Six months later, the Himalayas.
"Nepal in September and October is the rainy season and the low season for tourism," the driver explained in broken English. "There are very few people... Be sure to go to the inn that I introduced to you, which is run by a good friend of mine."
In fact, the four guests in this car are also very poor in English.
Two are Russians, and two are Chinese who grew up in Russia since childhood. The advantage of meeting a crappy is that I understand what you say, and you understand what I say. Everyone is happy.
At this time, it was pouring rain outside the car window, and the international road to Nepal was washed with mud and mud by the rain.
Speaking of international highways, it is not as good as the winding mountain road in Tibet, China.
Across the rain-covered glass, Wen Han's gaze fell on the backpackers on the side of the road. Because of the heavy rain, many people began to abandon their cars and move forward, carrying their large luggage bags and walking along the foot of the Himalayas.
"I think you will get off the bus soon," the driver sighed. "India and China have Nepal in the middle, restricting everything, and India won't let them build a good road."
"You mean, the Indian government restricts?" Wang Wenhao, who was sitting behind the driver, pushed the glasses on the bridge of his nose and asked the driver, "Why does India restrict road construction in Nepal?"
"Nepal faces India on three sides and China on the other. Young people, you know, if the road to Nepal in the middle is repaired, Indians will not feel at ease."
Wen Han listened, his eyes suddenly stopped at a point.
At first, she only saw a person whose entire face was mostly covered by the hat of a black mountaineering suit, and he was wearing sunglasses in the rain, like a movie star who wanted to cover up all his features. However, just as she was looking at him, the man took off his sunglasses, obviously looking at the only car that was pulling up when the road was about to collapse.
Those eyes are so special...
Is that the lama whom Tibet met? !
Lama still vulgar
Unlikely, right? Did you make a mistake
The car jolted and vibrated in the mud pit, and she was suddenly jolted up by the car and fell heavily on the seat. She was still thinking about the lama who had returned to the secular world, and turned her eyes to search. The car had already passed that section of the road, it was raining heavily, and her vision was blurred, but the moment she finally found him, she clearly saw a black gun in his hand, and raised it at the backpacker who passed by the car just now. arm-
"Ah!" Wen Han called out reflexively.
Everyone looks at her.
She was incoherent, staring out the window.
It's a pity that the car has turned this corner and no one is seen.
Wang Wenhao patted her on the shoulder, wondering why she was frightened: "Take a good rest, we will get off the bus right away, it is estimated that it will take seven or eight hours to reach their capital."
Wen Han was still a little hard to regain his senses, and his mind was full of the picture just now.
Hearing Wang Wenhao saying that he was going to get out of the car, he immediately thought of the lama who was returning to the secular world with a gun. What if he got out of the car and caught up with him? "I just saw someone with a gun." She grabbed Wang Wenhao's arm and whispered in Russian.
Agassi, his companion behind him, leaned forward: "What did you see? A gun?"
"It's a gun." Wen Han said, his voice trembling.
She had seen guns in Moscow, too, where gangsters controlled half of the city, and guns weren't something to be seen. It's just that in a foreign country, at the foot of the Himalayas, when she suddenly sees such a picture, she will feel terrified. They are here for tourism. If they encounter any anti-government armed forces, how should they deal with them
But in case it's dazzling, what black thing is that lama just holding instead of a gun
However, because of her words, several companions were still nervous, and asked the driver if he could keep driving forward. The driver pointed to the collapsed road ahead and refused their request. Several people got out of the car and were a little nervous. They each carried their own salutes and walked forward in the rain.
Wen Han wanted to look back several times, but was stopped by Wang Wenhao: "There are indeed anti-government armed forces here, don't look back, maybe if you meet them, you can still pretend that you haven't seen each other."
Seeing that everyone was so arrogant, Wen Han didn't tell them that he had seen that person in Tibet half a year ago.
Fortunately, I grew up in Moscow, and I have seen some gang fights in Moscow. Everyone is not scared, but intuitively moves forward in silence.
After walking for six hours, we arrived at Kathmandu, the capital.
The heavy rain has stopped, and the four people are all muddy, walking in this crowded city where tourists gather. Wen Han did not follow the driver's introduction to stay at the inn, but found the small inn that he had already reserved by phone. Several people asked the way for a long time, walked into a long and narrow stone alley, Wen Han looked at the business card in his hand, facing the inn signboard, and finally stopped in the corner.
She told everyone: "It should be here."
Agassi breathed a sigh of relief: "I want to take a hot bath, and I want to come back to life," she said, while reaching for Wen Han's shoulders, "Can you read it wrong? The eight-hour journey is over so quickly."
Wen Han reached out and pushed open the wooden door of the inn.
At the sound of the door shaft rubbing, a little boy quietly raised his head and looked at them.
A typical Indian face.
Agassi laughed and muttered in Russian: "God, have we come back to India after six hours of walking?"
Agassi's brother Rum said with a smile, "There are so many Indians."
The person behind him whispered, Wen Han had already started to communicate with the doorman, that child was not bad, flipped through a yellowed book, and found Wen Han's name: "This?"
Wen Han nodded: "There must be hot water here, right?"
"Have."
The little boy led them to the third floor, where there were three rooms to live.
It is said that someone has already booked a room on the second floor, and there are only three rooms left on the third and fourth floors, which means that there is still one person who wants to live on the fourth floor. Wang Wenhao looked at a few people and offered to live on the fourth floor by himself.
Wen Han whispered to Wang Wenhao in Russian: "The second floor must also be empty. This is the off-season. I have asked those who have been here. At this time, most inns and hotels are empty. This little boy I just say that to make us feel like the room here is in demand."
When she said this, it was very simple. Of course, it's not that kind of stupid simplicity, but a typical girl who knows the world through the Internet, and has never seen the dark side of real life.
Wang Wenhao looked at her and responded, "Really?"
He doesn't care whether the inn is empty or full, he prefers to live in the same room with her.
Before the end of this trip, he planned to find a temple in Nepal to confess to Wen Han. Although he did not believe in Buddhism, Wen Han believed in Buddhism, and he could accommodate her beliefs. The most important thing is that he has been impatient since she was eighteen until she was twenty.
He hinted many times, but did not get a chance to go further.
Warm, warm.
In Kathmandu, Nepal, he wants to make her fall in love with him. Wang Wenhao thought so, and after sending Wen Han into the room, before leaving, he finally took off his glasses and looked at her tenderly: "Sleep for a while after taking a shower. However, the three of us want to play poker, if you are not tired, you can Come find us on the fourth floor."
Wen Han nodded.
She entered the room, quickly rinsed her body with hot water, washed her hair thoroughly, and wiped it half dry with a towel. Leaning against the window alone, looking at this deserted alley, thinking about what to eat at night. She thought of Wang Wenhao, and she really couldn't see anything wrong with him. He was gentle and considerate, had a stable job, and loved herself very much.
But she still hesitated.
Men are particularly sought-after in Moscow. Love can happen anywhere and anytime, but what she wants is another kind of relationship. Even if she knows that the final outcome is separation, she can risk her life to give it a try.
Wen Han put down the towel and put on a soft blue shirt wrapped in a shawl bought in India, and smiled at the mirror.
She went out and went up to the fourth floor.
The fourth floor was also very quiet, and the doors of the four rooms were closed.
Hmm... I entered the room just now, and I don't know which one they will be in? "Agassi?" Wen Han asked softly in Russian. There should be only a few of them who can understand Russian, and they will come out soon without disturbing others.
"Agassi?" She looked around.
She shouted softly, for fear of disturbing strangers.
Since her family was a small hotel, she paid special attention to this aspect.
Just when he was hesitating whether to call again, there was a movement from the left rear. It was obviously the old and rusted door shaft, which was rubbing to make this strange sound.
She turned around immediately: "How did you—"
In an instant, he was grabbed by the wrist and dragged into the dimly lit room.
A loud slam of the door.
The back slammed into the wooden door, and a tall body pressed up, wrapping her whole body in a strange and dangerous body temperature. Her mind was blank, and someone pressed her lips, as if the tongue she had just drank from the glacier water slipped in involuntarily, wrapped around her tongue, and went straight into the deepest part of her throat.
She wanted to struggle, but two fingers had already pinched the sides of her throat, preventing her from moving.
"Shh... don't bark, don't struggle."
Finally there is sound.
It turned out to be speaking in a low voice in Russian.
Wen Han never knew that a man's strength could be so strong, it was like a snake being pinched seven inches. Can't swallow saliva, can't breathe, all the hope and feeling of survival are attached to his throat, so he is controlled by a man's hand, and his head is deeply raised.
Forced to look into a pair of eyes.
it's him... it's him...
She was cold all over in an instant, and her body was trembling weakly, because of the lack of oxygen, and because it was him.
The monk from the snowy plateau who was silent half a year ago, the man who raised a gun in the heavy rain a few hours ago, and the man who has lifted her long skirt with his palm now.
He seemed to have forgotten her.
Those eyes were scrutinizing her. At this moment, she only felt that those eyes were like the Himalayas in the snow, with a deterrent and unpredictable danger that made people dare not look up.
Her fingernails kept digging at the wooden door. Because of the lack of oxygen, she began to feel dizzy, and a large white light appeared in front of her eyes.
"You're so beautiful," he whispered to her, "the kind of beauty that blows my mind."
She gasped desperately, but couldn't get any oxygen, and the more she gasped, the less she could get oxygen.
I wanted to speak, but lost the ability to speak, only tears kept flowing out.
"Honey, why are you crying all the time?" he murmured softly in Russian, like a sympathetic whisper, "Oh yes, forgot to mention, nice to meet you, in Nepal."
At this time, he was no longer the snake sleeping peacefully under the Buddha's seat.
The snake entrenched on the long border has slowly woken up, raised his body condescendingly, and spit out a bright red letter at her.