The engine hummed as the woman guided the motorcycle over a cracked desert highway, the sun dipping low on the horizon behind them. Dust kicked up in their wake, orange light bouncing off the scorched road and glinting off the sidecar's battered frame. The fight was over, but the silence between them was still heavy—charged with something neither of them wanted to name yet.
Wang adjusted his seat slightly in the sidecar, his shirt stained with dried blood—most of it hers. Her wound wasn't life-threatening, but it wasn't pretty either. He'd patched it as best as he could with gauze and bandages from a first-aid kit scavenged off the gang's supplies. She hadn't complained once. Not even when he poured alcohol over the cut and watched her jaw clench hard enough to crack a tooth.
He looked up at her now, gripping the handlebars like the bike owed her money, her braid dancing in the wind.
"So," he said finally, raising his voice over the engine, "you got a name, or should I just keep calling you 'kidnapper lady'?"
She didn't answer at first.
The road stretched on ahead, empty and endless. Finally, with a grunt, she muttered, "Cassandra."
Wang blinked. "Cassandra, huh? That's a strong name."
"Yeah, well… I'm not in the business of bein' soft," she said flatly. "And just call me Cass."
He smirked. "Alright."
A beat passed. The wind howled through the open desert, tugging at his scarf.
Then he cleared his throat. "So… are you still planning to turn me in?"
Cass didn't say anything right away.
Instead, she tapped the clutch and downshifted smoothly as they rolled around a bend. The engine growled low for a second before she replied.
"No."
Wang blinked again. "No?"
"No," she repeated, her voice harder this time. "You saved my ass back there. I owe you one. And I don't like debts."
He raised an eyebrow. "So that's it? We're even now?"
"Yup," she said, still not looking at him. "We're square."
"Just like that."
"Just like that."
Wang leaned back a bit, exhaling slowly. The desert wind stung his face, but he felt lighter.
"…Thanks," he said after a while, the word tasting a little foreign.
Cass finally glanced at him—just a quick side-eye over her shoulder. "Don't get all sentimental. I said I'm not turning you in. I didn't say we're friends."
He chuckled. "Right. Got it. You just shoot people next to me and bleed on me. Totally professional."
She snorted—almost a laugh.
They drove on in silence for a while, the miles stretching into nothingness. The stars were starting to peek out across the horizon. The air had cooled just enough to remind them they were still alive.
"So…" Wang started, "where exactly are we going?"
Cass shifted gears again. "You'll find out soon enough."
He frowned. "You're not gonna give me even a hint?"
"Nope."
"Is this a control thing, or are you just fucking with me?"
She grinned this time, wide and unapologetic.
"Little bit of both."
Wang sighed and leaned back, watching the road vanish behind them like a memory.
"Well," he muttered, "at least you're not boring."
Cass's voice was calm, firm, and smug as hell.
"Buckle up, sweetheart. Boring's the last thing I'll ever be."
And with that, the two rolled into the deepening dusk—two fugitives bound together by blood, bullets, and debts neither of them had expected to collect.
Q: Have you watched the movie "Your name" before?