“In the past, maybe because the internet wasn’t as developed, there wasn’t a lot of coverage about him. But in recent years, he’s gotten quite well-known. Logically, if a child goes missing, you’d go looking in remote mountain areas, while also seeking attention in big cities. But when I look at his cycling routes over the past few years, they’re all paths that ordinary outdoor enthusiasts take. For example, among the 12 routes into Tibet, he’s actually completed 10 — what was he thinking? Was he really trying to find his child?”

“There are all sorts of ways to raise your profile. Is riding 10 routes into Tibet illegal?” Diao Zhuo was unmoved. “The current fact is that he crossed Qiang Tang without authorization and ended up missing.”

“I’m only responsible for guiding the way. Whether or not we find him, it’s no loss to me either way.” Ba Yunye sat cross-legged in a corner of the bed. “But while you’re all out here volunteering to search for someone, don’t you want to know more?”

“The truth doesn’t need you to pry it out. When it’s time for you to know, it’ll reveal itself naturally.”

She rubbed her chin and thought for a moment. “That’s quite philosophical. The truth always winds and turns before suddenly breaking open. By the way, have you ever heard this song…”

Diao Zhuo raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue.

“Philosophically winding mountain roads with eighteen bends, philosophically meandering waterways with nine linked rings…”

“Are you a comedian?” He pressed his hand to his forehead.

“I’m a comedy talent held back by the need to make a living.”

He seemed not to have heard clearly. “…Birth control?”

“Making a living!” She glared at him. “…And car payments!”

He redirected. “What’s the problem with Ye Xun?”

“He’s not straightforward.”

“Who is?”

“Me.”

Diao Zhuo looked away, as though he hadn’t heard.

“Ah! Where was I just now?”

“No idea.”

She thought for a moment, then deliberately rewound to the very beginning of their conversation: “Oh, right, I was talking about you… want to order takeout? Go ahead, say it loud.”

“I’m not blind. I can see Ye Xun isn’t straightforward.” Diao Zhuo’s tone was stern; he had no interest in trading pointless jokes. “But we are only responsible for searching, scouting the way, and keeping people safe. Whether other people are straightforward or not has nothing to do with our duty…”

Ba Yunye asked with genuine curiosity: “How did you figure that out?”

“He knew what was inside the oxygen bag you gave him.” Diao Zhuo stared directly at her, because compared to Ye Xun, she really was quite straightforward.

A straightforward female hooligan.

“Is that so…” She shrugged regretfully, then jumped off the bed. “I’m heading back. Aren’t you going to walk me out?”

“It’s two steps away. Does that need an escort?” — Another entry in the ongoing chronicle of how an iron-willed straight-edged man stays single through sheer competence.

She turned around, brazenly shameless. “If you won’t walk me out, does that mean you want to keep me here?”

Diao Zhuo stood up and shoved the cigarette firmly back into the pack. “I’ll walk you out.”

He looked as though he couldn’t get rid of her fast enough.

Ba Yunye let out a heavy huff through her nose and strode briskly toward the door. Diao Zhuo walked a few token steps behind her, then got ahead of her to gallantly open the door — the dismissal couldn’t have been more obvious.

“Thank you for the chewing gum.”

“Good night, Master Ba.” His voice was deep and mellow.

Ba Yunye tilted her chin up slightly, affecting an air of arrogance, and quietly moved her hand behind her back. Gritting her teeth, she forced out a few words: “Good night… Captain Diao.”

As she said it, she suddenly gave him a firm pinch.

Diao Zhuo’s entire body went rigid.

As Ba Yunye walked back to her room, she flexed her left hand. The sensation from moments ago seemed to linger in her palm — his whole body looked hard as a rock, but that backside certainly had some bounce to it.

“Son of a—!” Diao Zhuo’s outraged bellow echoed through the hallway.

That insufferable Ba Yunye had already made it to her own doorway. Half her body was hidden in the doorframe, and she reached one hand out, curling her index finger in a beckoning gesture.

Come get me if you dare.

Diao Zhuo was tempted to wring her neck.

The next morning, breakfast was the usual Tibetan fare — buns, soy milk, noodles. What made it a rare treat was that Master Ba had found a breakfast shop run by someone from Shaanxi Province. The eight-treasure porridge — thick and sweet as lotus root paste — chased away the morning drowsiness. Strangely, though Shaanxi people are supposed to be as rough-edged as their spicy soup and their Qin opera, when they make porridge, it comes out softer and sweeter than anything from the Jiangnan region.

The men all ate with great gusto, and amid the conversation, Ba Yunye learned that Diao Zhuo was from Xi’an.

“Hey, if I ever get to Xi’an, take me out for a rou jia mo, will you?” Ba Yunye said shamelessly. “I can eat eight of them in one sitting.”

This startled Xiang’an. “You can fit that much in?”

She flashed that mischievous smile of hers, the double meaning plain: “What is there that I can’t do?”

Throughout, Diao Zhuo deliberately pretended not to hear. Inside, the urge to wring her neck surfaced again. He stirred his chopsticks through the noodle broth a few more times, the familiar scent of chili oil rising into his nostrils, and thought: with a nature as wild and unconstrained as a runaway dog, never mind a rou jia mo — if a living person wound up in her clutches, they’d probably have no way out either.

Ye Xun was still making a show of sipping his red sage tea when he casually asked Ba Yunye: “Traditional medicine works pretty slowly. You’ve been running the plateau all year — can you recommend something more fast-acting?”

“Everyone reacts differently to medication. Something that works for others may not work for Mr. Ye. Best to keep with the red sage.” Ba Yunye answered, “Once we enter Qiang Tang, the altitude won’t drop below 4,500 meters the whole way. You’ll be driving and searching at the same time, and you might not sleep well at night either. The physical demands on the heart and lungs will be enormous. Better to wait until then to take something that protects the heart and lungs.”

“4,500 meters… oh goodness, goodness…” Ye Xun clutched his head, the picture of someone already too dizzy to hear any more.

“You’ll get used to it. The groups I’ve guided before — they were all nervous wrecks when they first entered Tibet, afraid to even shower. But by the time we were climbing glaciers at 4,900 meters, they were sprinting like it was the hundred-meter dash. I couldn’t even keep up.”

“Exaggeration, pure exaggeration!” Ye Xun clapped her on the shoulder.

Ba Yunye thought privately: You, sir, didn’t even let that little matter last night slow you down, yet here you are performing weakness at the crack of dawn.

After the meal, everyone got in the cars and set off. They had at least ten hours of driving ahead of them today, aiming to reach Cuoqin by evening. The scenery from Lhaze to Cuoqin was stunning — broad roads, sweeping vistas, great drifts of clouds floating above the mountain ridges. They kept passing lakes that stretched alongside the road, which in Tibetan are called Cuo. It was hard to imagine why, amid vast expanses of wilderness and brown-toned peaks, the lake water could be so perfectly, flawlessly blue. The mirror-like surfaces reflected the surrounding mountains, and the symmetrical image above and below was a feast for the eyes.

Spring comes late to western Tibet. The wide grasslands still held onto their dark brown color. Black yaks grazed with bowed heads, their stone enclosures low to the ground. One or two women in traditional Tibetan robes walked slowly, rocking from side to side as they carried bundles of fodder. Occasionally they passed a group of cycling travelers, or a Tibetan pilgrim prostrating their way to Lhasa.

This kind of scene, even if you’d seen it many times in films and photographs, would still stun you when witnessed in person. Ye Xun stopped the car, filmed a clip on his phone, and had Xiao Zi hand out some money to the pilgrims.

Everyone got out to stretch or smoke. “Such hardship…” Ye Xun watched the Tibetan pilgrims prostrate their way forward, murmuring, “Crawling on their knees all the way to Lhasa like that — what are they doing it for? Health? Safety?”

Ba Yunye had her hands in her pockets, and for once her gaze was deep and contemplative. “Tibetan people cultivate their next life, not this one.”

Everyone half-understood and could only nod. Diao Zhuo crushed out his cigarette and stepped on it a few more times; the bitter taste of tobacco still lingered on his tongue. So what does this enchantress cultivate?

Near the Kaga checkpoint, Ba Yunye heard a voice crackle over the walkie-talkie announcing that Ye Xun’s car had a flat tire. She pulled over and went back to help, but by the time she got there, several members of the rescue team had already started changing the spare.

“Better for problems to show up early — if we get a stuck vehicle deep in the no-man’s land, that’s a real nightmare.” Ba Yunye reminded them, “Tonight everyone should give their own vehicles a good check.”

As she spoke, she craned her neck to peer into Ye Xun’s car. “The tire pressure is too high. Remember to let some air out later.”

Xiao Zi looked curious. “Why?”

Ba Yunye smiled and deliberately kept the answer to herself. “You’ll find out when the time comes.”

The convoy entered Cuoqin. At this pace, they could reach the starting point of Zou Kaigui’s Qiang Tang crossing the next day. Accommodations in Cuoqin couldn’t compare to earlier stops, and it was hard to find a guesthouse with private bathrooms. Due to tight room availability, half the convoy stayed at Cuoqin Inn while River Horse led the other half to Highland Impression.

Tan Lin said: “I feel like your Master Ba is pretty interested in Diao Zhuo.”

“That’s just how she is — no sense of restraint. Just treat her like one of the guys and you’ll be fine.” River Horse said with a laugh. “I don’t see Captain Diao showing any interest in her at all.”

Da Qin — who worked in Xi’an and had known Diao Zhuo the longest — chimed in: “Diao Zhuo likes those delicate, dainty little women. The type that needs to be carried over a puddle. The type that holds a teacup with her little pinky extended just so…” As he said this, he made a stiff, ridiculous impression of the gesture that looked completely absurd. “That kind of woman stirs up a man’s protective instincts — makes you feel like you’re really capable. Master Ba doesn’t look like someone who needs protecting. If anything, she could protect a man.”

“Would you dare say that to Master Ba’s face?” River Horse challenged him.

Da Qin raised both hands in surrender.

“I actually think Master Ba is great,” said Xiang’an with a rueful smile, clearly drawing on bitter personal experience. “Genuine, no drama. It’s easy and relaxed to be around her and talk to her — no need to overthink everything. Some women, honestly — they get upset at the drop of a hat and then make you guess why. You guess forever and never get it right, and the correct answer turns out to be that you added an extra comma in a text message, proving you weren’t serious enough about her… With Master Ba, unless you knock her flat on the ground, she’s not going to hold a grudge against you.”

“Knock her flat?” River Horse was alarmed. “Go ask around — who would dare? Even armed with the Green Dragon Crescent Blade, you probably couldn’t take her down!”

Xiang’an burst out laughing.

River Horse turned and pointed at him. “Little brother, I can already see it — you’re going to be totally hen-pecked in the future.”

“Depends on who’s pecking. If it’s Master Ba, I’d submit.” Xiang’an’s eyes lit up with the unmistakable glow of a devoted fan.

River Horse clutched his chest as if wounded by the secondhand sweetness.

Later that evening, Diao Zhuo lay on a wooden bunk, his upper body hidden under the vehicle as he inspected the undercarriage. A pile of tools was scattered to his right, and the occasional clang of metal drifted out from below. He hadn’t been at it long before another person slid under the car beside him. Without turning his head, he knew by instinct it was Ba Yunye.

He instinctively shifted to one side.

Sensing his avoidance, Ba Yunye smiled and put on a pinched voice: “Tang Seng, why do you always dodge away from me?”

“Which show are you performing now?” He focused on the undercarriage, not looking sideways.

“The Kingdom of Women.”

“I feel like it’s more like Water Margin.”

“…Pan Jinlian?”

“Sun Erniang.”

Ba Yunye played dumb. “I’m illiterate. Haven’t read the book you’re talking about.”

“If you haven’t read it, how do you know who Pan Jinlian is?”

“She’s in The Plum in the Golden Vase too.”

Diao Zhuo didn’t take the bait and focused on wiping down the undercarriage.

Ba Yunye, uncharacteristically, held her silence. After a while, she picked up a tool and handed it to him — he was just getting to the undercarriage bolts and took it without thinking. A moment later she handed him something else, and when he looked, it was exactly what he needed next.

“I noticed a strange sound from the right rear wheel during the day.” Diao Zhuo pointed to a spot on the undercarriage suspension. “Take a look — is there a problem here?”

Ba Yunye glanced at it and fiddled with it briefly. “Nothing serious. Is this your car?”

“It’s from the Lhasa unit.”

“Probably ran heavy loads during the break-in period and never got good roads. The suspension system can’t hold up to that kind of treatment.” Ba Yunye said. “The connecting parts are still intact. It won’t affect the driving ahead.”

“Ha. Master Ba, is there anything you don’t know how to do?” he asked.

Ba Yunye thought about it seriously for a moment. “Probably humility.”

Diao Zhuo crawled out from under the car, smelling of a mixture of engine oil and tobacco. His black wool sweater was stretched tightly over his frame, the contours of muscle visible beneath — very much a man.

“After you left the military, how did you end up doing this?”

The wording sounded odd. Ba Yunye frowned. “Ended up doing what? The way you phrase that makes it sound like a cop interrogating a woman who’s gone astray.”

“Don’t worry, you couldn’t go astray.”

“Why do you say that?”

“No clients.”

She shot him a look. “So what else should I do? Work a nine-to-five?”

Diao Zhuo lit a cigarette, holding it between his index and middle fingers; a thin ribbon of smoke curled lazily upward. “If I were your boss, I’d fire you on the first day.”

Ba Yunye said without false modesty: “Maybe I’d be your boss?”

The thickness of that skin left him conceding defeat.

“I’ve worked regular jobs too. After I left the military, I worked security at a venue for a while, but that place… let’s not go there. And a rich guy offered me good money to be his head bodyguard.” She said, “But within a few days, his hand found its way onto my leg…”

Diao Zhuo froze and looked at Ba Yunye. “Is he still alive?”