Rumor had it that Chilian Peak got its name five hundred years ago when a crimson aurora fell from the sky, turning the once-dark rocks blood-red. With legend came cultural depth, so its development into a tourist attraction was a matter of course. Today, all three main paths up the mountain were packed with visitors.
Chen Yang and Qin Qiu, hand in hand, strolled at the foot of the mountain. Looking up, they were greeted by a riot of colors.
"Honey, this is for you," Chen Yang said with a cheery smile, handing Qin Qiu a bunch of wildflowers he had picked and tied together with a blade of grass.
"Thank you." Qin Qiu's eyes lit up with delight as she accepted the bouquet. She giggled. "Come to think of it, is this the first time you've given me flowers?"
"Who says that? I..."
Chen Yang started to defend himself, but Qin Qiu covered his mouth, her lips pouting in a rare display. "Don't say it!"
