Chapter 39 The ancient town of Moxi was shrouded in mist at dawn…
The ancient town of Moxi was shrouded in mist at dawn. Winter sunlight pierced through the thin fog, casting a soft glow on the wooden structure of the Tibetan-style guesthouse. The air was crisp and carried the scent of snow-capped mountains.
Ren Xiyao woke up very early. It was a habit she had developed during her years as an athlete, and even in western Sichuan, far from the competition venue, her biological clock remained precise. She didn't get up immediately, but lay on her side, her gaze fixed on the gradually clearing eaves and distant mountain outlines outside the window.
Even breathing could be heard beside her. Kwon Ji-yong was still asleep, his face turned towards her. The dazzling, aggressive edge he possessed on stage had completely vanished in his sleep, leaving only a childlike tranquility. He didn't seem to be sleeping soundly; his brows were slightly furrowed, and his long eyelashes would occasionally flutter.
Ren Xiyao watched him quietly for a long time, then reached out and gently brushed away a few stray strands of hair from his forehead. This action startled him; Quan Zhilong's eyelashes trembled, and he slowly opened his eyes.
He had just woken up, his eyes still a little blurry. But upon seeing her, his eyes immediately curved into a smile, like a satisfied feline. He reached out and pulled her into his arms, nuzzling his chin against the top of her head, his voice hoarse and slurred with sleep: "Good morning..."
Ren Xiyao's body stiffened slightly, then relaxed. She softly hummed in agreement.
"How do I get there today?" he asked with his eyes closed, seemingly wanting to stay in bed a little longer.
"Red Stone Beach, then cross Yajiageng, go to Kangding, and finally to Xinduqiao." Ren Xiyao's voice was calm and even. She said she was not setting any limits, but she had still planned the route. It was originally supposed to be a healing trip for her alone, but now she had an unexpected companion.
"I'll listen to you."
After a simple breakfast, they packed their bags, and the ancient town of Moxi gradually receded into the distance in the rearview mirror as the car climbed the winding mountain road. Ren Xiyao sat in the passenger seat, occasionally pointing out road conditions or quietly watching the scenery rushing past the window.
The altitude gradually increases. The vegetation on both sides changes accordingly, and further up, there are alpine meadows. The air becomes increasingly thin, but the sunlight grows ever more intense; winter in western Sichuan is mostly blessed with beautiful weather, allowing you to take in all the stunning scenery.
About an hour later, the car entered a wide river valley. They were almost immediately taken aback by the sight before them: the valley was filled with stones of all sizes, a vibrant rust-red, which looked particularly mysterious and magnificent against the backdrop of the clear stream. In the distance, snow-capped mountains contrasted beautifully with the red rocks, creating a striking interplay of red and white—a rich and bold masterpiece of nature.
“This is Red Stone Beach.” Ren Xiyao’s voice was calm, but with a hint of barely perceptible amazement: “The red color on these stones is a special kind of algae that can only survive in environments with extremely good air quality.”
They got out of the car and carefully stepped onto the red stones. Quan Zhilong watched as Ren Xiyao walked to the stream, squatted down, and gently touched the cool stones. Her face showed no excitement, but her eyes held a focused and absorbed gaze, as if she were having a silent conversation with the land.
Kwon Ji-yong watched her retreating figure, his thoughts drifting away. He had sighed more than once. Ren Xiyao possessed a pure quality. Perhaps she herself wasn't aware of it, but those close to her could certainly sense it. Kwon Ji-yong had traveled to many places around the world and met all sorts of people, but Ren Xiyao was different. She possessed a serene power rooted in the earth, like the vast and open Sichuan Plateau, carrying a primal, untamed vitality, as deep and expansive as the land itself. Only now, she lacked vibrancy and possessed a greater sense of detachment.
Kwon Ji-yong walked over and squatted down next to Ren Xiyao, curiously peering closer to observe. The red hues possessed a life-like quality, as if the stone's own blood was flowing. He reached out and, mimicking Ren Xiyao, gently touched the cool stone surface with his fingertips. Beneath the rough texture, there seemed to be a real, pulse-like pulsation.
“There is life…” he murmured to himself. In this place far removed from the hustle and bustle of the city, even the stones seemed to be imbued with divinity. He recalled his life in Seoul, the concrete jungle shimmering with lights, surrounded by cheering crowds. He had traveled to many cities and countries, and sometimes he felt the world was vast. Yet other times, he felt his world was small, so small that it existed only in that one small corner of the world, where everything else had never entered his life. But here, on this vast and pristine land, he felt a long-lost sense of insignificance and freedom.
“Tibetans believe that all things have spirits,” Ren Xiyao said as she slowly stood up, supporting herself on her legs. “Mountains have mountain gods, rivers have water gods, and trees and stones all have their own spirits. They revere nature and live in harmony with it. This is a very ancient wisdom.”
Kwon Ji-yong looked at her; her profile was exceptionally clear in the pure light of the plateau, and her eyes held a kind of almost pious light that he had never seen before.
"You really like these?"
“Yes,” Ren Xiyao nodded, “I like different cultures, I like those that are pure and primitive. They make people feel at ease, and shed the impurities from their souls. It’s like returning to the most authentic purity. There is vastness and expansiveness.”
Kwon Ji-yong fell silent. He had his own belief system. But standing on these magical rocks, listening to Ren Xiyao calmly recount a completely different faith, he was deeply moved. He could feel the power of that faith, not in grand architecture or elaborate rituals, but through these silent stones and a way of life integrated with this land, conveying a primal and powerful spiritual force. This force was pure, direct, unadorned, and reached straight to the heart.
He suddenly understood why he was attracted to Ren Xiyao. She possessed this quality, a blend of the resilience and rationality of a modern athlete and the spiritual purity bestowed upon her by the ancient earth. Like the biting Siberian wind, it felt cold against the skin, but deep within it mingled a primal, fiery vitality, like that of a tropical rainforest. Falling in love with her seemed like destiny.
Kwon Ji-yong took out his camera and captured this spectacular scene, as well as Ren Xiyao, who stood on the edge of the red rock beach, her figure appearing somewhat slender yet exceptionally upright.
We set off again, the car heading towards the Yajiageng Pass. The altitude increased, replaced by bare rocks and pristine snow. The road was treacherous, winding its way up, each turn revealing even more magnificent scenery. The air grew thinner, requiring more effort to breathe.
Kwon Ji-yong felt his heart racing, partly due to altitude sickness, and partly because of the breathtakingly beautiful scenery outside the window, which was getting closer and closer to the sky. Mountains stretched endlessly, snow-capped peaks rose majestically, and clouds swirled around their waists.
"How are you feeling?" Ren Xiyao glanced at him and asked, "No, I'll do it."
"I'm a little...out of breath," Kwon Ji-yong smiled and rubbed his temples, "but it's okay. I feel like I'm getting closer and closer to the sky."
"We're almost there."
When the car finally arrived at Yajiageng Pass, time seemed to stand still. At an altitude of nearly 4,000 meters, the wind was so strong that it made it hard to stand, but the view was also incredibly expansive. Below us was a rolling sea of clouds, and in the distance, the majestic Gongga Snow Mountain appeared and disappeared, while the sky was that unique, deep blue of the plateau.
Colorful prayer flags hung all over the mountain pass, fluttering and crackling in the strong wind. This sound, mixed with the wind, created a strange and vibrant background noise.
"What are those?" Kwon Ji-yong asked loudly, pointing to the prayer flags covering the mountains and fields, his voice almost carried away by the wind.
“Prayer flags are called ‘Lungta’ in Tibetan.” Ren Xiyao looked down at the patterns on the colorful cloth and raised her voice. Her hair was ruffled by the wind, with a few strands clinging to her cheeks, but her eyes shone brightly: “Tibetans believe that when the wind blows the prayer flags, each flutter is equivalent to reciting the scriptures printed on them. The wind carries these prayers and blessings in all directions, to the gods and to all living beings.”
She walked to a place where prayer flags were densely packed, looking at the strips of cloth fluttering wildly in the wind, printed with Tibetan script and Buddha images that she couldn't understand: "These colors, blue, white, red, green, and yellow, represent the sky, clouds, human life, rivers, and land, respectively. They entrust their reverence for nature and their prayers to the gods to these small strips of cloth, letting the wind convey them."
The wind howled fiercely, stinging Kwon Ji-yong's cheeks, yet he felt an unusual calm within. He even felt an urge to hang a prayer flag there, not to pray for anything for himself, but simply to participate in this ancient ritual and feel that connection with heaven and earth.
Ren Xiyao seemed to see through his thoughts and said softly, "Respect is enough. The sentiment is more important than the form."
Kwon Ji-yong nodded. He walked to the edge of the mountain pass, gazed at the distant snow-capped mountains, and took a deep breath. The cold, thin air filled his lungs, carrying a soul-cleansing power. He felt as if some of the heavy, invisible shackles binding him had been blown away by the wind at that moment. Fame, pressure, expectations… all seemed insignificant in the face of such magnificent nature and pure, primal faith. He only needed to be himself, to feel the present moment, and to feel the special girl beside him who had brought him here.
He turned around and saw Ren Xiyao with her back to him, gazing in the direction of Gongga. Her figure appeared small in the fierce wind, yet exceptionally resolute, the sunlight bathing her in a golden glow. At that moment, an indescribable tenderness and love welled up in Quan Zhilong's heart. He stepped forward and gently embraced her from behind.
Ren Xiyao paused for a moment and turned her head slightly.
"Thank you for bringing me here." Kwon Ji-yong rested his chin on the crook of her neck, his voice clear and sincere: "Knowing you is Kwon Ji-yong's good fortune."
Ren Xiyao was silent for a few seconds, then softly hummed in agreement. The wind was so strong it almost drowned out her voice, but Quan Zhilong felt the relaxation and warmth emanating from her body. The deities communicating with heaven and earth chanted Sanskrit mantras repeatedly. If only this girl could suffer less!
The scenery along the way down the mountain remained magnificent. The altitude gradually decreased, and the air became more humid. Passing through Kangding, a small city famous for a love song, they found it somewhat quiet in the winter. They didn't linger and continued towards Xinduqiao.
The road to Xinduqiao is hailed as a "photographer's paradise." Even in winter, when everything else is withered, its unique charm remains undiminished. Scattered yaks graze peacefully along the roadside. Tibetan-style houses are scattered across the hillsides, standing out vividly against the backdrop of blue sky and white snow. Fluttering prayer flags adorn the houses, adding a touch of vitality. The light here seems to possess a special magic, carrying a warm and soft texture, outlining the entire landscape with enchanting light and shadow.
Soft instrumental music played in the car. This time, Ren Xiyao was driving, while Quan Zhilong, like a curious child, kept recording the scenery along the way with his camera.
"This place is like a painting," he exclaimed.
"Well, actually the best months to visit western Sichuan are from June to October. During that time, western Sichuan has different colors and different scenery every day."
"Shall we do it again then?" Kwon Ji-yong turned his head, looking at her with bright eyes.
Ren Xiyao's fingers, which were gripping the steering wheel, twitched almost imperceptibly: "Sure, if there's a chance."
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