Sophie Sullivan was woken by hunger. Her stomach was growling, rousing her from her dream.
Sitting up, she found that the man next to her had disappeared.
She sat in the tent, rubbed her eyes, and called, "Thomas Shannon?"
The tent was opened from the outside. Thomas Shannon lifted a flap, creating a gap, and looked down at her. "Awake?"
"Mmm, is breakfast ready?" Sophie lowered the hand that had been rubbing her eyes and sat there blankly.
Thomas Shannon’s eyebrow tips lifted slightly. "I’ve cooked so porridge. Co out, wash up, and you can eat imdiately."
Hearing there was porridge, Sophie’s spirits lifted. It was as if she had been injected with chicken blood. She stood up briskly and quickly left the tent.
Coming out of the tent, Sophie saw Thomas Shannon and noticed his facial color wasn’t good.
Brushing her teeth, she approached him, nudging him with her elbow. "What’s wrong with you?"
Thomas Shannon took a deep drag from his cigarette and ignored her.
Sophie edged to the side, creating so distance between them.
The two faced the sunrise; one silently taking drags from his cigarette, the other brushing her teeth.
Their figures, backlit by the sunrise, exuded a subtle intimacy amidst the harmony, creating a serene and beautiful scene like a dreamy, light-filled painting.
After breakfast, the n in black began to dismantle the tents.
Once everything was packed, they set off again.
Thomas Shannon had applied dicine for her last night, so Sophie could, with so difficulty, ride a cal today.
Thomas Shannon said nothing along the way, which Sophie found strange.
His facial color was gloomy. She wondered who had angered him.
They traveled in silence.
The sun gradually grew hotter. Sophie was unbearably hot and kept wiping away her sweat.
"Did you apply sunscreen lotion?" a low, masculine voice ca from behind her.
Sophie was startled and sowhat annoyed. "I forgot."
"Do you even want that face of yours anymore?" Thomas Shannon’s tone was cold, tinged with impatience.
Sophie was inexplicably upset. She turned around, glaring at Thomas Shannon with dissatisfaction. "Can’t I just reapply it? Do you need to be so angry?"
Thomas Shannon sneered. "It’s your face; if you yourself don’t cherish it, why should I bother caring?"
Sophie Sullivan was speechless.
She turned her head away, snorted coldly, took out the sunscreen lotion, and began to apply it.
She applied a thick layer, and her skin felt stuffy and uncomfortable, as if it couldn’t breathe.
Even so, she obediently applied sunscreen lotion to all her skin not covered by clothes.
...
After traveling in the desert for two days, their group had ventured deeper.
Fortunately, so far, there had been no severe weather.
That night, after Sophie and Thomas Shannon bickered, she was tired and fell asleep.
Around midnight, they suddenly heard a howling wind.
Outside the tent, the voice of one of the n in black beca solemn and anxious. "Young Master, it’s a sandstorm!"
Thomas Shannon shot up, and Sophie was jolted awake too. She sat up in a daze, looking at Thomas Shannon. Outside, the wind howled ferociously, and the sand it swept up battered the tent.
The sounds were terrifying, like the death knell from a herald of hell.
"Thomas Shannon, what’s happening?" Sophie asked, her expression grave. She reached out and grasped Thomas Shannon’s hand.
Feeling the coolness of her fingertips, Thomas Shannon clasped her hand in return. "I’ll go out and take a look. You stay here and don’t move."
With that, Thomas Shannon released her hand, got up, and went outside.
Stepping out of the tent, he saw that the night sky was devoid of any twinkling stars.
Heaven and earth were being swept and enveloped by a raging sandstorm.
"Everyone, gather! Bring the cals over to shield the tents!"
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