The path up the mountain wasn’t easy.
It was narrow and steep, and at a glance, the layers upon layers of stone steps looked endless.
The four of them began their climb around three or four in the afternoon. By the time Xia Xinghe and Bai Qingzhou reached halfway up the mountain, dusk had already begun to fall.
The steps on the mountain were not as uniform as regular stairs. There were often protruding rocks and slippery weeds that could cause someone to lose their footing.
At first, things were manageable. Bai Qingzhou led the way, scouting ahead, and Xia Xinghe only had to follow closely behind. But as darkness settled in, Xia Xinghe’s pace slowed unconsciously.
There weren’t many people on this stretch of the path. The cold mountain wind howled through the trees, and all around was pitch-black. Xia Xinghe had a bit of night blindness. He turned on the flashlight on his phone, cautiously feeling his way, but still didn’t dare to step forward confidently.
“Can’t see clearly?”
Hearing no footsteps behind him for a while, Bai Qingzhou stopped and turned back to look.
Xia Xinghe answered honestly, “A little.”
He scratched his head and was about to say “Sorry,” but Bai Qingzhou had already stepped to the outer edge and said, “Walk in front.”
Xia Xinghe did as told. As his figure passed by Bai Qingzhou, a bright beam of light appeared in front of him.
Bai Qingzhou said, “Put your phone in your pocket and focus on walking. I’ll light the way for you.”
Xia Xinghe paused. “What about you?”
Bai Qingzhou had brought a flashlight, but the beam was limited—it could only illuminate about half a meter ahead. If he directed the light toward Xia Xinghe, it would certainly make things more difficult for himself.
“Don’t worry about me,” Bai Qingzhou said. “Just follow the light—I’ll follow right behind you.”
“You can turn around anytime and see me.”
His tone was calm, his expression still cold, as if he were merely stating facts—yet it also seemed to carry a deeper meaning, one too subtle and restrained to interpret lightly.
Maybe it was the stillness of the night, or the dim light that made the senses hyper-aware. The rustling of clothes brushing against wild branches, the sound of footsteps blending with heartbeats—Xia Xinghe’s pulse quickened slightly.
The two continued walking one behind the other, just as Bai Qingzhou had said. The flashlight’s beam remained steadily shining in front of Xia Xinghe, illuminating the path ahead.
It was unclear how much time passed, but they finally reached the top, stepping onto a large open platform where their surroundings suddenly brightened.
It was clearly a spot ideal for setting up camp, as many people were already gathered there, chatting noisily amidst a crowd.
Xia Xinghe asked, “Are we setting up our tent here too?”
Bai Qingzhou replied, “Yeah.”
There were many people around, and the noise quickly dispersed the tender, ambiguous mood from earlier. Bai Qingzhou turned off the flashlight and began scanning for a good spot to pitch the tent, as if he had completely forgotten the earlier atmosphere. Xia Xinghe helped out beside him, but inside, ripples of emotion still hadn’t calmed.
They eventually chose a spot near the edge of the platform. It was quieter there, and the ground was relatively flat and clean. Bai Qingzhou stepped around a bit to test the soil. Once he confirmed it was firm, he put down his backpack and took out the tools to pitch the tent.
The tent belonged to Yan Cai. Bai Qingzhou had never set one up before, but it wasn’t difficult for him. He examined the pieces in his hand for a few minutes and quickly assembled the frame.
Xia Xinghe held the light for him. They set up the tent swiftly. A couple nearby had started at the same time, but by the time Bai and Xia had finished setting up and laying the groundsheet, the other couple’s tent was still just a messy pile.
With the tent complete and Yan Cai and Nie Xingchao still not up the mountain, it was only 11 PM. There were still several hours until sunrise. Bai Qingzhou laid out a moisture-proof mat on a nearby empty patch, weighted it down with stones, and sat down with Xia Xinghe to wait.
Waiting made time feel long. Alone together, the atmosphere was a little awkward, especially with the earlier tension lingering. After a while, Xia Xinghe yawned softly.
Bai Qingzhou asked, “Tired?”
Xia Xinghe shook his head. “I’m okay.”
“If you’re sleepy, you can rest for a bit. I’ll wake you up when the sun rises.”
Xia Xinghe shook his head again and said, “No need,” then hugged his knees and looked up at the sky.
But after hiking for hours and being near midnight, drowsiness soon took over. His eyelids became heavy.
His head bobbed like a chick pecking at grain. Bai Qingzhou reached into his bag, pulled out a piece of clothing, and draped it over Xia Xinghe.
“Sleep,” he said. “I’ll keep watch.”
Xia Xinghe wanted to refuse but couldn’t fight the waves of fatigue. Eventually, he dozed off in a daze, though it was a restless sleep—part of him still worried about missing the sunrise.
The night grew deeper. The darkness before dawn is the blackest.
The mountain temperature was much colder than in the city. In his sleep, Xia Xinghe curled up from the chill, trembling slightly. Even through layers of clothing, Bai Qingzhou noticed it.
Lowering his eyes, he silently pulled Xia Xinghe into his arms.
Just like he had done many times before, whenever Xia Xinghe fell asleep.
…..
On the mountaintop, the atmosphere was warm and peaceful. But halfway down the mountain, tension simmered between Yan Cai and Nie Xingchao.
Yan Cai had pretended to be injured and now walked with a limp. Nie Xingchao saw through it but didn’t say anything, instead acting like a selfless helper as he supported him along the way.
The path up the mountain wasn’t easy—especially while limping. Halfway up, sweat had already beaded on Yan Cai’s forehead. Nie Xingchao “considerately” asked, “Still good? Want to take a break?”
His calm expression hit Yan Cai’s pride like a nerve. He shook his head firmly. “No need!”
“Alright then, let’s keep going.”
Nie Xingchao didn’t push him, just continued holding him up.
Pretending to limp wasn’t pleasant. Even though Yan Cai kept pushing through, he was running out of energy. His legs felt like they were made of lead, and the foot he’d been pretending to sprain actually started to hurt. With every step, he had to keep it lifted and wobble awkwardly—if he wasn’t injured before, he was close to making it real now.
“Alright, let’s take a break.”
Just when Yan Cai was about to collapse, Nie Xingchao suddenly stopped walking.
Not far ahead was a large rock. Nie Xingchao helped Yan Cai over to sit on it, giving the excuse, “I’m tired.”
Yan Cai sat down with a reluctant expression, but secretly let out a breath of relief.
Just now, all the muscles in his body had been trembling uncontrollably — he truly couldn’t hold on much longer.
Relaxing on the stone, he complained, “You’re really weak, huh.”
Nie Xingchao didn’t argue. He just smiled casually, pulled out a water bottle from his bag, took a couple gulps, then handed it to Yan Cai.
“Want some?”
“Thanks.”
Yan Cai took the water without hesitation and finished what was left in just a few gulps.
“Give me the bottle,” said Nie Xingchao.
Yan Cai handed it over as asked. Nie Xingchao raised his arm and, with a clean motion like a slam dunk, sent the bottle flying into a nearby trash can.
“Tch.” Yan Cai clicked his tongue.
Nie Xingchao asked, “What?”
“Nothing,” Yan Cai shook his head, then mimicked him — casually picked up a stone from the ground and tossed it. Clang! It hit the outside of the trash can.
Unwilling to lose, he picked up another stone and tried again. Clatter! The stone hit the ground and rolled slowly to the side of the trash can — still a miss.
“Ahem…” Yan Cai looked a bit embarrassed. He tried to cover it up, saying, “Guess my hand was a little off just now, heh…”
“Mm.” Nie Xingchao smirked but didn’t expose him. He picked up a small stone and said, “You need to press your wrist a bit — you threw it too high.”
He flicked his wrist, and the stone made a perfect arc in the air, landing neatly in the trash can with a soft thud.
Yan Cai muttered, “I knew that.”
Nie Xingchao smiled and bent down to hand him another stone. “Try again?”
Reluctantly, Yan Cai took the stone, followed Nie Xingchao’s advice, and threw. Clang! This time, it landed in the trash can.
Yan Cai beamed. “How’s that?”
“Mm,” Nie Xingchao praised, “Very clever.”
What was that? Sounded like he was praising a kid. Yan Cai pouted and immediately lost interest.
At some point, the air had quieted down, and the atmosphere had become much more relaxed. Faint moonlight fell around them — peaceful and serene.
After sitting a bit longer, Nie Xingchao stretched and looked up at the sky. “Feeling better?”
His gentle tone made Yan Cai a little uncomfortable. After a pause, he mumbled, “…Yeah.”
Nie Xingchao sighed. “You’ve kept up the limp for quite a while — must’ve been rough.”
Yan Cai froze, his mind blanking for a moment.
He had expected Nie Xingchao might see through him, but to be so directly exposed still made him feel awkward.
Scratching his head, he asked, “When did you realize?”
“The moment I saw you,” Nie Xingchao replied, a bit helpless. “Don’t do that again. Walking all twisted like that isn’t good for your ankle.”
Under the hazy moonlight, Nie Xingchao sat casually on the rock, giving his advice offhandedly — yet Yan Cai’s heart skipped a beat.
“…Oh.”
Yan Cai gave a stiff response, then after a long silence, awkwardly added, “Thanks.”
The atmosphere grew a bit ambiguous. Nie Xingchao tilted his head to look at Yan Cai, then suddenly laughed.
“Well, well,” he teased, “Didn’t expect our little firecracker to ever soften up.”
In an instant, all the tender mood was shattered.
“Oh, so I thank you and you don’t appreciate it?!” Yan Cai shot up, furious. “You’re the firecracker! No — you and that Bai Qingzhou are exactly the same! Both heartless bastards!”
He angrily slung on his backpack and stormed ahead. Nie Xingchao just smiled helplessly and followed behind, waving as he called out, “Wait up!”
……
4:30 a.m.
The sky was beginning to turn pale.
A quiet murmur spread among the tourists on the platform. Bai Qingzhou gently patted Xia Xinghe’s shoulder.
“Wake up, wake up.” He paused, suddenly noticing something, and after a moment, chuckled softly. “…Star.”
There was “star” in his name, and indeed, he was his star — the radiant Milky Way.
Just a single shimmer, and he could light up Bai Qingzhou’s entire world.
Xia Xinghe groggily opened his eyes. The moment he realized where he was, he abruptly sat up and put some distance between them. “I fell asleep?!”
Bai Qingzhou’s brow furrowed slightly. He answered in a low voice, “Mm.”
Xia Xinghe scratched his head, a little embarrassed. “Sorry… I don’t know how I…”
“It’s fine,” Bai Qingzhou said, moving his left shoulder a little.
Xia Xinghe had slept with his head on Bai Qingzhou’s shoulder the whole night. It hadn’t been noticeable at the time, but now that he’d gotten up, Bai Qingzhou realized his shoulder had gone numb. He lightly massaged it with his right hand — and Xia Xinghe noticed.
“Sorry, sorry,” Xia Xinghe said, clearly flustered. “Did I press on you too hard?”
“It’s fine,” Bai Qingzhou repeated. His hand still on his shoulder, he changed the subject. “The sun’s about to rise.”
“Really?”
Xia Xinghe was successfully distracted. He looked up in anticipation.
It was true.
Dawn was coming.
The far sky was still dark, but nearby clouds had turned pink. The contrast of light and dark created a stunning visual — an indescribable awe gifted by nature.
“It’s really happening! The sun’s rising!”
Xia Xinghe excitedly grabbed his phone to take pictures. When he turned to look at Bai Qingzhou — he found him already looking at him.
His light-colored eyes were fixed and unwavering—brighter, even, than the sun rising in the distance.
Their eyes met. Xia Xinghe quickly looked away as if shocked by an electric current, muttering under his breath, “Why are you looking at me instead of the sunrise…”
His face turned slightly red. Awkwardly, he shoved the phone with the camera into Bai Qingzhou’s hand and said, “Hurry up and take pictures of the sunrise.”
In just those few seconds, the sun had already risen a bit more. Sunrises are fleeting—gone in a blink. Xia Xinghe hastily took a few more photos. Soon, the sun had fully risen.
The sunlight became a bit too glaring. People around them began to put away their cameras and gear. Xia Xinghe lowered his phone and began reviewing the pictures he’d taken.
First photo—blurry from a shaky hand.
Second—overexposed, couldn’t make anything out.
Third…
And so on.
After flipping through several shots and not finding a single satisfying one, he turned his hopes to Bai Qingzhou.
“Did you take any photos just now?”
He asked.
Bai Qingzhou nodded. Xia Xinghe immediately took the camera from his hand.
“Let me see how you—”
Halfway through the sentence, Xia Xinghe abruptly fell silent.
Bai Qingzhou’s photos were stunning.
The composition was perfect, the colors vivid. The blazing red sun rising through the clouds looked breathtakingly majestic.
But besides the sun, mountains, and clouds, each photo had something else in the bottom left corner: a familiar silhouette.
His silhouette—him, holding up his phone to take photos.
So noticeable.
Xia Xinghe froze for a second and asked, “Didn’t I tell you to take pictures of the sunrise?”
“I wanted to take pictures of you,” Bai Qingzhou replied matter-of-factly. “Is that not allowed?”
He did it on purpose?
Why would he want to take pictures of him?
Xia Xinghe’s heart skipped a beat or two.
Yanmai’s recent words echoed in his mind, along with all the little things Bai Qingzhou had been doing lately. It was as if something inside was about to break free—some emotion he didn’t quite dare confirm.
Awkwardly, he shoved the camera back into Bai Qingzhou’s hands, mumbling, “Why… would you take pictures of me when there’s a perfectly good sunrise?”
“…”
Silence.
And somehow, that silence felt… defeated.
Bai Qingzhou was rarely defeated.
He’d always been called a genius. Things others struggled to learn after many attempts, he mastered with ease. No matter how complex the principle or operation, he could grasp it at a glance.
He was skilled in complex formulas, precise in delicate surgical procedures—but when it came to chasing someone’s heart… no matter how hard he tried, it felt like punching into cotton. Nothing landed. No reaction.
Again and again.
From their chats, the flowers, the meals, to now climbing a mountain together—no matter what he did, Xia Xinghe’s reaction always defied his expectations.
Did he really not understand?
Or was he just pretending not to?
Bai Qingzhou couldn’t figure it out.
He furrowed his brows tightly and finally asked, “Have I not made it obvious enough?”
“…Huh? What do you mean?”
Xia Xinghe was thrown off by the sudden question and looked up at him, confused.
“…”
“…”
They stared at each other. Bai Qingzhou looked into those wide, clueless eyes for a long moment. Then he exhaled, sharply.
“Xia Xinghe,” he said, “I’m pursuing you.”