The train clanked and rattled, speeding through the night across plains and hills. Xie Lan’s mind was in turmoil, and he couldn’t sleep. He decided to set up his phone by the window to record a time-lapse video. He finally drifted off at dawn and woke up to find a condensed recording of the moon setting and the sun rising.

He was still sleepy when they got off the train. Through bleary eyes, he followed close behind Dou Sheng. It wasn’t until they exited the station that he realized everyone else was carrying hiking backpacks, except for him and Dou Sheng. Che Ziming’s pack looked the heaviest; a water bottle dangled on the outside, and a pot handle protruded from a zipper.

Dai You announced, “I’ve rented a tour bus. Our first stop is hiking the Grand Canyon, where Xie Lan will film. Tonight we’ll camp on the alpine meadow, and tomorrow we’ll see the hydropower station.”

Still waking up, Xie Lan asked casually, “What about the day after tomorrow?”

Dai You smiled. “The day after tomorrow, Yingzhong Experimental Building. Gathering for the provincial math competition training.”

Everyone burst into laughter, dispelling their drowsiness. Chen Ge raised an eyebrow. “You good students really have a hard life.”

Che Ziming cursed on the spot, “Get lost! Don’t think you can slack off in the underachieving class forever!”

The bus bumped along the road, dropping them off at a village near the trailhead. They ate boxed lunches in the village. Yu Fei emptied a bag for Dou Sheng to carry his equipment, and the group immediately entered the valley.

The start of the valley trail involved trekking upstream. The air in the canyon was fresh, and a clear stream meandered through. The path was narrow, so they walked in single file, chatting and laughing as they went.

Dai You shouted from the front, “Those carrying loads, help each other out back and forth.”

The two girls immediately held hands. Yu Fei walked in front of Liu Yixuan, and Chen Ge followed behind Dong Shuijing.

Xie Lan had just adjusted his violin case when Dou Sheng, who was in front of him, turned around.

Xie Lan looked up. “Hmm?”

“Remember what he said? You’ll have to lend a hand in a bit,” Dou Sheng said with a faint smile. “Listen to Dai You; he’s an experienced ‘donkey’ (hiker).”

Dai You chuckled from the front. “Don’t teach Xie Lan this slang; he’ll really think I’m a donkey.”

Everyone laughed heartily, and Dou Sheng’s lips curled up slightly.

At some point, Dou Sheng had also changed out of his rain-soaked clothes. He was now dressed almost identically to Xie Lan: a white T-shirt and grey sweatpants. Simple and refreshing, the outfit highlighted his upright and delicate youthful bone structure.

In Xie Lan’s vision, Dou Sheng and his own reflection in his periphery seemed like twins—or perhaps, lovers wearing couple outfits.

This realization went to his head a bit. He didn’t know how Dou Sheng felt, but he knew he had a guilty conscience. Stirred by that “ghost” in his heart, a restless irritability lingered there, refusing to disperse.

After navigating the narrow stream path and climbing steep, uneven steps, they finally reached a small observation deck.

It was just a small peak protruding from the base of a cliff on one side of the canyon. Towering cliffs that blotted out the sun flanked both sides. High above, falcons occasionally soared past, their wings whistling as they cut through the sky. Far away on the mountain cliffs, a few goats could be vaguely seen. When the falcons swooped by, the goats shrank into the rock crevices, only calmly emerging again once the danger had passed.

This was the time of day with the best light. The morning mist had dispersed, the sky was high and vast, and half the canyon could be seen at a glance.

Chen Ge used a small knife to gently scrape the walking sticks he was making for the girls. Che Ziming and Dai You shouted a few times at the opposite cliff. Che Ziming turned back and said, “Lan-ah, can we watch you record the video live?”

Xie Lan hummed in agreement. He found a sturdy rock at the furthest point of the peak and set down his violin case.

His gaze swept the surroundings, roughly planning a few compositions. He sighed, “It’s a pity here, uh… should I say depth? The depth isn’t quite enough. I don’t know how a close-up shot will turn out.”

Dai You joked, “Let Dou Sheng climb to the opposite cliff and set up a long shot for you.”

Xie Lan smiled. “I was just saying.”

Facing the canyon with his back to the group, he suddenly heard a startup chime. The sound of mechanical rotors whirring approached from a distance and stopped behind him.

Xie Lan turned around and came face to face with a silver-white, four-clawed machine hovering in the air.

The drone backed away a bit, cautiously flew a circle around him, its four indicator lights blinking, then arced through the air towards the open space.

Dou Sheng maneuvered the machine, spiraling away from the small peak and rising steadily into the deep sky of the cliffs.

His eyes sparkled with smiling intent. “Master, your long shot is on standby.”

The group immediately erupted.

Dai You was shocked. “Why did you buy this professional version again? After crashing so many times, didn’t you swear only to play with the cheap ones?”

“Addiction is strong.” Che Ziming covered his face and sighed. “Lost his mind to support Xie Lan.”

Xie Lan looked at Dou Sheng, a bit dazed, as if he had lost the ability to speak.

The wind blew through the canyon, and he felt that trace of restlessness stirred up by the breeze, growing wildly in his heart.

The camera zoomed out continuously, sweeping over the vast canyon. Everyone shrank into a small cluster in the corner, yet each person remained distinct.

Xie Lan stood on the peak, Dou Sheng standing slightly behind him. Not far away, Che Ziming had his arm around Dai You’s shoulder. The two girls stood on a rock, flanked by the slender Yu Fei and Chen Ge in his school uniform.

The first tentative note from the violin was exceptionally clear and distant. Xie Lan looked at the cliffs and tree shadows, resting his bow on the strings.

He glanced back at Dou Sheng. “Fly well. We’re doing this in one take.”

Dou Sheng maintained his faint smile. “Command received.”

The violin notes rang out in the canyon, and the world seemed to fall into silence. Amidst the deep sky, tree shadows, mountains, and cliffs, Xie Lan stood alone. In youth, one’s back is always straight; even with a slender frame, there’s a kind of unruly pride that fears neither heaven nor earth.

Today, he was playing an adapted OP again, titled At the Peak of Red Flame. Xie Lan had played it once before on YouTube, but this arrangement was more meticulous. HBlood was already part of SilentWaves’ past; he wanted to try establishing his brand on Bilibili with a new piece.

The music began with intense, magnificent free tempo notes, then transitioned into a sorrowful, lingering adagio midway. The wind carried that faint melancholy into every corner of the canyon before quickly ushering in a passionate, rising section. The fast bowing was fluent, the climaxes layered. A falcon spread its wings against the wind, flying back and forth in the canyon accompanied by the push and pull of the movement.

The piece lasted only a few minutes, but after the lingering sound dissipated, it felt like a lifetime had passed. Xie Lan put down the violin, checked the two fixed camera positions, and was satisfied enough with the composition to pack up his violin case immediately.

Liu Yixuan sighed with emotion. “Your skill in recording videos is heartbreakingly proficient. You don’t look like a new Uploader at all.”

Xie Lan just smiled. “I had a lot of details planned out beforehand.”

Liu Yixuan asked again, “Did you have similar creative experiences in the UK?”

Hearing this, Dou Sheng also looked at Xie Lan. Xie Lan paused slightly and answered vaguely, “I’ve filmed works before, but Bilibili is definitely a new beginning.”

Liu Yixuan didn’t ask further. Xie Lan shouldered his violin case again and turned back. “Bring the drone back?”

Dou Sheng shook his head. “I want to drain the battery.”

For the rest of the journey, Dou Sheng followed not far behind Xie Lan. Following along with him was his drone—sometimes hovering above Xie Lan’s back, sometimes circling to the front, flying a loop in the canyon before returning to Xie Lan’s side.

Dou Sheng whistled leisurely while operating it. The wind carried the whistling to Xie Lan’s ear, and then further away.

The hike was ten kilometers long. They walked and stopped, starting at noon and not emerging until seven or eight in the evening.

The bus was waiting at the finish line. As soon as everyone got on, they started complaining about being tired and found seats to sleep.

Xie Lan was tired too; he rarely walked such long distances, and his whole body felt like it was falling apart.

Soon, several snores rang out in the bus. Xie Lan yawned, only to see Dou Sheng importing the video to his iPad, dimming the brightness, and starting to edit.

He was stunned. “In such a rush?”

Dou Sheng explained casually, “I’ll put out a short clip for a status update first.”

Dou Sheng was very focused when editing; his blink frequency decreased. Xie Lan sat beside him, staring and counting his eyelashes one by one.

He didn’t know how long he counted before his head drooped and he fell asleep.

The bus slowly swayed through the urban area and the distant suburbs, approaching the campsite after more than an hour. Amidst the sounds of a bus full of sleeping people, Dou Sheng finally finished editing the fifteen-second short clip. He made two versions, A and B. He turned the tablet sideways, renamed version A, transferred it to his phone, and glanced to the side.

He had intended to check if Xie Lan had woken up, but unexpectedly, the bus suddenly turned left. Xie Lan, who had been sleeping with his head down, instantly leaned over towards him.

Dou Sheng instinctively sat up straight, perfectly propping up Xie Lan’s head. The soft hair brushed against his collarbone and neck, making his skin itch slightly. In the dim light, the low, steady breathing of the boy made his heart feel like grass was growing in it—ticklish and wild.

Dou Sheng held his breath for a long time, then carefully opened the camera function on his phone.

Adjusted to the front camera, screen flash, save.

In the photo, Xie Lan’s cheek was milky white. Dou Sheng looked at it for a while, then couldn’t resist reaching out and quickly pinching his face.

Sure enough, it was as soft as expected.

Xie Lan woke up, opening sleepy eyes, his mind blank as he faced the pitch-black outside the window.

“Who pinched me?” he mumbled.

No one answered. He lifted his head groggily, only to meet the eyes of Dou Sheng, who was looking down at him from an angle.

There was blatant mischief in Dou Sheng’s eyes. “I pinched you. You slept on me the whole way; my shoulder is numb.”

“!”

Xie Lan sat up abruptly.

He stared out the window for a long time to steady himself before trying to regain his expressionless face. He unscrewed a bottle of mineral water and took a sip.

“…Oh.”

Finally arriving at the campsite, the sky was dim. Tree shadows loomed on the hillside, and campers’ tents were scattered like stars.

Dou Sheng and Dai You were old hands at setting up camp. In no time, they had pitched two tents, one big and one small, separating the boys and girls.

Just as the crude little lantern lit up, a greeting from other hikers came from next door. Dai You poked his head out of the tent and shouted back in a dialect Xie Lan couldn’t understand.

Che Ziming ran a line and used an electric pot to boil food. Mineral water was used to make soup with two packets of tofu, adding a mess of meatballs, ham sausages, and two blocks of instant noodles.

The group gathered around the pot waiting to eat. Dou Sheng broke off a piece of the baked flatbread bought at noon and held it to Xie Lan’s lips. “Taste it, it’s still a bit crispy.” The crispy crust gently touched Xie Lan’s lips. Xie Lan glanced at him, then opened his mouth and bit the bread.

Che Ziming tutted. “Like guarding a wife. Break me off a piece too.”

“Break it yourself.” Dou Sheng tossed the bread into his lap. “Lazy to death, aren’t you?”

Everyone laughed together. Soon the pot was boiling. Each person got a bowl with a few pieces of tofu and meatballs, half a bowl of soup, and a chopstick-full of instant noodles, eaten with the remaining flatbread from lunch.

This meal was cruder than even the cafeteria food, but Xie Lan ate with relish. Those two mouthfuls of noodles were slurped up noisily.

Chen Ge opened a bottle of liquor and extended it. “Guys drink a little?”

Dai You let out a breath. “Drink a little, drink a little, too exhausted today.”

Everyone held out small cups to receive some. The alcohol content wasn’t low; Xie Lan almost choked on the first sip.

Spicy, dry, but satisfying.

He steadied himself for a moment, then took another slow sip.

With a bowl of noodles and half a cup of wine down, everyone sat cross-legged on the ground. Xie Lan learned from Dou Sheng for a while before barely managing a decent posture, the tip of his knee touching Dou Sheng’s.

Che Ziming’s eyes shone after drinking. “Let’s play something interesting. Everyone says a truthful sentence to someone present. You don’t have to reveal who it is, but it must be directed at someone among us. Dare to?”

Dai You laughed. “What’s there to be afraid of? I’ll go first.”

Dai You’s gaze swept over everyone, finally landing on the greasy pot, and he smiled.

“The goats I saw today reminded me of the blue sheep in the Northwest. The herds run and jump on vertical cliffs, fearless even if they fall and shatter their bones. I hope my brothers and I can be like that too.”

Chen Ge picked up his wine cup, took a sip, and nodded silently.

“Next is me!” Che Ziming raised his hand. “I like people who are good at math the most. So before, I liked Bean the most, now…”

He turned his head, his small eyes beaming at Xie Lan like an expectant Akita dog.

Dou Sheng kicked him. “Is it your turn to like him?”

Che Ziming snorted. “You’re just jealous!”

Everyone roared with laughter, but Xie Lan’s ears felt hot. He looked up guiltily, scanning the group, guessing everyone instinctively thought Dou Sheng meant, “Is it your turn to like him?”

Only those with ghosts in their hearts would perceive the ghosts hidden in others’ words.

Yu Fei said, “Me, I can’t muster interest in anything, but it’s different for some people. I believe she can feel it.”

Che Ziming was shocked on the spot. “Holy crap? Bro, what’s the situation?”

He stood up abruptly, about to point at Dong Shuijing to ask, but suddenly felt something was wrong and looked at Liu Yixuan in disbelief.

Yu Fei didn’t say a word, drank the remaining bit of wine, his neck completely red.

Liu Yixuan also blushed, stammering for a long time before whispering, “I still hope… the person who sent me the Hanfu can take the clothes back. Before the college entrance exam, I don’t want to think about anything too complicated for now.”

Yu Fei reached out and kneaded his neck a couple of times, the movement looking like a slight nod.

Dong Shuijing whispered, “I actually don’t have much to say. I just… hope you are well.”

Chen Ge gave a low, short laugh and drank the last bit of wine in the bottle that no one else took. “Then I hope you don’t wait for me.”

The surroundings fell dead silent. Dong Shuijing’s face suddenly went pale, but Chen Ge paused and added, “I will come back on my own.”

Tears instantly fell from Dong Shuijing’s eyes. She wiped them away and laughed again. Chen Ge pulled out a tissue and handed it to her, saying nothing more.

It was Dou Sheng’s turn. Dou Sheng spoke to a simple small lamp placed on the ground, “I sent you a message.”

Everyone was stunned. A few seconds later, they all started checking their pockets simultaneously.

“I don’t have one.”

“Not me.”

“Not me either.”

“Should we report it? Wouldn’t that reveal who it is?”

“Oh, right.”

Xie Lan’s heart beat fast. The alcohol made his consciousness a bit intermittent. He poked his phone; there was a red ‘1’ on WeChat. Taking a deep breath, he clicked it, only to find someone had sent a Red Packet in the class group.

Che Ziming suddenly cursed, “Bean! I’m gonna screw you up!!”

Xie Lan looked up blankly. Everyone had already started tacitly grabbing for Che Ziming’s phone. Yu Fei succeeded first, standing on tiptoes on a large rock to play it for everyone.

The drone had captured over a dozen shots of Che Ziming pulling up his pants today. Edited together—different locations, different postures, same action—every time he pulled them up, he would wiggle his butt, accompanied by an exaggerated fart sound effect.

The whole venue exploded with laughter, except for Xie Lan. He felt a bit disappointed in his heart. While he was dazed, AirDrop suddenly began automatically receiving a file. Before his brain could react, the transfer was complete and it played automatically.

A fifteen-second silent video. It was a collection of silhouettes of Xie Lan in the canyon today captured by the drone. There was him carefully inching along the cliff, him standing on the peak with his violin, his laughter and speechlessness, the view from high above, and the gaze from behind.

It turned out that when crossing the cable bridge, he had gripped someone’s arm so tightly. Even though he had a guilty conscience, he had laughed and talked with him so many times throughout the day.

The video ended. Xie Lan stared absentmindedly at the reflection of his own eyes on the black screen. After a moment of daze, he suddenly glanced at the filename.

Zhi Yuan Shen Zai Ci Shan Zhong (Simply because I am standing within the mountain).

The seven characters filled one screen line exactly. After a few seconds pause, the subsequent characters scrolled out one by one.

The person I like is Xie Lan.

In the instant his heart stopped, the blood in his entire body seemed to flow backward. The impact of the alcohol surged violently. His hand trembled, and he almost dropped the phone into the pot.

Che Ziming roared, “I’ll kill you!” and chased after Dou Sheng. Dou Sheng’s neck was very red, but his expression was as casually smiling as ever. He got up and ran in another direction, clearly wanting Che Ziming to chase him.

Whether it was an illusion from drinking too much or not, Xie Lan felt Dou Sheng deliberately stepped over the pot on the ground to make Che Ziming run this way. Che Ziming just stepped over, but his foot hooked the electric cord that was in his blind spot. The only small electric lamp smashed onto the rock.

Crash. Darkness instantly enveloped the surroundings.

Che Ziming, the macho man, stopped in his tracks, raging impotently. “Holy sh*t??”

Dai You immediately clapped his hands in the dark. “Everyone don’t touch the bulb, watch out for glass. Let’s deal with it at daybreak.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Yu Fei yawned. “How about we disperse for today? Sleep. I’m dead tired.”

“Right, let’s disperse.”

“Xie Lan hasn’t spoken yet?”

“Xie Lan, think about it and send it to the group.”

Several people supported each other in the dark, getting up to walk to the tents, using their phones for light.

The alcohol went to his head, and Xie Lan’s legs were very soft. He only managed to stand up after everyone else had walked away. He poked his phone several times before unlocking it.

Just as the flashlight turned on, a familiar tall, thin figure walked over. The light was suddenly blocked by his body, plunging everything back into darkness. Xie Lan stopped abruptly.

Dou Sheng seemed to want to hug him but stopped a few centimeters away.

The surroundings were quiet, save for the wind wandering over the campsite. The wind, however, amplified the drunkenness, making it more rampant.

In the dead silence, a hand grabbed Xie Lan’s hand. He didn’t need to look down to trace the beautiful shape of those fingers in his mind. They interlaced with his, knuckles pressing against his, rubbing gently.

Dou Sheng whispered, “I finished teaching. Coming for a post-class spot check.”

Xie Lan had never felt so hot—burning from his ears to his neck, to his wrists, even his fingers were burning.

Dou Sheng seemed a bit dizzy from the wine too. He steadied himself for a moment before asking in a low voice, “How do you translate that line of the poem?”

Xie Lan was so dizzy, a bit dazzled. Hazily, he couldn’t see the contours of Dou Sheng’s face clearly, only those black eyes. Although the person’s tone was calm, the light in his eyes fluctuated violently, seemingly more panicked than him.

The person I like is Xie Lan.

The answer was on the tip of his tongue, but Xie Lan closed his eyes and thought for a moment. He waited until his wildly beating heart calmed down slightly before answering.

But the moment he opened his mouth, his heartbeat became chaotic again.

The boy’s slightly intoxicated voice was soft, very low and light; accidentally, it was blown somewhat ethereal by the wind.

“The person I like is Bean.”

To the listener, it was crystal clear.

In the darkness, a soft kiss was unexpectedly pressed onto Xie Lan’s cheek, like an arrogant yet voiceless chord, striking upon the boy’s frantically palpitating heart.

---

Author’s Note:

Lazy Egg’s shell is red: Ying ying.

Bean Egg mimics his redness: Ying.