Chapter 7: The Hero
A treacherous trekking route in Ha Giang, where the sun is scorching, the air is thin and the rocky slopes are steep, red dust sticks to shoes. The wind whistles through the cliffs, the leaves rustle dryly. This is a harsh environment, where weakness is exposed and physical strength is king.
Ngan, despite wearing professional trekking gear, still looked completely lost in the wilderness. Her beautiful face was red and sweaty, her breathing was rapid, small “hic…” sounds escaped from her throat. She had to stop constantly, her hands holding onto the cliff, her eyes a little bewildered. She was a fragile flower thrown into the wilderness, and she knew she needed a hero. Her goal was to show her weakness in the most genuine way possible so that the hero would have to step in.
Tung was the complete opposite. He was like a mountain goat, moving lightly and steadily on the rocky slopes, his footsteps decisive and regular. His tanned skin was soaked with sweat, the muscles on his biceps and calves bulged under his thin T-shirt. He was the embodiment of raw power, and his goal was to assert his role as pack leader, to protect the weakest member of the group. Ngan’s fragility was the perfect stage for his heroic instincts.
Ngan began to fall behind. She crouched down on a rock, pretending to check her shoelaces but actually gasping for breath, trying to regain her strength, her breathing was heavy. Tung was the first to notice. He didn’t say anything to the group, just silently slowed down, then turned back to her, his footsteps as light as a cat.
“Are you okay? Your face is pale. Give me your backpack, I’ll carry it for you.” His voice was low and worried, his breathing even and strong.
Ahead was a shallow stream, but the streambed was full of slippery mossy rocks. The sound of the stream water gurgling, like a whisper of nature. Everyone was carefully jumping over, the sound of footsteps on the rocks rustling. Tung did not give Ngan a chance to try. He stepped in front of her, without saying a word, his eyes determined, bent down, a small “hmm” escaped from his throat as his muscles tensed, like a growl of an animal. One hand slipped under her knee, the other around her back, and lifted her up gently like lifting a toy, but full of possessive power. The sound of fabric rustling gently, Ngan let out a small “ah” in surprise, a muffled cry. “Um…”
Ngan was stunned. Her soft, fragrant body was pressed tightly against his sweaty, rock-hard chest, a naked, instinctive collision. The masculine scent, the smell of sweat, the smell of the scorching sun rushed straight into her nose, a mixture of wildness and strength, making her dizzy. She could feel every muscle of his tensing, firm under her skin, the sound of his heart pounding in her ears, strong and decisive, like the sound of a war drum. A feeling of safety and possession was suffocating, her breath was held, a soft “hic” escaped from her throat, like an admission. He easily carried her across the stream, the sound of water splashing gently, the cold drops of water hitting her hot flesh, creating a stimulating contrast, making her shiver slightly. The gentle sound of skin rubbing against skin when he put her down, a lingering echo of closeness.
Ngan was still a bit dizzy, not only because of the sudden action but also because of the intense closeness, a current ran down her spine. She looked at him, her eyes full of admiration, mixed with a bit of confusion and desire, like a wordless invitation. “Thank you… You’re really strong.” Her voice was soft, a bit grateful, her breathing was still rapid, but her eyes did not leave him. “Tung… you’re so great…”
Tung just nodded, his ears slightly red, a sign of embarrassment but also satisfaction, a smile appearing on his lips. He had voluntarily taken on the role of her protector, and she had accepted, a wordless, instinctive acceptance. The atmosphere between them had changed, a new connection had been established, stronger, more instinctive, a shared secret known only to the two of them.