Chapter 158: Gunshot

Lam, dressed in a dark green Tibetan robe, sat at the edge of the village's drying ground, engrossed in a video on her phone.

This was the spot in the village with the best mobile signal; watching live streams here prevented lag. At home, the video stalled every three seconds and froze every five, driving her mad.

"Lam, what are you watching?"

A runny-nosed boy, around seven or eight years old, walked over from afar.

Lam looked up at him and smiled: "Losang, what tasty treats are you hiding in your arms? Let your sister have a bite."

Losang instantly grew wary and clutched his chest: "I won't tell you I've got three pieces of butter candy."

"Hahaha…" Lam burst into laughter—it never failed, "Come here, give your sister one piece, and I'll let you watch the phone too."

"Really?" Losang doubted it. "Last time you said you'd let me watch, but when your mom called you, you vanished."

"I couldn't help it—my mom called me." Lam shrugged. "This time, my mom won't call me. Don't worry."

Losang hesitated, then finally chose to believe her.

He carefully pulled out one piece of butter candy from his chest and handed it to Lam. Lam took it and shoved it straight into her mouth, savoring it happily.

Losang sat down beside Lam, his small eyes darting eagerly to the phone screen.

On the screen was a Han Chinese big brother, dressed stylishly, speaking.

"My destination today is Songxi Village, a Tibetan village. I'll resupply there and see if the locals will give me some tsampa to eat."

After checking in at Jieshan Daban and taking photos, Qin Yun quickly headed toward Longmucuo.

Jieshan Daban is the second-highest point on the Xinjiang-Tibet Highway; from here down to Longmucuo is a continuous downhill stretch.

He glanced at the snowboard on his back, his expression slightly exasperated.

"Anyone who's watched my livestream knows Qin's skill on a snowboard is no less than on skis. If I'd known, I should've brought a longboard too—I could've just slid down from here without walking a single step."

"Praising yourself? How shameless."

"Even though this flex isn't smooth, Qin's longboard descent is still a video I watch every day."

"Did you hear? The former world record holder in longboard descent challenged again a few days ago—but failed."

"I saw. He got seriously injured and announced his retirement."

"So tragic. He could've retired with honor. All because of Qin."

"Qin…"

Qin Yun stared blankly—he had no idea the former world record holder had attempted a new record.

"Don't spread rumors—I don't even know that guy."

As he spoke, he glanced to the right side of the road and saw a lake below the southwest slope of Jieshan Daban, its surface frozen white like a gourd. He quickly angled the drone's lens toward the lake.

"Look, there's a lake."

"Wow, so beautiful, Qin, go check it out!"

"So gorgeous—it's like a gem embedded there."

"It's too cold; the lake's completely frozen. If it weren't winter, it'd be stunning."

"Distant snow-capped peaks, nearby lakes, endless highland stretching beyond sight—only the extreme cold lets Qin enjoy this alone."

Qin Yun laughed heartily.

"I'm showing you all the beauty of the snowfield—how can you say I'm enjoying it alone?"

From Jieshan Daban to Songxi Village, the route passes Longmucuo and Songxi Daban, totaling 53 kilometers. The average person walks at 5 km/h; Qin Yun, to ensure sufficient daily distance, keeps his pace at 8 km/h. With stops and starts, the journey takes about seven hours.

But even after seven hours, it's still barely seven in the evening—the sun hasn't even set.

"Losang, it's time to eat."

Losang had barely sat down for two minutes when a loud voice called from afar.

Lam turned to look, trying not to laugh.

Losang's mouth twisted, and he burst into tears.

He'd only watched two minutes of butter candy—completely not worth it. But he dared not disobey; his mother's beatings hurt, his father's could kill.

Reluctantly, he rose from beside Lam, glancing back with every step, deeply reluctant.

"Go on," Lam felt pity. "If you give me your other two pieces of butter candy, you can come back here to watch after dinner."

"Really?"

Losang's big eyes shone with innocence.

"Of course! When has your Lam sister ever lied? I'm the only college student in the village."

Losang thought it over—it was true. Lam was the most educated person in the village; even Nixia Dunzhu often came to ask her questions.

"Alright then." He pulled out the two remaining pieces of butter candy from his chest and handed them to Lam. "I'll come back after dinner, Lam."

"Lam sister," Lam corrected him, snatching the two candies from the brat's hand.

Losang left. Lam returned to her livestream.

Watching, her eyes suddenly lit up: "Around seven or eight, Qin will reach Songxi Village. I need to tell my dad and mom to prepare some food to properly host Qin."

Thinking this, she quickly stood and ran home.

From Jieshan Daban's national highway to Longmucuo, every stretch passed frozen lakes.

The clarity and grandeur were unlike anything found elsewhere.

It felt as if all heaven and earth were utterly pure.

Though lacking lush vegetation, the land was mostly blackish rocks and distant yellow-brown mountains, besides the frozen lakes.

But the weather was perfect—the sky was a flawless, cloudless blue.

"Too bad—you can only see it through the lens. You can't feel the sensation of being one with heaven and earth. It's incredible."

Qin Yun savored it deeply. Just watching made him feel impossibly happy, the world impossibly beautiful.

"Frozen lakes, vast wilderness, endless snow-capped peaks—only here, in person, can the vastness of heaven and earth heal the soul."

"Damn it, stop talking—you're making me want to go."

"That bastard Qin is too much."

"Hahaha, I think it's better not to go. Watching the livestream is fine—no danger."

"Yeah, Qin, think about it—you're out here all day… Whoa, what's that?"

"What the hell did I just see? Over there…"

"Qin, zoom in, fast!"

Qin Yun saw it too. The drone instantly moved closer but stopped at about three hundred meters, then rapidly zoomed in.

When he saw the scene, his brow furrowed.

By the lake, three Tibetan wolves were feasting on a bloody pile of flesh.

"Wolves again? Qin really has a thing for wolves."

"What kind of wolves are these?"

"They're not even that big—if they dare attack Qin, they're asking for death."

Qin Yun said: "Friends, these are Tibetan wolves—China's Class II protected species, just like the carcass they're eating. Normally, they won't attack me, especially when full. But if they're starving, all bets are off."

"So when hiking here, always stay alert and carry self-defense weapons. Of course, if you've got my skills, ignore me."

"Damn, flexing again."

"Qin's right—if you've got his skills, you can roam anywhere."

"In my memory, Qin runs from wild boars, punches wolves, and pees himself at Northeast tigers."

"Hahaha!"

Qin Yun saw the comment and felt a headache—he couldn't deny it was true.

He could only mutter dryly: "A wise man knows when to retreat. I just want to livestream longer so you won't miss me and feel sad."

On screen, the wolves looked up at Qin Yun's direction but made no other move—perhaps sensing no threat, they resumed eating.

Qin Yun, of course, had no intention of going over to beat them up.

Beyond Longmucuo, the altitude began to rise slightly again; Songxi Daban awaited ahead.

This is the Xinjiang-Tibet Highway—endless daban after daban, some famous, some nameless. Climbing over a daban means reaching the peak of a mountain.

…

On the wilderness, a middle-aged man with a full beard held binoculars, watching distant movements.

Another man, his face covered by a thick cloth, crouched beside him, a hunting rifle resting on the ground.

"Scar, aim well—just now you let that Tibetan antelope escape."

The bearded man chewed a dry blade of grass, grumbling.

The man called Scar had a prominent scar running from his forehead to his eye; his already fierce gaze now radiated extra cruelty.

"Pfft—!"

He spat out the grass seed and shook his head: "It won't get away. In this freezing winter, with a leg injured, where can it run? We'll follow its trail and find it."

He glanced toward the distance: "Any movement?"

The bearded man's nickname was Old Ghost. Neither was their real name, and neither was Han—they looked Tibetan.

Old Ghost kept staring through the binoculars: "Those two wolves are still tearing at the bharal. The bharal's still struggling, but not for long."

Scar nodded, glanced back at the pickup truck's haul, and grinned: "Every day this winter brings good catches—we're earning more in one day than that brat spends in a year in Australia."

"Yeah," Old Ghost chuckled. "Just one winter's work each year—you can buy a house, a car, anything."

He waved his right hand: "Scar, they're starting to eat."

Scar instantly picked up his rifle, crouched low, and crept forward.

His movements were quiet, slow, and soon he reached a rock—now he could clearly see the prey with his naked eyes.

Fifty meters was precisely the effective range of his hunting rifle.

He leaned against the rock, raised his rifle, and through the scope, two adult Tibetan wolves with rich brown-yellow fur appeared—prime specimens with sleek, glossy coats.

Scar licked his lips greedily, the rifle's crosshair slowly settling on the head of one of them.

"Bang!"

He pulled the trigger; the shot echoed across the wasteland.

In Old Ghost's binoculars, the two wolves still feeding—one on the left collapsed instantly, a hole blown clean through its skull, dead on impact.

The single gunshot terrified the other wolf, which bolted away in panic.

Oddly enough, the wolf ran straight toward Scar's position. Scar laughed loudly, re-aimed, pulled the trigger again, and the wolf likewise fell to the ground without exception, sliding a long distance.

Old Ghost immediately ran over, pointing at the first wolf: "I'll skin this one; you handle the other."

At that moment, Qin Yun stood atop the Songxi Pass, taking a photo of the border marker. Suddenly, his ear twitched—he seemed to hear something—and he turned toward the wasteland.

The sound was faint, but he heard it clearly.

"Could that be gunshots?"