Chapter Six: Jade Dragon Snow Mountain

At the foot of the snowy mountain, it was unexpectedly not cold at all. There was scarcely any snow visible even at the summit—the snow line was high. Clearly, global warming was no idle talk; for more than two years, not a single snowfall had graced this place, and naturally, there was no accumulation to be found.

The two of them couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed. Zhao Zhao had come all the way from the south, and her greatest anticipation for the journey’s first stop was Jade Dragon Snow Mountain. Yet, things had turned out differently than she’d hoped. Still, their spirits remained high. Since they were here, they might as well attempt a climb. Together, they made their way to the lone visitor center standing before the mountain.

In truth, the visitor center was not small, boasting a large parking lot as well. However, situated on the vast plain with no other buildings in sight, it seemed solitary and rather insubstantial.

They paused in front of the giant stone at the entrance to take a commemorative photo. The name of the scenic site was carved into the rock. Bundled in their thick down jackets, the fierce mountain wind hardly bothered them at all.

The center was bustling with people. Many were already venturing into the so-called "wind caves" and "snow caves" for a preview of the experience—something neither of them was interested in. After buying their tickets, they learned that the center also rented out heavy coats and sold oxygen canisters. Feeling perfectly warm, they declined the coats, even when the staff reminded them that the wind atop the mountain could be much stronger. They politely refused.

“Should we bring an oxygen canister?” Liu Zichen hesitated. She had never climbed such a high snowy mountain and felt uncertain.

After a moment’s thought, Chen Tianyu replied, “I want to challenge myself. I think we’ll be fine.”

“I was thinking the same. Besides, those canisters are tiny and ridiculously expensive,” Liu Zichen said, her face lit with excitement and fearless determination.

“We’re both strong and healthy—no problem at all. I just asked around, and most people don’t even need the oxygen canisters. In the end, they buy them as souvenirs,” Chen Tianyu said with a laugh.

Though a bit anxious, Liu Zichen made up her mind. “If we really get altitude sickness, we’ll just slow down and rest every ten meters or so.”

Chen Tianyu nodded gently. “Don’t worry. If you really can’t walk, I’ll carry you.”

“Oh, who’s carrying whom?” Liu Zichen teased, laughing.

Joking and chatting, they waited in the main hall for their turn to ascend. There seemed to be quite a crowd today, so the park had to let people up in groups. They weren’t in any hurry.

Half an hour later, the staff finally allowed another group inside. The two squeezed their way in, sweating by the end but managing to secure a spot on the side. Clearly, in an age where the “let it be” philosophy reigned, those who didn’t fight for what they wanted would be left with nothing.

They climbed a narrow, steep stairway, noting the occasional person holding a small fire-extinguisher-like object with a flared end. They guessed these must be the oxygen canisters, but wondered why anyone would need them so soon. If you needed oxygen at the base, why climb at all? At over four thousand meters, how many bottles would you need?

Puzzled, they followed the crowd into a cable car station, and suddenly everything made sense. So, they would be ascending by cable car—not something they’d expected. The quick ascent explained the need for emergency oxygen. Chen Tianyu worried a bit; he thought they could handle a slow climb, but could they handle the rapid elevation gain? But since most people with canisters were elderly or children, perhaps it wasn’t so dire.

Sure enough, the cable car stopped at Yushanping, over three thousand meters above sea level. It’s said that below three thousand meters, altitude sickness is rare. Now he understood; with such safety measures, the park would not make such basic mistakes.

After disembarking, they continued on a wooden walkway that twisted up the mountain. The steps were broad, with handrails higher than a person’s waist, making it perfectly safe. The only unusual feature was that each section of stairs had only a dozen steps before a small platform. At first, they didn’t understand the design, but after climbing dozens of meters, snow appeared beside the walkway. As they pressed on, they began to feel short of breath.

“Are you tired? Want a break?” Chen Tianyu asked. He had guessed the purpose of the many platforms—they were rest stops for those who tired easily.

Liu Zichen nodded. “Good idea. They say the higher you go, the thinner the air. It’s easy to feel chest tightness and shortness of breath, or even get altitude sickness. Best to pause and catch your breath every twenty or thirty meters. Your legs all right? I feel pretty good, actually.”

“I feel great too—refreshed, though my legs ache,” Chen Tianyu replied with a smile.

“Then let’s keep going.” Liu Zichen pinched his rosy cheek and grinned, leading the way. Chen Tianyu hurried to catch up.

The higher they climbed, the more the snow spread, and even icy patches appeared. The wooden boards offered some grip, but they still had to be careful. They slowed their pace, helping each other along as others did, pausing at intervals to rest. Soon, the summit was in sight. Beside the walkway, smooth, mirror-like glaciers gleamed. Seeing the steep ice for the first time, they were both awestruck and a bit frightened, marveling at nature’s craftsmanship.

4,680 meters above sea level—the summit.

The biting wind stung their faces, a world apart from the mildness at the base. Rubbing their cheeks and pulling their collars up to shield their ears, they found a bit of comfort, though their breathing was labored from the fierce wind.

If not for Liu Zichen’s insistence, Chen Tianyu wouldn’t have bothered with photos. Truthfully, who knew whether they’d ever look at them again? Besides, taking pictures took precious time away from savoring the mountain’s grandeur. Most tourists hurried to snap a few shots and rushed back down, barely sparing a moment to truly appreciate the majesty of nature.

Sunlight sparkled on the snow-white peak, dazzling and crystalline. Suddenly, a strange wave of vertigo swept over Chen Tianyu. He staggered, barely keeping his balance, but his vision went completely white—he could see nothing at all.

Liu Zichen, absorbed in photographing the snowy landscape, hadn’t noticed anything amiss.

Chen Tianyu rubbed his temples, shut his eyes, and pressed his eyelids. He realized he must be snow-blind—a peculiar condition usually affecting those who spend long periods in snowy environments. It was harmless when it happened occasionally, but he hadn’t expected to suffer from snow blindness the first time he saw snow. After some effort, he opened his eyes again. Thankfully, blurry outlines of people and objects gradually returned to his vision.

Relieved, he looked around for Liu Zichen but couldn’t spot her. Instead, he unexpectedly glimpsed another familiar figure—a fleeting silhouette that quickly vanished from sight.

In reality, Liu Zichen stood right beside him. She noticed his strange expression and the flicker in his eyes. “Tianyu, what’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell?”

Hearing her voice, Chen Tianyu quickly located her and reached out. Liu Zichen took his hand. He gave a wry smile, “The snow dazzled my eyes. But you know what? I just saw that Monkey King again.”

“Really?” Liu Zichen was surprised. “How come I didn’t see him? Are you sure you weren’t hallucinating? This place isn’t that big—there aren’t that many people. It’d be easy to spot him.” She looked around to double-check.

Chen Tianyu thought for a moment. “This is the third time we’ve run into him. If it’s just coincidence, it’s strange. If it’s not, it’s even stranger.”

Liu Zichen suppressed a laugh. “Is he really following us? Seems unlikely.”

“If I hadn’t just been able to see only people’s outlines, I might not have recognized him. Everyone’s bundled up so tightly—add sunglasses and a mask, and who could tell who’s who?” Chen Tianyu still couldn’t quite make sense of it.

He mused, “If you ran into someone you knew here, most people would at least say hello. The observation deck is less than a hundred square meters. We’re not disguised—he’d definitely recognize us, or at least recognize you.”

Liu Zichen shook her head. “Maybe he doesn’t want to know us at all. We only met once—we’re hardly acquaintances. Don’t flatter yourself.”

“That’s true,” Chen Tianyu admitted, a bit relieved. “That does make sense. Do you want to stay here a little longer?”

“It’s freezing up here—talking is an effort. Let’s go,” Liu Zichen agreed.

Arm in arm, they began the descent. Chen Tianyu’s eyes, only temporarily affected, had fully recovered. He scanned the surroundings, hoping to spot that familiar figure again, but by the time they reached the base, there was no sign.

A strong curiosity about the elusive Monkey King began to take root in his heart.