FQ chapter 28

Because of the photo shoot, the bar Go See the Mountains hadn’t opened for the past two days. Qu Jie and Da Yao had pushed the center tables aside, clearing a large area where they set up a barbecue grill.

The charcoal underneath was blazing hot. Da Yao brought out two full trays of skewered meat and vegetables, neatly arranged.

“All ordered from the BBQ place in town,” Da Yao said, inviting everyone to sit. “They prepped the food and delivered it—super fresh.”

Luan Ye pulled out a chair and sat down. “Even the barbecue table?”

Such thoughtful service.

“The table is ours,” Da Yao laughed. “We both love barbecue. Used to grill ourselves, just didn’t have time today—the seasoning’s mine, though.”

“Da Yao’s is tastier than the BBQ place’s,” said Qiao Feibai. “Authentic northeastern barbecue.”

Da Yao sprayed oil on the skewers and placed them on the rack, flipping them like a pro. “Next time, I’ll grill everything myself.”

Qu Jie grabbed bottles of wine from the bar shelf and asked, “Can we drink red wine?”

“Sure,” she looked at Luan Ye, who nodded. “Anything’s fine.”

Before entering, Fan Qing had taken a phone call, so he was the last to come in. Qiao Feibai was sitting on Luan Ye’s right, helping Da Yao flip skewers, while the seat to Luan Ye’s left was still empty.

Still chatting with Qu Jie, Luan Ye didn’t look back—he just patted the empty chair beside him.

Fan Qing walked over and sat down.

Once he did, Luan Ye turned and asked, “Can you drink?”

“Yes.”

“How much?”

“Not sure,” Fan Qing answered. “Only drank once—one can of beer, after the college entrance exam.”

Luan Ye stared at him for a few seconds and sincerely praised him, “Good kid.”

He was about to tell Qu Jie to maybe not include Fan Qing in the drinking when she slammed four bottles of red wine onto the table—two in each hand.

“A friend made these and sent them to me.”

With a “pop,” she uncorked one and poured it into a decanter.

“Let’s start with these four bottles—not too strong to begin with.”

Start with these four… Fan Qing would probably be knocked out until tomorrow afternoon if they actually finished them.

Luan Ye sighed. Worst case, he’d keep an eye on him and make sure the kid—who had only ever drunk one beer—didn’t get drunk off his feet.

Da Yao flipped the skewers, and the aroma of grilled meat filled the air. They had a few rounds to fill their stomachs, and by then, the wine had finished breathing.

Qu Jie poured everyone a glass, raised hers with enthusiasm.

“To the success of our photography project—cheers!”

The clinking of glasses and the crackle of charcoal set a lively mood. Luan Ye took a sip of wine—rich and smooth. He could tell it was good wine, but not how strong.

He glanced at Fan Qing. One glass in, the guy’s expression remained calm—still looked normal.

The charcoal was hot, and the wine was warming. Everyone started chatting, mostly about the past two days of shooting.

Like how Da Yao’s Mickey Mouse couple shirt was ruined from two days of hair dyeing—now it looked more like a Dalmatian. Qiao Feibai had yelled so much calling numbers his voice was nearly gone. Granny Mu even steamed pears for him last night. Someone had even nervously asked Qu Jie if they’d have to pay to get their photos later…

Laughter came easily, their voices loud enough that curious tourists peeked through the colored glass windows.

A new batch of skewers was ready. Luan Ye took a beef skewer and slowly ate it.

As soon as he swallowed the meat, Qu Jie and Da Yao both stood and raised their glasses toward him.

“Luan Ye, this one’s for you.”

Luan Ye stood, smiling as he lifted his glass. “One glass for two? That’s a good deal for me.”

“If you want to drink two, we won’t stop you,” Da Yao replied.

The three of them laughed, glasses clinking midair.

After the toast, Luan Ye sat back down. Fan Qing reached over to steady his chair, then quietly let go and went back to eating.

Luan Ye noticed and glanced at him.

“When Xiao Qiao told us about this, we were really surprised,” Qu Jie said, putting down her glass.

“First time I met you, I told Da Yao, this guy is seriously cool. Didn’t expect you to be this cool.”

“When Xiao Qiao told me you guys were helping out, I was surprised too,” Luan Ye turned to them. “Thanks for all your hard work these past couple of days.”

“No problem. We’ve been coming here for over five years. Xuehu Village is like half our hometown now,” said Da Yao, sprinkling seasoning over the skewers and handing them out.

“It feels right to contribute.”

Qu Jie had just refilled her glass and now raised it toward Fan Qing. Da Yao caught the signal and did the same.

“And you, handsome young man. You’re Fan Qing, right?”

Fan Qing picked up his glass and nodded. “Yes.”

“We haven’t talked before, but I remembered you. Not many young people in the village—let alone handsome ones.”

Qu Jie smiled. “Drink with us. Come hang out more often.”

Fan Qing smiled back, touched glasses with them both. “Okay.”

Luan Ye watched him raise his glass, drink it down, and sit back down steadily.

“You okay?” he asked quietly.

“Hm?” Fan Qing turned and looked at him for two seconds, then nodded. “I’m okay.”

Luan Ye stared at him, and Fan Qing didn’t look away. After a few seconds, Luan Ye turned his gaze away first.

Qiao Feibai was still complaining to Qu Jie, “What about me? Why hasn’t anyone toasted me?”

“Eat your food,” Qu Jie said, piling more skewers onto his plate. “Singer boy, better go easy on the booze.”

Luan Ye almost wanted to say: can my seatmate—who recites essays for fun—also go easy? But that felt a bit unreasonable.

As the drinks kept flowing, conversation drifted from tourists asking if they were a charity group to discussions about building tourism in the village. The number of tourists wasn’t as high as other destinations, but it had definitely been increasing.

“Five years ago when we first came, there were hardly any shops or tourists,” Da Yao said.

“We invested over half a million in Go See the Mountains. All our savings. Sometimes four or five days would go by without a single customer. We just sat outside, sunbathing—front side, then back side—until our skin peeled.”

Qu Jie added, “My friend said we were amazing—spent 500K just to get a tan.”

“Did you ever think about moving somewhere else?” Luan Ye asked.

“She just loves it here,” Da Yao pointed at Qu Jie. “So I followed her lead.”

“We both used to work in Beijing,” Qu Jie said, sipping her wine with a relaxed smile—no trace of drunkenness.

“Big companies. Competing over who worked later every day—1AM, 2AM, even 3AM. It was exhausting. We always said we’d go to Yunnan someday, see the mountains and water—but there was never time. Even sleep had to be rationed.”

“Later I started having constant headaches. While working overtime, my vision suddenly went black. Managed to get half a day off to see a doctor. They found a tumor in my brain. Could be malignant. Surgery was urgent.”

Qu Jie smiled. “I came out of the hospital crying. Called him while sobbing. He comforted me, told me not to be afraid, said everything would be okay—he was there.”

“Didn’t I sound cool back then?” Da Yao asked.

“You were cool for that period, sure. Then I was hospitalized, had the surgery, sent the tumor for biopsy… I even thought about taking a memorial photo.”

Qu Jie said, “If it turned out malignant and I needed chemo or radiation, I’d look horrible.”

Everyone at the table listened quietly. Only Da Yao looked at Qu Jie with a gentle smile.

“I told her not to think like that—we still had to go to Yunnan. But honestly, I was scared too.”

Da Yao took a sip of wine.

“One morning the doctor called me out of the room. My hands were shaking. He said the results were in—benign.”

Da Yao smiled. “We went back to the hospital room and cried in each other’s arms.”

“I didn’t cry,” said Qu Jie.

“You didn’t?” Da Yao looked at her.

“Not at first.”

Qu Jie pouted. “I was still lying in bed. You were the one bawling into my shoulder.”

“I just wanted to say I’d go with her.”

Da Yao burst out laughing, clinked glasses with her, then turned to look at Luan Ye.

“She was crying and asking, ‘Are we still going to Yunnan?’ I said, ‘Yes! We’re going right now!’”

Everyone at the table laughed. Da Yao helped refill their drinks, then stood up, holding his glass up and clinking it with each person at the table.

“That’s why this bar is called Go See the Mountains.”

He tipped his head back and downed his drink in one go.

More than half of the skewers were gone, and the red wine kept coming, bottle after bottle. Outside, night had fully fallen. They sat in their chairs, chatting lazily and aimlessly.

Luan Ye was full. He leaned back in his chair, quietly watching them. The charcoal under the barbecue grill had cooled a little, giving off a gentle warmth in the night, which felt very comfortable.

A group of people, eating skewers and drinking together, sharing funny stories, life moments, joy, anger, sorrow, and happiness… This atmosphere of conversation made Luan Ye feel really at ease.

He had never experienced this before.

He didn’t know many people. The ones from school he no longer kept in touch with, and the rest—artists, curators, bosses, investors—he met through Bai Mingchuan.

They’d maybe met once or twice, exchanged a few words, but aside from email addresses, there was no real connection. They couldn’t really be called friends.

Xu Song, whom he met in university, was an exception. Bai Mingchuan had once mentioned that he, being a fashion photographer, was in a completely different field from Luan Ye’s landscape photography, and they lived in different countries too—there wasn’t really a need for communication.

By that logic, none of the people sitting here tonight were people he “needed” to communicate with.

Da Yao, Qu Jie, Qiao Feibai… and Fan Qing.

Luan Ye turned to look at Fan Qing.

He was the quietest of them all, perhaps still unfamiliar with adult social situations, only responding when spoken to. Luan Ye had looked at him several times, and he always seemed composed and normal.

But when Luan Ye turned to chat with Qiao Feibai for a couple of minutes, then looked back again—Fan Qing’s eyelashes were drooping, and he looked like he was about to fall asleep.

Luan Ye watched him for a few seconds, then gently tapped his knee against Fan Qing’s.

Fan Qing’s eyes flew open, and he turned to look at Luan Ye.

“Sleepy?” Luan Ye asked.

After a couple of seconds, Fan Qing replied—his voice still quite clear, “A bit.”

Was he sleepy or tipsy? Luan Ye couldn’t tell from his expression. Fan Qing didn’t show it on his face when drinking; if not for that sleepy look, Luan Ye would’ve thought he was totally fine.

“Almost over,” Luan Ye lowered his voice. “Hang in there.”

Fan Qing looked at him and nodded.

When there were no more tourists even walking past the bar windows, Qu Jie finally clapped her hands.

“Shall we call it a night?” she said. “Everyone’s tired—let’s pick it up another day.”

Everyone started to get up, wanting to help clean up, but Da Yao waved them off repeatedly: “Leave it, leave it. I’ll clean tomorrow.”

Luan Ye pushed back his chair and looked at Fan Qing.

“You good?”

Fan Qing blinked twice. “I’m good.”

Aside from slightly slow reactions, he seemed normal. Probably just tipsy, not drunk. After all, he still remembered to pick up Luan Ye’s camera bag and sling it over his shoulder. He even tried to pick up the tripod.

“Leave it,” Luan Ye grabbed his arm and sighed. “We’ll get it tomorrow.”

Qiao Feibai had probably drunk the least and was bouncing around like usual. His voice sounded almost the same as it always did: “Ye-ge, are we heading back?”

“You go on ahead,” Luan Ye turned his head, still holding onto Fan Qing’s hand.

“I’ll walk him home first.”