Hunger was deeply unpleasant, especially on days when so much physical energy was being expended. Two of the vehicles broke down in succession, and progress became a stop-and-go affair.

The sky was darkening. The Ruo La Gang Cuo mountain range was visible in the far distance — a sweeping, unbroken expanse of peaks, grand and open in their contours. Mountains in Tibetan lands were always like this: towering and majestic, looking down upon all living things. Snow had just fallen. The grassland and rock formations alike were blanketed in white; everything lay under a mantle of ice and snow, evoking the immediate sensation of the ancient verse: “On a thousand mountains, no bird takes flight; on ten thousand paths, no human trace.” Across the gulf of centuries, people find resonance with one another only when they face the same landscape, the same circumstances.

Several of the men went to chip away at the ice — itself a physically demanding task. Fortunately, the small pool they had made camp near contained fresh water and appeared relatively clean by the eye. Ba Yunye sat gripping a screwdriver in silence, working to fix the camp stove that refused to light. Her stomach was hollow and empty; her gut churned and complained, crying out for something substantial to fill it, and receiving in response not solid food but only the insubstantial illusion of water. Take a trip to the toilet, and even that would be gone.

One lollipop per person. One cup of water. That was a full day’s rations.

Ba Yunye gazed out into the distance. By tomorrow, they should be able to reach the edge of the uninhabited zone — and if luck was on their side, they might encounter a herdsman, which would solve the problem of food.

As for Ye Xun — where had he gotten to by now?

She heard footsteps and the soft rustle of plastic packaging. Someone entered the tent, and her nose, ever sensitive, caught the faint scent of food. She looked up sharply. Diao Zhuo stood there holding half a pack of compressed biscuits — the entire group had been restraining themselves, and in the end they were still prepared to give it all to her.

“If we eat, we eat together. I don’t eat alone while others go without,” Ba Yunye said, and lowered her head back to the stove.

“You’re different from the rest of us.”

“How so?”

“You tell me.”

Ba Yunye suddenly clutched her chest. “Diao Zhuo — you’re actually teasing me at a time like this.”

“Are you going to eat or not?” His expression flattened into a command.

She gave him a sideways look, back straight with pride. “Don’t underestimate me.”

Diao Zhuo dropped into a half-crouch, one hand resting on his knee, looking at her with those already-stern eyes now aimed at her without wavering. “When I tell you to eat, you eat. What’s with all the talk?”

Ba Yunye reached out and pinched his face. Her fingertips grazed the rough texture of stubble. She laughed suddenly — the tip of her tongue passed over her dry upper lip, and she lowered her voice: “If I’m going to eat anything, it’s you.”

His gaze sharpened. He held her eyes for several seconds, then looked away. The muscles of his face still throbbed dully where she’d gripped them — the woman’s grip was not gentle in the slightest. He didn’t take the bait. Instead, he tipped the last two small chunks of biscuit into his palm, then suddenly seized her by the cheek, and at the moment she startled and opened her mouth, he jammed the biscuits in with force — like force-feeding a duck.

Her mouth was stubborn. Her lips were soft.

“I—” The expletive on Ba Yunye’s lips died unspoken, replaced by a bout of choking and coughing. She was starving after all — instinctively she clamped a hand over her mouth, afraid the biscuit would fall out. She coughed a few times, the food still packed in her cheek, gradually beginning to soften.

Done was done. She chewed hastily, wiped her mouth, gulped down several mouthfuls of water, and shot Diao Zhuo a white-eyed look. “…You lot are something else — who brings coconut-milk-flavored biscuits on an expedition?”

Diao Zhuo dusted off his hands, crumbs scattering across the ground. “There’s something even more unexpected — want to find out what?”

Ba Yunye’s eyes lit up. “Bring it on!”

He raised his left hand. There, at the base of his little finger, was a cartoon-patterned bandage. Ba Yunye couldn’t hold back — she burst out laughing. “Where did that come from? Utterly ridiculous.”

“They weren’t paying attention when they sourced the medical supplies.” The rescue team leader deflected all responsibility.

“It suits you.” She raised an eyebrow and swallowed the last of the biscuit crumbs.

He slanted a look at her. “Lady hero — isn’t this at least a little better than me?”

“Not necessarily.” Ba Yunye gave a dismissive “hmph.” “Hungry enough, and I’d eat your flesh.”

“When are we actually going to get to eat meat?” Diao Zhuo sat down beside her and asked with perfect calm.

“Given the situation, I’ll take us the shortest way out — to Se Wu Township, under 200 kilometers.”

“Any other routes?”

“Yes, a few dozen kilometers longer. Tomorrow—” Ba Yunye drew a long breath; the biscuit had fully settled, her stomach had stopped its protests. “Tomorrow we’ll see other human beings.”

Diao Zhuo was about to speak, but she cut him off: “I imagine you must be sick of looking at me by now, after all these days.”

He looked her over, top to bottom. During the day, she wrapped herself in layers against the fierce ultraviolet radiation; it was only after the sun dipped below the horizon that anyone could see her actual face.

Not particularly tired of it. It was just that she flirted with him without regard for place or time, and he had to keep his wits about him. In a different setting, she could only get the upper hand in words alone.

“Are you sick of it or not?” She narrowed her eyes and smiled — a crafty fox.

Diao Zhuo lifted his chin very slightly, the corner of his mouth curling upward. “I haven’t experienced all of your moves yet. How could I be tired of it?”

“Experiencing every last one — and you’d still want to go home?”

“Would Ye Xun also take this shorter route?” Diao Zhuo steered the conversation back at the right moment. “Could we catch up to him?”

“He…” Ba Yunye lingered, reluctant to let it go, then mulled it over. “He’d probably take a route that others have used before. In the past, there have been hikers who successfully completed the Qiang Tang east-west crossing — their endpoint was Ma Qu Township. If Ye Xun took that route, he’d be coming out of the uninhabited zone at around the same time as us — tomorrow.”

A pause, then she added: “Assuming he doesn’t run into any trouble along the way, going it alone.”

“He’d better not run into any trouble.” Diao Zhuo took out the diary. “Once we’re back in Lhasa, we use this to file a police report.”

Ba Yunye asked with keen interest: “What did you find?”

“Zou Xiaowen simply doesn’t exist — or she has long since died. Both Zou Kaigui and Ye Xun knew this perfectly well. They fabricated a person who could absolutely never be found, using her as a prop to generate attention.” Diao Zhuo turned to the pages he had folded down as markers and showed them to Ba Yunye. “However, Zou Kaigui met with a deliberate accident and didn’t make it out of the uninhabited zone alive. We found neither a camera nor a phone on his body or anywhere nearby — we’ll have to rely on the police investigation to follow up. “

Ba Yunye, having fixed the stove, set down her tools. “I wonder whether Ye Xun will actually hand the body over to the police.”

Diao Zhuo tried the igniter. With a soft “pop,” a flame leapt up. A woman who could fix things… it seemed there truly was nothing she wasn’t capable of, modesty aside.

“Ye Xun very likely wants to open up a route for taking tourists through the core zone of Qiang Tang — a combination of off-road driving and hiking. Zou Kaigui was essentially doing reconnaissance, and he would certainly have been documenting the route in great detail the whole way. This is also why, once Ye Xun sensed that Zou Kaigui was no longer alive, he went to every possible length to mark the route himself. He’s been drawing you out in conversation all along, trying to find out the migration routes and gathering points of the Tibetan antelopes. My read is that the selling point of this ‘tourism route’ is the Tibetan antelopes — which is exactly what Zou Kaigui’s diary refers to as the ‘Tibetan antelope encounter journey.'”

“That’s despicable!” Ba Yunye couldn’t help exclaiming. “If you want to see animals, go to a zoo — what kind of person goes barging into a nature reserve?!”

“Once the reconnaissance was complete, Zou Kaigui would have received a substantial sum from Ye Xun. But he apparently wasn’t satisfied — before entering the uninhabited zone, he had arranged another piece of ‘business’ for himself.”

“What business?”

Diao Zhuo shook his head.

Ba Yunye flipped through the diary. The words “Heaven and Earth task” caught her eye. She sat quietly for a moment, then looked up at Diao Zhuo, as though weighing something. After a long pause, she said: “I didn’t expect he was also looking for ‘Heaven Lake.'”

“‘Heaven Lake’…” Diao Zhuo thought for a moment. “Is that the ‘Heavenly Measure’ that Old Jin and Baldy mentioned?”

Ba Yunye nodded. “It’s a nickname — the same way people say ‘Sheep Lake’ or ‘Ghost Lake.’ But exactly where it is, no one can say clearly. So far, not a single person has been able to say with certainty that they can take you to find Heaven Lake. Even the herdsmen living near the uninhabited zones of northern Tibet don’t know its location.”

Diao Zhuo looked up at her. “And you don’t know either?”

“Do I look like someone who wanders into the uninhabited zone for fun?” She rolled her eyes.

“‘Heaven Lake’ was the second task Ye Xun assigned to Zou Kaigui…”

“Ye Xun doesn’t seem to know Heaven Lake even exists — the last time Baldy or Old Jin mentioned it, he had absolutely no reaction.” Ba Yunye shrugged. “Otherwise, sly as he is, why would he have been willing to pay twice?”

That remark gave Diao Zhuo a new angle. “Your point being — if Ye Xun were also looking for Heaven Lake, he would make finding it a condition for releasing the second payment.”

“Exactly. Successful reconnaissance, half the payment; find Heaven Lake, full payment.” Ba Yunye raised an eyebrow — she had the look of a shrewd operator herself.

“In your view — does Heaven Lake actually exist?”

She pressed her lips together. It was a long moment before she answered: “I hope it exists. And I hope no one ever finds it.”

The next morning, as they got back on the move, the group witnessed from a ridgeline the sight of two ferocious Tibetan brown bears in pursuit of a weakened, straggling wild yak. The bears had only recently emerged from hibernation; the long winter had depleted them, and they were in urgent need of replenishment. Nature’s most primordial act of predation embodied the eternal law of life — survival of the fittest.

The vehicles crossed onto a stretch of flat highland and several people climbed out to rest. Ba Yunye stood facing into the wind, her face wrapped in sunglasses, a hat, and a neck gaiter — impossible to tell if she was male or female. She swept the horizon through her binoculars, then settled her gaze on a distant range.

“Gang Gai Ri Peak — if Ye Xun is heading to Ma Qu, he’ll go in that direction. After passing Yong Bo Lake, the road gets much easier, and we can pick up the pace — we’ll be at Ma Qu Township by noon!”

In the distance, at the meeting point of white snow and open wilderness, mountain ranges lay hidden behind cloud cover. Mist flowed down from the peaks, then caught on the wind and drifted off beyond the summits. Yong Bo Lake — a landmark on the north-south route — looked close enough to touch, as if one could reach out and graze it; in reality it was still six or seven kilometers away. The meandering, overlapping tire tracks stretching toward it were the surest sign that they were still following in the footsteps of those who had come before them, making their way toward the right exit.

“Maybe we’ll even make it in time for a meal,” Xiang’an said, swallowing a mouthful of saliva. At this point, even clouds gave him an appetite.

He Ma climbed back into the vehicle. “Then let’s not waste another second!”

Past the junction of the east-west and north-south routes, the road did indeed improve. Thick cloud cover loomed overhead; the sun retreated behind it, reduced to a single dazzling white point. The white of ice and snow was embedded in the charcoal-dark earth — like an unfinished jigsaw puzzle, stretching as far as the eye could see. The vehicles passed through an expanse of flat grassland where a herd of yaks grazed in peaceful contentment. Look carefully into the distance, and there were small shapes moving about — probably marmots, or perhaps rabbits.

He Ma squinted at them for a good long while and sighed: “Those marmots are so fat, just looking at them is making me hungry.”

Ba Yunye dismissed this with a quiet laugh and kept driving. Even Tibetan mastiffs couldn’t catch a marmot — He Ma was truly letting his hunger run wild with his imagination.

Scattered across the grassland were bits of litter. Litter meant people. Sure enough, the vehicles had barely traveled a short distance before they spotted the figures of a herdsman and a white tent.

“People!” Ba Yunye was the first to shout with delight, bounding out of the vehicle.

The herdsman listened to her chattering away for a good while, then pointed at the small pouch at his own waist and then at their vehicles.

Diao Zhuo stepped out of the car. “What’s he saying?”

“He has tsampa — we can trade him something for it.”

Everyone immediately started fishing out money. Bright pink banknotes — hundred-yuan bills — were clutched in fists like so much scrap paper, everyone practically ready to stuff them directly into the herdsman’s hands. The sight of it made the herdsman step back three paces in alarm.

Ba Yunye was amused by the sight of their starving-wolf desperation. “The man is a fair trader, not a highway robber — what are you all pulling out that much cash for?”

“Simplest solution,” He Ma said, fanning the notes back and forth so they made a sharp, crisp snapping sound.