After seeing Sven out, I returned to the dorm and climbed into my bunk, only to find the electric fan was broken. The lingering summer heat was oppressive, the air thick and sweltering. I tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep, drifting in a sticky, drowsy haze. Suddenly, a clear woman’s voice sounded in my ear, calling “Hinson.”

　　“Sven? Did you come back?”I thought to myself.

　　“Hinson, it’s me.” Within my mind's eye, a woman’s form gradually came into focus—hair cut short just above the ears, eyes bright and clear, not a speck of makeup yet naturally elegant. Her clothes were modest, even dated, but she carried an air of quiet refinement, like an orchid, with the faint, familiar scent of old books and ink—just like that “wise beyond her years” little girl from long ago.

　　“Hinson, long time no see!”

　　“Sister Molly?” I almost didn’t recognize her. “You… you grew up?”

　　Sister Molly smiled, neither confirming nor denying my confused statement. Only then did I remember—that meeting in the Qinling Mountains had just been a dream. The reallast time I’d seen her was over a decade ago.

　　“Hinson, you…” Sister Molly seemed about to say more, but she was engulfed by a sudden flurry of snow and vanished. Beneath the vast sky, only a solitary peak remained, standing like a banner spear. In an instant, the mountain melted away, replaced by the swaying shadows of trees. As the world spun, I slid down a massive canopy and found myself, once steady, standing alone at a fork in the path. Clutched in my hand was the very first handwritten hiking itinerary I’d ever made, years ago.

　　“The Ancient Narrow Pass?” I clicked open the trail route on my outdoor app in a daze, but the GPS drift was so severe it was giving me a headache.

　　"It should be... the left one, right?"

　　One path wound invitingly into the depths, the other broad and obvious. After a moment's hesitation, I chose the narrow trail on the left and entered the forest.

　　Dense, overlapping shades of green surrounded me, dappled light filtering through the canopy. Rotten logs by the path were carpeted in moss. Occasionally, strips of cloth in different colors fluttered from tree branches—trail markers left by outdoor clubs. Following their guidance, I turned confidently at one junction after another, yet never encountered another group. For a popular hiking route during peak hours, this was highly unusual. My phone's GPS refused to correct itself. I had no choice but to trust the ever-present cloth strips and, without realizing it, gradually strayed from my planned route. In hindsight, I could only lament my inexperience.

　　The trail was steep in many sections, covered with a deep, soft layer of fallen leaves. Under the weight of my large pack, my steps were labored. At one particularly sharp incline, the leaves beneath my feet suddenly gave way in a sheet, sending me tumbling down the slope.

　　Groaning, I finally managed to get up, only to have my knee land hard on something buried in the leaves. Wincing in pain, I brushed the foliage aside. What had been digging into me was a section of a blue trekking pole.

　　I recognized the brand on the trekking pole at a glance. This single pole probably costs more than my entire kit,I thought. It looked nearly new, likely lost just a day or two ago. Looking down at the cheap pair in my own hands, I couldn't help but sigh. If only it weren't broken, I'd have ‘adopted’ it on the spot.

　　The air grew damp, carrying the faint, musty smell that precedes rain. Instinctively, I looked up, but the dense canopy blotted out the sky, offering no glimpse of the clouds. Following the stream, I finally found a still pond. The area was open but dim, with sparse light. A few birds skimmed the water's surface, and the reflection of low, thick clouds rippled between the waves. Everything pointed to an impending downpour. My expression darkened. Dread of getting caught in a storm mid-trail made me quicken my pace.

　　“Gotta reach the guesthouse before the rain starts,” I muttered to myself, head down.

　　After rushing several kilometers, a massive landslide abruptly blocked the path—countless basketball-sized boulders covered the entire hillside. The only way across was a single, precarious path, carved like a fragile groove across the unstable slope. Turning back now meant I'd never make it out before dark, and my pack held no camping gear. With the rocks slick from the damp air, I had no choice but to steel myself and inch forward, placing each step with extreme care, ensuring my footing was solid before shifting my weight.

　　This isn't right.I didn't remember any guide mentioning a section like this. In my mind, the Ancient Narrow Pass was a beginner-friendly trail, never featuring such a treacherous segment. After turning it over, the only logical explanation was my impulsive, wrong turn earlier.

　　“Idiot!” I cursed myself bitterly. Getting lost on my first real solo hike—what did that say about my future in the outdoors? But I was in too deep now, committed to this mistake. Suddenly, a few small stones tumbled down the slope, narrowly missing my feet.

　　My heart sank—was this a precursor to a landslide?I froze, scanning my surroundings. Though nothing seemed immediately amiss, my ears caught a faint, scattered sound, like countless tiny things shifting within the unstable slope.

　　I dared not linger. I sped up, but the sounds grew more frequent. Suddenly, several large stones came bouncing and crashing down the hillside behind me. They collided with the heaps of boulders on the landslide debris, sending out dull, ominous thuds. A whole section of the slope began to loosen. This is bad!I immediately broke into a frantic run. Chips of flying rock struck my backpack—each impact hammering my heart against my ribs!

　　The rumbling grew to a roar. In a split-second glance backward, a chill shot down my spine. A cloud of dust billowed behind me, rocks tumbling wildly—the entire section of trail I'd just traversed was giving way! Even worse, the landslide was still expanding. The precarious traverse path under my feet was visibly crumbling, the collapse catching up to me at a terrifying speed.

　　“Hinson! Hinson! Hinson!” In the crisis, that familiar woman’s voice flooded my mind again, mingling with the cacophony of falling rocks. The scene before my eyes flickered—shards of stone and swirling snowflakes alternating before me, jumbling my thoughts and fraying my nerves.

　　At that very moment, the final section of the landslide connecting to the main trail ahead also collapsed, transforming into a sheer cliff face carved into the mountainside. It severed my last hope of escape. And as if to mock this pitiful soul clinging to survival, a single stubby tree jutted sideways from the middle of the cliff face—stuck out like a rude, upthrust middle finger.

　　I was running on pure fumes, but the shattering roar of the landslide was still at my back! Gritting my teeth, I made a split-second decision. With a yell, I shook off my trekking poles, pushed off the last solid rock with everything I had, and launched myself in a desperate dive toward the trail on the other side.

　　CRASH!

　　The entire slope behind me vanished. I sailed across the gap, but missed the trail's edge, my heart lurching as I plummeted toward the abyss.

　　In blind panic, I clawed at the cliff face, my hands closing only on a fistful of crumbling grit. Unstoppable gravity wrenched me down. Then—a flash of green filled my vision. The stubby little tree was right there, slamming perfectly across my chest, solid and unwavering—a lifeline! My hands locked onto the trunk. I hurled my body forward, using the tree’s recoil to spring over the last stretch of empty air, followed by a tumbling roll that landed me—just barely—onto solid ground.

　　Gravel sprayed. The valley echoed with a deafening, final roar. I lay sprawled on the trail, gulping air in ragged, painful breaths, my heart hammering against my ribs as if trying to break free.

　　The sky had cleared, bright and cloudless. Warm sunlight washed over me as I slowly came back to myself. I looked back. The landslide was gone; the way I’d come was now a sheer drop. Getting to my feet, a wave of delayed terror crashed over me. If I’d been slower, if that tree hadn’t been there, if my pack had been heavier… Any one of those ifswould have meant being dragged down and buried alive under those rocks, with no hope of ever seeing daylight again.

　　I packed away my rain poncho and trudged on, each step leaden. My hydration bladder was empty, and a fierce thirst gripped me. Reluctantly, I pulled out my small backup bottle of electrolyte drink and gulped it down. To my surprise, the drink I usually struggled to finish tasted like pure nectar. The bottle was gone too soon, my throat still parched. Finding water was now my most urgent task.

　　On a whim, I reopened my outdoor app. To my relief, the wildly drifting GPS signal had finally stabilized. Shielding the screen from the sun, I studied the route. I hadn’t strayed as far as I’d feared. If I kept going, I’d reach a guesthouse in the middle section of the Ancient Narrow Pass in just over ten minutes.

　　With the route clear, the knot in my chest loosened. I forced my heavy legs to move, the earlier anxiety melting away. Listening to the birds and humming a tune, I walked calmly along the mountain path, completely unaware of the ordeal awaiting me.

　　After rounding the final bend shown on the map, I was confronted by a sheer cliff face. A path so narrow it barely deserved the name clung to the rock wall, leading to a village not far ahead. I gauged it—the trail was only wide enough to place my feet side-by-side. Lush, overgrown bushes pressed in from the mountain side, seemingly intent on shoving me off. Looking down, a rushing river churned几十米 below in a dark valley. The water’s surface was pitch black, its depth impossible to guess. My heart leapt into my throat.

　　“I’m done for!” I didn’t even have my trekking poles. How was I supposed to handle a path this treacherous? Fatigue and acrophobia made my legs tremble so badly I could barely walk. I wrestled with the bushes, but the thick, sharp shrubs fought back—snagging my legs, blocking my way, doing everything to make this harder. A few strong gusts of wind nearly knocked me off balance, forcing me to clutch the prickly branches for dear life, my gloves tearing in the process. By the time I’d inched my way across, my pants and jacket were covered in prickly seeds. My legs gave out, and I half-collapsed onto the trail, spending a long time trying to pick the damned things off.

　　“Hello?”

　　The voice greeting me from behind sounded familiar. I turned to see the owner of an outdoor gear shop I frequented—Young Master Feng!

　　“Uh… hi!” I forced an awkward smile, trying to hide my disheveled state.

　　“Hey! It isyou!” Young Master Feng grinned wide and reached out to help me up. The seeds stuck to me毫不客气 jabbed his hand, making him yelp.

　　“You okay?”

　　“Fine, fine!” He shook his stinging hand, grimacing. “Why are you so… prickly?!”

　　I didn’t know whether to be annoyed or amused. I just plucked a prickly seed and held it up to him.

　　“They’re from the bushes. People don’t just growthorns.”

　　He took a closer look, exclaimed “Oh!”, and started helping me pick the rest off.

　　“Thanks! Really, thank you!”

　　“Hey, don’t mention it!” Young Master Feng helped steady me. “Honestly, I feel like you don’t even think of me as a friend! Hiking out here and you don’t even call me, just fake politeness in my store!”

　　“Huh? I… Did I do something wrong?” This guy was overwhelmingly familiar, leaving me at a loss for words.

　　“Hahaha! Nah, not really! Just giving you a hard time, don’t overthink it! So, if you’re not here to hike or stay at the guesthouse, what areyou doing here?”

　　“Ah, well… that’s a long story.”

　　I shrugged off my heavy pack and recounted everything that had just happened.

　　“So that’s what happened!” Young Master Feng clapped his hands together, chuckling. “I get it now. You ended up on Liangfeng Mountain!”

　　"Liangfeng Mountain?" The name sounded vaguely familiar.

　　"You didn't know? Liangfeng Mountain is right next to the Ancient Narrow Pass. Look, that's it!" He pointed to the large mountain behind me.

　　"Oh! Now I remember!" I slapped my forehead. "I think I read it in a post. It said if you hiked the Ancient Narrow Pass in reverse, you could tack on a trip to Liangfeng Mountain at the end, and that it was suitable for beginners! But I was going the standard direction..."

　　"What?" Young Master Feng cut me off, frowning. "Who wrote that post? That's downright misleading! Liangfeng Mountain and the Ancient Narrow Pass aren't even in the same league! Plenty of experienced hikers have gotten into trouble there. How could they call it beginner-friendly?"

　　"What? It's that serious?"

　　"What do you think? Someone got lost there just a couple of days ago. They still haven't found him!"

　　"Uh..." I was at a loss for words.

　　"Never mind, let's not dwell on it. You look exhausted. Let's get you settled at the guesthouse first." With that, Young Master Feng hoisted my large pack again and led me toward the nearby lodging.

　　“Busy, boss?”

　　“Oh, you’re back from scouting the route already? And who’s this?”

　　“Ah, this is my friend. Needs a room. How about a discount, Brother Chen?”

　　“You got it!” The boss put down his rag and agreed readily. “Young man, would you like a standard room, a twin, or a double? 20% off any of them, with breakfast included!”

　　“Oh… thank you!” I glanced at the price list on the counter, weighed it against my modest budget, and decided on the standard room.

　　“Young man, the standard room has a shared bathroom. No washing machine either. You’re drenched in sweat and your clothes are filthy. How about a twin room instead?” The guesthouse owner looked at me with a cheerful, seemingly genuine smile.

　　“Well, I…”

　　Young Master Feng clapped me on the shoulder and bargained with the owner. “Hey, Brother Chen, how about giving him a twin room for the discounted standard rate? Next week, I’ll bring my whole club here and book you out! Consider him an early booking to round out the group!”

　　“Hahaha!” The boss laughed, shaking his head. “When it comes to business, you’re the man, Little Feng! Alright! A twin room for the discounted standard rate!”

　　“And breakfast?” Young Master Feng tilted his head, grinning at the owner.

　　“Included! I’ll even throw in a free bag of mountain walnuts I gathered myself!” The owner waved his hand, piling on the perks.

　　“Thank you! Thank you, boss! Thank you, Brother Feng!” I quickly handed over my ID to check in, worried the owner might change his mind.

　　Once in the room, I didn’t even change my clothes. I climbed onto the bed and passed out. When I woke up, the owner had already set a full dinner table downstairs.

　　“Dinner’s on me. Eat up!” Young Master Feng smiled, cracking open a can of beer.

　　“Thanks, Brother Feng, but I don’t really drink…”

　　“Come on, the mood is perfect! Do me a favor, have a little!” As he spoke, he’d already poured me a glass.

　　I’m really not much of a drinker, but with the mood being so lively, refusing felt wrong. I reluctantly downed the glass. Ugh, terrible.

　　“Let me properly introduce myself. I’m the owner of that outdoor shop you always visit. And don’t call me ‘Brother Feng’—call me ‘Young Master Feng’!”

　　“I remember! Your business card is still in my dorm room!”

　　“I knew you were a student!” Young Master Feng poured me another glass. “And you are?”

　　His question made me realize I’d never actually introduced myself.

　　“How rude of me! Just call me Hinson.”

　　“Hinson…” Young Master Feng repeated the name, raised his glass, and said, “Since you were rude, that’s another glass!”

　　“Huh? Okay…” I picked up my glass with a pained smile.