Chapter 74 – Sunlight on the Golden Mountain

The power of these two words was no less than when Bian Ji had shouted out an odd nickname at the Daxing Airport. And the instigator, having lost the protection of his sleeping bag, was quickly dragged into the beast’s cave.

Yan Ankuo finally got to act on his fantasies of leaving marks on Bian Ji’s neck — choking bruises and bite marks — and the victimization spread to every inch of his body. And the victim was alarmingly compliant, tilting his head to expose his Adam’s apple for biting, and not forgetting to return the favor with his hands.

These wounds didn’t heal until right before they were set to depart. Fortunately, the weather had turned colder, and wearing high-neck sweaters outdoors wouldn’t seem strange.

Before their departure, Yan Ankuo handed Bian Ji a list of luggage items. “We’ve prepared most of what we need; there are just a few things left to find. If you know where they are, put them in the suitcase.”

Bian Ji was selecting cameras in the bedroom and casually responded with an “Mm-hmm.”

Yan Ankuo watched him from the doorway, smiling. “If you can’t find them, tell me so I can buy them.”

Another “Mm-hmm” from Bian Ji.

Yan Ankuo turned his face toward him. “What did you say ‘Mm-hmm’ to?”

“I heard everything,” Bian Ji said, holding two cameras in his arms and blinking twice. “Which do you think we should bring — the prime lens or the telephoto?”

“The prime, it’s smaller and lighter,” Yan Ankuo answered without hesitation. “If we take the telephoto, it won’t fit in the case.”

Bian Ji pursed his lips. “But the zoom lens is more convenient for taking photos, good for both close-ups and distance shots.”

Yan Ankuo looked at the already packed suitcase and sighed. “Then let’s take this one. I’ll get a bigger bag.”

Bian Ji chuckled. “Okay.”

Following the principle of frugality, Yan Ankuo bought discounted tickets for X Airlines, which meant they would encounter many acquaintances of Bian Ji’s on the plane.

Suddenly, Bian Ji felt like a highly coveted collectible figure, sneakingly putting on a mask and leaning back in his seat, feigning death.

Yan Ankuo laughed heartily. “Isn’t this your most familiar environment? Why are you acting so awkward today?”

Bian Ji pointed to the flight attendant’s position, his head aching. “How could it be the same? I used to stand there. Now sitting here, it feels weird, like I should be doing something.”

Yan Ankuo covered his eyes and laughed. “Rest well, don’t worry about anything.”

Because Bian Ji wanted to capture the sunlight on the golden mountain, Yan Ankuo chose a hotel with floor-to-ceiling windows, offering a view of the distant peaks.

Based on the local sunrise time, Yan Ankuo calculated the sun’s angle and told Bian Ji, “We should wake up between six-thirty and seven tomorrow morning. That way, the rosy light will shine on the snow-capped mountains, and you can shoot time-lapse photography here.”

Bian Ji had just unpacked all his clothes and, hearing this, playfully wrapped his arms around Yan Ankuo from behind. “So considerate, Attorney Yan?”

Yan Ankuo helplessly rubbed his nose. “I’m trying to have a serious conversation with you.”

“I’m also sincerely complimenting you.” Bian Ji wrinkled his nose. “This hotel has a nice environment. Let’s wash up and rest. I’m a bit tired after flying all day.”

Yan Ankuo exclaimed in surprise. “We?”

Bian Ji turned his back to him and entered the bathroom, leaving the door open. “Mm-hmm, let’s shower together. Saves time.”

Yan Ankuo rubbed his cheeks, trying to suppress his grinning mouth, and soon followed. “Okay.”

Steam began to fill the entire bathroom.

Interrupted shouts came from inside, and there were two clear handprints on the mirror above the sink, with two hands intertwined on the countertop.

The sounds continued until late into the night.

Bian Ji, his hair still dripping wet, pounced onto the bed barefoot.

Yan Ankuo followed him out, noticing his wet hair, he warned, “Dry your hair before you sleep, or you might get a headache.”

Bian Ji reluctantly rolled over and sat up. “Dry it for me, I’m out of energy.”

Yan Ankuo softly laughed and said “Okay,” raising the hairdryer to blow dry his hair.

“I found out that showering together doesn’t save time, it actually takes longer,” Bian Ji observed, yawning as he looked at the clock, which now read one o’clock. “I’m exhausted.”

Yan Ankuo turned the hairdryer to its highest setting, quickly finishing drying his hair, then turned off the lights to rest.

Perhaps due to overexertion the previous day, the alarm clock rang for two minutes at six-thirty without waking Bian Ji. He asked Yan Ankuo to turn it off, then rolled over to continue sleeping.

Yan Ankuo’s wake-up service continued gently. “Didn’t you want to photograph the sunrise?”

Bian Ji, annoyed at having his morning dreams disturbed, replied, “Not anymore. I want to sleep.”

Yan Ankuo found this amusing, kissed his forehead, and told him to go back to sleep. Then, he quietly got out of bed, took out Bian Ji’s camera, and started fiddling with it.

Bian Ji’s DSLR was purchased many years ago, and the interface wasn’t very friendly to beginners. Yan Ankuo played with it for a while but couldn’t figure it out. Afraid of missing the sunrise, he hastily switched to video mode, adjusted the focus to capture the mountaintop, and didn’t even bother finding a tripod, simply holding the camera up to record the scene.

The plateau climate was complex, the air crystal clear, with stars twinkling. The prelude to the sunrise was long, the sky gradually turning from deep purple to indigo blue. A vast expanse of light began to seep through the snow-capped mountains, and the sunrise was so swift it made one reluctant to blink. It seemed only a moment later that the golden light illuminated the entire sky, and the mountaintops reflected a splendid, orange mural.

Yan Ankuo stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, his hair strands haloed by the rosy glow. By the time he came to his senses, the sky was already bright, so he turned off the camera, returned to bed, and waited patiently for Bian Ji to wake up.

In the past, Bian Ji would always bring a sleeping bag when traveling. This time, due to the large amount of luggage and his desire to overcome his habits, he deliberately left it behind.

Strangely enough, although he slept uneasily, plagued by unpleasant dreams in the middle of the night, Bian Ji managed to sleep until ten o’clock thanks to someone constantly soothing him.

Rubbing his eyes, he saw the clock and was stunned, hastily apologizing to Yan Ankuo. “Did I oversleep? Did you eat breakfast yet?”

“I did, I packed some for you. Check if it’s still warm.” Yan Ankuo was already dressed and sitting at the dining table working on his computer.

Bian Ji sighed in relief, walked behind him, and bent down to wrap his arms around him from the neck. “Sorry, according to your plan, we should have reached the Everest Base Camp by now.”

“Don’t rush, have breakfast first.” Yan Ankuo patted his head and pointed to the suitcase. “By the way, when you said you couldn’t get up this morning, I filmed the sunrise process for you.”

Bian Ji was shocked. “You got up yourself?”

Yan Ankuo nodded. “My biological clock kicked in, I couldn’t sleep.”

Bian Ji, like a petulant puppy appeased by his owner, wagged his tail and happily went to look for the results.

The camera was safely stored in the bag, the lens properly protected.

Bian Ji turned on the display and saw a twenty-minute video added to the photo album.

Yan Ankuo had absolutely no talent in the art of photography — he didn’t understand metering or composition.

The focus of the frame shifted from the mountain base to the foreground flowers, and when the peak finally centered in the shot, it was out of focus, making it unclear what the photographer was capturing.

But it was evident that everything in the frame was being illuminated by the magnificent sunrise. Flowers, sky, even the random intrusion of the windowsill, all slowly brightened, turning into a beautiful golden yellow.

Bian Ji watched the twenty-minute recording attentively, his eyes suddenly moistening. He sniffled, then turned around, opened his arms, and tightly embraced Yan Ankuo from behind.

Yan Ankuo, who was sitting and working, was caught off guard by the sudden hug, so he removed his glasses and kissed Bian Ji’s chin. “How was it? Can the video be used?”

Bian Ji pouted, crouched down, and massaged Yan Ankuo’s hands. “The camera is quite heavy. Your arms must be sore from holding it for so long.”

Yan Ankuo shook his head with a smile. “No, not sore, not heavy.”

Bian Ji didn’t let go, carefully pressing Yan Ankuo’s elbow joints and forearm muscles. “Next time, I should have woken up myself… The sunlight on the golden mountain can be seen anytime, why did you go through so much trouble?”

Yan Ankuo knew that Bian Ji was too considerate of others, and saying “I’m not tired” would only increase his burden. So, he stretched out his arms and legs. “It wasn’t specifically for you, I’m getting older, and I can’t sleep anyway.”

Bian Ji stopped massaging and glared at him. “Tsk.”

“Just kidding.” Yan Ankuo pulled him up, making him sit on his lap, placing his hands on his shoulders. “However, my shoulders are indeed a bit stiff from working too much. If Chief Attendant Bian doesn’t mind, can you give me a massage?”

To Bian Ji, this title always carried an improper connotation, as it was how Yan Ankuo had called him in the bathroom last night. Bian Ji draped his head on his shoulder and lightly pounded his shoulders.

Yan Ankuo spoke softly. “When we get back to Shanghai, teach me some photography. I’m not very skilled, I don’t even know if the video will be usable.”

“It’s usable, just edit it, no need for color correction.” Bian Ji lay on Yan Ankuo, unable to stop smiling. “You’re really good at filming.”