Over the next two days, they continued their journey.

The road grew increasingly rough as they ventured further from civilization, and they added more layers of clothing as the temperature dropped. Vegetation became sparse, giving way to desolation. When snow-capped mountains first appeared alongside the road, Zong Hang pressed his head against the car window, gazing for a full five minutes.

So this is what snow mountains look like, he thought. They were both similar to and different from what he’d seen in pictures before. The form was the same, but the feeling that struck him was entirely different.

Yi Sa showed no interest in the scenery, spending most of the journey sleeping, except for receiving one phone call.

It was from Yi Yunqiao, who asked mysteriously, “Sa-sa, have you heard any rumors lately?”

The road was bumpy, and Yi Sa grabbed the overhead handle in the car. “What kind of rumors?”

“I heard the Ding family is planning something at the Drifting Cave, but they’re being very secretive about it.”

Yi Sa glanced at herself in the rearview mirror, examining her concealed face. “Haven’t heard anything.”

Yi Yunqiao criticized her: “You’re just too insensitive, never taking anything to heart. I’m telling you, something big is happening.”

Yi Sa thought to herself, something is happening alright, and you’re being kept out of the loop again. What a waste of Aunt Yunqiao’s super-strong sixth sense and keen intuition.

…

Their destination was at the foot of a mountain.

Countless streams glittered in the sunlight, each one thin, crisscrossing like fingerprints on the plateau, or like the thousand strands of a scattered broom.

Where there was water, there was life. The ground wasn’t barren but covered with low-growing yellowish-green moss-like vegetation. There were also many small swamps, surrounded by water, like numerous decaying eyes.

Compared to the desolation they’d passed through, the mountain base was colorfully bustling.

The colors came first from the tents – dozens of variously sized and colored tents scattered about. The several dozen people emerging from them mostly wore Tibetan clothing, and after years of working on the plateau, weathered by wind and sun, they looked more Tibetan than native Tibetans themselves.

Then there were the prayer flags, flowing abundantly and dancing in the wind, one after another, stretching for miles. The scale was practically that of a great prayer flag forest.

After disembarking, the scene was chaotic with people busy moving luggage and setting up new tents, while others exchanged greetings after long separations. Yi Sa wasn’t familiar with these people and wasn’t good at socializing, so she simply walked around with Zong Hang. Passing by one of the tents, they happened to notice stacks of new prayer flags printed with sutras inside.

Yi Sa’s interest was piqued, and she walked as slowly as possible to a prayer flag – at this altitude of over 4,000 meters, even slightly vigorous movement could cause discomfort.

The prayer flag was crisp and new.

Zong Hang, not yet accustomed to the high altitude, was already somewhat out of breath after walking just this far. “Is something wrong?”

Yi Sa pondered: “All the prayer flags are new.”

What’s wrong with them being new? Zong Hang still didn’t understand.

Yi Sa explained: “These flags, also called prayer flags, are printed with sutras. Tibetans believe that each time the wind blows these prayer flags, it’s equivalent to reciting the sutra once – it’s considered very meritorious. We’ve seen quite a few along our way, many faded and white from years of exposure to wind and rain.”

“But all the flags around the camp are new, and they’ve stockpiled so many more, which means they were just set up in the past couple of days. I wonder what they’re for.”

Yi Sa figured out their purpose that evening.

After nightfall, when everything should have been pitch black, the ground and prayer flags were covered in scattered phosphorescent green lights, creating a magnificent spectacle that dimmed even the starry sky above.

Many people emerged from their tents to see this curiosity. Zong Hang took out his phone to take pictures, but the night was too dark, and he only captured shadowy ghost-like images.

While he was caught up in the excitement, Yi Sa had figured out the purpose.

The three families had designated this area as a key zone for the next “ground gate opening” of the Drifting Cave, so they had set up this prayer flag forest spanning several miles. Both the ground and the prayer flags had been sprinkled with phosphorescent powder.

This substance could store light energy from daytime sun exposure and slowly release a faint glow at night, easily lasting through the night.

The camp would certainly have night watchmen: if the ground gate opened, with the wind rushing toward the stars, the phosphorescent powder on the ground and the hanging prayer flags would eerily rise with the wind – with such obvious signals, they wouldn’t miss a “ground gate opening” if it occurred.

There wasn’t much entertainment at night, so after dinner, everyone retired to their tents.

Zong Hang shared a two-person tent with Yi Sa. Having never stayed in one before, he found it novel and eagerly crawled into his sleeping bag to experience it, feeling amused at how he was packed in like being stuffed into a sleeve.

However, the novelty wore off quickly.

The ground was uneven, and even with a moisture-proof pad, it was still uncomfortable; as the night grew longer, the temperature dropped lower, and any gap in the sleeping bag let in cold air. The wind was particularly strong, whooshing down from the mountaintop, pulling the tent taut in all directions, making the small night light hanging from the top swing back and forth.

It was rather scary, with no other sounds except occasional low coughing from some unknown direction.

Zong Hang poked the tent wall: “Yi Sa, is this reliable? What if wolves come at night and tear a hole in it with their claws? I might get dragged away.”

Yi Sa was playing with a fishing game machine.

With nothing else to do, this was her only entertainment: “Are you especially delicious? Why would wolves drag you away and not others?”

He had a point – their tent was in the middle, so if wolves came, they’d probably attack the outer tents first.

So Zong Hang settled into his sleeping bag and watched Yi Sa fish: “Yi Sa, do you think this Drifting Cave is dangerous?”

“Haven’t been inside to see, who knows?”

Zong Hang realized he’d asked a pointless question. However, both he and Yi Sa had died and come back to life – and it was the Drifting Cave that had revived them – surely it wouldn’t harm its own “children”?

He watched for a while, then couldn’t resist reaching for one of the four unused fishing rods in the corner of the pond game.

Yi Sa reacted quickly, pulling the pond board away: “What are you doing?”

Zong Hang was frustrated: “There are four fishing rods, several people can play together. Don’t you have any spirit of sharing?”

“No.”

Such a blunt answer left Zong Hang speechless. After a while, he muttered, “You’re probably afraid I’ll catch more than you.”

Yi Sa sneered: “You think so?”

She pushed the pond board over: “Come on, best of three rounds, we’ll see who catches more fish. But first, what does the loser have to do?”

Zong Hang said: “Whatever you say.”

Yi Sa was direct: “Wear women’s clothes for a photo.”

Zong Hang agreed immediately: “Deal!”

So Yi Sa put all the fish she’d caught back in their places.

As he watched her set up the board, Zong Hang suddenly realized something: “Wait, you’re already a woman!”

Yi Sa held the fishing rod: “Stop talking so much. Would I lose? You’re the only one who could lose. Let’s begin.”

Zong Hang was annoyed, realizing he’d been tricked. But never mind, he’d win fair and square.

Yi Sa pressed the switch.

When the buzzing started, Zong Hang was intensely focused, quickly catching one fish after another, more concentrated than during his childhood final exams. Just as his magnetic rod was about to catch another fish, Yi Sa’s rod swept across and stole his target.

Zong Hang said: “Hey…”

Yi Sa didn’t even look up: “Hey what? This society is just that cruel – it’s all about snatching what you want.”

She did exactly as she said, stealing every fish he targeted, dedicated to sabotaging him until the last second.

First round, Zong Hang lost.

As the second round began, Yi Sa swung her fishing rod like a small whip: “I forgot to mention, women’s clothes mean the complete set, from inside out.”

Zong Hang remained silent, his gaze intense, apparently confident in his strategy.

As soon as the switch was pressed and the buzzing began, Yi Sa got carried away and let her guard down. She had barely caught one fish when Zong Hang tossed aside his fishing rod and reached in with his bare hands, yanking out seven or eight fish like pulling radishes.

Yi Sa said: “Hey…”

Zong Hang gloated: “Society is cruel indeed – you have to be adaptable and use your brain.”

The second round ended in a tie, one-to-one.

Then came the decisive third round.

Outside, the wind had grown stronger, and the flapping of prayer flags seemed to be everywhere. Zong Hang felt this must be what the final battle at the Forbidden City’s peak would feel like.

The game board was set.

Yi Sa was still in charge of the switch.

Her hand moved slowly toward the switch: “Ready? Three, two…”

Before “one” could be counted, the fierce battle had already begun.

Yes, society was cruel and required adaptability – why fight over fish when you could seize the whole game? Just grab the toy machine itself.

Zong Hang had thought he was the only one who’d thought of this.

The poor plastic toy machine was already warping under the forceful pulling of four hands.

Zong Hang used all his strength to pull the toy machine toward his chest – a man must fight for his destiny, and he’d rather die than wear women’s clothes.

Yi Sa’s arm somehow snaked under his body and grabbed the toy machine, while her other hand pinched his waist hard through the sleeping bag.

Zong Hang desperately curled up, freeing one arm to defend himself while shouting: “Foul! That’s cheating!”

…

Then came a sharp plastic crack.

Both froze.

They hadn’t noticed while struggling, but once they stopped, they realized how heavily they were breathing: there was a good reason not to exercise vigorously on the plateau – just this brief tussle had left them oxygen-deprived.

Zong Hang lay there gasping for air when he happened to glance down and noticed that one of his arms was locked together with Yi Sa’s.

They must have been too caught up in the struggle – you trying to restrain my arm, me trying to restrain yours – and after getting tangled, pulling in opposite directions, they’d never separated. And their other arms…

Both were still clutching the fishing game machine, which they had torn apart.

Something stirred in Zong Hang’s heart.

To be honest, this position – taken together – looked like two people making a heart shape.

His heart suddenly began pounding uncontrollably.

It must be the altitude, the exercise, the lack of oxygen – his heart was beating faster than ever before.

Yi Sa turned to look at him.

Her hair was disheveled from the struggle, and she didn’t have the strength to get up yet, so she blew away a strand of hair covering her face and gave him a contemptuous look: “What are you staring at?”

Zong Hang said: “Yi Sa, you…”

—How do you feel about me?

No, no, too indirect, that’s how his father’s generation would express it, too old-fashioned.

—Would you like to have a boyfriend?

No way, that’s too weird, who asks like that?

He should change the subject, not use “you,” but start with “I.”

“I…”

—I like you.

Is that too abrupt? Maybe add a modifier?

—I kind of like you.

But “kind of” – would she think that’s not enough?

Yi Sa looked at him curiously: “You what? Is your tongue tied? Just say it.”

Zong Hang stammered: “I think… this fishing machine… isn’t very good quality…”

Midway through his sentence, a sharp whistle suddenly pierced the air outside the tent.

The whistle was extremely shrill as if it could pierce eardrums, and it wasn’t alone. Soon another sounded, then another.

Finally, they merged into a chorus, rising and falling.

There were multiple sentries posted around the camp, each equipped with a whistle, which meant they had almost simultaneously discovered something unusual.

Could it be… a ground gate opening?

Yi Sa froze for only a second or two before hearing voices, someone shouting: “There! Right there!”

She found strength from somewhere, pushed herself up to her knees, crawled to the entrance, and quickly unzipped the tent to peer outside.

She saw a phosphorescent green light rising into the distant night sky, like smoke from a chimney shooting straight up. The prayer flags in that area were pulled taut like stretched strings, bending into arcs pointing straight toward the night sky.

Where the streams spread like a broom, the ground gate opens, wind rushes toward the stars.

Under the phosphorescent green moonlight, everyone flowed like small streams in a single direction.

Yi Sa and Zong Hang were among them, though they had dressed more slowly and found themselves at the back of the urgent crowd.

When they finally caught up, amid the clamoring voices, they could only hear people repeatedly shouting “cave” and “this cave.”

Where was the cave? Yi Sa was stuck at the edge of the crowd and couldn’t see anything.

She stepped back two paces, her ears filled with noise, countless flashlight beams crisscrossing like the disco balls she’d seen in dance halls as a child, spinning lights across the wilderness.

The scene felt familiar.

After a while, the crowd gradually quieted under the rebukes of Ding Panling and Ding Changsheng, clearing a path.

Ding Panling beckoned to her: “Come, Sa-sa, take a look at this.”

Yi Sa pulled Zong Hang along, and they went together.

At the limit of their vision was a dark hole, not small, somewhat larger than a city manhole cover. The surrounding phosphorescent light made it appear even more eerily dark.

Moving closer, they could still feel the upward air current, though its strength was weakening – the most powerful surge of the ground gate opening must have already passed.

Ding Xi stood by the hole, shining a powerful flashlight down into it. This type of flashlight normally had no problem illuminating two or three hundred meters, but this hole seemed to “eat” light – the beam disappeared after just a few dozen meters.

Someone else dropped a glowstick down, with the same result – they didn’t even hear it land.

Ding Panling frowned and asked Ding Changsheng: “How long are our rope coils?”

“Each coil is one hundred and twenty meters, we brought at least twenty coils, and they can be joined together – length shouldn’t be a problem.”

Ding Panling grunted in acknowledgment: “Bring over the electric winch, let’s send someone down to take a look.”

At these words, the already whispering crowd grew even quieter, with many people subtly stepping backward.

With the situation unclear and the shadow of ’96 hanging over them, no one wanted to be the first to venture in.

Yi Sa felt something wasn’t quite right. She stepped forward and tugged at Ding Panling’s sleeve, lowering her voice: “Uncle Panling, it wouldn’t open until we arrived, and it opened as soon as we got here – don’t you think that’s a bit too coincidental?”

Ding Panling smiled slightly: “Perhaps it was waiting for us to arrive.”

As he spoke, his gaze fell seemingly casually on Ding Xi.

Ding Xi froze for a moment, then quickly understood, stepping forward to say: “I’ll go down.”