Echoes from Afar

The tranquility of the camp was shattered by a sudden crisis.

Cholera.

Though Chen Lei had repaired the water pump in time, the contamination of the water supply in the preceding days had already sown the seeds of disaster.

In the camp, people began falling ill in droves—vomiting, diarrhea.

First the children, then the elderly.

Then, the outbreak spread like wildfire.

The camp’s lone clinic was instantly overwhelmed.

Medical supplies ran critically short, and panic spread faster than the virus itself.

The entire camp descended into chaos.

"We must quarantine them!" Lu Qianqian acted decisively.

She ordered Ji Wushuang and the security team to quickly set up an isolation zone, separating the sick from the healthy.

"Chen Lei, you’re in charge of water purification. All drinking water must be strictly treated—filtered, disinfected with chlorine tablets, and then boiled!"

"Ji Yichen, your vehicle has strong horsepower. Come with me to town! We need more medicine!"

There was no trace of panic in her—only clear, firm commands.

In this life-or-death moment, the leadership and decisiveness she seemed born with surged to the surface.

Ji Wushuang, Chen Lei, and Ji Yichen sprang into action.

Ji Yichen drove the off-road vehicle, speeding wildly down the bumpy dirt road.

Lu Qianqian clutched a satellite phone, calling headquarters and every international medical organization she could reach for help.

Her voice was hoarse but unwavering.

Ji Yichen kept driving.

Through the rearview mirror, he watched this girl several years his junior.

He watched as she calmly, clearly reported coordinates, described the situation, and pleaded for medicine and doctors—fluent in multiple languages as she spoke to different agencies.

Suddenly, he realized how narrow his understanding of the world had been.

He had thought that using music to critique the world was the bravest act possible.

Yet here she was, battling a far more concrete, far deadlier enemy:

Death itself.

The town’s warehouse was also running low on medicine.

Using the foundation’s credibility, Lu Qianqian practically begged and bargained her way into securing every available antibiotic and rehydration salt.

On their way back, they saw a mother collapsed by the roadside, clutching her child.

The child was no longer breathing.

The mother’s eyes were vacant, like stone.

Ji Yichen stopped the car.

He wanted to step out, to do something.

"Don’t," Lu Qianqian held him back.

"We can’t save her. But the medicine in this car can save many more back at the camp."

Her voice was cold, hard—like rock.

Ji Yichen’s hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white.

He stared at the scene outside, a vision of hell on earth.

For the first time, he felt utterly powerless.

His music, his anger—in this moment, they were worthless.

The car started again, veering around the despairing mother.

Inside, a suffocating silence reigned, broken only by Lu Qianqian’s suppressed, trembling breaths.

Ji Yichen understood.

She wasn’t heartless.

She was simply burying all her pain deep inside.

She didn’t have the luxury of breaking down here.

Because she was the backbone holding everyone together.

Two days later, help finally arrived.

A helicopter from the distant foundation headquarters brought a professional medical team and ample supplies.

The outbreak was quickly contained, with the death toll stopping at twenty-seven.

Without Lu Qianqian’s decisive actions, that number would have been five times higher.

In the aftermath, the camp felt drained of energy.

The air was thick with the scent of disinfectant and the muffled sobs of those who had lost loved ones.

Then, Lu Qianqian fell ill.

Days and nights of relentless work and emotional strain had taken their toll.

High fever, unconsciousness.

She lay in the medical tent for three full days.

Ji Yichen didn’t leave her side.

He pulled up a chair by the tent entrance, cradling his guitar.

Not playing, not singing—just keeping watch, like a silent guardian.

Ji Wushuang and Chen Lei stayed nearby too.

They all knew what this girl had sacrificed for the camp.

On the evening of the third day, Lu Qianqian woke.

Her eyes opened to the white canvas of the tent.

And then she heard it—soft, gentle guitar notes.

She turned her head and saw Ji Yichen sitting in the glow of the setting sun.

Playing a melody she’d never heard before.

Quiet. Warm.

Like sunlight after rain, spilling over moss-covered stones.

She watched him. He felt her gaze.

Ji Yichen turned, their eyes meeting.

He stopped playing.

"Awake?" he asked, voice rough.

"Yeah."

"How do you feel?"

"Hungry."

Ji Yichen smiled.

It was the first time Lu Qianqian had seen him smile—not mocking, not aloof, just simple, genuine happiness.

He stood and walked out.

Moments later, he returned with a steaming bowl of porridge.

"The medical team made this," he said, scooping a spoonful and blowing on it before holding it to her lips.

Lu Qianqian didn’t refuse. She took the bite.

The warmth spread from her stomach straight to her heart.

Neither spoke.

One fed, the other ate.

The motions felt as natural as if they’d done this a thousand times before.

Outside, the camp was picking up the pieces.

Inside the tent, two survivors did the same.

In the face of such immense suffering and death, personal emotions seemed too trivial, too indulgent to voice.

So they didn’t.

They didn’t need to.

Some things had already quietly taken root in their hearts.

Half a month later, Lu Qianqian had mostly recovered.

The camp, too, had regained order.

That night, she called Lu Chenyan.

"Third Brother."

"Qianqian! How are you? I heard what happened—you scared me half to death!" His voice was thick with worry.

"I’m fine now," she said. "Third Brother, I need Summer Sound Records’ help."

"Name it!"

"I want to establish a dedicated mental health support fund."

Lu Qianqian looked at the people around her, still steeped in grief.

"Using music and art to help those who’ve endured trauma."

"Ji Yichen will be this project’s lead artistic advisor."

"I need you to use all of Summer Sound’s channels to promote this. We need more artists like him to join."

"Done," Lu Chenyan agreed without hesitation.

Lu Qianqian hung up and walked over to Ji Yichen.

He was teaching a simple melody to a little boy who’d lost a leg.

The boy fumbled through the notes, but for the first time in a long while, he was smiling.

"It’s settled with Third Brother," Lu Qianqian said.

Ji Yichen glanced at her and nodded.

"My new album," he said, "will be called Echo."

"To sing the stories of this place to those far away."

"And to bring the strength of the distant to here."

Lu Qianqian looked at him and smiled.

"Deal."