Chapter 36

The hospital was some distance away, and the ambulance would be slow to arrive. The hotel managed to find a car for them and sent a staff member along to guide them, fearing they might get lost.

Along the way, Lu Wenyuan practically floored the accelerator. Bouncing and jolting along, Chen Annan was in a daze, feeling as though his chest cavity were being squeezed, unable to take in any oxygen. He clutched Brother’s collar, his fingertips numb to the point of stiffness.

He was terrified, but his lips were too numb, and he couldn’t utter a single sound.

Lu Qingyuan held him, helping smooth his breathing several times, watching his large, round eyes grow unfocused.

Once they reached the hospital and got him on oxygen, Chen Annan’s symptoms gradually eased. After a series of checkups, the doctor said it was altitude sickness. People with weaker constitutions often couldn’t handle it when first arriving at high altitudes. It would improve after a few days of acclimatization, but he just couldn’t go to any higher elevations.

Chen Annan lay on the hospital bed, sipping small mouthfuls of glucose water. Fresh gas was continuously delivered to his nostrils through a thin tube.

Lu Qingyuan was massaging his numb hands to help the blood circulate better.

The ward was quiet. Lu Wenyuan came in from outside and asked softly, “How’s my good boy feeling? Still uncomfortable?”

Chen Annan said, “Much better.”

Lu Wenyuan asked him, “Were you scared?”

Chen Annan hesitated, then nodded.

Lu Wenyuan freed one hand and gently stroked his hair. “A little touch, chase the fright away…”

At this point, he sounded self-reproachful. “This time it’s Uncle’s fault. I completely forgot about this issue. Came here without preparing all the proper gear, nearly causing you harm.”

Hearing this, Chen Annan revealed a sweet smile and said playfully, “What are you doing? I’m perfectly fine, aren’t I?” Saying this, he hugged one of Lu Wenyuan’s arms and shook it affectionately.

Truly, no one was to blame. He himself hadn’t expected such a strong reaction. He’d been perfectly fine on the train, and fine when they first arrived. He’d even eaten quite a bit with a healthy appetite. Who could have guessed the altitude sickness would hit him at night?

Afraid his uncle would keep blaming himself, Chen Annan quickly changed the subject. His eyes shone brightly as he looked at Lu Wenyuan. “Uncle, can we still go to the Potala Palace to take photos?”

Lu Wenyuan hugged him, patting his back gently with one hand. “Of course, we can. Except for the places you can’t go, you can go anywhere you want.”

The guide, Basang, only learned about this the next day. She said regretfully, “You can slowly adjust to the altitude. Once the little one is better, we have many markets here we can visit.” Her Mandarin was not very standard and took a bit of effort to understand.

Lu Wenyuan smiled and agreed. Their family stayed at the hotel for a few more days to ensure Chen Annan truly wasn’t suffering from altitude sickness anymore.

Only after Chen Annan had fully acclimated did they dare to go out and play. This time, they carried many portable oxygen bottles, afraid of any more mishaps.

Lhasa’s sky was vast and pure. The Potala Palace stood upon Red Hill, seemingly embedded in the canopy of heaven. Layers of clouds, spreading out to the horizon, slowly drifted above it, setting off the palace’s holy, flawless white.

The square was packed with people. Lu Wenyuan took a ton of photos of the two kids—horizontal shots, vertical shots, tilted shots. Finally, he asked the guide to take a big group photo of them.

In the group photo, Lu Wenyuan had his arm around his son’s shoulders. Chen Annan smiled brightly. Above his head, a pair of hands secretly made two peace signs on either side of his head, making him look like a cute little rabbit. It was Lu Qingyuan’s handiwork.

Traveling certainly proved an excellent way to ease emotions. The matter of Brother leaving had been completely forgotten over these past few days. Chen Annan was thoroughly happy, bouncing and skipping along, back to his lively self.

Basang led them through the scenic spots and then to the market.

The market was on Barkhor Street. Along the street, countless small goods were displayed in a dazzling array, as plentiful as a Tibetan version of a Yiwu wholesale market. Inside Chongsaikang, there were many dzi beads and beeswax ornaments, making one’s eyes swim. Kangba men displayed these items on their persons; connoisseurs would stop to look for a moment before stepping forward to inquire.

Chen Annan was dragged along by Lu Qingyuan. With so many diverse people around, one could lose track of someone in an instant. Lu Wenyuan and the guide Basang walked up ahead, while the two of them followed behind.

Chen Annan took a fancy to a little hat. He happily picked it up, placed it on his head, and turned to ask Brother, “Do I look good?”

They had only been here a few days, yet Chen Annan’s cheeks were already on the verge of being blown into two patches of altitude flush by the wind. Yet his eyes were very bright, as if hiding two miniature suns within them. He looked at Brother full of expectation, the fluffy Tibetan hat looking enormous on his little head.

“Good,” Lu Qingyuan said.

Chen Annan beamed happily at him. Lu Wenyuan turned his head, saw this scene, and immediately pulled out money to pay the bill like a tycoon.

They browsed around until their legs ached. Lu Wenyuan bought large and small bags of souvenirs to bring back for colleagues, friends, and relatives to share. Many of the items were Chen Annan’s.

Once out of town, everything looked novel, and he wanted everything.

Lu Qingyuan, however, was only interested in the Tibetan knives here. He picked out a few he was very satisfied with and showed them to Chen Annan, but Chen Annan rejected every single one.

Chen Annan actually hadn’t told him a single one looked good.

In the end, Lu Qingyuan simply stopped asking him. He turned around and chose the knife Chen Annan had declared the ugliest, paid for it, almost like in a fit of pique. Deliberately, right in front of Chen Annan’s face, he unsheathed the knife and sheathed it back again. Unsheathed, sheathed. The gleaming blade shone dazzlingly under the sunlight.

The three of them played here for many days. Because they couldn’t go to higher elevations, they had to forgo Northern Tibet on this trip.

However, before they left, the guide Basang warmly invited them to a local dance party, saying there was a festival.

The party was held in a local small square. It was packed with people, though few were tourists—mostly locals. Under the night sky, a bonfire blazed fiercely, dyeing a patch of sky orange.

Basang helped them change into Tibetan robes. When Chen Annan ran out, Lu Qingyuan noticed his outfit seemed different from his own, but he couldn’t quite pinpoint how.

The clueless Chen Annan also didn’t notice anything amiss. He grabbed a little camp stool and sat down to watch the performance.

Near the bonfire sat several men in Tibetan robes, holding Zhamunie instruments and eagle flutes. Strings danced under their fingertips, combining with the flute sounds to produce a lively melody.

Young Zhuoma girls danced to the rhythm, the silver ornaments and dzi beads draped all over them clashing and clinking against each other, producing a continuous, crisp sound like silver bells. Their figures, light as swallows, spun and turned by the bonfire.

As their steps paused, the drumbeats also stopped. Only the leisurely strumming of the Zhamunie sounded in the night. Chen Annan fixed his unblinking eyes on the performance before him, thinking the dance was over.

However, the next moment, a drum tone suddenly boomed. They abruptly turned around, their red skirts flaring out in the firelight, like Galsang flowers blooming under the scorching sun. Following that, dense, rhythmic drumbeats shook the night sky, causing the previously leisurely lute music to tighten up and follow suit.

Everyone began singing along. Amidst the flowing songs, the girls’ red skirts scattered and then gathered again.

Lu Qingyuan was pulled to his feet by Basang to join in. Standing so close, he could almost smell her strong natural scent. Basang thought this man was even more handsome than the Kangba men, a striking beauty completely different from the locals.

Chen Annan was also pulled up. A boy pulled him, inviting him to dance together. Chen Annan had never danced this kind of dance before and felt his four limbs were haphazardly cobbled together, completely uncoordinated and clumsy.

His awkward movements made everyone laugh heartily, yet the boy’s eyes looking at him grew increasingly intense.

That night, both of them received passionate confessions of affection from the Tibetan people. What Chen Annan hadn’t expected, however, was that the one he received was a confession from that boy!

The boy, who knows where he learned the phrase—perhaps Basang taught him—said “I like you very much” in extremely non-standard Mandarin. Then he presented a khata scarf and kissed the back of Chen Annan’s hand.

Chen Annan was petrified. Realizing what was happening after a delay, his face instantly flushed completely red. He felt as if his brain had suffered a severe impact! Nearly utterly discomfited, he fled as fast as if escaping for his life, making Lu Wenyuan laugh so hard he couldn’t straighten his back.

It was only later, after asking around, that they discovered Basang had actually thought Chen Annan was a short-haired girl all these days! So the robe she’d given him at the party was a woman’s Tibetan robe. Thus, someone’s genuine affection was misplaced.

Poor Chen Annan was scared out of his wits. Even as he boarded the train back to Nanjing, he still couldn’t figure out how he’d received a confession from the same sex.

How terrifying! Truly too terrifying!

Suffering a severe blow to his psyche, Chen Annan couldn’t recover for a long while. However, soon enough, another matter disrupted his state of mind again.

Sure enough, Lu Qingyuan was Nanjing’s top scorer on the Gaokao this year. The day the admission letter was delivered, the school also posted a big red announcement banner right at their doorstep.

The school wanted to hold a commendation assembly for Lu Qingyuan, to have him, as a senior, motivate the next batch of soon-to-be senior high schoolers. Xiao Qingxiang called not long after to ask how his preparations were and when he planned to come to Beijing.

However, what no one expected was, when the envelope was opened, inside was an admission letter from Nanjing University.

Lu Qingyuan had actually kept this matter hidden for so long.

No one knew that on his college application form, he had filled in, top to bottom: Nanjing University, Nanjing University, Nanjing University…