Chapter 90: Preparations Before the Ascent

The crowd dispersed; he packed the money from the basin into a bag, rested for a moment, then resumed his efforts.

He ignored the resentful glances from nearby fellow performers.

Let the real beggar old man bear it—he'd received a thousand from the old man after all.

While Qin Yun toiled away with his erhu here, Han Wei was nearly at Shuangliu Airport. Once the plane landed, she turned off flight mode, and her phone instantly flooded with messages.

She opened WeChat first and immediately saw Qin Yun's message: a location and a line of text.

【I'm here. If you arrive before four, take a taxi over.】

Han Wei replied at once: "Qin Ye, I've landed. I'm taking a taxi now—wait for me."

Her phone vibrated in his arms, but Qin Yun didn't notice—he was lost in the music, fully displaying his master-level erhu skill, from "Su Wu Tending Sheep" to "Horse Race," from "Birds Chirping in an Empty Mountain" to "Listening to the Pines."

A combination of a mournful piece followed by a joyful, bold one filled his basin to overflowing; the surrounding performers stared with red eyes.

Damn, Lao Liu's gone mad today—he'll eat for a month off this one haul, fuck! So jealous!

"Old brother, play 'Erquan Yingyue'?"

Qin Yun looked up through his eyelashes at the man standing before him—he wore simple clothes but carried a refined air, roughly fifty years old, yet his spirit remained sharp.

He nodded. His earnings had already reached just over nine thousand; the chance of completing today's check-in task looked very high. Indeed, the tourists here were generous—especially after someone stepped forward to tip, others followed suit.

So far, he'd been playing for nearly two hours, performing no fewer than twenty pieces.

He hadn't played "Erquan Yingyue" yet—he planned to save it for before he left. That piece was too sorrowful; this was a scenic spot, and most visitors came to enjoy themselves—he didn't want to drag them into such deep grief.

That's why he alternated between a mournful and a joyful piece. Under his master-level skill, emotional resonance was truly powerful.

But since someone had requested it, and he was close to ten thousand, perhaps someone would generously tip during "Erquan Yingyue."

Thinking this, he slightly lowered his waist, pressed the erhu tightly against his thigh, lightly pressed his fingers to the strings, and slowly drew the bow—

No grandeur, no wailing—only a deep, bone-chilling sorrow seeped out.

Zhu Changyao heard the first note from this beggar's instrument and was instantly shaken, his spirit snapping into focus.

He'd come to Sichuan Conservatory for exchange and gained much—but never expected that before leaving, a simple visit to the scenic spot would bring him a sound so moving he'd stand still for an hour and a half, utterly immersed in the musician's ocean of melody, unwilling to depart.

The erhu is an instrument that doesn't heavily depend on quality—a mediocre one yields mediocre results, while a good one shines.

Like Abing's rendition of "Erquan Yingyue"—that erhu wasn't even a fine instrument, yet its breath was thread-thin yet fluid as flowing clouds, perfectly conveying the agony of desperate struggle, helplessness, sorrowful confusion, utter lifelessness, and the unbearable weight of living yet unable to die.

Now, it was the same: the beggar's erhu was merely an ordinary silk-stringed instrument; aside from decent pitch, everything else paled beside his own collection.

Yet in this old man's hands, it felt transcendent.

Zhu Changyao even felt the old man played better than he did.

Qin Yun closed his eyes, fully immersed—the melody thin, soft, hoarse, yet resilient as unbreakable silk, winding round and round.

The notes were slow—so slow they made breathing difficult.

The tune was rough—rough as swallowing bitter water.

Qin Yun didn't share Abing's depth of resonance, but he could imagine: cold stares, poverty, endless life's hardships, boundless loneliness.

He folded all of it into the strings, note by note, slowly flowing.

Nearby beggars who'd also been playing "Erquan Yingyue" simultaneously fell silent upon hearing this sorrow.

Suddenly, the autumn wind swept past—as if everything had grown still.

Qin Yun didn't notice a tall figure silently appearing among the onlookers.

Han Wei, following the location, hadn't spotted Qin Yun—but the music drew her in irresistibly.

Yet when she looked at the figure playing the erhu, she suddenly thought the body beneath the ragged clothes looked familiar—but the sorrowful notes, one more heart-wrenching than the next, left her no energy to observe—she simply sank quietly into the chill and solitude.

Zhu Changyao closed his eyes. The melody wasn't loud, but it pierced the heart.

Like moonlight falling on a cold spring, or a man walking alone down an empty street—with no companion, no understanding, only his shadow following him.

One bow, one sigh. One string, one choked sob.

Sorrowful, yet without resentment. Painful, yet without outcry.

None of the onlookers spoke; each felt something gently tugging at their chest.

When the final note slowly faded, silence lingered for a long while before someone sighed softly, then one by one placed tips into Qin Yun's basin and walked away.

Soon, the once-empty treasure basin was full again.

Then a pale, delicate hand, painted with red nail polish, placed five red bills down. Qin Yun slowly lifted his gaze and blurted out:

"Han Wei?"

Han Wei's hand froze. Her eyes widened, and a thousand horses galloped through her mind.

Why did that voice sound so familiar?

"Qin… Qin Ye?"

Zhu Changyao was about to approach and converse, but hearing their exchange, he froze.

Then he saw the old man—moving with a speed unfitting his age—dump the money from the basin into a bag, set the erhu on the ground, and grab the girl's hand beside him, sprinting down the alley behind.

By the time he came to his senses, the folk musician was gone—leaving him deeply disappointed.

"Indeed, true masters hide among the common folk. How foolish of me to have been so self-satisfied."

Qin Yun pulled Han Wei through several alleys before finally stopping.

He flipped his hat brim back, revealing a clean face. Han Wei stared, utterly astonished.

"It's really you, Qin Ye—why are you begging?"

Qin Yun laughed: "I've got nothing else to do. Was just bored waiting for you. You got here fast."

He sized her up—she was even more dazzling in person than in photos.

Jet-black hair cascaded like a waterfall, her features exquisite, radiating a commanding aura. Crescent eyebrows framed by slim-framed glasses, a straight, proud nose, lips full and rosy—her face could bewitch the world.

A wool coat, a black knit sweater, paired with sheer black stockings—every detail seemed to radiate sensuality.

Compared to Su Huan's gentle grace, Han Wei's presence was far more intimidating—perhaps because she was a company boss.

Han Wei covered her mouth and laughed: "If you hadn't told me, I wouldn't have recognized you. I never thought you could play the erhu—and so well. Amazing."

Even ordinary praise would make him grin from ear to ear; how much more so when it came from such a beautiful woman? Qin Yun was just a common man, and he beamed with delight.

They discarded their clothes and went to eat first.

Though it was their first meeting, there was no sense of strangeness between them; it felt as if they were old friends, speaking without the slightest restraint.

While waiting for the food, Qin Yun asked: "Have you prepared all your gear?"

Han Wei nodded solemnly: "Don't worry, Qin Ye. I've got everything ready—I sent it ahead to Mount Siguniang Town."

"Good. For you, the biggest challenge is still altitude sickness. Once you overcome that, I might take you through the dangerous sections. If your condition falters, we turn back immediately. Any problems?"

On this matter, Qin Yun allowed no room for compromise—he must be obeyed.

Han Wei said seriously: "I understand. Once we begin the climb, I'll follow your lead. I won't be reckless."

"Good!"

From a physical standpoint, Han Wei appeared tall, but her body was nowhere near the standard of a true mountaineer—even with consistent training. Qin Yun didn't expect much from her, so his planning had to be far more meticulous.

He should treat her as a liability, at most.

Because in recent days, after his own research, he realized he himself had little confidence in reaching the summit of Yaomei Peak.

In the official mountaineering star rating system, Yaomei Peak was rated five stars—the most difficult of Mount Siguniang's four peaks—and the only one without any commercial climbing operations.

This was also one reason why Han Wei couldn't find a team willing to take her.

"By the way, did you confirm whether your sister climbed the south face or the north face?"

Han Wei said: "The north face."

"The north face is more complex in terrain and harsher in climate," Qin Yun said. "Because of its orientation, it's exposed to dry, frigid airflows. The snow is unstable and prone to avalanches. Even now, in autumn, when conditions are relatively stable, the viable climbing window remains extremely narrow."

"Yes, my sister went missing around 5,400 meters, between C1 and C2," Han Wei said, pressing her lips together, a hint of helplessness in her heart. "I probably won't make it up there—but I want to try."

Qin Yun looked at her and gave a barely perceptible nod: "Just prepare your mind."

He feared she'd overestimate herself and stubbornly push on. After all, he himself was still a novice, learning through practice on the climb.

Fortunately, starting from the third stage, the challenge shifted more toward rock-climbing skill—though the climate remained extreme. But he possessed a Master-level Sherpa adaptation ability; his genes had changed, granting him vastly superior adaptation to high-altitude extremes.

"Why did your sister come to climb Yaomei Peak?" Qin Yun asked curiously.

Han Wei shook her head: "I don't really understand many of the things my sister did. I only know that after she became obsessed with mountaineering, she traveled the world. I have no idea how many peaks she'd summited, but from what her climbing friends told me, she was very strong—and she attempted Yaomei Peak only after ensuring her capability."

Yaomei Peak, one of the world's most technically demanding mountains, far exceeds the difficulty level expected for its altitude and is internationally regarded as the highest grade of difficulty.

Though not entirely unclimbed, summits are exceedingly rare—second only to the neighboring Gongga Mountain.

After dinner, Qin Yun drove Han Wei to Mount Siguniang Town.

He checked the weather forecast, spoke with several climbing teams about recent conditions, then posted a livestream reservation on TikTok.

【October 30, 9:00 AM: Amateur climber Qin Yun will attempt Yaomei Peak. Stay tuned.】