Chapter Fifty-Four: Sunrise on the Mountaintop

Just a few days after Christmas, the New Year arrives. On the last day of 2005, I wanted to do something unforgettable—like watching the sunrise on the first day of the year. The main peak of Brush Mountain, standing at 758 meters above sea level, is the tallest in this area and an ideal spot for sunrise. To make sure we wouldn’t miss the moment, Huang Xin and I decided to camp overnight on Brush Mountain.

After all this time together, Huang Xin still hadn’t shaken her habit of dawdling. We’d agreed to meet at three in the afternoon at the entrance of the girls’ dormitory, but it wasn’t until half past three that she finally arrived, unhurried as always.

“Sorry for keeping you waiting,” she said, her usual apology for being late, which left me helpless. Anger couldn't last in the face of her apology; after all, what reason did I have to blame her further?

The weather was pleasant, with warm winter sunlight making me feel lazy all over. The seniors had warned us about high prices on the mountain—a simple bowl of noodle soup would cost ten yuan. To save money, we stocked up on snacks from the student street before heading up, so we wouldn’t have to buy anything at the summit.

Just as we were about to set out, Huang Xin suddenly mentioned she wanted to switch to a Mobile card. She’d always used a Unicom card, which meant I couldn't enjoy the 200-message discount when texting her, and calls were much more expensive. I’d often complained, but she found the process bothersome and never bothered to change. Somehow, today she had a change of heart, and happily accompanied me to the Mobile business hall. We spent ages flipping through thick books of numbers until we finally picked an easy-to-remember one.

With everything ready, we could finally ascend the mountain.

There weren’t many shuttle buses, so for convenience, we hailed a motorcycle taxi in the small town at the mountain’s base. I sat next to the driver, with Huang Xin beside me, and we set off, dusty and windblown. Cars and motorcycles zipped past us along the winding mountain road, and the driver sped up, making us both a little anxious, barely able to spare a glance at the scenery.

At the halfway parking lot, the driver dropped us off. We could take a cable car from here, but since we’d come all this way, we decided to hike. We took the driver’s phone number, rested a bit in the parking lot, then began our climb. Looking down from halfway up, we saw a vast lake encircling the campus—though today’s heavy fog made it barely visible. The scene reminded me of the marshes in Water Margin, though the comparison was absurd; I couldn't help but mock myself.

Walking and stopping along the way, we soon arrived at the ticket office. The seniors said you didn’t need a ticket after ten at night, but hiking mountain paths at night wasn’t exactly safe. The ticket was only fifteen yuan anyway, so we bought it.

Passing through the ticket office meant the summit was near. Sure enough, after less than ten minutes, we saw the layered temple buildings ahead. The incense here seemed strong; even at dusk, there were still many devotees praying in the temple, the air punctuated by the crackling of firecrackers.

As we wandered atop the mountain, night quickly fell.

The pilgrims descended, leaving the temple suddenly quiet. We wandered aimlessly through its halls, feeling strangely homeless. The gate to the management office stood open, but inside, it was deserted. After so much hiking, the soft sofa inside caught our attention, and without thinking, I pulled Huang Xin inside.

Sitting on the sofa, munching biscuits bought down below and listening to music on my MP3, Huang Xin seemed to grow sleepy. Her head tilted unconsciously, resting against my shoulder.

Only by experiencing it firsthand did I realize just how empty and dull life atop the mountain could be. No wonder the monks and priests always looked so dispirited; clearly, seclusion is not easily achieved by just anyone. We rested for a while, then I wanted to go for another stroll. As soon as I stepped outside, Huang Xin followed.

It’s cold at the heights! After dark, the temperature dropped sharply, and the wind made us shiver, with thick fog enveloping everything—visibility reduced to mere meters. Huang Xin clung tightly to my arm, afraid of getting lost. We walked for an unknowable distance before coming upon a small building outside the temple complex. Curious, I peeked in and saw several monks asleep inside.

As far as I knew, the deities worshipped on this mountain belonged to Taoism, so why were there monks here? I couldn’t figure it out. But to our luck, they rented out quilts. This journey would not be in vain.

We rented a somewhat musty quilt from a monk for twenty yuan, hugged it, and decided not to go further, retracing our steps. Then came the biggest question: where would we sleep tonight?

Huang Xin suggested that since the management office was empty, we could spend the night there. The idea felt questionable, but I couldn’t think of a better option, so I agreed.

Back at the office, we moved all the couch cushions to the floor, arranging them side by side into a bed shape and spread the quilt over them. Having done all this, we lay comfortably on our makeshift “bed,” chatting enthusiastically, when suddenly an elderly man entered.

“Hey! What are you two doing?” He seemed to be the manager.

“Uh, we don’t have anywhere to sleep tonight…” Faced with his stern expression, we grew nervous.

“No place to sleep? That doesn’t mean you can sleep here! Look what you’ve done—turning this place into your home! Put everything back! If you must sleep, go sleep in the main hall, not here causing trouble!” With that, he stormed off. Huang Xin and I stared at each other for a long time before snapping out of it.

We hurriedly restored the cushions and fled the office.

Next to the main hall were several empty beds that looked like altar platforms, apparently prepared for pilgrims to stay overnight. Spending a night in a temple for the first time felt strange. Staring at the fierce expressions of the statues in the hall, I couldn’t fall asleep. Giving up, we sat up, huddled under the quilt, leaning against the wall side by side.

“Xiao Bei, tell me your story,” Huang Xin nestled against me and whispered.

“My story?” I glanced at her, thinking—surely she didn’t want me to tell her about how I loved her silhouette?

“Go on,” she seemed genuinely interested in my past. “Tell me about your ex-girlfriend.”

Unable to resist her pestering, I recounted some things about my time with Lele. “That’s about it.”

“That’s all?” She sounded a bit unsatisfied.

“That’s all. I’m done. Now shouldn’t you tell me yours?” I tossed the question back to her, though I wasn’t really keen to know her past.

“Uh… what story could I possibly have? None at all!” She seemed to avoid the topic.

As midnight approached, messages flooded in—New Year’s wishes from all sides.

Busy replying, it was already two in the morning. Drowsy, we somehow fell asleep. The hall was drafty, and a gust of cold wind made me suddenly wonder: am I crazy, coming here at night to suffer like this?

I don’t know how long we slept, but vaguely, it seemed a group of people entered the hall. Without opening my eyes, I could tell from their conversation that they, like us, had come to watch the sunrise. The group played cards and chatted all night, keeping the place lively.

In this half-awake state, dawn arrived.

We got up around five, following the students as they braved the biting morning cold to climb to the highest point behind the temple.

The sun gradually rose, and the first rays of 2006 spread across the earth.

Huang Xin stood at the edge of the cliff, arms open, her silhouette gilded by the sunlight. I simply sat behind her, watching quietly, watching quietly…

A new day, a new year, a new beginning.

(Chapter revision completed September 4, 2010)