The Blessed Beauty Returns with a Dimension

The cliff was too high, with too many trees growing.

When a tractor meets trees, usually the trees win.

However, they didn't die; even in severe car accidents, people often survive, and sometimes just a minor collision can break one's spine and cause instant death.

The key is posture, timing.

Sigh, it's really all about luck.

Clearly, the only thing they've won now is luck.

"Song Moting!"

She softly calls out.

No response.

He doesn't feel any pain.

Song Moting thinks, maybe he should feel pain, but he doesn't.

That's good, because no one likes pain.

Everything feels distant and unreal.

He knows he should try to get up; there's an urgent reason forcing him to do so, yet he has no desire to move.

Alright!

He can't move anyway.

Perhaps he can get up later.

No, no, Song Moting can't deceive himself, even now.

Especially now.

He doesn't want to die.

But if this continues, he will die, though it doesn't matter.

If he still had choices, he wouldn't easily give up, he'd protect the ones he loves, but all choices have disappeared, letting go feels too heavy.

He feels his life slipping away, each breath becoming slower.

"Song Moting!"

She persistently calls again, grabbing his shoulder, trying to pull him up.

It feels like dragging a log; his head lazily leans to one side, blood dripping from his nose and chin.

She understands that dragging him like this is useless.

Once she pulls him down, she will be fighting against gravity.

The height isn't very tall.

He would fall straight down from the tree.

The worst part is, the two trees they collided with have become obstacles.

A tree branch, like a spike in a trap, pierced through the tractor's rear bed, the sharp tip pointing up, and carelessness could lead to him being stabbed, so she looks around for something to cushion the branch.

The first thing she thinks of is their luggage, but she can't find it.

It was placed in the tractor's bed, now empty.

It likely rolled away with the tractor; who knows where it's gone.

The tractor is now clean, except Jiang Xiaoxiao has only her military coat to use.

What she needs now is something thick to wrap around the sharp branch. The coat seems to be the only thing available.

The problem is still the height.

She can't reach him, let alone move him.

Inspiration strikes.

She quickly takes out supplies from storage; wasting food is normally a taboo, but there's no time to care about that now.

She places two bags of supplies on the branch, as additional padding.

To prevent Song Moting from rolling down once he falls.

She grabs more bags of supplies.

Jiang Xiaoxiao gulps down a bottle of peach juice; her body seems much better than before.

She climbs onto the tractor's bed again; it's the only angle to pull Song Moting down.

"Brother Song, this time I'll pull you down; I'm sorry if it hurts your wounds."

Talking to herself somewhat alleviates the feeling of emptiness.

Her biggest worry is that night is falling.

Once wild animals appear in the jungle, they'd be easy prey for them.

Her fighting abilities aren't enough to convince anyone.

She still needs to find the tractor driver.

At this rate, surviving the night alone is hard enough, let alone finding people and caring for the injured.

The situation is truly dire.

A low moan escapes from deep within his throat.

Jiang Xiaoxiao shakes him urgently, "Brother Song! Brother Song, wake up!"

This time is even more distressing than when the tree fell.

Song Moting still doesn't react.

She takes several deep breaths, unsure how to handle the situation.

The air is cold, icy wind mixed with the sharp smell of evergreens hits her face like a slap.

She thinks again.

In the absence of clarity, she can only proceed with the risk of injury.

If she could, she would prolong Song Moting's life with peach juice, but the current position makes it impossible to even feed him.

Hanging on the tree can't last much longer for Song Moting.

Using leverage, she's trying to pull him down, and gravity lends a hand.

As his head and shoulders slide down, she changes her position, placing herself more beneath him.

To let his body land on hers more, to avoid causing secondary injuries.

But heaven knows Song Moting is deadweight, completely limp, with no strength to help himself.

Thus, she must protect his head.

She pauses for a moment to hold her breath, then she lifts her knee, heel against the sack on the ground, dragging him, she leans back once more.

His weight causes him to slide forward, heavily falling off the branch, landing on her, crushing her into a pile of supplies.

Good heavens!

Now she can finally see his face, a terrifying wound stretches about three inches across his scalp, slanted through his forehead, stopping at the right eyebrow.

She knows a lot about first aid, head wounds can cause severe blood loss.

His face is covered, his military coat and trousers soaked in dark blood.

He weighs a thousand pounds.

She strains under him, flipping him onto his back.

Her energy is quickly draining, she sits for a moment, lowers her head, trying to catch her breath again.

Her feet feel very cold, extremely uncomfortable, her clothes stained with snow, freezing into lumps.

Maybe she didn't die from the fall, but the cold could soon freeze her to death.

Song Moting's breathing becomes more labored.

Jiang Xiaoxiao calls again.

"Brother Song?"

He swallows, muttering in a low voice,

"Where am I?"

She quickly, breathlessly laughs a bit.

They're still in a tough situation, but at least he's regaining consciousness.

"The tractor crashed down. We survived, but you have a big wound on your head, I need to stop the bleeding."

She slowly kneels up, she's about to freeze.

The only relief is that Song Moting, apart from his head injury, doesn't have internal injuries, nor does she.

This is a blessing amidst the misfortune.

Snow is still falling; at this rate, everything will soon be covered.

Enough to make them perish here.

Song Moting struggles to mutter.

Jiang Xiaoxiao moves close to his lips to understand.

Build a fire!

Indeed!

They need fire.

Fire is a good thing.

Not only for warmth, it's a strong signal.

At the moment, her hands are freezing purple, shaking like a sieve, one foot still without a shoe.

This situation prompts her to quickly decide to build a fire.

The cold makes her think of building a fire, another evidence proving that fright, or cold, or the attack of both, has slowed her thinking.

Wrapping tightly in the coat, even such a thin layer of warmth is appreciated in the cold, but she's too wet, unless she dries herself first, nothing will keep her warm.

Jiang Xiaoxiao wraps Song Moting tightly, feeds him a bottle of peach juice, all other treatment can wait.

All she can do now is this.

"I'll go find firewood, you wait here."

Song Moting gives a helpless smile.

"Where else can I go?"

His rare humor dispels the previous gloom.

Jiang Xiaoxiao stands, feeling dizzy.

Damned concussion, she forgot.

But now compared to freezing to death, she'd rather have a concussion.

She slowly moves her steps.