They say the best way to truly get to know someone is to travel with them. Back when all this started, Lin Wan had actually wanted to know this man better, to see who he was beyond the surface. Now, she had no curiosity left at all. And yet, as time wore on, the man in her eyes had slowly shifted from a flat sketch into a fully three-dimensional sculpture.
Take this trip, for example—she discovered at least one thing: if a woman married Chen Jin, she'd gain one benefit, at the very least—peace of mind. He would take care of absolutely everything, as long as he felt like it, of course. And on one condition: that woman could never be her. If it were her, she'd be driven mad sooner or later.
The thought startled her so much she almost scared herself. Married to him? That was a terrifying line of imagination.
But what exactly was their relationship now? In other people's eyes, they were clearly a cohabiting couple—or lovers at the very least. In Chen Jin's mind, he seemed to treat her as someone he was naturally meant to look after, almost as a responsibility. He regarded that apartment as their home; he had casually used the word "home" more than once. At first, every time he said it, the word burned the tip of her heart. With time, she went numb.
As for her—at the beginning, she'd seen him as a demon; just having him step near her made every hair on her body stand on end. Now, without even noticing when it happened, she'd begun to trust him, to lean on him. She had once seen his apartment as a prison that trapped her. Now she'd grown used to everything there; every day after work, habit alone guided her back to that place.
Her head started to ache. All these changes had crept in silently, unnoticed as they happened. Only when she looked back did she realize how frightening they really were. What had caused such a drastic shift? Time? Her depression? Or her own weakness?
There was no time, and no real need, to trace it back. All she knew was this: if she didn't end this abnormal arrangement soon, she would completely lose herself—sink into a pit of pain and guilt, with no way out.
When Chen Jin's voice pulled her out of her spiraling thoughts, she realized with a jolt that they were already standing at the entrance to the cableway. She had no idea when they'd gotten off the boat, stepped ashore, boarded the tram up the mountain, and then disembarked again—everything was just a blur of images in her mind. His hand was still wrapped tightly around hers. She sighed inwardly. She actually trusted him this much now. If Chen Jin led her to the edge of a cliff and told her to jump… would she really be foolish enough to obey?
Chen Jin had no idea what was going on inside her head; he was busy being shocked by the crude-looking cable car in front of them. Calling it "open-air" was generous—this was basically a hanging basket with a roof nailed on. He himself didn't really mind; there was a faint thrill in the danger. But Lin Wan…
He turned to ask, "Do you dare get on?"
One look at the structure had left her a bit dazed too. But when he smiled and said, "Forget it, then. We don't have to go up," something like reckless bravery surged up in her chest.
"What's there to be afraid of?" she said, chin tilting up.
Chen Jin couldn't help but laugh. He pulled her zipper all the way up, flipped her hood over her head, then tightened his own jacket and hood as well. He tugged the strap of his cross-body sports bag around to the front and cinched it tight.
"Everything we own is in here," he said solemnly. "We better make sure it doesn't fall."
Then he pulled a plastic bag from his backpack, shook it open, and handed it to her. "Here."
"What's this for?" she asked.
"Aren't you afraid of heights? If you feel like throwing up, use the bag."
Furious, Lin Wan slapped the bag back against his chest. "You keep it for yourself."
But when the cable car started gliding up along the mountainside, fear swelled in her chest like air pumping into a balloon, until she could hardly breathe. Chen Jin pulled her into his arms and murmured in her ear, "If you're scared, don't look down. Close your eyes."
She obeyed at first, but quickly grew unwilling. After a moment, she cracked one eye open and sneaked a look at the drop below them—and immediately shuddered.
"Exciting, isn't it?" Chen Jin chuckled.
She nodded against his chest.
Lin Wan decided to use this to train herself. Her fear of heights was too annoying to live with. So she gritted her teeth and kept peeking down, trying to force herself to endure the dizziness and wave of nausea that followed every glance. Whenever her stomach lurched, Chen Jin would wordlessly thrust the plastic bag into her hands. Pride forgotten, she clutched it and retched over the opening while he rubbed her back in slow circles.
She gagged for quite a while without actually bringing anything up. "We're almost at the top," he murmured. "Just a bit more."
She exhaled in relief.
And then, as if Heaven were listening and felt she'd gotten off too easily, a gust of wind roared through the valley. Their cable car swayed wildly, and Lin Wan let out a sharp scream. Her hand jerked, and the plastic bag was swept away, spinning out into empty air.
For one horrifying instant, she felt as though she were about to follow it. Her heart hammered in her throat. Chen Jin tightened his hold around her and soothed, "Wanwan, don't be scared. You're fine."
He pressed a kiss to her forehead, then added lightly, "Even if we fall, I'll cushion you."
The absurdity of it made half her fear dissolve on the spot. He's right, she thought bitterly. What's there to be afraid of? At worst, you die. Her arms, however, only clamped tighter around his waist.
The cable car swung and rattled, but its frame held. By the time they reached the top, her legs were jelly. She had no idea when he scooped her up; suddenly she was on solid ground with a bottle of water at her lips. After a few sips and a brief rest, she slowly regained feeling in her legs.
The path up the mountain was steep, and Chen Jin never once let go of her hand for fear she'd slip. The altitude here was close to three thousand meters; after a short stretch, Lin Wan would be out of breath and have to stop and rest.
With all those starts and stops, they finally reached the wooden viewing deck. From here, the whole of Lugu Lake spreads out beneath them—an expanse of sapphire encircled by mountains. It really did look like a tear from the goddess herself.
"It's beautiful," Lin Wan breathed. "If I could die here, I'd die happy."
Chen Jin's body went rigid. He yanked her into his arms. "How do you still end up talking about death?" he scolded.
"I was just saying," she muttered, rolling her eyes.
A few monkeys materialized out of nowhere, unafraid of people, staring straight at them with bright, expectant eyes. Clearly, they were begging for food.
"Don't you have chocolate in your bag?" she asked.
"That's for you."
After that declaration, he ruthlessly drove the monkeys away. One tiny monkey, however, refused to leave no matter how he shooed it. It circled pitifully in front of them, staring up at Lin Wan with big, pleading eyes.
"She's probably too small to fight others for food," Lin Wan said softly. "She must be starving. I don't need it. Give it to her."
Chen Jin had no choice but to pull out two bars of chocolate—one for her, one tossed to the little monkey. The tiny creature gobbled it down, scampered up a nearby tree, and chattered at them twice from a branch.
Lin Wan burst into laughter. "She's thanking you."
Chen Jin stared at her radiant smile for a moment, dazed, then put on a serious face. "No. She's saying goodbye."
Once they'd rested enough, they continued forward, stopping by the Goddess Cave and the nearby shrine before taking the cable car back down the mountain. At noon, they ate in a farmhouse they'd booked in advance. The meal was surprisingly plentiful, including the Mosuo specialty—cured pork. Lin Wan, however, was far more interested in the way the house was arranged. She flitted from room to room asking questions, taking photos with the owners' permission.
Watching her dart around—eyes bright, sometimes curious, sometimes deeply focused—Chen Jin felt a sweetness rise in his chest that was far better than any wine he'd ever tasted.