Thirteen: Water Drops Turn to Ice

The temperature at the mountaintop was astonishingly low. Even though I had already put on the military coat rented at the foot of the mountain before boarding the cable car, I still couldn't stop shivering now. The sun was gradually sinking, and night was falling. Lele had long since retreated into her room, but I lingered alone on the open-air terrace in front of Bright Summit Villa, gazing down at the layers of pine forest below and the undulating mountains in the distance, trying to savor an indescribable tranquility.

As the temperature continued to drop, I ran several laps around the terrace, but it did little to stave off the biting cold. With no other choice, I hopped step by step back to the villa. The accommodations on the mountain were truly abysmal: the small room was packed with four iron bunk beds, instantly transporting us back to the days of military training. The rudimentary bathroom had only a squat toilet, no hot water, and the sole faucet was frozen solid, unable to yield even a drop.

There was little entertainment on the mountain. After a weary dinner in the dining hall, everyone drifted to the lobby in boredom, gathering around to listen to the seasoned hikers recount their tales—some true, some perhaps not. Perhaps the day's exertion was simply too much; by a little after eight, I was already nodding off.

Back in the room, Haozi had somehow procured a kettle of hot water. Ladies first, we all took turns soaking our feet, and fatigue melted away. But when I turned back the quilt, a wave of dampness and cold hit me in the face.

“How are we supposed to sleep like this?” Lele couldn't help but frown.

“It’s only for one night, just make do,” I replied helplessly, pursing my lips.

To encourage Lele, I didn't even bother undressing and braved the chill, climbing straight into the clammy upper bunk. I tossed and turned, unable to sleep from the cold, so I jumped down, rummaged a pair of woolen pants from Lele’s backpack—whether they fit or not, I pulled them on in haste—but it was still freezing.

Half-drowsy, I slept until the latter part of the night, when I suddenly felt someone beside me. Startled, I opened my eyes to find Lele burrowing under the covers like an eel, her head tucked in, desperately seeking warmth. I quickly moved her hand away from me, jumped down again, and hauled the quilt from the lower bunk up. With two quilts covering us, warmth finally returned.

It was reported that sunrise would be at 6:19 a.m. today.

Because it was so cold and none of us in the room knew each other, the lights stayed on all night. Light sleep meant early waking, but at least I didn’t feel groggy. Lele was still sound asleep, so I quietly slipped out of bed, carefully stepping over her, and went into the corridor. Suddenly I recalled the guide's words from last night—thick clouds might obscure the sunrise today. I hurried to the window, only to see the moon high in the sky—a stroke of luck I could hardly believe.

By the time I strolled back to the room, everyone was up and queuing for the bathroom. The morning air at the mountaintop was icy; conversation was sparse, and the room felt like a tomb. I hastily packed my things and tried to brush my teeth with bottled water, only to find it had frozen solid. Nevertheless, I made do as best I could.

After finally finishing my morning routine, I searched for something to eat, only to discover that Haozi and his wife had eaten all the food during the night. Luckily, I wasn't terribly hungry. After some fussing about, it was time to gather in the lobby. The guide led us out of the villa.

The moment we stepped outside, we saw the mountains were already teeming with people—tourists from below were also streaming up. Following the crowd, we made our way to a viewing platform near the villa, where only a rickety railing separated us from a sheer drop less than a hundred meters away.

As the guide had said, “Step back anywhere else and the world opens before you; step back here and you vanish without a trace.” Though those in front kept shouting, “Stop pushing from behind!” no one seemed to care, and people pressed ever forward. The designers of these barriers had clearly foreseen the chaos; without this buffer zone of several dozen meters, many would have been pushed off the cliffs.

Soon, the more impatient tourists boldly vaulted the railing and ventured out. Despite staff members shouting warnings through megaphones, these intrepid souls scrambled up a small hillock at the front of the platform and howled towards the magnificent sea of clouds.

Haozi and Xiaofei had vanished into the throng, but fortunately, I had held tightly onto Lele and we hadn't been separated. I squeezed out a gap, brought Lele in front of me, helped her onto the railing, and embraced her securely from behind. It was both safe and warm.

Just as we found our spot, the vast blue-violet sky began to yield to a faint orange glow. The silhouettes of tourists atop the little hillock were outlined against the dawn, creating a grandeur words could not express. Glancing back, I saw the glow of camera screens everywhere; noses reddened by the cold, hair tousled by the wind, yet everyone's fingers clung to their camera shutters, afraid to miss the sunrise for an instant.

Some seized the chance for mischief, starting cheers and shouts, startling the crowd into excitement and laughter.

After a long wait, the sun finally began to peek above the horizon. At first, it was merely a blush in the sky, then it grew into the shape of a bun, then half an egg yolk, then a whole one.

Lele squealed with excitement in my arms, all her usual composure forgotten. I let her go, took a few quick steps back, and captured this unforgettable moment with my camera.

It was clear that everyone was in high spirits—after all, it was the start of a new day.

After watching the sunrise and eating breakfast, we began our descent, passing by the “Flying Rock” immortalized in Dream of the Red Chamber. As the saying goes, it’s easier to climb up than to climb down. The guide strongly recommended we take the cable car, but spurred on by Lele and Haozi, we chose to walk. The four of us dashed downhill, forgetting all our exhaustion.

The result of our mad dash was that, once on the bus, our legs wouldn't stop trembling.

In the afternoon, with free time at our disposal, Haozi and I let ourselves be dragged by the two ladies through the ancient streets of Huangshan, saturated with Huizhou charm, before practically crawling to the train station. Once the guide saw us onto the train, he left, and the once lively carriage fell into silence. Everyone was utterly spent, the earlier enthusiasm long gone, and each of us sprawled on our bunks, loath to move.

At 6:30 p.m., the train slowly pulled out of Huangshan station.