The evening training session happened to cover the prevention and treatment of altitude sickness, led by climbing instructor Lu Jianyi. Huzi crouched beside the podium, watching the dozen or so climbers below with a cool, stern gaze — true to his nature as a military dog, he didn’t move an inch unless Lu Jianyi dismissed the class.

Diao Zhuo watched Huzi, lost in thought.

Lu Jianyi listed numerous examples of dangerous situations, explaining that if anyone noticed these symptoms in themselves or a fellow climber, they should descend immediately — otherwise, the situation could become extremely dangerous. After the lesson, several climbers who had previously been full of ambition began preparing to head home. Word had it that once they reached base camp, another group would leave due to severe altitude sickness or psychological difficulties. Lu Jianyi quipped with humor that it was never too late to have second thoughts — even at toll booths, some drivers thought three hundred yuan per person was too expensive and turned right around.

Someone in the audience immediately imitated the famous comedian Guo Degang’s retort to a PhD couple doing “formula comedy,” squinting and pinching their voice: “You can still leave right now!”

Everyone burst into laughter.

Jiang Ao’hang and Fu Xingyue were both listening attentively. Fu Yingtao, likely because of his altitude sickness, was somewhat distracted — he was probably hesitating internally about whether to give up. Word had it that after eating the plain noodle soup, he had vomited it back up, and even the herbal medicine that had been brewed for him hadn’t helped — he vomited that too. In the end, he could only manage an apple to fill his stomach.

“Dad, why don’t you… head back to Qinghai first?” Jiang Ao’hang asked.

“When I applied for annual leave, I told them I was going to climb a snow mountain over six thousand meters above sea level. To go back now…” Fu Yingtao said, hesitating.

Fu Xingyue said, “Those few people love to gossip. I heard them saying before that you wouldn’t make it up, that at most you’d take a trip around Qinghai and come back.”

Fu Yingtao’s expression shifted at that. “Who says I can’t make it up? I absolutely must reach the summit this time! I’m not going back to Qinghai!”

Among the friends who had come with Diao Zhuo, one or two had also begun showing mild symptoms of altitude sickness — nothing more than headaches. Lu Jianyi said to drink plenty of water, keep flushing the system, eat again after vomiting, and once you can eat without throwing up, you’ve overcome the altitude sickness. Ba Yunye, who spent more than half the year driving various routes into Tibet, had no altitude sickness symptoms at all. He sat in the seat beside Diao Zhuo, pretending to listen to the lecture while actually cradling his phone, chatting in an off-road vehicle group to drum up business.

During the break, Da Qiang asked Ba Yunye: “Since Master Ba and Diao Zhuo met during the Qiang Tang rescue operation, does that mean he’s also part of the Beidou Rescue Team?”

“He asked me early on whether I wanted to join the rescue team, and I turned him down.” Ba Yunye glanced at Diao Zhuo. “For one thing, volunteer work doesn’t earn any money. For another, even if I joined, I’d have one condition — I’d only go on operations that he’s part of. That’s an impure motive, so I’d rather not take up a spot.”

Diao Zhuo had his arm resting casually over the back of her chair. He turned his head and asked her: “You’d only go on operations I’m part of — are you there to rescue people or to rescue me?”

Ba Yunye smiled but didn’t answer. Da Qiang assumed she was just being shy, so he didn’t press further and went to chat with the other friends about something else. Just as the second half of the session was about to begin, Ba Yunye suddenly hooked her arm around Diao Zhuo’s and pulled him to her side, leaning close to his ear:

“If Diao Zhuo were ever rescued by me, he’d never escape the palm of my hand.”

Diao Zhuo’s palm was very warm. He gave her waist a firm pinch. “I’ve never thought about escaping, and don’t you either.”

Ba Yunye curled the ends of her hair around her fingers and smiled with her head bowed.

Diao Zhuo grabbed her chin and forced her to look up. His thumb stroked her lips firmly, as if in punishment. She turned her head to one side and bit his finger — she could clearly feel his body stiffen.

He lowered his voice. “Is that the best you can do?”

She loosened her jaw and sat up straight. “I have plenty of tricks — how many have you even seen?”

Diao Zhuo thought to himself: you and your endless tricks!

As the session drew to a close, Lu Jianyi announced that the next morning there would be a rope-tying and equipment training class, followed by a practice drill on the north slope glacier, after which he would take everyone to the south slope base camp at an elevation of 5,050 meters.

“Although everyone is quite exhausted during the day, try to go to bed as late as possible at night. When you’re completely worn out and fall straight to sleep, you won’t overthink things.” Lu Jianyi advised.

“Are you tired?” Ba Yunye quietly asked Diao Zhuo.

He looked at her deeply. “Not tired.”

“I am.” She stretched lazily.

You little minx! Diao Zhuo cursed inwardly.

It was only nine o’clock when class ended, and the young people who were already accustomed to staying up late wouldn’t have gone to sleep so early without the instructor’s reminder. Ba Yunye was walking Huzi when she accidentally bumped into Fu Yingtao. He moved his legs away in great distaste and kept picking dog hairs off his trousers. Fu Xingyue mentioned that Fu Yingtao had been bitten by a dog when he was young, which was why he was extremely averse to animals, especially dogs.

“What a fuss…” Ba Yunye shook her head and could only return Huzi to Lu Jianyi.

Dong Bai had managed to find an old guitar from somewhere, and after tuning it, it could actually be played quite decently. With a few strums, the tone was full and rich. A large group of people sat by the doors of their respective rooms, listening to him sing as he played.

“I’m within the Second Ring Road, thinking of you, You’re on a distant mountain, spring breeze stretching for miles, Today’s wind blows your way, rain has fallen too, I say — all the wine in the world is nothing compared to you…”

The night at Xi Da Tan grew ever more still. The lights of the lodgings were like a few faint paper lanterns against the surrounding pitch-black darkness. The sound of the guitar and the low, resonant male voice complemented each other beautifully. In the distance, a train occasionally roared past on the Qinghai-Tibet Railway, its whistle thundering over the melody, echoing across the broad and open grassland beneath the Yuzhu mountain range.

When Dong Bai finished singing, everyone cheered and clamored.

“Bingo! The coach just swiveled their chair for you! One more!”

“One look at your skill level and I can tell you begged for food in the old days!”

“All talk and no action — if you can do it, do it!”

“Fine, I’ll do it!”

For a time, the hallway seemed to erupt into a full concert. Those who could play a little tried their hand, while those who couldn’t asked others to play the accompaniment they wanted. New songs and old songs took turns. He Ma wasn’t idle either — when someone started singing “Desert Camel,” he launched into a storytelling-style retelling of the time they had rescued university students in the Badain Jaran Desert. Everyone gathered around to listen, and when he described how an unidentified creature beneath the sand could spray a corrosive liquid, the crowd gasped in waves.

“Are you going to sing something too?” Ba Yunye said, holding her toothbrush cup and about to go get some water. She gave Diao Zhuo a nudge with her elbow.

The stubbornly no-nonsense man didn’t react at all. His phone screen showed several sets of coordinate information — it looked as though he was plotting some kind of route.

“Hmph.” Ba Yunye snorted coldly and had just started to move when Diao Zhuo grabbed her. He pointed at his own face.

Ba Yunye leaned closer. He tilted his face up slightly. She stayed still for a long moment, and then he heard her let out a quiet laugh. “Dream on. Go find a bottle of wine. We’ve spent so many years apart, strangers to each other — tonight, let the two of us properly toast to the past.”

Diao Zhuo understood.

Jiang Ao’hang borrowed the guitar and began playing as well, saying he wanted to sing a song for his wife. Ba Yunye came back from brushing her teeth just in time to see Fu Xingyue’s face flush bright red as she punched Jiang Ao’hang’s arm.

Jiang Ao’hang laughed heartily, casually played a brief intro riff, and cleared his throat.

“For the rest of my life, wind and snow are you, the ordinary is you, and even poverty is you. Prosperity is you, the warmth in my heart is you, wherever my eyes fall — also you…”

Whether or not she knew about the vicious things he had said in the bathroom, Ba Yunye felt that although he was hitting all the right notes, there was absolutely no emotional investment in the singing.

She exchanged a glance with He Ma, and they both made a quiet, wordless “heh” sound. He Ma had been boasting until his mouth ran dry. He stole a sip of water and jerked his chin toward the room for four. “You’re still staying here?”

“If not here, where? It’s not like I’m some important figure.” Ba Yunye said, and walked inside. A pair of sisters who had just moved in from Tangshan were in there, and Ba Yunye was quite fond of listening to the two of them talk — it felt like being in a room with Grandma Zhao Lirong.

“So Diao Zhuo…”

Ba Yunye raised a fist as if to hit him — had she driven all the way here just to fool around with Diao Zhuo?

The sounds of guitar-playing and singing clearly disturbed Fu Yingtao. He called his daughter and son-in-law into his room. “Let those others make a fuss if they want, but you two don’t need to join in.”

“Right, don’t sing anymore.” Fu Xingyue said, leaning shyly against Jiang Ao’hang.

Jiang Ao’hang was all smiles. “I had things on my heart I needed to get out.”

Fu Yingtao seemed unsure whether he had actually heard the lyrics clearly, but his expression softened slightly.

“Dad, are you still feeling unwell?” Fu Xingyue asked.

“Much better.” Fu Yingtao took a deep breath from his cigarette. “Maybe I’ll be a bit better by tomorrow morning. Ao’hang, go tell them that for tomorrow morning, cook some porridge — not too thick, not too watery, and the side dishes should also be a bit lighter. Also, I just saw a few cigarette butts in the hallway — tell them it’s best to clean those up promptly. The bathroom bolt is a bit loose too. There’s only one bathroom on this floor, so tighten the screw, and it would be best to replace the bolt entirely. How much could it possibly cost?”

“Alright, I’ll go do that.”

“Go now.” Fu Yingtao waved his hand. “You two should still get to sleep earlier.”

“Would you like something more to eat?” Jiang Ao’hang asked with concern.

Fu Yingtao was probably genuinely hungry. He rubbed his stomach. Fu Xingyue went back to the room and brought a packet of crackers and some milk. She warmed the milk with hot water. Fu Yingtao ate a few crackers without vomiting, then drank all the milk.

Voices drifted sporadically from the hallway — some hoarse, some high-pitched — it seemed like things wouldn’t quiet down anytime soon. The temperature was dropping steadily. Ba Yunye pulled on her windbreaker jacket, dragged a chair to the doorway, and sat listening to the music while waiting for Diao Zhuo. She glanced up and, from far away, saw Jiang Ao’hang walking into Fu Yingtao’s room, carrying a hot water thermos in one hand and a few bottles of what looked like health supplements in the other.

She pressed her lips together in thought, then rummaged through her luggage and pulled out a packet of medicine, broke open the packaging, and took out an entire strip — these were heart and lung protective tablets she only distributed one per person when guiding clients on high-altitude glacier treks. She didn’t bring them out under ordinary circumstances.

“This is…” Fu Yingtao looked at the strip of six red capsules on the table, and his instinct told him Ba Yunye was some kind of medicine saleswoman.

Ba Yunye glanced at the health supplements Jiang Ao’hang had brought — it turned out to be some vitamin tablets: B-complex, C, and E, along with a box of grape seed capsules. Fu Xingyue and Jiang Ao’hang each had a few in the palm of their hands, and it looked like they were just about to take them.

“These are for you. Take one an hour before the practice drill after you arrive at base camp tomorrow, and another one on summit day — to protect your heart.” Ba Yunye explained. “I’ve taken many clients on high-altitude treks, and they’ve all come back in good shape.”

“How much.” Fu Yingtao asked, his tone carrying a faint condescension despite being seated.

“No charge. We’re all in the same climbing team. Just don’t slow us down when the time comes.” She shot him a displeased look and turned to leave.

“Thank you!” Fu Xingyue stood up and said, a little embarrassed, grabbing Ba Yunye’s arm. “You said you run a charter tour business…”

Ba Yunye, sensing a business opportunity, started showing Fu Xingyue photos she had taken of previous tourists, and the two of them made their way into the hallway together.

Over time, she and Fu Xingyue warmed up to each other. She found out that Jiang Ao’hang had graduated from a prestigious university and joined the company, working extremely hard — someone her parents had been very pleased with as a match. Fu Xingyue’s mother had previously been in good health, but a year ago she had passed away from liver cancer, not yet fifty years old.

Ba Yunye went back to her room and murmured to herself: “Liver cancer… that’s not something someone can just engineer by framing you…” Hmm? Wait. Her mother had passed away not yet fifty years old, a year ago? Fu Xingyue was thirty this year. Running the numbers — her mother would have given birth to her before she was twenty. That was the period when the one-child policy and the push for later marriages was most strictly enforced. How could someone have given birth before the legally mandated marriage age?

A figure flickered at the doorway, interrupting Ba Yunye’s train of thought.

Diao Zhuo stood at the entrance, a bottle of wine in his left hand. His right hand turned palm-up, four fingers curling gently inward in a beckoning gesture.

Ba Yunye nodded solemnly. Today was the anniversary of the accident — the day of remembrance for Diao Jun, Ba Xiye, and many others. She and Diao Zhuo poured three offerings of wine onto the ground together, and silently bowed toward the sky. Many years had passed. The grief was no longer as sharp as it had once been — there was no longer even a sense of heartbreak — yet some things would simply never find peace.

The minibus that had been swerving erratically yet seemed to be fighting desperately to stay on the road had, at a bend, swerved to avoid rear-ending the vehicle ahead — and crashed with a thunderous bang through a low guardrail. Several tremendous booms followed, and it plunged off the cliff. In the distance lay the babbling, winding Nujiang River, while the towering mountains on either side stood in silent indifference, coldly watching the terrible scene unfold.

The minibus rolled over several times. All the windows shattered. Some people were flung out, screaming as they tumbled down — some seemed to fall silent even before they had finished falling. Then suddenly, the minibus came to a brief halt on a jutting boulder partway down. The body of the vehicle let out a deep, rumbling groan, and rocks of all sizes cascaded down from where it had tipped on its side, rolling with a clattering sound. Some of them struck the minibus, producing a series of dull, clunking impacts.

He Zhengren was sprawled against the shattered guardrail, nearly half his body suspended in mid-air. He could hear with absolute clarity the terrified voices and cries from inside the vehicle partway down the cliff — men’s voices, women’s voices, aged voices, wails, screams…

“Professor Rao!” He shouted, yet the voice didn’t sound like it had come from his own throat. He couldn’t see what was happening below. He could only hear someone behind him pulling at him while saying: “With him dead, your turn will come!”

He Zhengren’s mind went completely blank. Vague memories surfaced — colleagues’ high praise of Rao Qinghui’s academic achievements, and the several national-level awards that had narrowly slipped from his own grasp.

No one knew how long he held on. The minibus swayed a few times, then finally plunged off the cliff.

“Professor Rao!!” He Zhengren cried out in horror.

“Ha. All problems solved at once.” The person behind him said.

“No!!!” He Zhengren let out a shout and jolted awake from the nightmare, a dull ache throbbing in his legs. The surroundings were pitch black. There was no minibus, no mountains, no road, no trace of that time long ago.

He sat in the darkness in a daze. Every year on this day, he would have this same nightmare — it was the anniversary of the deaths of many former colleagues, classmates, and students. Rao Qinghui, Diao Jun, Ba Xiye, Diao Zhuo, Ba Yunye… more than a dozen figures passed through his mind. He felt a wave of genuine terror and deep, bitter resentment.