Even if you're mentally prepared to save someone's life, actually doing it—pressing down and making contact—can still send a little thrill through you.
It was an indescribable sensation. The firm, yielding bounce under his palms made Zhang Liu think to himself, Damn, this is the real deal.
After about thirty compressions, it was time for mouth-to-mouth. He'd learned about it from his teacher back in school.
But... did he really have to?
The glimpse he'd caught of her soft tongue while checking her airway earlier made his heart race, and he pressed down even harder.
Just then, the girl who'd been lying limp under his hands suddenly started coughing.
Cough cough cough... cough cough...
Her eyes fluttered open, bloodshot and hazy. She glanced at the guy in front of her, then rolled onto her side and hacked up a lungful of salty seawater.
"Oh... you're awake," Zhang Liu said, his voice tentative.
She didn't answer, just sprawled on the beach, gasping for air.
Zhang Liu pulled his hands back awkwardly—they still tingled from the feedback—and fumbled for somewhere to put them. He jammed them into his pockets and stood there, frozen.
After a shaky inhale, the girl licked her cracked lips and rasped, "Got any water?"
"Water?"
She wouldn't have said it if she hadn't, but now that she had, Zhang Liu's own throat felt like sandpaper.
Where the hell were they supposed to find water out here?
He scanned the beach, and his eyes locked on a coconut palm not far off, with a few brown nuts scattered at its base.
Without a second thought, he bolted over.
He snatched one up from the sand, and a faint whiff of damp, rotting husk hit him. But when he gave it a shake, he heard liquid sloshing inside.
It wasn't like the pristine ones from the supermarket or street vendors, but crack it open, and there should be drinkable coconut water, right?
And coconuts mean tropics, he thought, basic geography kicking in.
He dashed back to the girl with the nut in hand—and froze.
These things had thick, fibrous shells. Back home, there were machines to punch them open. Out here? Nothing.
The girl had clearly had the same realization. She stared at the coconut in his grip and went quiet.
"I'll smash it with a rock," Zhang Liu said, twisting around to scout the shore. His gaze settled on a rocky outcrop a ways off.
Thirst gnawing at him, he sprinted over, grabbed a fist-sized stone, and started hammering at the shell.
The tough fibers absorbed the blows like a shock absorber, and the dull rock barely left a dent. He knew there was a hard inner shell waiting underneath.
Helplessness washed over him. How long would this take?
But he didn't quit. No swing, no water—that was the math.
The shell was tough and slick. After a few whacks, the coconut slipped from his grip, sending the rock skittering.
That's when the girl's hoarse voice cut in from behind: "Try smashing it against a rock."
He pivoted and tried it—slamming the coconut onto a jagged edge nearby.
Way better. The first hit gouged a deep notch, undoing all his previous progress in one go. The air filled with the sharp, woody tang of broken fibers.
Five or six solid cracks later, he heard the shell give with a satisfying snap.
Milky white liquid seeped from the fissures where it wedged against the rock, trickling down his fingers to his wrist and dripping onto the sand.
It smelled and looked just like the stuff from those canned drinks.
"It's open!" Zhang Liu whooped, yanking it free and thrusting it toward the girl beside him.
"You first..."
Old habits died hard—a guy let the lady go ahead, unless it was life-or-death like the CPR. Besides, these things were everywhere. He'd already spotted a handful half-buried in the sand where he'd grabbed the first one.
"Thanks," she murmured, meeting his eyes for a second before taking it. She sipped, then remembered her manners.
"What're you thanking me for? We're classmates." He shrugged it off and jogged back for two more, one tucked under each arm.
Round two went faster with the trick down pat. But the new ones didn't have that creamy milk—just clear, faintly yellow juice.
Kinda disappointing.
After a few trips, Zhang Liu and the girl—who'd perked up a bit on the coconut water—settled in the shade of some boulders. A modest pile of uncracked nuts sat between them, along with a sharp flint ideal for prying them open right there and scooping out the meat.
"Uh... what's your name?"
The sun had climbed higher, turning the air thick and sweltering. Even in the rock's shadow, sweat beaded on Zhang Liu's brow, soaking his barely-dry clothes all over again.
He glanced at the quiet girl beside him and broke the silence.
"Qin Ruoshuang," she said, turning to him. "I know you. Zhang Liu, right? You're the only guy at school."
He coughed, rubbing his neck. "Yeah, well... family's broke. They stuck me in your fancy girls' academy to boost the acceptance stats—and snag me a free spot."
His face clouded over mid-sentence.
Half the day gone, and no sign of a rescue chopper. No boats on the horizon.
What now? Were they seriously about to go full survival mode, like those YouTube vids?
Those always edited out the screw-ups. If he botched it here... how many do-overs would he get?
And what about her?
The easy optimism he'd started with began to fray at the edges.
Qin Ruoshuang watched the gloom settle on his face and thought of her sister, Qin Ruoyan, who'd been on that plane too.
She'd pulled through—for now.
But her sister? What were the odds of luck like that striking twice?
Her chest tightened, emotions churning with no outlet. In the end, she just hugged her knees, fingers digging into her shins to steady herself.