I woke up the next day around noon to find takeout Sven had ordered for me on the table. I sat down at my computer, eating while continuing to research Namcha Barwa.

　　"The route intensity is insane! Pack animals can only go as far as Nam Lake. The stretch beyond that, at four to five thousand meters—no one even knows if there's a trail! Mr. Egg is pushing fifty. What's he trying to prove with this level of difficulty?" I muttered to myself between mouthfuls.

　　Just then, a new message from Mr. Egg popped up in the chat window.

　　"Hinson, look at this!" He had sent a revised route.

　　I studied it. The new plan was largely identical to yesterday's. The only obvious difference was that he'd simply numbered a couple of unnamed alpine lakes along the mandatory path.

　　"What am I supposed to be looking at? What's the big deal? That final section—crossing the pass and descending into the Duoxiong Valley—it doesn't go through!"

　　"Doesn't go through? I plotted this route inch by inch on satellite mapping software. If there was a cliff, the elevation profile would've plummeted right there."

　　"That's not the point! Look, the pass is over 1,700 meters vertically above the valley floor. The horizontal distance from the pass to the valley is less than 3,000 meters. Do the basic trig—that's an averageslope of nearly 30 degrees! Average!"

　　"Hinson, you're overthinking it! Ever heard of traversing? Switchbacks? Besides, my route shows vegetation starting around 3,800 meters below the pass. If the soil can hold plants, what's a guy with two legs got to worry about? Worst case, you just roll on down!"

　　"Mr. Egg, I'm worried you won't be able to 'roll' at all! At that altitude, the 'vegetation' is already shrubs or thickets. You'd smack into a tree in under two meters!"

　　"Who said we'd go throughthe vegetation? That thicket would be impassable! And it's not just about the last day. The sides of that valley are probably packed with alpine rhododendron. If we run into that, we won't cover a kilometer in five hours!"

　　"Then what's the point?!" I slumped in my chair, my will to type fading.

　　"Don't panic! If the brush is too thick, we skip the valley and check out those two lakes instead! As for getting down, we'll bring a rope!"

　　"I don't know how to build anchors or belay! Established trails only, no ropes!"

　　"Hinson, it's not that extreme! We'll just traverse any steep slopes. We're not going to march off a cliff!"

　　"You'd still need a rope for that. Who goes scouting a new route without one?"

　　"Fine, we'll bring one!"

　　"It's too heavy!"

　　I ran the numbers for him. Even skipping a static rope and bringing just 30 meters of dynamic rope for safety, a 10.5mm rope weighs 2.3 kg by itself. That's not counting carabiners or a helmet. And exploring unmarked terrain means carrying an ice axe too—more weight.

　　"Forget dynamic rope. We'll take that 30-meter coil of 3mm Dyneema cord I had last time. Plenty enough!"

　　"Mr. Egg, that stuff has zero stretch—it's essentially a static line!"

　　"We're not doing technical climbing; it's fine! Next you'll be demanding a harness!"

　　"You… you weren't planning to use harnesses?"

　　"A harness? What a waste! A simple sling will do the job."

　　I was speechless. "..."

　　"Hinson, I know what you're worried about. But it's overkill, really! We're not rappelling. We're hiking. There might just be a few steeper sections."

　　"Search your conscience, please. Are they 'steeper sections,' or are they actual cliffs?"

　　"Don't just rely on gut feeling and past trauma. Trust the topographic data! Trust the science!"

　　"Oh, come on!" Memories of the Qinling ordeal made my fingers fly. "Last time I trusted you, I almost got myself killed!"

　　"And you came back in one piece, didn't you? Once I nail down the route, you handle the logistics plan. Let's aim for a team of four or five. I'll even get Lao Dao to come."

　　"Lao Dao is in?" Mr. Egg sure knew how to dangle the carrot, always hitting my weak spot. The route did have potential, though. If we pre-scouted that final descent into the Duoxiong Valley, we'd know for sure if it would go.

　　"Alright. You keep working on the route. I'll start drafting the plan."

　　"Oh? Convinced that easily?"

　　"Seems worth a shot." The moment I sent that, Mr. Egg shot back a screenshot. Circled multiple times in glaring red was a line of my own past text: "I'm a dog if I ever go hiking with you again!"

　　I laughed. I typed a quick reply.

　　"Woof! Woof!"

　　“Mr. Egg, when are you planning to go?”

　　“Early October.”

　　“Early October? Thisyear? Are you sure?”

　　“Of course this year. What are you thinking?”

　　“That’s way too soon! It’s almost September. Don’t we need to find two or three more teammates? Shouldn’t we do a shakedown hike at a similar altitude first?”

　　“What do you suggest then? The Namcha Barwa region only opens up in May each year. By late October, it’s snowed in and impassable. You want to travel all that way just to dig snow caves?”

　　“Then we go next year!”

　　“There’s no time!”

　　“No time? What do you mean, no time?” Did Mr. Egg have another agenda for this trip?

　　“Hinson, look. We want to establish a new route, right? The whole point is to be the firstto complete it. If someone else beats us to it, all our work is for nothing!”

　　“In that much of a hurry? How about we leave in September? My class schedule is light in September anyway. I can skip a few lectures.”

　　“Now you’re just being difficult, Hinson! We still need to do some basic prep. And my teaching schedule for September is already set by the department. You’re a student, you can skip class. I’m a professor—how am I supposed to skip? You want me to ask your dean to come substitute for me?”

　　“Just reschedule your lectures!”

　　“Yeah, right! Unless I’ve lost a third of my HP, that’s not happening!”

　　“Lost a third of your what?”

　　“Seen those viral clips of a teacher with a broken leg still dragging themselves to class? That’s the life. No way around it. Say I break my leg at 9:50 AM before my 10:00 class. There’s no time to reschedule. I’m teaching on a broken leg.”

　　“I’m sure you’d find a way.”

　　“Hinson! You’re not a teacher. You don’t understand the… sanctityof the lecture schedule. If class times were flexible, every school in the world would descend into chaos. Get it? To put it bluntly: even if my teaching is mediocre, the procedure and the ritual must be upheld!”

　　“If you put it that way… I guess I have no argument. But early October is National Day holiday. Places like Nyingchi and Medog are going to be a human anthill!”

　　“Relax, I’ve thought of that. We leave right after the Mid-Autumn Festival. Meet in Xining, take the scenic train to Lhasa, spend a few days there, then head to Nyingchi. Aim to reach Chunbai Village by September 30th. Qinghai’s altitude is high enough; it’ll double as acclimatization.”

　　“But...”

　　“Enough with the ‘buts’! If you were my student, I’d have reined you in long ago!”

　　“Fine… let’s tentatively plan it that way…” What I’d actually meant to say was that I wouldn’t have time to save up the money.

　　“Good! So, want to apply for my Master’s program next year?”

　　“No! A humanities student switching to biology? That’s just asking for trouble. Besides, if I do postgrad, it’ll be at my own university.”

　　Typical Mr. Egg. Can’t stay serious for more than three sentences. No wonder he’s been stuck as an associate professor all these years.

　　“Oh? What’s that supposed to mean? Our school not good enough for you?”

　　“Wouldn’t dare! It’s just… my grades are average. My own university might be slightly easier to get into.”

　　“Heh. Then you’d better hit the books. Talk later. Logging off.”

　　The moment Mr. Egg went offline, Young Master Feng messaged me, asking to go hiking. Talk about perfect timing!I immediately sent him Mr. Egg’s route plan and asked if he wanted in. Unsurprisingly, he replied instantly: “Are you messing with me?”

　　“I know it sounds crazy… but I really want to do a proper exploratory route of my own.”

　　After I sent that, Young Master Feng didn’t reply for a long time. I lost the motivation to work on the logistics plan. I mindlessly opened a bunch of browser tabs, closed them, opened more, closed those… repeating the cycle for a good ten minutes. The click of my mouse was the only sound in the room.

　　Finally, a new message popped up.

　　“Count me in.”