Chapter 60: A Lone Rider Across a Thousand Miles—Climbing the Mountain for Snow

Lin Shenlu left.

He departed from the Whale Deer Hotel.

No one knew where he went; he hadn’t told anyone.

Inside the room, only Hailan Jing remained, breathing heavily.

After all the commotion, his body felt much better.

Hailan Jing lay on his side, gazing out the window.

How long had it been since he’d quietly lain alone, reflecting like this?

That fellow, before leaving, had said he could do it.

What did he mean by that?

What was he planning to do?

Hailan Jing rubbed his already aching head.

Enough—he didn’t want to think anymore. Time to rest.

Today was his birthday.

He would reward himself with a good sleep.

...

Lin Shenlu checked the time—it was nearly eight in the morning.

He got into his car and set off.

He’d been driving for days, and the fuel tank was nearly empty.

First, he found a gas station to fill up; next, he had something important to do.

This pink Audi convertible that had accompanied him for so many days was about to bid him farewell.

He wanted to spend these last moments in Dali well, without regrets.

Just as Brother Qin had said moments ago:

Don’t regret, don’t leave things unfinished, don’t hurt those who love you… and never let the ones you love be hurt.

Onward!

The weather today was exceptionally fine.

After filling the tank, Lin Shenlu put on his sunglasses and stepped out into the sunlight, driving along the shores of Erhai Lake, bathed in warmth.

The road was long.

From Dali to Jade Dragon Snow Mountain.

At Lin Shenlu’s speed, it would take about two hours.

That’s right.

He was going to climb to the summit, to fetch snow for Hailan Jing.

And bring it back to Dali.

On her birthday, he would make it snow for her.

Whether it was her wish or her expectation, he would give it back.

From then on, neither would owe the other.

Strictly speaking, Jade Dragon Snow Mountain belonged to Lijiang, a city in Yunnan.

Dali and Lijiang were two entirely different travel destinations.

For Lijiang, known as the City of Romantic Encounters, Lin Shenlu felt no particular urge to set foot there.

...

There was no helping it—ancient towns and cities evoke a certain sentiment.

This is one of the extremes among travelers.

Some adore old towns, refusing to visit any city without one.

It’s a unique affection.

Alone or with others, they wander among the brick alleys and tiled roofs, under the influence of history and culture, using a tranquil mind to savor every blade of grass, every corner, every nook of the ancient town—that is the affection for old towns.

Deep in winding alleys, it’s the lazy air, the moss thriving, the lanterns beneath the eaves, glimpsed here and there.

Others, however, find ancient towns much the same.

After visiting once, they feel no further pull.

So, every traveler’s sentiment for old towns differs.

At least, Lin Shenlu felt no profound longing for them.

That’s why, when choosing a city in Yunnan, he picked Dali first, not Lijiang.

Today, if not for the snow atop Jade Dragon Mountain, he wouldn’t have thought of venturing into Lijiang.

Lijiang had become so commercialized that even romance was now a commodity.

Lin Shenlu knew this well.

Not long ago, he’d reviewed articles about Lijiang.

Many girls from other cities were traveling there, working part-time as bar hostesses.

If you say she’s a hostess, she insists she’s a traveler.

If you say she’s a traveler, she admits she’s working as a hostess.

Earning travel expenses while being flirted with by young men.

In today’s Lijiang, all the beauty is less pure than before.

In such places, Lin Shenlu found it hard to rediscover his original purpose.

So, this time entering Lijiang, he had only one goal: Jade Dragon Snow Mountain.

Climb, fetch snow, return to Dali.

Nothing more.

...

Yet, he had to admit, this road was beautiful.

On this warm, sunny morning, the sky was not cloudless and blue.

Lin Shenlu disliked a sky without clouds.

Such skies were monotonously blue, lacking contrast.

To him, the sky needed clouds.

Clouds added depth, making their beauty apparent.

Floating, suspended, gathered, or dispersed.

Wispy, flat, drifting, spreading, layered, rising.

They shimmered, catching the eye.

Light pierced through and scattered to the earth.

They carried the Tyndall effect, became the canvas for morning and evening glows.

The sky was the stage for the rainbow palette.

That was what clouds were.

Only with clouds was the sky perfect in Lin Shenlu’s eyes.

He had never forgotten his original purpose in coming to Yunnan.

To seek the true meaning of the “Southern Land of Colorful Clouds.”

Legend had it that Yunnan earned its name because someone witnessed clouds painted in seven colors here.

Looking up, the white clouds were touched by light, becoming red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet…

Was this real or mere myth?

Lin Shenlu didn’t know, but the name’s existence proved more than one person had seen it.

In recent years, the travel blogs he’d reviewed about Yunnan did mention colorful clouds.

One article began: “During the Han Wu era, colorful clouds appeared in the south, officials traced them, and thus the name Yunnan came to be.”

Later generations offered scientific explanations.

Supposedly, the colorful cloud was a natural phenomenon—sunlight interacting with ice crystals in clouds, a classic sun halo effect. In the right weather, sunlight and clouds formed the perfect angle, light refracted and reflected, water vapor in the upper clouds split the spectrum, scattering seven colors.

Perhaps this was why the Tang poet Li Yong wrote such astonishing lines:

“Colorful clouds astound the late year, swirling around the lone mountain peak. Scattered into five hues, condensed into a piece of sorrow.”

Maybe… the most elusive beauty was not for everyone to see.

All these days in Dali,

Every time Lin Shenlu went out, he searched the sky intently,

Trying to find that rare, precious, seven-colored cloud.

He’d seen pink sunsets, orange sunrises—all captured in his eyes.

But the seven-colored cloud he sought from the beginning remained unattainable.

This journey was his last attempt.

If he couldn’t find colorful clouds on the road to Jade Dragon Snow Mountain, he’d have to accept that this trip might end without the chance.

After all, many who’d glimpsed colorful clouds said they saw them near Jade Dragon Snow Mountain, perhaps due to temperature differences.

In daytime Yunnan, it’s twenty degrees or more, while atop the snow mountain it’s below freezing.

If fate didn’t grant him this chance, he’d have to wait for another opportunity to return to Yunnan.

Many sights are rare and fleeting.

Lin Shenlu knew of a photographer who waited ten months to capture Namcha Barwa Peak.

It was said nine out of ten people failed to see it; in a year, only three or five days offered a clear view—the peak was shrouded in clouds and mist.

Even if the clouds parted one day, the mountain would vanish quickly.

Not all scenery is easily seen.

The colorful clouds of Yunnan are no different.

Lin Shenlu pursued them.

If he didn’t see them, he’d have no regrets.