Shen Wangshu wrapped his face towel tightly and squinted at the looming green in front of him. The camel panted heavily underfoot, its hooves sinking into the sand, and every step seemed to be struggling with the earth. How far is it? She shouted at the top of her lungs. The guide Abdul turned around, revealing his face that was roughened by the wind and sand: Come on, come on, we'll be there just over this sand dune. Soon? She had heard this three times. Shen Wangshu licked his chapped lips, and his mouth tasted like sand. There is only half a bottle of water left in the water bag, so I have to drink sparingly. She took out her phone from her backpack. The screen lit up and there was no signal, as expected. The oasis is called Crescent Bay. This place cannot be found on the map. If Abdul had not led the way, she would never have been able to reach here in her life. Three months ago, while sorting out her grandfather's belongings, she dug out a yellowed diary with a photo inside: a young woman standing under a poplar tree with a bright smile. The four words Crescent Bay, 1968, are written on the back of the photo. Grandpa never mentioned it.
