Chapter 101: Shockwaves Across All Sides

After entrusting Cao Jinmin to Yang Jia, Qin Yun let out a faint sigh.

His stamina bar was indeed impressive, but after such prolonged weight-bearing, his legs and body had felt crushing pressure—lactic acid, long absent, began to surge and impair him.

After closing the livestream, he returned to the tent; when he took off his gloves and water bottle and placed them directly into Han Wei’s hands, she could no longer hold back—tears flooded out.

“Sis, I’m sorry… Wuwuwu … I’m sorry…”

Seeing her heartbroken state, Qin Yun sighed—but the next moment, a soft body suddenly flung itself into his arms, clinging tightly as she burst into sobs.

Guilt, longing, worry—all erupted at once.

Qin Yun’s body stiffened briefly, then slowly raised his hand and gently patted her back, saying nothing.

Thus, the summit check-in mission on Yaomei Peak was officially concluded.

That night, at the North Face Base Camp of Yaomei Peak, a gray tent flapped fiercely in the wind. The Climbers’ Alliance and Storm Mountaineering Team had already descended; both teams had utterly failed their attempt on Yaomei Peak.

The night sky was clear, studded with stars.

Inside the tent, Qin Yun sipped hot tea, comfortably at ease, occasionally chatting idly with Han Wei; they planned to leave slowly the next day.

“Boss Qin, the internet is flooded with news of your summit of Yaomei Peak—you’ve gone viral.”

Han Wei scrolled through her phone; it was clear she felt far more relaxed.

“Let it go viral—it’s not like it’s the first time. It’ll die down in a while.”

Han Wei smiled: “Netizens are calling you China’s number-one mountaineer right now.”

“...That’s a crown I don’t deserve. There are far greater climbers than me.”

Qin Yun was speechless.

“But you summited without any gear, using only two ice axes—who else could do that?” Han Wei also thought Qin Yun unmatched; after witnessing his countless extreme feats, her acceptance had grown immensely.

After all, the greatest challenge in mountaineering lies in solving the oxygen problem.

For most professional climbers, once oxygen is secured, summiting Everest from the south side isn’t particularly difficult.

Shaking his head, Qin Yun began reviewing the footage from his equipment.

Two days’ worth of footage totaled over ten hours; he glanced through it and felt splitting it into two episodes was unnecessary, but making one single episode would be too long, requiring excessive cuts—and that would be wasteful.

After telling Han Wei, she suggested: “I don’t think you should release it all at once. This isn’t your wilderness survival series—you can plan it better, like a ten-episode series.”

“That’s too many,” Qin Yun raised an eyebrow.

Han Wei suddenly remembered some connections back home and said: “Should I ask Douyin if they’d be willing to produce a special documentary for you?”

Qin Yun looked up at her in surprise: “Your family connections are that strong?”

“Not that strong—just some business ties,” Han Wei smiled. “I’ll ask after we descend. If they’re interested, let Douyin handle the planning; if not, stick to your original plan.”

“Alright, thanks.”

Qin Yun didn’t hesitate—he immediately agreed. If Douyin produced it, he’d essentially receive official recognition; future livestreams might then avoid some of their usual taboos.

They chatted a while longer as night deepened.

Just before sleep, Han Wei suddenly remembered something and asked curiously: “Boss Qin, what’s your next livestream going to be?”

Qin Yun was curled in his sleeping bag, listening to the wind outside—the high-altitude air was so crisp.

“Not decided yet. Not sure.”

“Oh!”

Soon after, Qin Yun’s breathing grew steady and even—but Han Wei couldn’t fall asleep.

One moment she thought of her sister Han Xue; the next, she replayed every move Qin Yun had made over the past two days.

The thoughts kept alternating, leaving her mind cluttered and sleep impossible.

Qin Yun was undeniably a charismatic man—everyone admired beauty, and Han Wei was no exception. Though she often encountered high-status men in life, none had ever been like Qin Yun.

Her own family had long passed the stage of caring about a man’s financial background.

What she truly cared about was mutual compatibility—plainly put, just a spark of connection.

And Qin Yun, this man she’d only known for two or three days, stirred something unique in her. But she could tell—he had no romantic interest in her at all, leaving her quietly disappointed.

These late-night musings left Han Wei tossing and turning all night; when she woke, her eyes were swollen.

In contrast, Qin Yun was brimming with energy, refreshed and invigorated—each breath felt like it activated his body’s vitality.

They quickly packed up and descended from the base camp.

Meanwhile, after a day and night of viral spread, online news of Qin Yun’s gearless summit of Yaomei Peak had exploded.

The mountaineering community erupted; the outdoor community fell silent; ordinary netizens gasped in shock.

For veteran climbers, the first reaction to this news was: Impossible.

Who didn’t know Yaomei Peak was the pinnacle of technical climbing in China—with a fatality rate over 20%, fewer than fifty successful summits worldwide, and a gearless ascent utterly unthinkable?

They scoffed, dismissing it as photoshopped images, staged stunts, or fake news from clickbait accounts.

Their groups were filled with:

“Bullshit. Yaomei’s ice wall? Gearless? No way.”

“Dare to brag like that? Probably never even seen a snow mountain.”

But as more news reports surfaced and official media verified them, disbelief gave way to reluctant acceptance.

Especially when screenshots and video clips leaked out.

No ropes, no protection points—just a man clinging to a near-vertical ice wall. Everyone fell silent.

Finally, these veteran climbers typed 【NICE】 in the comments.

China’s top mountaineer, Chu Jie, captain of Haoyun Mountaineering Team, publicly stated on Weibo: “This isn’t climbing—it’s a mad test of human limits. No one dares replicate it.”

Ordinary netizens, upon seeing these reports, first thought: This must be CGI.

A thousand-meter sheer cliff, clouds swirling beneath—just looking made one feel suffocated.

“I get scared looking down from my second-floor balcony—this guy’s walking on the sky.”

“Incredible. China really has so many extraordinary people.”

“Terrifying. Even the pictures scared me—I can’t imagine the video. I’m following this streamer.”

“A real man who doesn’t fear death.”

Soon after, the Climbers’ Alliance posted their own update, detailing their attempt on Yaomei Peak.

It was just an ordinary post—but it mentioned Qin Yun’s name. At this moment, that name carried massive traffic; within moments, the post trended.

Then, Qin Yun’s high-altitude rescue became public knowledge.

Compared to his gearless summit, his act of carrying someone down the mountain was even harder for climbers to accept.

“Fuck, can’t you make it more believable? Carrying someone down? You’re making him a god.”

“This is getting ridiculous.”

“Fine, gearless—I’ll believe that. But how the hell did you carry someone down safely in that situation? Are you Superman?”

“No pictures, no truth.”

Those who knew the Climbers’ Alliance immediately called to ask for details—and the answer stunned them.

A specialized high-altitude rescue organization stated: For areas as extreme as Yaomei Peak, they never accept rescue missions—because rescue is impossible. Helicopters can’t approach safely, ropes can’t reach, and the slope is too steep to stand on.

As Qin Yun and Han Wei returned to Siguniang Town, news about him had saturated the entire internet.

When he opened his phone at the hotel, countless notifications nearly crashed it.

After finally waiting for the notifications to end, he found his battery scorching hot.

He didn’t check any of them—he tapped “clear all” and called Su Huan.

The call rang once—then was answered.

“Qin Yun, you’re back in Siguniang Town?”

“Yeah, just got to the hotel, called you right away,” Qin Yun chuckled. “Is our benefactor satisfied?”

Of the three major sponsors for this livestream, Casio and DJI had already signed long-term contracts; Huanteng Sports hadn’t—so their sponsorship fee had to exceed the other two.

Just from livestream sponsorship, he earned fifty thousand yuan.

But for this two-day Yaomei Peak challenge, sponsorship fees were only a small portion of his total income.

After deducting Douyin’s cut, his total earnings reached over 3.6 million yuan—the highest ever since his livestreaming career began. Even he thought it was absurd.

“Extremely satisfied,” Su Huan sighed in relief upon hearing his strong voice. “If we negotiate after this livestream, the price might be even higher.”

Qin Yun laughed: “Thanks for passing on my appreciation. Did you wake up yet?”

“Not yet,” Su Huan snuggled back under the covers. “I’m not going to the office today. When are you heading back to Hangzhou?”

Qin Yun thought: “No plans yet. I’ll head along Sichuan toward Xinjiang, then circle back through Tibet.”

“Oh.” Su Huan hesitated, then withheld the news for now. “I’ll wait for you.”

“...”

Qin Yun felt something strange stir inside him.

But before he could speak, Su Huan added: “By the way, your Douyin followers have surpassed 35 million—you’re ranked 27th overall on the platform. Impressive.”

Qin Yun’s attention instantly shifted: “Haha, that’s amazing—I’m impressed with myself too.”

Su Huan burst into laughter.

“So full of yourself.”

They bantered a bit more, then hung up.

Su Huan held her phone, her emotions complicated—she still hadn’t told Qin Yun she’d voluntarily resigned from the company, fearing he’d overthink it.

Though labeled “voluntary,” it was effectively a dismissal.

“Better this way. I can start fresh and fully dedicate myself to running Qin Yun’s studio.”

After ending the call with Su Huan, Qin Yun began replying to messages one by one.

It took more than half an hour to reply to classmates, former colleagues, and people he’d met along the way from Beijing.

Only after finishing these tasks did he have time to take a proper shower, washing away all the dust, feeling utterly clean inside and out.

Although the rewards from this check-in task didn’t meet his expectations, the live-streaming income was a pleasant surprise—enough, then.

He packed his things, grabbed his luggage, and knocked on Han Wei’s door.

Soon after, the door opened, and a figure appeared before Qin Yun.

Han Wei had clearly just bathed; her long hair hung damp over her shoulders, and a white towel wrapped her body from chest down. Her delicate collarbone and pale legs were exposed—just one glance, and Qin Yun’s breath caught.

But he quickly steadied his mind and didn’t enter, saying directly: “How much longer? I’ll wait for you in the lobby.”

Han Wei nodded: “Give me another half hour. I’ve already packed everything—I’ll be down soon.”

“Alright, I’ll wait downstairs.”

Qin Yun turned and walked away, but the scene replayed in his mind—he couldn’t help sighing inwardly: What a great figure.

As he came downstairs, he heard chaotic chatter from the corner of the second floor.

“Sorry, I don’t understand. Can you speak Chinese?”

“¿Hay alquiler de caballos aquí?”

“Can you speak Chinese?”

“NO…”

Qin Yun looked over and saw three Western men at the front desk, looking helpless, speaking rapidly in a jumble of languages, while the other side understood nothing.

“Boss, they’re asking if you rent horses.”

The front desk boss, as if hearing celestial music, let out a deep sigh: “Mr. Qin, you know foreign languages? Perfect. Could you please help me communicate?”

Qin Yun blinked: “Boss, you know me?”

The boss laughed heartily: “Mr. Qin, your name is all over the internet. How could a businessman here in Siguniang Town not know you? If I hadn’t feared disturbing you last night, I’d have knocked on your door in the middle of the night.”

Qin Yun turned to the three Western men and spoke Spanish effortlessly: “¿Hola, necesitan ayuda? Aquí hay alquiler de caballos.”

Meaning: There’s horse rental here—do you need help?

The three men were overjoyed.

“Great! Finally someone who speaks Spanish! I’m José García, this is Miguel Hernández, and he’s Carlos Ruiz. Could you please help us ask how to rent one?”

With Qin Yun translating, the three quickly signed the rental contract and completed their check-in.

By the time everything was settled, Han Wei was already standing behind them with her luggage.

She stared at Qin Yun in surprise: “Mr. Qin, you speak Spanish too?”

“I’ve got a bit of a talent for languages—learned some on my own in college,” Qin Yun replied modestly.

He certainly couldn’t say that before yesterday, he didn’t know a single word of Spanish.

They checked out; Han Wei’s gear was carried by someone else, and she only brought a backpack before getting into Qin Yun’s Land Rover.

“Actually, I could have just taken a taxi.”

“No problem—I’m heading to Chengdu for something to eat anyway. It’s on the way.”