Chapter 83: Geological Photographer

Han Wei sat in her office, her spirits low; she had likely guessed Qin Yun would refuse, but being turned down still left her with a pang of disappointment.

She sat like that for a long time, then clenched her teeth, a determined expression appearing on her flawless face: “I don’t believe it—I’ll just spend more money and hire a foreign climbing team.”

Qin Yun was right—Han Wei’s so-called best friend was pure fiction.

But he only suspected; it was late at night, so he didn’t ask, just lay down and went back to sleep.

The next morning, as he packed his bags, he remembered his suspicion and sent her a message: “If your best friend can’t find a climbing team willing to take her, won’t she eventually give up?”

Han Wei had woken early; seeing the WeChat message, she replied without hesitation: “Given my best friend’s personality, even if she can’t find a domestic team, she’ll go abroad—spend more money if needed. She’s stubborn.”

Reading that message, Qin Yun was now almost certain the so-called best friend was Han Wei herself.

Qin Yun thought for a moment, then called her WeChat voice message: “With today’s technology, you could just take a helicopter up to take photos—why climb all the way?”

“I’m going for my sister…” The words slipped out, and she instantly realized he’d figured out her little secret: “You guessed it?”

Qin Yun said seriously: “Han Wei, I know this might be overstepping, but I need to know—what are you really going there for?”

Han Wei opened her mouth, then fell silent, unable to speak.

Qin Yun didn’t rush her; he waited quietly.

After a moment, her voice grew hoarse and low: “My sister is pitiful—she cut ties with our family, and now she’s had a leg amputated. She’s been mentally fixated on getting a photo of Yaomei Peak… so…”

“….”

Qin Yun rubbed his forehead—you’re a good sister, alright.

Since she’d spoken, Han Wei no longer hid it: “I know it sounds childish, but my sister spends every day staring blankly, muttering about it—I want to fulfill her wish to photograph Yaomei Peak!”

Hearing this, Qin Yun sighed softly; he didn’t try to dissuade her: “I understand. You’ve clearly researched Yaomei Peak—it’s not for ordinary people.”

Han Wei’s heart leapt—did Qin Ye mean he’d agreed?

“I know!”

Qin Yun continued, drawing on yesterday’s research: “If traveling from Siguniang Town to Yaomei Peak’s base camp is Stage One with a difficulty rating of two stars, then 4,000 to 5,000 meters is Stage Two, difficulty jumping to four stars. From 5,000 to 5,800 meters is Stage Three—five stars.”

“At this altitude, oxygen levels are below 50% of sea level—you’ll suffer severe altitude sickness without constant oxygen support just to maintain vital signs.”

He paused. “At what altitude do you start getting altitude sickness?”

Han Wei thought of her experience on Yaomei Peak, feeling guilty: “At base camp, I needed about forty minutes of oxygen to ease the symptoms.”

Hearing this, Qin Yun immediately rubbed his forehead.

Han Wei felt embarrassed and quickly added: “I can push through.”

Qin Yun said: “It’s not about pushing through—your body’s reaction doesn’t obey your will.”

Forty minutes of oxygen just to relieve symptoms meant she was already suffering moderate altitude sickness; worse symptoms—severe headache, vomiting, breathlessness—would be common. To go further, the only solution for her was constant oxygen use.

Han Wei was helpless; she knew her own condition—she’d already felt altitude sickness at 3,000 to 4,000 meters without intervention, let alone pushing higher.

“I’ll bring an oxygen generator.”

Qin Yun nodded. After thinking it over, he finally agreed. Climbing wasn’t a bad format for livestreaming—especially in such extreme conditions. The spectacle alone rivaled wilderness survival shows.

“I’ll agree—but I can’t guarantee when I’ll arrive in Siguniang Town. And you must promise me one thing.”

Han Wei’s face lit up instantly, her grip on the phone trembling slightly: “Really? Qin Ye, tell me.”

“Mm. I’ll drive to Sichuan myself—we’ll meet at Siguniang Town. But you must listen to me.”

Qin Yun had no rush to head to Sichuan yet. The nearly 2,000 kilometers from Zhejiang to Sichuan gave him time to drive leisurely, savoring the landscapes, cultures, and ethnic customs of different provinces. It would be enjoyable.

“Alright, Qin Ye, I’ll follow you,” Han Wei said eagerly. “Take your time—I’ll wait. Just let me know when you’re close to Sichuan.”

Qin Yun nodded slightly: “Then it’s settled. We’ll meet at Siguniang Town.”

“Mm, see you then!”

After ending the call, Han Wei sat motionless for a while, opened her phone gallery, stared at a photo of the two of them, and—lost in thought—her eyes grew moist.

Though Qin Yun had agreed, he knew Han Wei would struggle to endure it—even with an oxygen generator, moving through such harsh conditions would be grueling.

He only needed to ensure her safety; if he saw her condition worsening, he’d stop everything immediately.

But according to the system’s check-in pattern, driving from Jinhua to Sichuan would inevitably trigger check-in tasks along the way. By the time he reached Sichuan, who knew how long it would take.

He packed his bags, went downstairs to the hotel lobby, and saw Zhao Yajun and Li Xintian both pushing suitcases—clearly waiting for him.

“Are you leaving?”

“Yes,” Zhao Yajun walked over. “Qin Ye, Xintian and I are heading back to school today. Where are you going next?”

Qin Yun smiled: “I’m driving to Sichuan, stopping along the way. Need a ride to the station?”

Li Xintian felt a pang of envy but thanked him: “No need, Qin Ye—we’ll just take a ride-hailing car.”

“Alright, be careful on the road,” Qin Yun said, politely offering.

Zhao Yajun said: “I wish I could travel with you, Qin Ye.”

Qin Yun laughed: “Traveling can wait. Right now, your priority is finding your path—will you be a white-collar worker or your own boss?”

After chatting a while, a ride-hailing car pulled up at the entrance.

Qin Yun helped load their suitcases into the trunk. Zhao Yajun waved from inside: “Qin Ye, when you livestream, I’ll send you a carnival!”

Li Xintian: “Me too.”

Qin Yun chuckled, not taking it seriously: “I’ll hold you to that.”

Soon, the car pulled away, merging into traffic.

Qin Yun felt good. That’s what travel means—meeting different people, tasting different foods, experiencing different customs. If everywhere felt the same, you might as well stay home.

With no check-in task pending, he had no destination. After checking out, he opened his navigation, searched for Siguniang Town, and set it as his destination.

He passed through Jiangxi, Hubei, Chongqing, and Sichuan—crossing three provinces and one municipality—covering 2,200 kilometers total.

First stop: Quzhou.

He posted a selfie to his Moments and drove off.

Meanwhile, on Douyin, clips of his videos had been shared endlessly, each one trending. Though they didn’t earn money, they massively boosted his follower count.

Yesterday he had 15 million followers; by noon, he was nearing 20 million.

Especially when people visited his profile and saw his videos—they were amazed, and became his fans instantly.

People naturally admire strength, especially when someone does what ordinary people can’t.

Most importantly, Qin Yun’s actions pushed right against human limits—he played with adrenaline. To office workers, it was utterly intoxicating.

As his car passed Longyou County, he suddenly remembered.

“Longyou Grottoes are in Longyou County, Quzhou.”

The Longyou Grottoes were hailed as the “Ninth Wonder of the World”—the largest and most mysterious man-made underground grotto complex ever found. Their origin and purpose remain unknown; the chambers are vast, intricately carved, layered with human chisel marks, visually stunning.

Qin Yun had only seen them online—he’d never been.

Since he was passing through Longyou County, and now he remembered—he had no reason not to go.

He exited the Shanghai-Kunming Expressway, navigated to the Longyou Grottoes, and found it was less than five kilometers away—right beside the highway.

But once inside, he immediately regretted his fifty-yuan ticket.

After walking through five grottoes, he realized the carvings on walls and pillars weren’t ancient—they were modern additions. Though the overall space felt impressive, it wasn’t worth the price. He’d rather it were free.

As for the “Ninth Wonder” title—he figured it was just self-promotion by Longyou’s tourism bureau.

If you just wanted to admire the grottoes themselves, they were grand and awe-inspiring—but traveling far just for them? Not worth it.

Qin Yun retraced his steps. Since he’d come, he might as well enjoy himself—he decided to try Longyou’s local specialties.

Eating is an attitude toward life, a kind of passion. Other things may fade, but passion must not.

Qin Yun agreed with Cai Lan’s words—he always took eating seriously.

Now that he’d mastered top-tier cooking skills, he could be even more discerning. Cuisine is a pursuit worthy of a lifetime—especially in China, where you could spend your whole life and never taste every dish.