FQ chapter 59

After lunch in Xizhou, Fan Qing glanced at the time—it was 1 p.m.

“Tired?” he asked.

“Not really.”

Luan Ye looked in good spirits, enjoying the sea breeze through the open window.

“Where to next?”

Fan Qing thought for a moment. “Let’s head into the mountains.”

He seemed to know the roads around Dali well. Driving on, after half an hour he turned at a junction and started up a mountain road.

The mountains of Yunnan were much alike—narrow, winding roads, thick trees growing tall and dense on both sides.

“From this mountain you can see Erhai really well.” Fan Qing said. “There’s an art museum up there—not fully open yet, but quite pretty.”

At a couple of sharp turns, he slowed down. “I think you’ll like it.”

“You’ve been here before?” Luan Ye asked.

“Mm. Some clients are rather—” Fan Qing paused.

“Pretentious,” Luan Ye supplied.

“…Not exactly.” Fan Qing laughed. “More like artsy.”

“They love seeking out quirky spots in the mountains, asking me for recommendations… so I’ve brought people here a few times.”

Luan Ye nodded with a smile. “When you first took me into the mountains, did you think I was pretentious too?”

“No.” Fan Qing answered immediately.

“Then what did you think of me back then?”

Fan Qing thought, then said: “I thought you were handsome.”

Luan Ye smiled, saying nothing more.

The art museum beloved by artsy types was indeed far. After more than an hour of driving—the road changing from asphalt to cement to dirt, narrower and narrower—Luan Ye began to doubt there was even a road ahead, when Fan Qing pulled over.

“We’re here.”

Amid pine and cypress, the museum stood tall and grand. It was indeed unopened, but no one stopped them—just a sign at the entrance reminding visitors to be safe.

The structure, a blend of concrete and stone, was a play of geometric forms. Triangular skylights and angular balconies echoed the vast Erhai in the distance without seeming abrupt. The design was ingenious, with light and space combining beautifully—perfect for photographs.

They wandered through it, floor by floor, taking many pictures.

At the top, the terrace opened to a pentagon-shaped platform without railing. Someone had left two chairs at the edge. From there, Erhai spread out below in its entirety.

The two sat, the concrete wall at their backs, an endless blue before them. The rain had just passed, leaving the air rich with the fresh scent of wet foliage. Sunlight fell on them gently, not hot.

“It really is nice.” Luan Ye put his camera by his feet, leaning back.

“Perfect for us artsy types.”

Fan Qing laughed. “And what would an artsy youth feel here?”

“Honestly?” Luan Ye asked.

Fan Qing turned his head.

“If I’d come when I was in a bad mood, I’d probably have wanted to jump right off.” Luan Ye chuckled after saying this, then added: “But now I just feel… it’s the perfect place for romance. Holding hands, sneaking a kiss, that sort of thing.”

Fan Qing stared at him for a moment, then leaned over and kissed him lightly on the temple, before taking his hand where it hung at the chair’s side. Then he too leaned back, eyes closed.

Erhai, mountain breeze, sunlight, two people holding hands with nothing else on their minds in that moment.

“Let’s take a photo.” Luan Ye suddenly said. “The two of us.”

“How?” Fan Qing asked, turning.

“There’s a stair step behind us for height difference…”

Luan Ye stood, hooked the camera strap with his phone, set the timer and parameters, then placed it on the steps.

Returning, he flopped back in his chair, reaching his hand toward Fan Qing.

Fan Qing immediately clasped it, even swinging their joined hands a little.

With the sunlight blazing in from outside, the museum interior behind them was dim. In the photo, the two figures, backlit, looked as though they were stepping into the light itself.

“Looks good.” Fan Qing studied it. “Two artsy kids in love.”

They lingered long before heading down. To their surprise, the winding mountain road held a uniquely decorated café with a view of Erhai. They stopped again, ate a little, then descended.

The hotel Luan Ye booked was right by the sea, with a distinctive design—just two floors and only four rooms, each with a 180-degree sea view.

Their room was on the first floor. Through the glass, waves slapped against rocks, spray splattering the window.

Inside, the bathtub was round and large, set beside the balcony, facing Erhai.

“So romantic.” Luan Ye tapped the rim of the tub. “A bath with a sea view.”

He turned to Fan Qing. “Why don’t you try it later?”

Fan Qing looked at him, sensing he had more to say.

“You can enjoy the sea, and I’ll enjoy the view of you.” Luan Ye finished.

Fan Qing stayed expressionless, only sighing.

Even so, when it was time, Luan Ye took a shower instead. By the time he came out, night had fallen. Outside, the wind at the Erhai shore was strong. Fan Qing sat cross-legged on the tatami by the balcony, the sliding glass open, letting in the rush of wind and waves.

Luan Ye walked over, wanting to say something, but when he lifted his eyes to the sea, both his movements and words paused for a moment.

As long as the weather was clear, Yunnan’s sky seemed forever unobstructed. Now, the black night sky was scattered with countless stars, the Milky Way stretching wide across it.

The ridgeline of Cang Mountain was faint, almost blurred in the dark. On the surface of Erhai Lake, countless tiny fishing lamps shimmered brilliantly in the night, rippling across the water and turning into a lake full of flowing lights.

Luan Ye watched for a long time before finding his voice again.

“This is…”

“Fishing lamps, to lure schools of fish,” Fan Qing explained. “This time of year, Dali is in its fishing season.”

They stepped forward a few paces, walking to the balcony’s edge. The seawater splashed against their feet.

In the heavy sound of the waves, Luan Ye let out a deep breath.

“So beautiful.”

It was like that night they had lain on the grass, looking up at the star-filled sky over Yubeng—only now, all those stars seemed to be spilling down into the sea.

Luan Ye looked for a while longer, then suddenly curved his lips into a smile.

“Have you ever heard the story of the mole?”

Fan Qing was startled. “What?”

“A preschool fairy tale. There was a mole who loved the stars very much. It wished that all the stars in the world could belong to it. God agreed and gave it a ladder, so it climbed up and plucked the stars one by one, hanging them inside its room.”

Luan Ye laughed as he finished. “When I first heard it, I was really jealous. I went home and insisted my mom buy me a ladder so I could pluck stars too. She got so annoyed, she gave me a beating.”

He sighed. “Childhood innocence never comes back.”

Fan Qing laughed for quite a while before stopping, his eyes still bright with amusement. After looking at Luan Ye for a moment, he suddenly said, “I’ll pluck one for you.”

“Huh?” Luan Ye didn’t react at first.

“A star.”

As soon as he said that, Fan Qing took off his shoes, rolled up his pants, and stepped forward—climbing down from the balcony and straight into the water.

“Are you kidding me?” Luan Ye came back to his senses. “Are you insane?!”

“Stay right there!” Fan Qing shouted from the water. “Wait for me a minute!”

Luan Ye glared at him as he waded further in. In the dim light, the water rose just below his knees.

“Get back up here right now!” Luan Ye’s heart was about to leap out of his chest. He stepped forward a few paces himself, splashing into the water, his voice sharp. “Immediately!”

Fan Qing didn’t reply. Luan Ye saw him bend down, hand searching in the water for a while, before finally standing up and turning back.

Luan Ye never took his eyes off him until he came close again and pulled him back up onto the balcony.

Fan Qing’s pant legs were wet, and barefoot he stepped onto the wooden boards. He looked at Luan Ye and said,

“Your left hand.”

Luan Ye stared at him for a while before finally extending his left hand.

Fan Qing reached out as well, placing something into his palm.

It was heavy, glinting gold in the night—like a star.

Luan Ye lowered his head, staring at it for a long time, before speaking softly: “This is…”

“A bracelet,” Fan Qing said.

His hand was wet, but the bracelet was dry—it must have been with him all along.

Unlike the plain black one Luan Ye had worn before, this one was more colorful, woven with dark blue and pale gold strands, looking fresh and elegant.

At its center was an intricate knot tied around a pure gold safety buckle. The buckle was hollow, carved with a golden snow mountain inside—its ridges clear, cliffs snowy white, gleaming with golden light.

It was like the golden mountain they had first seen together at sunrise.

Luan Ye kept his head down, staring at it. “When did you buy this?”

“It wasn’t bought. It used to be a little gourd I wore as a kid… I had it melted down and remade.”

Fan Qing undid the old bracelet from Luan Ye’s left wrist and fastened the new one there.

“You designed it?” Luan Ye asked.

“Mm.” Fan Qing nodded. “There’s an old goldsmith next to the studio—he’s really skilled. Last time I was there, I asked if it could be made, and he actually did it.”

He adjusted the bracelet to fit snugly, covering the marks on Luan Ye’s wrist.

“I kept wondering when to give it to you… now seems right.”

Not far away, dawn redwoods stood tall in the wind, their leaves rustling in the dark. The balcony was swept by strong gusts, waves slamming rhythmically against the rocks.

The dim balcony light was no match for the grandeur of the endless starlit sky overhead, nor for the scattered fishing lamps on the sea, vast as a galaxy.

Their faint glow reflected on that golden snow mountain, softening it in the darkness.

Luan Ye stared for a long time before finally looking up, his voice a little hoarse.

“When you went into the water, I thought you’d lost your mind.”

Fan Qing looked at him with a smile. He didn’t let go of his hand, letting the little snow mountain hang against Luan Ye’s wrist. His voice was low, his eyes bright.

“There are no stars in Erhai. But the snow mountain will always be here.”

The snow mountain will always be here. It forgives all your past fear, self-destruction, and unease; it blesses you with peace, wholeness, and courage.

Just like love.

“Fan Qing.”

Luan Ye looked at him, waiting until the wind rose and fell again before speaking.

“Sometimes I think meeting you… I really lucked out.”

“I used to think all that talk about ‘meeting someone who makes you better’ was nonsense…”

Luan Ye chuckled. The wind off Erhai blurred his voice a little, but Fan Qing still heard.

“No matter whether you’d met me or not, you would’ve become a really good person. Because that’s just who you are.”

He looked at Fan Qing.

“But for me… that’s actually true.” Luan Ye said softly. “I used to be terrible. Because of you, I got a little better… a lot better.”

Fan Qing frowned slightly, as if wanting to say something, but Luan Ye didn’t give him the chance.

“But—”

He pinched the back of Fan Qing’s neck with the hand wearing the new bracelet.

“You can’t regret it now,” Luan Ye said.

“Not in this lifetime.”

Fan Qing gazed at him, then lowered his head, lifting Luan Ye’s chin and kissing him.

The kiss was fierce, almost urgent, rough. Luan Ye’s hand pressed against Fan Qing’s waist, heat searing through the shirt.

Though usually the one to tease Fan Qing a hundred times a day, now he was unexpectedly the passive one—pushed back by the force of the kiss until he stumbled, tripped, and fell backward.

Damn! There was a bathtub behind them!

Fan Qing’s reflexes were quick—he shielded the back of Luan Ye’s head with one hand, and braced his waist with the other.

Still, Luan Ye knocked his elbow, hissing in pain.

Fan Qing lowered his head, biting his neck.

“You’re something else…” Luan Ye muttered vaguely, reaching up to turn on the shower.

Water poured out from every nozzle, first cool, then quickly warm.

With his pant legs already wet, now his shirt was soaked too. Fan Qing kissed him while unfastening his shirt buttons, undoing three before tugging the rest open.

…

Luan Ye even had the presence of mind to worry about the noise they were making—luckily, no one was in the next room.

But even if there were, they probably couldn’t hear: outside, the waves roared, mingling with the splash of bathwater—slow and fast, overlapping, like a duet.

Hard to tell one sound from the other.

Enough noise to cover everything else.

…

“Good thing this tub’s temperature is constant,” Luan Ye rasped. “Otherwise we’d both catch colds tomorrow.”

Fan Qing brushed his damp hair, made sure it was dry enough, then tucked him under the covers, securing the corners, before finally replying:

“Mm.”

He put the hairdryer back in the bathroom. The wet clothes, already washed and spin-dried, he hung on a chair. By morning, they should be dry.

Only after finishing did he return to bed. Luan Ye, half-asleep, still cracked his eyes open briefly. Seeing it was Fan Qing, he closed them again.

Fan Qing kissed the tip of his nose and turned off the light.