Chapter 45 "What's wrong?" Ren Xiyao was...
"What's wrong?" Ren Xiyao felt a little uncomfortable under his gaze and touched her face. "Is there something on my face?"
Kwon Ji-yong suddenly grabbed her wrist.
The notebook fell to the ground with a thud. He cupped her face in his hands and rubbed his thumb against her slightly cool cheek.
"You..." His voice was so low it was almost inaudible, "How can you understand me so well?"
Ren Xiyao blinked, her long eyelashes brushing against the tattoo on the back of his hand. She seemed to want to say something, but was silenced by his sudden kiss.
This kiss was unlike any other. It wasn't a test, nor was it playful; rather, it carried an almost reverent urgency, as if to release the complex emotions of this moment.
When Ren Xiyao was pushed down onto the blanket, the back of her head hit the edge of the bed. Quan Zhilong hurriedly sat up: "Are you alright? Does it hurt?"
“It’s nothing,” she said, raising her hand to touch his earlobe, which was surprisingly hot. “Your ear is so red.”
Kwon Ji-yong grabbed her finger and put it to his lips: "Ren Xiyao, you're cheating."
What's wrong with me?
“Aren’t you an art student? A sports student?” he accused. “How can you interpret my music so perfectly? Don’t you not listen to K-pop?”
Ren Xiyao laughed, a very sly laugh: "And what about you? You're clearly a pop music artist, so why do you insist on stuffing philosophical questions into your albums?"
Kwon Ji-yong was stunned, then burst into laughter. In such a warm atmosphere, he was so carefree and so exuberant.
He lay back down beside her, their fingers intertwined under the blanket. The Milky Way flowed past the window, and for a moment he felt that all his sleepless nights, the demos rejected by the company, and the anxieties about creative blocks had been absorbed by this starry sky, transformed into that small cluster of light in her eyes.
“Ren Xiyao,” he said softly, “I want to write what you just said into the lyrics.”
“Whatever,” she yawned, “just remember to pay the copyright fee.”
Quan Zhilong reached out and touched her earlobe, causing Ren Xiyao to tremble. Ren Xiyao grabbed his hand and said, "Don't move, go to sleep." Quan Zhilong smiled and rubbed his nose against her forehead. The night wind swept past the window, carrying prayer flags hanging from the eaves, and sent the sound of their hearts beating together to the distant snow-capped mountains.
The air at Guanyinqiao in the early morning is crisp and fresh, carrying the unique thinness of the plateau. In the distance, the golden roof of the temple shimmers faintly in the morning light.
The car drove out of Guanyinqiao Town and headed towards Ma'erkang along the winding mountain road. The morning mist gradually dissipated, and magnificent river valley scenery unfolded before our eyes. Sunlight pierced through the clouds, shining on the mountains and rushing river, creating ever-changing light and shadow, like a flowing painting.
They stopped when they passed by the Zhuokeji Official Residence. This magnificent complex, blending Tibetan and Han architectural styles, stood quietly on the hillside, telling the story of the rise and fall of the Tusi system. They followed the few other tourists inside, listening to the guide explain the story of the last Tusi, Suo Guanying, and looking at the preserved rooms, artifacts, and photographs.
Ren Xiyao listened attentively, seemingly very interested in this period of history, occasionally asking the tour guide questions. Quan Zhilong, on the other hand, was mostly observing her. He saw her standing in the former study of the chieftain, her gaze fixed on the yellowed scriptures, her eyes filled with a focused intensity that seemed to transcend time. He admired her curiosity and thirst for exploration about the world, a captivating quality shared with her focus and resilience on the field.
The wooden stairs creaked and groaned under the weight of the weight. Kwon Ji-yong, holding onto the railing, climbed up, saying, "How could that chieftain have endured climbing so high every day back then?"
“It’s all for power,” Ren Xiyao said as she walked ahead, her fingers tracing the mottled mural. “The higher you stand, the farther you can see.”
The murals in the top-floor prayer hall are well-preserved, telling the story of the rise and fall of the Tusi family over eighteen generations. Kwon Ji-yong leaned closer to examine the peeling gold dust, then suddenly pointed to a small figure in the corner: "Doesn't it look like you?"
The painting depicts a female general in armor, her posture as she draws her bow and shoots an arrow with swift and decisive movements. Ren Xiyao shook her head: "She's more skilled than me."
Sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows, casting their shadows onto the ancient murals. Kwon Ji-yong suddenly grabbed her hand and pressed it against the wall; their intertwined fingers cast a shadow that perfectly covered the female general's bow and arrow.
“Now we are chieftains and female generals,” he said with a smile.
In the chieftain's bedroom sat a carved wooden bed. Kwon Ji-yong suddenly lay down on it and struck a languid pose: "Doesn't this look like a still from a drama?"
"Get up!" Ren Xiyao pulled him: "This is a cultural relic."
The guard smiled and handed over a hada (a ceremonial scarf): "Young man, sitting on the bed will incur a fine, but taking photos is allowed."
Here they got a proper group photo. Kwon Ji-yong sat cross-legged on the chieftain's wooden bed, while Ren Xiyao stood beside him, somewhat speechless. The guard took the photo with a Polaroid camera, and even carefully wrote the date on the edge of the photo.
While passing through Ma'erkang, they found a photo shop there. Kwon Ji-yong developed all the photos he had taken over the past few days, including the one taken at the inn in Moxi Ancient Town, the one he had promised to give to the little girl. Kwon Ji-yong also followed Ren Xiyao to the local post office, filled out the address, and mailed it.
They bought a lot, filling two small cloth bags with colorful scraps of paper. The car then continued along the valley, finding a wide-open, windswept gorge. Many prayer flags were already hanging there, their colorful strips fluttering in the wind like the soft chanting of Buddhist hymns.
Ren Xiyao picked up a handful of prayer flags, closed her eyes, and silently made a wish. Quan Zhilong stood beside her, watching her profile appear exceptionally soft in the sunlight. He didn't know what she wished for, but he guessed it must be related to saying goodbye to the past and embracing the future.
The wind in the canyon seemed to have a life of its own, swirling and dancing. In that instant, countless colorful pieces of paper, like startled birds, were swept up by the strong winds, swirling and fluttering, drifting towards the azure sky and the vast distance. Carrying silent prayers, they returned to this boundless天地 (heaven and earth).
His wish, carried away by the wind, was: "I hope to have this girl with me for the rest of my life."
"Om Mani Padme Hum..."
The faint sound of chanting drifted on the wind from afar, mingling with the fluttering of prayer flags, as if the whole world was blessing this moment of liberation.
In the afternoon, they finally arrived at Bipenggou. As the altitude increased, the temperature dropped considerably, and the air became increasingly pure and crisp. In the distance, snow-capped mountains came into view, their majestic peaks covered in pristine white snow, reflecting a dazzling light under the sun.
After transferring to the scenic area's sightseeing bus, they were greeted by breathtaking views of primeval forests, lakes, waterfalls, and red rock beaches. The scenery was stunning at every turn. When the bus stopped at the hiking start point, the sight before them was even more awe-inspiring.
The massive snow-capped mountains are within reach, the valleys are covered with thick snow, and the branches are adorned with glistening frost. Under the sunlight, it's like a fairytale-like ice and snow world. Several enormous icefalls hang down from the cliffs, each with a unique shape, creating a magnificent sight.
The icefall resembled a frozen Milky Way. Ren Xiyao walked ahead, her trekking poles crunching into the snow. Quan Zhilong lagged two steps behind, his film camera hanging around his neck, his breath frostling the viewfinder.
“Look over there,” she suddenly pointed to the lake: “Pan sheep.”
Several wild blue sheep were licking minerals at the edge of the icy lake, their fur almost blending into the snow-capped mountains. Kwon Ji-yong frantically adjusted the camera, only to see Ren Xiyao raise her index finger to her lips.
They stared, holding their breath. The hooves of the ibex struck the ice, producing an ethereal echo.
“It’s better than shooting for a magazine,” Kwon Ji-yong said softly. “If someone else had brought you here, I would have been jealous.”
Ren Xiyao grabbed a clump of snow and stuffed it into the back of his neck: "Idiot."
The lake was frozen solid, reflecting the surrounding snow-capped mountains. They asked a passing photographer to take a picture, and as the lens captured the moment, Kwon Ji-yong suddenly kissed her earlobe, which was red from the cold.
“This one needs to be developed,” he said, looking at the camera screen, “along with the Polaroid. Put it in my wallet.”
Ren Xiyao leaned closer to look. The two people in the photo smiled at each other, completely unguarded, their hair covered in snowflakes, looking like two high school students who had skipped school.
As the sun set, its golden rays bathed the snow-capped mountains, lending a warm hue to their pristine peaks. The temperature began to drop rapidly, forcing them to end their day's journey and begin their descent.
We found a guesthouse in Gulgou Town. Kwon Ji-yong spread photos all over the bed: photos from before the glacier, from the top of the temple, from when we were doing the Salungda ceremony. Ren Xiyao sat cross-legged among them, like an island surrounded by memories.
“Ren Xiyao,” he suddenly said, “come back to Seoul with me.”
She was adjusting her knee brace when she heard this and looked up: "I need to go back and start basic training again."
"Just one week, no, three days..."
"Kwon Ji-ryong".
He shut up and shoved a photo of her standing next to a mani stone pile into the album. The movement was a bit rough; the plastic film jammed the edge of the photo.
Ren Xiyao reached out to help him fix it, her fingertips touching his reddened knuckles: "Come with me somewhere."
"Um?"
"Harbin." She looked up at him. "The place where I grew up."
Kwon Ji-yong's eyes shone like melted amber under the lamp. He opened his mouth, but in the end only rested his forehead on her shoulder: "...Okay."
This was the first time Ren Xiyao had asked him to do anything.
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