward, one hand extended, letting her hold onto one of his fingers while his other elbow rested on his leg supporting his chin. He raised his eyebrows slightly, surprised at this innocent girl’s comment: “How was it stupid?”

“How could she just die like that? Other people’s romance had nothing to do with her, dying like that was so pointless.”

Lu Jiaheng tapped his chin with his finger, saying lazily: “‘The price of death is great, but love is more precious than life.’”

Chu Zhi pouted, her voice very small: “That’s nonsense, it wasn’t even her own love…”

“…” Lu Jiaheng was startled by her blunt response, then laughed: “Alright, let’s tell a happier one.”

Chu Zhi nodded: “Then how about ‘The Little Prince’?”

“The Little Prince” was also a well-known story, a must-read for children and teenagers. Chu Zhi told it smoothly, but at the end, she frowned and concluded: “This Little Prince had something wrong with his brain, the fox was so gentle with him, how could he still like that thorny rose? He must be a masochist.”

Lu Jiaheng: “…”