Chapter 22: Touring Shouxian

After downloading the video, Su Huan originally thought it was just a travel scenery clip.

But to her surprise, the person appearing in the footage was none other than her old classmate, and the first words nearly made her slide off her chair.

“Hello everyone, my name is Qin Yun. I’m currently at the north side of Mount Taishan’s Fanzi Cliff, at the bottom of the Qingtong Gorge. I’m an outdoor adventure enthusiast skilled in instrument repair, vehicle maintenance, photography, and rock climbing. This time, I’m going to challenge Fanzi Cliff with no protective gear—my goal is to reach a height of one hundred meters…”

After saying those two sentences, Qin Yun began a series of maneuvers that made her heart nearly leap out of her chest.

She zoomed in on the video and confirmed there was absolutely no protective equipment on Qin Yun—he was truly climbing barehanded.

After watching the video, she was stunned, but at the same time, anger and dread rose from her chest, and without hesitation, she called Qin Yun.

As soon as the call connected, she shouted: “Qin Yun, are you out of your mind? How could you do something so dangerous?”

“What dangerous thing…?”

The voice on the other end sounded drowsy, which made Su Huan even angrier.

“Have you ever thought about what would happen if you fell? What if something went wrong—how would your mother cope? Didn’t you even consider that?”

Qin Yun was jolted awake by her rapid-fire questions and instinctively pulled the phone away from his ear.

When she finally finished yelling, he held it to his ear and said: “I thought you were going to say something serious. So it’s just this? Don’t look at it as dangerous—it’s actually simple for us climbers.”

“You’re full of shit!” Su Huan couldn’t hold back her curse. “Do you think I’m stupid? I do parkour too.”

“Uh… parkour and rock climbing are different.”

“You bastard.”

Su Huan hung up, stared at the video on her computer, and felt an inexplicable irritation.

After a long while, she calmed down.

“Hmph, if he falls to his death, good riddance—what’s it to me? Why should I even care?”

She forwarded the video to Fang Nan’s email and left for the day.

Meanwhile, Qin Yun, disturbed by Su Huan’s outburst, had lost all sleepiness. Su Huan’s words weren’t without merit—he wasn’t foolish, and he wouldn’t hold a grudge just because he’d been scolded.

After scrolling through some videos, he was about to go back to sleep when suddenly a system voice echoed in his ear, and the system interface appeared before his eyes.

【Publish Check-in Task: Please travel to Shouxian, locate a local tofu workshop, participate in the complete traditional process of tofu-making—including selecting beans, grinding pulp, and coagulating curds—personally make heritage-style tofu, and take a photo with your finished product to complete the check-in.】

Qin Yun glanced at the task, closed the interface, and quickly fell asleep.

At the same time, in a rented apartment in Hangzhou, Fang Nan, who had been scrolling on her phone in bed, heard the download completion alert from her computer and immediately got up.

Her slender frame carried a set of features most people couldn’t match—perfect proportions. Her legs were longer than most people’s lifelines, paired with exquisite features, making her look every bit a goddess.

She opened the video, and the screen instantly displayed a scene: a handsome guy was stretching his body while speaking.

But when she clearly heard what the guy in the video was saying, her mouth dropped open in disbelief.

For the next forty minutes, she witnessed what truly qualified as insane stunts.

“Whoa… is this even human? How bold can you get?”

Fang Nan couldn’t believe the man in the video had truly climbed one hundred meters barehanded on Fanzi Cliff without protection. One hundred meters might not sound like much—but this was a near-vertical cliff face; one mistake meant life or death.

Yet no matter how closely she examined the video’s details, she found not a single trace of AI manipulation or post-production editing. Based on her professional expertise, she could confidently confirm the man in the video had truly climbed one hundred meters barehanded and unprotected.

“My god, that’s insane… If this went on TikTok, it’d go viral for sure.”

No sooner had she spoken than Fang Nan suddenly jolted—a fleeting, almost ethereal thought flashed through her mind.

Since quitting her job at Alibaba, she’d become obsessed with self-media. But after a year of trying countless content niches, she’d failed every time—if she kept going, she’d likely end up on the ultimate borderline path.

She was confident in her appearance and figure. Even without any filters, her face and those long legs were more than enough to succeed on TikTok’s borderline content niche.

But she didn’t want to do it—she thought borderline content was meaningless.

Although such videos, with their revealing outfits, suggestive movements, and implied language, could quickly grab user attention and easily generate high likes, comments, and shares, rapidly building a large fanbase in the short term…

She despised the lowbrow sensory stimulation that such traffic brought.

“What if… what if I could…”

Staring at the frozen frame in the video, Fang Nan’s eyes grew brighter. She immediately reached for her phone to call Su Huan—but then realized it was already past midnight.

After hesitating, she put the phone down.

“Tomorrow. I’ll contact Sister Huan tomorrow.”

…

The next morning, Qin Yun woke up in his hotel bed, pulled back the curtains, and saw a light drizzle—the rain had started sometime during the night, and water droplets clung to the windowpane.

After picking up a promotional brochure for Shouxian tourism at the front desk, Qin Yun decided to first visit the ancient city wall of Shouxian.

Shouxian’s ancient city wall is the only one in China preserved intact from the Song Dynasty; since he was here, how could he not go? Standing atop the wall to admire the scenery inside and outside the ancient city would surely be uniquely captivating.

Besides, Shouxian also housed the Baoen Chan Temple and the Confucian Temple, both originally built in the Northern Song Dynasty—both worth visiting. In short: since he’d come this far!

He parked his car in the lot, opened his umbrella, and walked to the entrance of Binyang Gate. Looking up, the Song-era city wall appeared especially heavy and solemn in the misty rain. The grayish bricks, soaked by rain, had darkened, and faintly visible were numerous weathered carvings on the walls.

Shouxian’s ancient city wall had four gates: Binyang Gate to the east, Dinghu Gate to the west, Tongfei Gate to the south, and Jinghuai Gate to the north. The northeastern gates were ancient relics; the southwestern ones were modern repairs.

Since he was here to see history, he’d focus on the authentic parts.

Binyang Gate was surrounded by a moat, its waters shimmering under the rain, complementing the ancient wall in a uniquely charming way.

At the staircase leading up to Binyang Gate, Qin Yun waited in line, paid ten yuan for a ticket, and climbed onto the wall.

In ancient times, a commoner like him would never have been allowed to ascend the wall—getting beheaded would’ve been the least of his worries. But now, times had changed: as a commoner, Qin Yun had not only paid ten yuan to climb the wall, but could freely admire it without fear of being killed.

On the wall during the rainy day, there weren’t many people—just a sparse few.

Qin Yun turned to look into the city and saw gray-tiled roofs stretching like fish scales, eaves arranged in orderly tiers—as if the entire ancient city’s layout and a thousand years of history had suddenly surged toward him, ready to drag him into China’s most prosperous feudal era.

Walking along the wall, Qin Yun admired the distant rolling peaks of Bagong Mountain, absorbing the ancient city’s atmosphere. With each step, his mood improved; occasionally he pulled out his phone to photograph the beauty before him.

“Bro, can you take a picture for us?”

Qin Yun turned and saw a young couple standing in the rain under an oil-paper umbrella, holding a camera.

He nodded—this time, he’d reclaim the dignity he’d lost on the Great Wall.

“Of course.”

He took the camera from the boy—it was a Nikon.

“Bro, just press the shutter button—I’ve already set all the parameters.”

The boy, fearing Qin Yun would mess things up, gave a warning.

Qin Yun gave an OK sign and smiled: “Leave it to me.”

Then, as soon as the boy turned around, Qin Yun immediately adjusted all the settings according to the current rain lighting—completely disrupting the original exposure and white balance.

He propped up the umbrella, looked around, and chose three suitable angles.

“First, a shot with the ancient city as the background. Stand right here—yes, hold the umbrella a bit forward, girl, lean closer to your boyfriend… good…”

“Perfect. Now move here—this framing captures the sky and mountains together, creating an extraordinary atmosphere… Alright, stand still, tilt the umbrella slightly, guy, don’t be so stiff—what’s that expression?”

The boy and girl had only wanted someone to press the shutter—but ended up with a wedding photographer. His rapid-fire instructions and posing guidance left them stunned.

Only after the shoot ended and they got their camera back did they finally realize what had happened.

The boy cried out: “Oh no—he must’ve changed all my settings!”

The girl wasn’t worried. She pointed at the camera: “Let’s check first.”

The boy tapped the photo album. The moment the images appeared, his expression changed instantly. The girl’s face mirrored his—they stared at each other in silence.

“Did we… just meet a master?”

The photos radiated tranquility, serenity, and poetic charm—the kind of atmosphere their own shots had never captured.

When they looked up, the man was gone—vanished into the drizzle.

Leaving the couple’s mixed feelings of awe and delight aside, Qin Yun descended the wall and walked along the inner ring road. When he reached Dasixiang Lane, a long, resonant bell rang out—as if welcoming him.

The vermilion gate, the thousand-year-old ginkgo tree, the bronze bells beneath the temple eaves chiming in the wind, blending with the rain and the bell’s tone—overflowing with Zen.

While Qin Yun was touring Shouxian, Su Huan, now at work, received a call from Fang Nan.

“Free? What do you mean?”

Su Huan was stunned by what Fang Nan said.

“I want to collaborate with him—he doesn’t know how to edit, but I do.”

Fang Nan was unusually excited; the idea from last night had fermented overnight and was now urgent.

Su Huan reminded her: “That video yesterday definitely had viral potential, but he can’t keep doing barehanded rock climbing—that’s not extreme sport, it’s suicide. Besides, it was just a spontaneous thing during his trip.”

Su Huan’s words calmed Fang Nan slightly, but she remained eager: “Ask him if he’s ever thought about starting self-media. If he is, I can handle all the video editing for him.”

Su Huan rolled her eyes: “Didn’t you say you wanted to start a company with someone?”

Fang Nan: “Hehe, I can’t run self-media alone anymore—but if I can join in, why not? As for the company, I’ll just be a tech partner—no need to deal with other headaches.”

“Fine, I’ll ask him. If he’s interested, I’ll give you his contact. If not, forget it.”

“Thanks, Sister Huan.”

After hanging up, Su Huan sent Qin Yun a WeChat message, relaying what Fang Nan had said. Seeing Qin Yun didn’t reply, she let it go.