FQ chapter 6

Fan Qing nodded, indicating he understood, his face showing no reaction.

Luan Ye looked at him for a moment and couldn’t help but smile. “I thought you’d ask me why.”

“You already said,” Fan Qing replied.

He looked out into the distance and signaled the few people too close to the lake to step back, then turned to Luan Ye again.

“Because you don’t like it.”

If you don’t like something, then don’t do it.

That kind of reasoning made perfect sense to Fan Qing.

Luan Ye put away his smile and looked at him for a while longer.

Most people had at least a bit of curiosity or nosiness, but it was like Fan Qing didn’t have any of that.

He didn’t care whether you wanted to talk or not, or whether you were lying. If you spoke, he listened. If you were quiet, he stayed silent too.

Like the plants, the prayer flags, and the silent lake in the valley.

It made most people feel very at ease—including Luan Ye.

Once the group had rested enough, they set off again. Before sunset, they reached the guesthouse they’d booked for the night.

It was originally a small village on the mountainside, home to only a hundred or two families. But with the rise in tourism, nearly every home had turned into a guesthouse or hotel.

Fan Qing’s group had booked a hotel at the highest point of the village. Behind it stood ancient snow-capped peaks, silent and majestic, with clouds rolling like slow ocean waves.

“402, 403, 404—two people per room.”

After checking in, Fan Qing took the keys from the front desk and handed them out. When he got to the last one, he turned to Luan Ye.

“You’ll share a room with me.”

Among the four college students, one couple shared a room, and the two girls shared another. Fan Qing had asked Luan Ye over WeChat whether he wanted a single or double room—Luan Ye had replied, “Any is fine.”

So Fan Qing simply booked three double rooms.

Luan Ye took the key. Fan Qing added, “Dinner’s already arranged—6 PM, in the courtyard. You can rest in the rooms or stroll around the village, but don’t go into the mountains. The altitude is higher here—if you feel unwell, contact me immediately.”

He really did seem like a reliable guide.

Everyone was tired and headed back to their rooms. Luan Ye went upstairs, washed his face, took off his jacket, and collapsed on the sofa.

He was a bit tired and didn’t want to go to bed in his outdoor clothes, so he just lay there to rest for a while.

Fan Qing was still downstairs checking dinner arrangements with the owner. After a while, he came upstairs, opened the door, and paused when he saw Luan Ye on the sofa, then shut the door and walked over.

“Are you feeling unwell?” he asked.

Luan Ye kept his arm over his eyes, too lazy to move it. “No.”

He could feel Fan Qing step closer and bend down slightly to check on him, and his voice became clearer.

“Dizzy? Headache? Difficulty breathing?”

Luan Ye laughed, moved his arm, and opened his eyes. Fan Qing’s face was just above his, his brows slightly furrowed.

At that moment, the sun was setting, and light slanted in through the balcony, landing right on Fan Qing’s face. The tips of his hair and his eyelashes were tinged gold by the evening light, and his eyes looked pale—

Like soft, glowing amber.

“I’m fine. Just tired from walking and taking a few minutes to rest,” Luan Ye leaned back a bit. “Didn’t feel like changing.”

Fan Qing studied his complexion seriously, then stepped back after a moment.

Luan Ye closed his eyes again, listening to the soft sounds around him.

He heard Fan Qing close the balcony window, draw the curtains, and turn on the AC.

He was very good at taking care of people.

Luan Ye thought again about what Fan Qing had said—he had been a guide since he was sixteen.

He wasn’t like Fan Qing, and for the first time, felt a flicker of curiosity about him.

Once Fan Qing finished, he sat in a chair, so quiet it was like he wasn’t even there. Luan Ye only heard his phone vibrate once—after that, nothing. He’d probably switched it to silent.

Luan Ye wasn’t even that sleepy—he just wanted to close his eyes and lie down for a bit. But in this atmosphere, he actually fell asleep. He didn’t wake up until Fan Qing called him down for dinner.

The hotel had quite a few guests besides them. Three or four people shared a table, all gathered around a central firepit in the courtyard. Their group was late, and sat at the outer edge of the circle.

The wind had turned chilly, but the firepit was blazing, so it didn’t feel cold. The guesthouse owner, Laco, was a Mosuo man in his forties—solidly built, with impressively standard Mandarin and an easygoing personality.

As everyone ate, he went from table to table with a bottle of plum wine, animatedly telling stories.

He spoke about different ethnic cultures, the meaning of the colorful prayer flags, myths about the snow-covered mountains across the valley, and eventually brought up the unique local tradition of lovers dying for love.

“Beyond the snow pass, there’s a valley locals call the ‘Third Nation.’”

“In the old days, when couples were in love but their families disapproved, they’d come here to die together. They crossed mountains and lakes, traveling great distances just to reach this place and die in each other’s arms in the snow.”

“It’s said that those who die for love here can reach the Third Nation, where there are only flowers and animals—no death, no separation. It’s a beautiful place.”

Laco asked, “Have you heard the story of Lupan Lurou?”

Seeing everyone shake their heads, he took a sip of wine and began.

He was a gifted storyteller—gasps and sighs rippled through the courtyard. A few couples turned to talk to each other, and some girls’ eyes turned red.

Fan Qing had heard the story many times. He turned his head slightly—just in time to meet Luan Ye’s eyes.

Luan Ye raised an eyebrow and asked in a low voice, “Is it true?”

“…Just a legend,” Fan Qing replied, a bit speechless. “Maybe people used to do that. Not anymore.”

Luan Ye smiled and nodded.

Maybe things had gotten too sentimental, so Laco changed the mood. The food, the fire, and the storytelling lifted everyone’s spirits again. His tone shifted:

“Nowadays, no one dies for love! No need for that! We have freedom now—we fall in love and choose our own partners!”

“If you want to meet someone, be bold! People come from all corners of the world to sit here—it takes fate! Don’t be shy!”

He had the boldness typical of ethnic minorities.

“This is the capital of romantic encounters!”

Romantic encounter—a word more ambiguous than meeting, yet less committed than love—like a soft pause during a journey.

Everyone laughed. The bonfire blazed in the center of the courtyard. The aroma of grilled meat, mushrooms, and plum wine mixed in the air. The atmosphere was festive, like New Year’s.

A girl from the opposite table glanced at Luan Ye, turned to whisper something to her friend in a denim jacket, and covered her mouth as she laughed. Her friend looked at Luan Ye, then drank a bit of wine, raised her hand, and called out:

“Hey! You—handsome guy across the table!”

Her tone was bold and unreserved: “Do you have a girlfriend? Can we get to know each other?”

The group began cheering and teasing. The firelight was bright, and everyone’s gaze fell on Luan Ye.

He had only taken a couple of bites and didn’t expect to suddenly become the center of attention. Somewhat helplessly, he put down his chopsticks. Laco strode over with a grin and gave him a hearty slap on the shoulder.

“Handsome guy! Say it loud, say it honestly!”

Luan Ye looked across the fire. The girl was still waiting for his answer.

“I have a partner,” he replied with a smile.

“Aww—”

A chorus of playful disappointment echoed around the circle, though it was all in good fun. Boss Laco, cup in one hand and wine jug in the other, spoke boisterously.

“How long have you been together? Why didn’t you bring them along?”

“Since I was seventeen.”

After a pause, Luan Ye answered the previous question, then turned to look at Fan Qing and pointed at him.

“Just a bit younger than him.”

Fan Qing: “…”

It was just a small interlude on the trip. The girl across the fire didn’t seem disappointed at all. She just said “Wow, really?” in surprise.

Luan Ye curved his lips into a smile. “Yeah, I started dating young.”

The whole group laughed. Boss Laco clinked glasses with him, laughing heartily. “My wife and I started dating young too! Our kid’s already in middle school!”

From behind, the boss’s wife chuckled and scolded him playfully in dialect. The crowd started clamoring for the couple to share their love story. The room grew lively again, and the topic shifted away from Luan Ye.

Fan Qing saw Luan Ye lower his head and take a sip of the plum wine, smiling.

Sometimes, when someone doesn’t want to connect with others, saying they’re in a relationship is a convenient excuse. People usually don’t press further.

Just like how, when asked to take photos earlier, Luan Ye simply said his camera wasn’t suited for portraits—when in fact, he just didn’t want to.

But Fan Qing had seen his expression just now.

Before the question came, Luan Ye had seemed a bit distracted—responding when spoken to but otherwise lounging in his chair, watching the bonfire, not really engaging in conversation.

Yet when he answered the question, he sat up a bit straighter, the corners of his mouth lifted slightly, and his eyes were calm—he looked both candid and sincere.

Fan Qing felt that Luan Ye had probably told the truth.