The next morning, the two were awakened by dogs barking in the courtyard. Fortunately, they had slept early the night before, so neither felt too worn out. Chen Jin suggested they go watch the sunrise. At dawn, the lake lay still and crystalline, painted in shifting shades of blue. A pale mist rose from its surface, giving the entire scene an otherworldly aura. They walked for nearly half an hour before the sun finally emerged, casting a gleaming path across the water. Sunrises and sunsets were always the most breathtaking wonders of nature. Lin Wan felt a quiet stir in her heart and pressed the shutter again and again.
Back at the inn, they ate breakfast and rested briefly. Soon, the guide—arranged by the innkeeper the previous night—arrived. She was a Mosuo woman in her forties who would take them by pig-trough boat to Nise Village and then up Mount Gemu by cableway for a full view of the lake.
Outside, as they approached the boat resting at the water's edge, Lin Wan suddenly remembered something and turned to ask, "Are you sure you can handle this?"
Chen Jin drew his gaze away from the sapphire-blue lake and smirked. "How can you ask a man that kind of question?"
Lin Wan blinked, caught the innuendo, and could only stare at him speechlessly before stepping into the boat. She blamed herself for even asking—whether he lived or died had nothing to do with her.
Chen Jin followed with a grin, catching her hand as he stepped aboard. "If I get dizzy, don't you dare abandon me."
Lin Wan shot him with a sidelong glare. "Of course not. I'll throw you in myself and let the fish handle you."
Chen Jin didn't even try to argue. He only flashed a bright, wide grin, so blinding that she had to look away at the water.
A young Mosuo man joined them—he rowed while the woman steered. The guide was cheerful and talkative, chatting with them the moment they pushed off. Surprisingly, Chen Jin chatted right back, though Lin Wan soon noticed he was merely doing it to distract himself. His hand never left hers. She wanted to pull away, but when she felt that hand grow steadily colder, she hesitated.
She turned to look at him. He was still smiling, still responding, but she could see the stiffness around his eyes. She sighed inwardly.
Why must he force himself like this?
And then—almost without understanding her own impulse—she laid her other hand over his. Chen Jin immediately turned his head, startled, gratitude flickering unmistakably across his gaze before his lips curved in a soft smile. He mouthed the words, I'm fine.
Startled by her own gesture, Lin Wan tried to withdraw, but he caught her hand with his free one.
"Let go," she hissed.
"No," he said simply, with a child's stubbornness.
She shot him a sharp glance, but the heat in his gaze made her lower her eyes in alarm. Everything around them softened into silence, until the only sounds were their mingled breaths. Four hands layered atop one another—warmth against cold—an intimacy both foreign and disquieting. His fingers were icy, but his grip was firm. Lin Wan's thoughts drifted—but then she sensed two other pairs of eyes watching them. Her cheeks warmed just as a clear, melodious singing drifted from nearby.
She looked over. Another pig-trough boat had approached, carrying six or seven passengers. The Mosuo girl steering it lifted her voice in song—a local love ballad, judging from the lingering melody and the teasing look she cast their way.
The girl was lovely, with bright eyes and a vivid traditional outfit that made her appear lively and radiant. Lin Wan instinctively glanced down at her own gray-purple windbreaker, which seemed even duller against such beautiful surroundings. Then she looked at their guide in the bow—also dressed in bright reds and purples.
Even the passengers on the other boat laughed in their direction. The Mosuo girl grew bolder, her eyes lingering openly on Chen Jin.
And him? He had already begun exchanging looks with her.
Lin Wan curled her lips. These two are both tanned as charcoal. Quite the match, she thought. The moment the thought formed, she jerked her hand back.
Chen Jin withdrew his gaze from the other boat and leaned toward her. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," she said flatly. Then, unable to help herself, she added, "Looks like your seasickness has miraculously healed."
"It did. A woman cured it," he replied without shame.
Lin Wan fell silent. Chen Jin edged closer. "This place is beautiful—mountains, water, simple folk. Really nice."
"Then stay here," she said.
"I will—if you stay."
Her composure slipped. She raised her eyes to him. "Really?"
Chen Jin met her gaze, wordless for a long time before speaking slowly. "But could you stay? There's no convenient transport, the economy is under-developed, the power cuts often, and there's no internet…"
Lin Wan continued for him, her tone laced with mockery: "No nightclubs, no glitz and glamor, no towering skyscrapers, no crowds bowing to you." She gave a soft, scornful laugh. "In the end, those are the things you can't abandon."
Chen Jin didn't defend himself. Instead, he took her hand, spread it open in his left palm, and traced a few idle strokes with his right index finger.
"Wanwan," he murmured, "some things I can give up—because I never cared about them. But there are some I cannot abandon as long as I'm alive."
"I know you disapprove of the way I conduct myself," he continued. "But every circle has its own rules, and my worldview was set long ago. I don't expect you to understand. Just ignore it. Anything you don't want to see—I'll keep it out of your sight."
Lin Wan give a short, cold laugh. "You're deceiving yourself."
Chen Jin paused. His sigh was quiet. "Self-deception is also a way to live. No one gets through life with perfect clarity."
"What use is any of this?" she asked softly. "We're about to have nothing to do with each other."
Chen Jin's smile faltered; then he let out a hollow laugh. "Fine. Then we won't talk about it."
Lin Wan looked out across the lake. The boat that had flirted its way over earlier had drifted off toward another cluster of boats—where a few handsome men seemed to be sitting. The Mosuo girl must have spotted them too, because she redirected her attention immediately. No marriage, no binding—how freely they lived, Lin Wan thought. A place shapes its people.
For a fleeting moment, she truly longed to stay here—to cut herself off from the world entirely, to leave every burden and heartache outside this serene blue lake.