MW CH39

Chapter 39: I’m Fine Too

“…Bro… Bro?”

I snapped back, looking up at Sun Manman ahead of me, forcing a smile. “What’s up?”

She frowned lightly, concern all over her face. “Bro, are you getting altitude sickness? You’ve seemed weighed down all day.”

Are all psych majors this sharp?

I sighed inwardly. “Nah, just drank too much yesterday—head’s pounding a bit.”

Her frown deepened. “See? I told you to go easy.”

After fleeing the temple in a panic last night, I didn’t sleep a wink back at the institute. By morning, I was a mess. Just one night, and the joy of returning to Cuoyansong was gone—replaced by endless regret and shame.

I’d selfishly thought one look wouldn’t hurt. All it did was pile pain and torment on both me and Mochuan.

I shouldn’t have come. Shouldn’t have shown up in front of him again.

“Bro, you didn’t go to the Deer King Temple this morning—Chuwen哥 took us. He said Pinjia went to your school, that you know him?” Liang Mu sidled up, curious.

A stab hit my chest; my smile nearly cracked. “Yeah, we know each other.”

“The temple’s not that big, but for one person, it feels so lonely and bleak. I thought about it—facing a lifeless thing every day, chanting, fasting, suppressing desires? No way I’d do it,” Liang Mu said. “Pinjia’s so young, so good-looking, but stuck there for life… It’s kind of pitiful, don’t you think?”

I might’ve once scoffed and told her Mochuan chose this, he should deal. Now, every word she said spread the pain faster. By the end, it was everywhere—limbs, bones, all of me. In some wuxia or xianxia novel, I’d probably cough up blood on the spot.

“Yeah, really pitiful,” I muttered, voice low, echoing her.

“Right?” Her enthusiasm kicked in with my agreement. “Chuwen哥 said before becoming Pinjia, he was the old Pinjia’s adopted son. And to the Cenglu, the Mountain Lord’s both his husband and wife—father and mother too. It’s wild to think about. The Mountain Lord’s gender can shift however you look at it. Shows how open this primitive faith was at the start.”

I blinked, thrown by her quirky take—first time I’d heard it spun like that. Before I could chime in, we reached our stop: a Hope Middle School in Pengge. Guo Shu brought us here since Sun Manman and Liang Mu wanted something beyond scenery—real human stories.

A teacher surnamed Zhou greeted us—forty or fifty, average build, eloquent, poised. Liang Mu couldn’t resist asking where she’s from. “Haicheng,” Zhou said, “but I’ve been teaching here in Cuoyansong for eighteen years.”

“Eighteen years?” Liang Mu gaped. “I’m barely twenty—you’ve been at it almost my whole life?”

Guo Shu laughed. “Lots came with Zhou back then, but she’s the only one who stayed. Cuoyansong’s tough—not everyone lasts this long.”

Zhou, from Haicheng? I remembered Mochuan’s trip to Haicheng for Yunduo—her mentioning a middle school teacher who helped her escape with a ticket. Could it be her?

The answer came quick. It’s the Cenglu New Year—students who could went home, back tomorrow. Those with nowhere to go or no one at home stayed, under Zhou’s care.

In a study room, a dozen kids sat—more girls than boys. I spotted Chunna right away.

She was chatting with the girl next to her, peeking at her textbook while scribbling homework, face lit with a kid’s innocent joy—worlds apart from the Chunna I first met months ago.

She glanced up, caught my eye, and tensed, offering a shy smile before ducking her head lower.

“Bro, you know that girl?” Sun Manman nudged me with her elbow.

Once Zhou closed the door and we stepped away, I shared Chunna’s story—skipping Mochuan’s injury part.

“What a jerk dad,” Sun Manman said. Spoiled growing up, with Bai Qifeng a tyrant outside but a pushover at home, she couldn’t fathom a father forcing his daughter to marry.

“Plenty out there,” Zhou said, her tone weary yet resigned. “In remote mountains like this, education’s not about getting them to college or out. That’d be nice, but it’s more about teaching them how to be human.”

“It’s not a woman’s fault if she can’t have sons. You can’t marry close kin. If love fades, divorce is fine. Everyone gets to choose their marriage. A wife isn’t a man’s property—you don’t beat or curse her. A girl’s future isn’t just marrying and birthing. If your husband dies, remarry—no need to cling to chastity for life…”

“They can stay or leave, but they have to know these truths.”

Stuff we take as obvious, Zhou’s drilled into them for over a decade.

She came to Cuoyansong around my age. Eighteen years later, her face shows the wear, youth faded. Her peers left one by one; she’s held on alone. What kind of resolve keeps her going?

A teacher of knowledge is easy to find; a teacher of virtue is rare. Buddhist texts call those who guide souls “teachers of gods and men”—a lofty title, and damn scarce.

I used to think such people were near-mythical. Turns out, they exist.

“If a gentleman wants to shape customs, it starts with learning,” Sun Manman mused as we left. “Changing a place’s ways comes through education. But… Zhou’s got it rough.”

Guo Shu patted her head, smiling. “One carries firewood for a home, a hundred for a city, ten thousand for a nation. The world needs people like Zhou to hold it together.”

We stayed in Pengge two days, hit Waxiao the day before May Day, and met up with the online hiking crew Sun Manman had linked with.

I figured the group would be six or seven, including us. Nope—over twenty.

The leader, Black Wind, was a thirty-something trekking vet who’d led tons of south-slope Canglan Snow Mountain routes.

“We’ve got a big crew this time—stay careful, stick to the plan, no wandering, got it?” Black Wind held a pre-trip meeting, hammering safety.

“Canglan’s main peak, Deer King Ridge, is off-limits—faith stuff, no climbing allowed. But the four south peaks are fair game. Two days round-trip, no fires up there—pack enough food and water. Highest point’s over 4,800 meters—bring oxygen cans. If you can’t hack it, tell me fast. We’ve got two Cenglu guides—they’ll take anyone who taps out back down. Questions? Hit me now…”

Next day, pre-dawn, we slung on packs, zipped into jackets, and set off from the guesthouse for the first south peak.

Fun fact: the guesthouse’s black-and-white dog tagged along. Owner said it loves hiking with guests—knows the way.

First peak topped out just over 4,000 meters—manageable. The killer was a 1,000-meter climb. Early on, everyone’s energy held; no stragglers, even newbies like Sun Manman and Liang Mu kept up. Second peak, four hours in, got brutal—cold, sandy scree mixed with snow, tough footing. The line stretched.

Third peak, higher still, rocky as hell. Even chatty Sun Manman went quiet—just trudging.

Started at dawn, hit the third peak camp by 5 p.m.—fourteen hours of climbing. I set up the girls’ tent, scarfed some compressed biscuits, and crashed early, no energy for anything else.

Day two, up and at it again. Fourth peak—south slope’s tallest, trickiest climb.

We three lagged at the tail. Halfway up, commotion ahead—soon a Cenglu guide came down, a guy on his back, a frantic girl trailing, heading to the third camp.

“Guy’s sick, low oxygen—had to turn back,” word came from up front.

One guide had been rear guard; now he moved up front, leaving me, Sun Manman, and Liang Mu as the caboose.

Fourth peak was steep—black rocks everywhere, small stones pelting down. I brought up the rear with my trekking pole and the dog. One glance down, and Liang Mu slipped, tumbling hard.

I jolted. “You okay? Hurt?”

She struggled up—jacket torn at the elbow, ankle swelling fast. Bad sign.

Sun Manman, panicked, “Wiggle your toes—see if it’s broken.”

Liang Mu shed her shoe, moved her toes—good, not fractured, just a sprain.

Black Wind hustled back, checked her ankle, agreed with me, then said, “Only one guide left—can’t send you down. Can you tough it out? Few more hours to the bottom.”

Sun Manman scowled. “Tough it out? Look at her foot…”

“I’ll carry her,” I said. “I’ve got the rest of the way.”

“Hours of it? You can’t solo that,” Liang Mu said, grabbing her pole to stand. “Forget it—I’ll hobble slow.”

Black Wind stopped her. “How’s this: you start carrying, then I’ll get guys from the group to rotate. Deal?”

Flat ground was a stretch for her foot, let alone this climb. It was the best shot.

I hoisted Liang Mu steady on my back. She mumbled, sheepish, “Thanks, bro. If you’re beat, drop me—I can limp a bit.”

“No sweat,” I said lightly. “You’re light—I could haul you all the way down, believe me.”

We were already last; her injury slowed us more. Soon, the group vanished ahead.

No warning—sky flipped from clear to gray, fog rolled in, then snowflakes.

It was cold enough in jackets; snow dropped it another dozen degrees, chilling to the bone.

“Bro, how’s the weather turn this fast? Forecast said clear!” Sun Manman pressed close, scared. “I can’t see the group—are we… lost?”

Too cold—my tongue stiffened. I spotted a wind-and-snow-blocking nook in the rocks, rushed Liang Mu over.

In the crevice, I set her down—her lips were purple. My gut sank. “Manman, grab your thermal blanket.”

I’d made them pack survival gear—rope, whistle, blanket—just in case. Never thought we’d need it.

Sun Manman dug out the blanket, draped it over Liang Mu, then checked her phone.

“Bro, no signal.” She waved it around—nothing.

“Will the group come back for us?” Liang Mu shivered under the blanket.

The black-and-white dog sprawled by our feet, like it wanted to warm us with its body.

I ruffled its fur. “Let’s wait—maybe the weather clears soon, and we find the way.”

Hours passed—no one came, weather didn’t budge. Wind whipped snow in our faces; Sun Manman piled on every layer she had, still trembling.

Liang Mu and my packs were with Black Wind, handed off earlier—so we had just Sun Manman’s supplies.

Worse, Liang Mu started gasping—altitude or panic, hard to tell.

“We can’t keep waiting…” The snow eased a bit. I borrowed Sun Manman’s rain poncho, grabbed half a biscuit, told them to stay put and blow the whistle every two minutes, then left to find help.

“Bro, don’t!” Sun Manman grabbed my sleeve, voice cracking with tears. “I’m scared.”

I glanced at Liang Mu, fading fast, steeled myself, and pulled free. “I’ll be back with help—promise.”

The floppy-eared dog perked up, barked once, and bolted out—like it understood.

The guesthouse owner said it knew the way…

“Don’t move—watch Liang Mu!” I yelled to Sun Manman, chasing the dog.

In thick white fog, it trotted and paused, staying three or four meters ahead, guiding me.

Hesitant at first, I ended up sprinting after it.

Wind screamed in my ears. The poncho blocked some cold, but running at this altitude drained me fast—soon I was heaving, throat tasting like rust.

“Wait… hold up!” I stopped, hands on knees, gasping.

The dog peered back, ears twitching, then barked wildly, racing toward me.

Something’s wrong. I looked up—a black rock tumbling down. Instinct kicked in; I dove aside, dodging it, but rolled down the slope—spinning, crashing over jagged stones, landing flat in a valley notch.

Up top, the dog’s black-and-white blur barked twice, whining anxiously, then left after a bit.

Pain racked me. I tried moving—failed every time—gave up, lying back.

Staring at the snowy, gloomy sky, maybe it’s all the crap lately, but I wasn’t freaking out. Pretty calm, actually.

Not even my zodiac year—how’d I get this unlucky? Am I… dying here?

I sighed long, thoughts wandering.

If I’d known… if I’d known…

Eyes shut, I saw kissing Mochuan.

If I’d known I’d die this soon, I’d have made him break his vows for real, no matter what.

He’d hate me—dying right at his doorstep instead of far off.

No clue how long I lay there—sky darkened, cold deepened. Hypothermia muddled my focus. Then that cow-patterned dog came back, curling onto me, warming me with its heat.

My chest ached under its weight; I half-laughed. “Last moments with you… not bad.”

A night passed. The dog kept me from freezing, but I was fading.

Snow stopped, fog lifted. Dawn’s glow hit the notch; the dog, still on my chest, howled skyward.

I forced my eyes wide. Against the light, a figure slid down the slope—stumbling, hands and feet scrambling toward me.

“Bai Yin…” He was frantic, but up close, every move turned gentle—fingers brushing my cheek like I’d shatter.

First time I’d seen that look on him—like if I broke, he would too.

“Did I hit paradise? How else… am I seeing a god?” I grinned, lifting a hand—dropped halfway. He caught it fast.

“You’re okay, you’re okay…” He rubbed my hand, shed his robe to wrap me, then pressed his forehead to mine. “You’re safe—I found you.”

“Manman and them…” Warmth seeped in; I asked what mattered most.

“They’re fine.” His nose grazed my cheek.

The tension holding me up gave out. Eyes closed, I let myself fade, catching his near-whisper before blacking out.

“…I’m fine too.”