Оn thе sесtion of the Qinghаi-Тibet Highwаy from Gоlmud tо Реаrl Рeak in Qinghаi Province, desolаtе Gobi dеserts аltеrnаtеd with graуish-уеllоw grаsslands оn either side оf thе roаd. From time to timе, convоys of militаrу truсks trаnsроrting suрplies intо Тibet соuld bе seеn driving in formаtiоn. The сlоuds werе thick and heаvy, the roаd аhеad vаst and boundless. Оn bоth sidеs of thе уеllоwish-brоwn wildеrness stооd towеring, cоntinuous snow-сaрреd mountаins. Маssivе ice tonguеs cascaded strаight down from the рerpеtuallу snоw-white рeaks, spreading out in the distance like ginkgo leaves—appearing close yet actually far away.
Several off-road vehicles moved steadily along the undulating, wave-like road. Among them, a red Wrangler stood out conspicuously, its black team flag at the rear whipped by the wind until its shape was almost indiscernible. Passing by one spot, a blue road sign stood tall, displaying the same place name from top to bottom in Tibetan, Chinese, and English—Kunlun Pass.
The convoy continued forward, the altitude steadily climbing. The endless road seemed to stretch all the way to the sky. Several off-road vehicles drove straight along the highway, overtaking one another as if engaged in a silent competition.
Suddenly, a white Toyota Prado sped up from behind and overtook them rapidly. As it passed the red Wrangler, it honked several times. Whether out of excessive excitement or something else, the driver ignored the strong plateau winds, rolled down the window, extended a little finger pointing downward, and let out a long whistle, followed by a burst of laughter from inside the vehicle.
"Damn it, ever since we entered Qinghai, those two cars have been tailing us."
"A rugged off-road vehicle like a Wrangler shouldn't come in red."
"What kind of sissy drives that?"
"Ha ha ha ha!!"
The mocking laughter was so loud it could be heard from several cars away. The red Wrangler suddenly accelerated and overtook them, not only blocking the way ahead but also cutting off the lead vehicle of the Prado convoy several times.
"Fuck!!" The Prado driver slammed the steering wheel and was about to give chase when the Wrangler suddenly braked, forcing him to stomp on the brakes as well. The Wrangler came to a halt diagonally in front of his vehicle, its window slowly rolling down halfway. A hand extended from inside, a slender middle finger raised high in a gesture of insult, the wine-red nail polish strikingly vivid.
"You bitch, I'll..." Before the Prado driver could finish his curse, the walkie-talkie crackled to life. The driver of the vehicle behind had apparently just gotten a clear look at the emblem on the Wrangler's rear flag and warned, "Forget it, Brother Sheng! That might be Master Ba."
Han Dasheng froze, his anger still simmering but forced to swallow it—when traveling far from home, it was best not to stir up trouble unnecessarily, even if one wasn't afraid of it.
The two off-road vehicles continued on as usual. The Prado convoy still sped past, overtaking them, but without any hint of provocation this time.
By the time they reached the South Slope base camp, the sky had cleared. The deep blue sky and pure white clouds of the high-altitude region were as beautiful as an oil painting. The climbing route up the south slope of Pearl Peak lay clearly before everyone's eyes. The summit was dazzlingly white, requiring no camera filters—a simple snap would produce an outstanding photo.
Bayunye was accustomed to altitudes over 5,000 meters. After getting out of the vehicle, she rubbed her hands together, zipped her windbreaker a little higher, and leaned against the car door. She scattered a handful of small biscuits, and tiny animals known as pikas came scurrying over to pick them up.
The off-road driver who had come with Bayunye went by the nickname Hippo. His real name was Ma He, and he was in his mid-thirties. Of average height, with a tan complexion and a pair of fierce, spirited eyes, he looked tough and capable.As soon as he got out of the car, he was busy filming short videos. In theory, his ID "Turkey-Flavored Rice Crackers," which had survived numerous internet cleanup campaigns, should have carved out a niche for itself in the influencer world. Unfortunately, whether due to poor taste or a faulty phone, he managed to capture every beautiful scene with a bleak, somber, and critical realist tone. After browsing his Douyin account, Bayunye once asked him seriously, "Did you study forensic photography?"
The mountaineering enthusiasts who arrived by car scattered around, discussing their plans to climb Pearl Peak. With some professional knowledge and prior experience climbing several snow-capped mountains, they hadn’t joined any commercial climbing teams here.
Han Dasheng, who had offended Bayunye earlier, hesitantly approached, holding a disposable cup filled with steaming liquid. He forced a smile, "Um... Master Ba? Heh, sorry about earlier—I had altitude reaction and hypoglycemia. Here’s some hot cocoa. Would you like some?"
Bayunye shifted her gaze from the climbers and glanced at him sideways. Knowing full well he was talking nonsense, she still pulled down the camouflage buff covering half her face, slowly turned around, and offered a thin, insincere smile.
A flicker of awe passed through Han Dasheng’s eyes. As a member of the western off-road team, he had heard of the reputation of "Master Ba" from the Eagle Club, but this was his first time seeing her in person.
Her beauty was striking and robust.
Her features were more defined than those of most women, suggesting she wasn’t of pure Han descent. Tall and upright, her indifferent yet defiant gaze held a hint of aggression upon closer inspection—she was entirely different from the delicate, refined beauties, the kind you could only admire from afar.
"I’m not cold. Thank you."
As she reached out, Han Dasheng instinctively flinched back, only to realize she was merely patting his shoulder firmly as a gesture of reconciliation.
But even from those two pats, Han Dasheng could feel the strength in her hands.
Not to be messed with, not to be flirted with—the reputation of Master Ba in the circle was absolutely true!
April to October is the best time to climb Pearl Peak, especially now during the Qingming holiday. Nearly twenty climbing enthusiasts and commercial climbing assistants were camping at the South Slope base camp tonight, including several foreigners. They huddled together, chattering in languages no one else could understand. Among them was a red-bearded man, tall and muscular, who looked intimidating, as if a single glance in his direction would earn you a beating.
Hippo continued filming randomly with his phone. The foreigners noticed and seemed displeased, with Red Beard gesturing a warning at him. Hippo quickly scurried away.
"Don’t cause trouble," Bayunye reminded him.
"What are these foreigners doing here? Their English isn’t even as standard as mine," Hippo joked after watching for a while, squeezing into the crowd of climbers as if trying to strike up a conversation and attract clients.
Bayunye stopped him, shaking her head.
Hippo was reluctant, "But Zhang Chenguang..."
"Don’t alert the enemy."
Han Dasheng was among the guests, giving them instructions, unpacking a large bag of Snickers bars, cocoa powder, and other items to distribute, offering well-wishes like "May you successfully reach the summit."
Climbers need to acclimatize at the South Slope base camp for at least a day before hiring guides or proceeding with climbing assistants to Camp C1, where they spend another day and night adjusting before beginning the ascent. So, after dropping them off, Bayunye and Hippo returned to Golmu along the same route.Hippo asked Bayunye in confusion, "Aren't you afraid Zhang Chenguang will run away?"
She focused on driving and replied casually, "He's not a wanted criminal. Where would he run to?"
Hippo didn't see it that way. "China is so vast, yet he just happens to appear at Pearl Peak. It doesn't seem simple."
Bayunye didn't respond.
When they went up the mountain again at the agreed time to pick them up, they had just passed West Great Beach when the weather turned strange. Not long after, Bayunye heard from a passing driver that a sudden blizzard had hit the mountain. A shiver ran down her spine like an electric shock. Everyone knew that a blizzard on Pearl Peak was no joke for climbers. Even retreating below the snowline wasn't necessarily safe, and if they couldn't retreat in time, they might be "wiped out."
The group of guests she had brought absolutely must not run into trouble; otherwise, it would tarnish the reputation of the Eagle Club that Brother Long had painstakingly built—Brother Long had never let any guest see blood in all these years.
When they reached the south slope camp and saw several familiar figures, Bayunye's heart settled—this time, the guests she had brought were all very cautious with their lives. They told her that halfway up, they sensed something was wrong and quickly retreated. Han Dasheng's group of guests weren't as fortunate. It was said that after a hasty retreat, one person was missing—Zhang Chenguang.
Bayunye's mood instantly soured, but she didn't show it on her face. Brother Long had finally managed to track down Zhang Chenguang's whereabouts—he was among the climbers led by Han Dasheng, which was why she had followed their convoy all the way here.
One of the climbing guides hired by Zhang Chenguang and the others, a middle-aged man named Pulan, told the police and armed police who later arrived for search and rescue that they had gotten separated due to the heavy snow. Only after retreating to Camp C1 and taking a headcount did they realize Zhang Chenguang was missing. Pulan said he had heard that this wasn't Zhang Chenguang's first time climbing Pearl Peak, so he had been relatively at ease with him. He just hadn't expected Zhang Chenguang to be the only one in danger during the blizzard.
Han Dasheng wished he could kowtow to pray for Zhang Chenguang's safety—not out of concern for his well-being, but because such an incident would greatly affect their convoy's future business.
Tibet, Xinjiang, Qinghai, and other regions are vast, with natural and cultural landscapes distinct from the eastern regions, attracting large numbers of tourists every year. This has given rise to such convoys, specifically catering to semi-independent travelers. They can act as drivers according to your itinerary or serve as both drivers and guides, avoiding the "sleep on the bus, take photos at stops" tour groups.
Han Dasheng runs this kind of business, and so does the Eagle Club. With their foundation in off-road exploration, they understand this land better than travel agency guides.
Since it's a business, they fear even the slightest hint of bloodshed. You may not have led the summit attempt, but if your guest runs into trouble, you won't escape the criticism.
"Good luck, old buddy," Hippo comforted before leaving.
Han Dasheng sighed deeply, likely sensing that Zhang Chenguang's chances were slim.
It was said that besides the armed police and local garrison, the Blue Sky Rescue Team and the Beidou Rescue Team had also sent a group of volunteers to Pearl Peak to participate in the search and rescue. A few days later, the Blue Sky Rescue Team discovered the body of a foreigner. Based on the autopsy results and personal belongings, the date of death was roughly the day of the blizzard. Strangely, the police had not received any reports of a missing foreigner.When Bayunye and the others left Golmud, the weather had cleared again. The morning sun slowly dyed the snow-capped mountaintops gold, like the gilded spires of Buddhist pagodas—extravagant yet exceptionally sacred.
Had Zhang Chenguang’s trail truly gone cold like this?
Early May in Lhasa couldn’t be called cold, but the mornings and evenings carried a significant chill. Today, Brother Long, the owner of the Eagle Club, was hosting the rescue team and the initiator of the Qiangtang search mission at the Deji Inn in Lhasa. The tea set on the table was arranged meticulously, with cups lined up in rows according to size and color.
Brother Long was an atypical Khampa man. His real name, transliterated, was Renlong Duoji. Unlike the tall, imposing, and deep-eyed Khampa men of popular imagination, he was now a plump, fair-skinned man, often described as a chubbier version of Takizawa Hideaki. He had been organizing the Eagle Club for over a decade. Before that, he was a well-known "hardcore backpacker" in the circle. Having driven for many years, he was Bayunye’s mentor, boss, and elder brother, holding immense gratitude and even a life-and-death bond with her.
In recent years, he had stepped back from the front lines. What did he do instead? He ran inns. He owned properties in several prominent tourist cities in southwestern China, such as Lijiang, Dali, Chengdu, and Lhasa.
The Deji Inn had three floors. Like many buildings in Lhasa, it was structured in a square-shaped layout, with a square courtyard in the middle. The railings on each floor of the inn were hung with flags from various off-road teams, arranged from large to small and by dominant color. Some even bore the signatures of all team members, exuding an aura of pride—as if having entered Tibet was a badge of honor.
The guests hadn’t arrived yet. Brother Long leisurely boiled water, his left hand slowly counting prayer beads one by one. When he reached a sandalwood carving pendant of a dragon-taming figure, he rubbed it solemnly a few times, murmuring something under his breath.
Footsteps sounded at the entrance. Brother Long looked up—they were here.
Hippo entered first, gesturing with a "please." A group of people filed in behind him, mostly robust-looking men in their twenties or thirties, wearing orange-and-black windbreakers. On the left chest of their jackets was embroidered a badge combining the Earth’s latitude and longitude lines with the Big Dipper. Among them was a middle-aged man of average height with a ruddy complexion, dressed in a T-shirt and a black sports jacket. He walked with a light step, as if he exercised regularly.
Brother Long immediately recognized him as Ye Xun, a charity entrepreneur with high media exposure.
Ye Xun was a nouveau riche who had made his fortune by organizing premium tour groups. Unlike other upstarts, he had gained considerable traction in charity work in recent years, even establishing the "Ye Foundation" dedicated to helping disadvantaged groups. His reputation in the industry was quite good, and he had even been featured in a personal interview. However, there were also dissenting voices online, accusing him of putting on a show—superficially engaging in charity while actually exploiting young men and women.
Brother Long had long been puzzled: exploiting young women was understandable, but what kind of twisted operation was exploiting young men?
Once the dozen or so people were seated, the originally spacious central courtyard felt somewhat crowded. Brother Long scanned the room and, together with Hippo, served tea to each person one by one.
Ye Xun and his assistant Xiao Zi had flown in from Chengdu, treating altitude reaction like a fearsome beast. Ye Xun glanced into his cup, where a few crimson strands floated in the orange-yellow liquid. "Ah—" he chuckled, taking a sip as if savoring Maotai liquor, looking quite pleased. "Saffron! Can this prevent altitude reaction?"Brother Long waved his hand dismissively. For a seasoned adventurer like him, altitude reaction was hardly worth mentioning unless you were climbing peaks above 6,000 meters. He scanned the surroundings once more but still couldn’t find the person he was hoping to see. Just then, a man arrived late, walking straight toward them. Brother Long looked up again, his eyebrows lifting slightly—it was him.
The man had a stern face, with thick, dark eyebrows that arched upward at the peaks. His eyes carried an air of authority even without anger, and a shallow groove marked the center of his chin. A layer of stubble cast a bluish-gray shadow over his sharply defined jawline. As he approached slowly, he wore only a gray short-sleeved shirt on his upper body. Though the shirt appeared loose, it clung tightly to his frame, revealing the contours of his well-defined muscles. His physique rivaled that of European or American male models, and his bronzed skin glistened with a thin layer of sweat. He exuded a cold, rugged masculinity, brimming with the strength and assertiveness of a mature man.
"Diao Zhuo," the man introduced himself, extending his hand. His voice was steady, his fingers long and knuckles thick, his palms rough—hands weathered by time and hardship.
"Diao... Zhuo..." Brother Long murmured the name silently, then smiled and shook his hand lightly. "Beidou Special Rescue Team One... I’ve long heard of you. If you have time, I’d appreciate an introduction. I’d like to volunteer too."
The Beidou Rescue Team was founded in 2011 as an independent, non-profit civilian rescue organization. It had branches in 20 provinces and autonomous regions across the country, along with several specialized rescue squads.
"You’re too kind."
Brother Long remained amiable, like a smiling Buddha. "Almost no one goes for a morning run right after arriving in Lhasa. Or perhaps Captain Diao is already well-adapted to high-altitude environments?"
A few team members chuckled, chiming in:
"We were just at Pearl Peak last month, searching for a missing climber."
"Lhasa is only a little over 3,000 meters in altitude—it’s practically comfortable."
"Honestly, we wouldn’t even be surprised if Diao Zhuo went out for a flight."
Brother Long feigned curiosity. "Is Captain Diao a pilot by profession?"
One of them laughed. "Wrong, guess again."
"An acrobat... like a trapeze artist?"
The group couldn’t hold back their laughter.
Brother Long shook his head.
Diao Zhuo waved his hand dismissively, his tone serious. "Don’t listen to their nonsense. I usually work in geological exploration, spending most of my time outdoors. I’m used to different environments and altitudes—it’s nothing special."
Hearing this, Brother Long’s gaze held a hint of deeper scrutiny.
After a moment of silence, Brother Long calmly twirled his prayer beads and changed the subject. "Back when Qiangtang wasn’t strictly regulated, I went in many times, but never made it to the core area. The scenery there is beautiful, but there are too many unknown dangers. I wonder if any of you have similar experience, or have ventured in there as a team before?"
Ye Xun took over, speaking with dramatic flair as if delivering a speech, even with tears glistening in his eyes. "Brother Long, Captain Diao and his team are elites! This trip to Qiangtang is partly about scouting the route, but the most important thing is to find Zou Kaigui. This Zou Kaigui is something else—he’s spent ten years searching for his daughter! I was deeply moved by his story, so I’ve been supporting him financially these past few years. Who would have thought he’d be so determined, even risking danger to go to Qiangtang? Really, I believe his solo venture into the uninhabited area is nothing like those who just want fame. They do it for themselves, but Zou Kaigui wants more people to know his story and help him find his daughter, who was abducted ten years ago."Brother Long nodded. "It's all for a good cause, so when our club heard you were going into the uninhabited area to search for someone, we volunteered to send a guide... I don't have your kind of mindset. With outdoor experience and route resources, I only think about using them to make money."
"Ah..." Perhaps the impassioned speech earlier had stirred him up, Ye Xun clutched his head and exclaimed, "My head feels a bit stuffy. Is it altitude reaction? No, no, you guys chat. I'm going back to the car to drink some rhodiola!" With that, he hurried out the door.
Hippo felt like laughing but had to hold it in. Glancing at the other rescue team members, he knew they were probably thinking the same thing. For newcomers to Tibet, so-called altitude reaction was often just a case of scaring themselves.
Diao Zhuo, straightforward as ever and clearly not one for small talk, asked bluntly, "Where is that guide, Master Ba?"
"She'll arrive in a couple of days."
Ye Xun's assistant, Xiao Zi, couldn't help but interject, "Is this person reliable?"
Brother Long wore a confident expression. "Absolutely reliable. Let me put it this way—after I stepped back from the front line, Master Ba became the 'pillar' of our club. Have you seen Wolf Warrior? She's a retired special forces soldier. How could she not be reliable?"
Diao Zhuo's expression remained serious, but it was clear he was satisfied with the guide's background.
Brother Long glanced at his face and smiled without saying a word. He was willing to take a loss to secure this job, and it wasn't purely out of charity.
After the rescue team left, he leisurely opened an old notebook. Inside were two yellowed newspaper clippings—"Minibus Carrying Multiple Geological Experts Crashes, Cause Behind Accident Urgently Needs Investigation" and "Investigation Team and Survivors Jointly Reveal Cause of Crash—Surprisingly Due to Internal Conflict Affecting Driving."
After flipping through it for a while, he closed the notebook, seemingly lost in thought.
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