His skin was probably quite pale, eyelashes unusually thick and long. His eyes, veiled within the hazy mist, seemed full of passion yet weary of the world—but so captivating that it could make one's heart race and cheeks flush.
Perhaps she had misjudged him.
Was he... not ugly?
Despite standing at death's door, her thoughts went astray. He adroitly traversed the rugged rocks to reach her.
It seemed like he was radiating light and hope.
The young man pulled a foil blanket from his backpack, swiftly draped it around Yvonne Finley and handed her his waterproof black jacket to prevent a further drop in her body temperature.
Yvonne Finley lost her ability to move on her own.
He bent down and half-squatted in front of her, "Hold on to me."
With that, he carried her, using a buckle to secure her to his waist to prevent her from slipping.
Whatever might happen, they would face it together.
The young man had broad shoulders, which exuded a strong sense of security.
"Don't sleep." As he deftly navigated the rugged path, he turned his head to speak to her.
Yvonne Finley leaned on his back. He had given her his jacket and was only wearing a white T-shirt, which was becoming translucent due to the rain.
She could see his skin beneath his shirt.
Her gaze was inadvertently drawn to his left shoulder.
The wet T-shirt clung to his skin, and on his left shoulder, there seemed to be a tattoo–it looked like a butterfly poised for flight?
It was beautiful.
"What's your name?" She stared at the faint tattoo of the butterfly for a while, becoming fixated on this question.
"How much do you weigh?" He evaded her question.
Weight is a sensitive topic for girls. She narrowed her eyes and replied, "Ninety."
"Really?" His stride remained steady as he navigated through the lush rainforest, deliberately avoiding any chaotic branches that could brush against her.
"Doesn't seem like it."
In an instant, Yvonne Finley's crumbling spirit snapped back to reality.
"Are you implying that I'm heavy?"
"Hmm."
His single-syllable affirmation rolled out from his throat, deep and languid.
Emotions surged within Yvonne Finley.
She became much more alert.
No longer feeling drowsy, or heavy-lidded.
She was slim, okay!
An awkward silence passed.
She sighed softly, "I'm sorry for the trouble."
His steps remained unbroken.
He occasionally jostled her upwards for a bit.
At her words, he cast down his gaze.
Still in the same nonchalant tone, he replied, "No trouble, I'm getting paid."
Yvonne Finley: "......"
The lad was pretty good.
He traversed the Banyan Grove, climbing over the steep, slippery cliffs.
His solitary gaze was focused on the distant foggy landscape, where he could faintly see the figures of other rescue personnel.
Only then did he press his walkie talkie, "At the 8th line entrance, I'm bringing someone down."
As his words fell.
Seemingly sensing a downward shift in her spirit, he suddenly squinted his eyes, the raindrops caught in his lashes trembling before they fell.
He then said, "But you are mighty pretty."
His airy aloofness, like an emotionless tool obediently performing its duty, had an inexplicably dizzying effect under this deadly tranquil response to the freezing cold.
Holding onto his neck, Yvonne Finley slightly lifted her eyelids to take in man's profile under the dim light, the curl of his eyelashes, and without realizing, her gaze seemed to brush against her heart.
A smile curved at her lips.
——Fine, let's just say he's good at pacifying people.
"How old are you?" she asked during the wait.
"Less than thirty."
"So, we're about the same age."
Perhaps Yvonne Finley felt the shadow of death approaching, her head muddled, she spoke words that might be jests or delirious ramblings, "If you're not ugly, how about we exchange contacts? Maybe I could fall head over heels and fall in love."
She could hear the voices of other rescuers in the distance. Her consciousness was about to break, but the thought of 'never having fallen in love' struck her before she fainted. She clung to his neck, "Please respond..."
What happened afterward, Yvonne Finley's consciousness was completely blurry.
The only thing she remembered——
His name, once again fooled by him.
Yvonne Finley was put on a stretcher, rushed to the clinic.
The medical conditions here weren't great, but luckily, the man had wrapped her in an aluminum foil blanket and given her his jacket to keep her warm. This prevented major complications.
When Yvonne Finley woke up.
It was already nearly noon on the second day.
Just awoken.
Her phone was bombarded with calls.
From Warrior Tucker, from the gallery assistant, from Nathan Clark, and from business associates.
Yvonne Finley looked at the IV needle in the back of her hand.
She reached out and pulled it out.
She glanced around, then got out of bed.
Her right foot touched the ground, and when she put force on it, a sting of pain shot through her ankle. Her slender eyebrows wrinkled as she looked down.
Her ankle was wrapped in white gauze, visibly swollen.
It's not serious, it would be better once the swelling goes down.
Yvonne Finley shifted her weight to her left leg, lightly touching the ground with her right foot, slowly moving step by step.
This was a small clinic with not-so-great facilities.
Looking out the window, she could see a few border soldiers in military garb in the distance. This area was within the border zone, near the borders of Myanmar and India, guarded by border soldiers.
"You're awake?" a local Tibetan girl came in from the doorway, her complexion dark and red, her smile kind, her Mandarin slightly accented.
Yvonne Finley turned her head.
"Do you feel uncomfortable now? When they brought you in yesterday, you were almost stiff, your face was so pale, you looked awful." The girl frowned and sighed.
But Yvonne Finley suddenly thought of that sentence 'You're quite pretty.'
Right.
She was in such a state then.
How could she still be pretty?
——Well, he had not been very honest.
"Is the rescue team that saved me still here?" Yvonne Finley asked softly, her voice raspy after the chill. Her limpid eyes were rimmed with a hint of red, her beauty somewhat sickly. Her long curly black hair laid gently over her shoulders, looking fragile and stunning.
She looked delicate, as if she might break at any moment.
Her appearance touched hearts, made people talk more gently.
Now, in her twenty-fifth year of life, she had never experienced such a calm yet helpless wait for death as she had yesterday. When there was no hope in sight, he had come.
And pulled her back from the brink.
She quite wanted to see him.
"You mean the Assault Rescue Team, right?" The Tibetan girl seemed to understand and snapped out of her admiration for Yvonne, "Their headquarters is only four hundred meters from here. There's a low building over there. Are you looking for the man who saved you?"
Yvonne Finley looked out the window, vaguely seeing that low building: "Yes, do you know him?"
The Tibetan girl scratched her head embarrassingly: "I don't know his name. He has been here for a month, and he... "
"Yes?"
"He's extremely good-looking, the most handsome man I have ever seen in my life, not very old."
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Dressed in a down jacket, limping on an injured foot, Yvonne Finley slowly made her way to the entrance of the Assault Rescue Team's building. She carried a black assault jacket—it was the one the man had left for her yesterday.
Several rescue off-road vehicles were parked in the courtyard.