Diао Zhuo resроndеd аbsеntmindedly, his attеntiоn comрletelу fосusеd оn thе flyer. Тhis time, he had specifiсаlly brоught alоng sеvеrаl phоtоs рrоvidеd by thе policе tо the Rеscue Tеam during the lаst searсh аnd rеsсuе орeratiоn. Тhesе wеrе piсtures tаkеn of Zhang Сhеnguang with fеllow tourists befоre his disapреаranсe. In one оf thеm, Zhаng Chеnguаng hеld а whitе insulаted wаtеr bottlе in the bаckground. Judging bу the раttеrn, it loоkеd strikinglу similаr to the onе described in the missing item nоtice.
Thе photо wasn’t vеrу clеar, so identifying whether they were the same required intense concentration.
"Smoking, drinking..." A hand slapped heavily onto his shoulder, accompanied by a familiar female voice. "Living the good life, huh?"
Bayunye?!
Diao Zhuo looked up to see her standing before him with a smile, one hand tucked into the pocket of her hiking pants, her head tilted as she watched him. He instinctively crushed the cigarette butt against the leg of the table, stood up, and uttered the classic question of a straight-laced man:
"What are you doing here?"
Bayunye took off her hat, equally stubborn. "Afraid you couldn’t handle things alone, so I came to help."
He raised an eyebrow. "Handle what?"
She glanced around. His friends, whether tall or short, fat or thin, all looked tough and capable—birds of a feather flocking together.
Diao Zhuo reached out and lightly tapped the tip of her nose. "With you here, that’s when I’ll really have trouble handling things."
In truth, he was pleasantly surprised.
She clearly disagreed. "Have I ever caused you trouble?"
Hippo brought over two chairs, joining them at the table, creating a cheerful atmosphere. Diao Zhuo took Bayunye’s hand—it was warm, so she wasn’t cold—but he still clasped it and tucked it into his jacket pocket. From years of driving, Bayunye’s hands weren’t particularly delicate; there were several calluses where they often met the steering wheel. Her palm pressed against his, his own rough and weathered, with thick calluses covering the space between his thumb and forefinger and the base of his fingers. Both hands bore the marks of hardship, now warming each other.
She lowered her voice and said, "Diao Zhuo, I feel like the way you treat me now is completely different from when we first met."
Well, obviously.
But he still humbly asked for clarification. "How is it different?"
"Back then, 80% of the look in your eyes was pure murderous intent. Whenever I got close, I felt like you either wanted to beat me up or drag me outside and chop me to pieces." Bayunye mimed a chopping motion with her hand.
"What about the other 20%?"
"The other 20% was for watching the road while driving."
Diao Zhuo was left speechless. So, apart from driving, all I did was stare at you?
"And now?"
Bayunye’s hand in his pocket playfully scratched his palm, her eyes clearly asking in return—what do you think?
Just then, a man and a woman walked in. The man spotted Pulan at once and strode over, calling to the woman, "Honey! Over here!"
Bayunye took a look and recognized them by their outfits—they were the couple knocked over by the flyer guy that afternoon. The man had a decent appearance, with a short buzz cut, fair complexion, and a bright, cheerful demeanor. His wife wasn’t as striking as he was; she’d easily blend into a crowd, with a round face, faintly arched eyebrows, and a gentle, amiable expression.
What about the "leader" who was with them?
Pulan introduced them as a young married couple, Jiang Aohang and Fu Xingyue, who had been assigned to the same climbing team as them. Their flight had been canceled, so they arrived a day later. Fu Xingyue mentioned that her father, Fu Yingtao, seemed unwell and hadn’t come down for dinner. She planned to pack some hot noodles to take up to him later.It was clear that Jiang Aohang was extremely attentive to his wife, bustling around to take care of her. He carried a thermos, brewed a cup of jasmine tea for Fu Xingyue, and for a moment, the room was filled with its fragrance.
Fu Xingyue didn’t speak much. Once seated, she focused on playing with her phone. Whether it was due to altitude reaction or not, her lips were pale, and she seemed lethargic, unwilling to move or bother with anything.
Pulan advised the two of them that if Fu Yingtao’s altitude reaction didn’t ease, it wouldn’t be wise to attempt reaching the summit. Only then did Fu Xingyue slowly say, “After my mother passed away, he’s been depressed. Coming out with us to hike this time was meant to help him relax and lift his spirits. We’ll see how it goes. If it really isn’t possible, we’ll try to persuade him.”
Diao Zhuo took a cup of hot tea handed to him by someone nearby and passed it to Bayunye. “Coming from Chengdu?”
She nodded. “The next group of clients is starting from Delingha, so I’m passing through.”
“The Qinghai-Tibet route.”
“Right.”
Diao Zhuo nodded and advised, “Last year, heavy snow blocked the Tanggula section, and many vehicles were stranded for three or four days. The armed police distributed bottled water and bread along the road, and there were rumors that some people froze to death. Make sure to ask around and stay alert.”
Bayunye lowered her head and chuckled. “What you said is exactly what Brother Long told me before I left. Did the two of you plan this in advance?” She noticed that Diao Zhuo had been holding the lost item notice and leaned in to ask, “What, short on cash lately? I’ll take care of you—3,000 a month.” As she spoke, her hand mischievously squeezed his thigh, finding it firm and solid.
Da Qiang eagerly chimed in, “500 is enough, take him away!”
Dong Bai added, “What 500? 50 bucks and he’s yours.”
Diao Zhuo retorted, “So 50 bucks is all it takes for you to forget loyalty for profit?”
Da Qiang shot back, “Free of charge, no money needed!”
Dong Bai continued, “Try before you buy, with a 100-year no-questions-asked return policy!”
Bayunye played along, “Well then, I won’t stand on ceremony!”
Pulan remarked, “Who knows who it was, but they’ve been looking for that thermos for months. They hired that young guy to hand out flyers, paying him 1,000 a month.”
Diao Zhuo folded the notice and tucked it into his jacket pocket. “When did he start handing them out?”
“It’s been quite a while, probably since May…” Pulan recalled. “At first, everyone was curious and asked around. They said it was a birthday gift from the owner’s late mother. Since there’s a reward, we’ve been keeping an eye out while leading hikes. Let me tell you something funny—one young guy tried a sneaky trick. He bought an identical one, deliberately stepped on it, and even smashed it against rocks, making it dirty and worn-looking as if it had been found on the mountain. He contacted the owner and sent it over, but the owner said it wasn’t the right one.”
Bayunye found it amusing. “Wasted 300 bucks for nothing.”
Pulan, perhaps also finding it funny, covered her mouth and laughed for a while. “You know, that kind of thermos is actually pretty hard to find.”
Hippo disagreed. “You can find tons of them on Taobao.”
Pulan waved her hand dismissively. “That brand isn’t common.”
Da Qiang didn’t believe it and actually took out his phone to search, but after scrolling through several pages, he couldn’t find an exact match. “That’s strange! Look, there are plenty of white thermoses, but I really can’t find one exactly like the one in the lost item notice!”
Hippo remained skeptical. “Taobao is all-powerful. Try filtering by price…”
Diao Zhuo asked, “How did that young guy manage to buy an identical one?”Pulan scratched his head, recalling for a moment before saying, "I remember him mentioning something about a clothing brand, not specializing in insulated cups... and something about America..."
Jiu Dongbo now grew a bit more serious, picking up one of the lost-and-found notices and examining it for a while. He patted his forehead and let out an "oh," as if struck by inspiration. "I recognize this logo! It ran a few ads in our magazine—a very niche American streetwear brand. Sigh! It was too 'trendy' and failed to break into the domestic market, folding within a few years and retreating back home. They also produced accessories like shoes, hats, backpacks, and water bottles... but if you're buying through a proxy, clothes are easier to get."
Bayunye sensed something off. "An elderly mother, buying an insulated cup from a niche American streetwear brand for her son through a proxy. Hah, this old lady is quite fashionable, even more trendy than us."
Pulan said dismissively, "They hand out flyers every day, but I haven't heard of anyone actually finding anything."
Diao Zhuo remained silent, thinking that if it could be confirmed that Zhang Chenguang had carried this streetwear brand's insulated cup while climbing Pearl Peak, then the person behind the lost-and-found notice and their motives would be worth investigating.
"What are you all doing here..." a voice suddenly came from behind.
Everyone turned to look. A short elderly man wearing a black woolen hat walked over slowly, a cigarette in hand. Jiang Aohang hurriedly stood up to offer his seat, clearly indicating that this man was his father-in-law, Fu Yingtao.
Fu Yingtao pursed his lips, looking somewhat displeased. He glanced around, his gaze sweeping over Diao Zhuo and Pulan before reluctantly sitting in the seat Jiang Aohang had vacated. His expression was cold, his eyes downcast, with a hint of arrogance.
Everyone was rather puzzled. Bayunye, having encountered all sorts of clients, looked at Fu Yingtao, then at Pulan and Diao Zhuo, and suddenly understood—they happened to be sitting in the main host and guest seats at the round table, while Jiang Aohang and his wife had arrived late and were seated near the serving area, so the vacated seat was naturally there as well. Though no one knew exactly what kind of "leader" Fu Yingtao was, given his self-important demeanor, it was understandable that he would be dissatisfied with such seating arrangements.
When traveling, it doesn’t matter if you’re a CEO or a watermelon seller—meals are about camaraderie and fun, with no one paying such close attention to seating etiquette.
"Why didn’t you call me?" Fu Yingtao asked in a flat tone, his expression stern.
"I knocked on your door, but there was no answer. I thought you were sleeping," Jiang Aohang replied with a smile, placing an ashtray in front of him.
"Be more careful in the future. I never said I wouldn’t come down," Fu Yingtao said.
Jiang Aohang nodded repeatedly, quickly responding, "Yes, yes."
Fu Xingyue poured a cup of tea for Fu Yingtao using a disposable cup. He then asked, "Have the dishes been ordered?"
"I ordered them," Pulan, now sensing Fu Yingtao’s airs, raised his hand to smooth things over. "Since I’m the climbing guide for everyone, it’s my responsibility to make sure everyone eats well. The food here is mostly Sichuan cuisine, and I was worried some might not be used to it, so I ordered non-spicy dishes. If anyone wants chili, they have chili sauce."
Fu Yingtao nodded with the air of an official who expected everyone to defer to him. "Hmm, I can eat anything. I’m not picky. Just tell them to use less oil and keep the flavors light. I don’t like things too greasy or salty.""No problem," Pulan said, rising to call over the waiter and give instructions.
Bayunye, well-versed in such matters, lifted the corner of her lips. Pulan's little trick was purely for Fu Yingtao's benefit. The restaurants along the way never skimped on oil or salt—whether you gave instructions or not, they'd cook the same way.
Jiang Aohang was quite lively, asking everyone about their hometowns and professions, and he managed to find something to praise in almost everyone. Diao Zhuo's companions were all childhood friends who had grown up together—some were doctors, some fitness trainers, and others magazine editors. When asked about Bayunye and Hippo, they casually said they were from Lhasa and worked as tour guides. Judging by Fu Yingtao's expression, aside from the doctor, he looked down on everyone else's professions, remaining aloof with a hint of superiority in his eyes. No wonder some said that in the eyes of these elders, only teachers, doctors, and civil servants were considered proper jobs—everything else was just unemployed drifters.
Bayunye wondered, could Old Fu really be a high-ranking official?
From Jiang Aohang's self-introduction, everyone learned that he and Fu Xingyue worked for the same state-owned enterprise, where Fu Yingtao served as deputy general manager—a high-level executive whose annual salary far exceeded that of the young professionals at the table who were just starting their careers. Hearing this, everyone couldn't help but speculate whether Jiang Aohang had reasons beyond mutual affection for marrying Fu Xingyue. Likely, such rumors were already rampant within their company.
Just a few minutes after Pulan's "instructions," the entire table was laden with dishes. Aside from the fruit platter, every plate was greasy. Pulan chuckled and explained, "Everyone should try to eat more meat and drink plenty of water to adapt to the altitude as quickly as possible."
Once the food arrived, no one stood on ceremony. Chopsticks were drawn, one person grabbing a piece of braised pork ribs, another taking a few slices of twice-cooked pork. Bottles of alcohol were opened all around, and the toasts had already begun. Bayunye glanced at Fu Yingtao, who sat stiff-faced, stubbing out his cigarette. He was clearly displeased, likely accustomed to formal dinners where no one dared touch their chopsticks before he did.
What's so great about that? Bayunye thought disdainfully.
Each person's profession was like a script, and many who played successful roles in that script found it hard to step out of character even after hours. During the first meal with her clients, Bayunye always emphasized one thing: when traveling, forget about status—eat, drink, and enjoy yourself. Happiness was what mattered most.
From her observation, Jiang Aohang and Fu Xingyue were relatively easygoing. They didn't eat much, but they seemed to savor what they had. Fu Yingtao, already in a foul mood, ran out halfway through the meal to vomit everything up. In the end, he could only ask the kitchen to prepare a bowl of plain noodle soup to take back to his room and eat slowly.
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