Good news, good news, fantastic news! It turned out Sheng Lin had just been messing with Xia Yiyang—the real rear mountain of Mount Qingcheng wasn’t nearly as terrifying as he’d made it sound.
There was a cable car on the rear mountain—though you had to hike five kilometers to reach it.
There were well-maintained stone steps—though only for about a third of the trail; the rest were slippery, narrow, rocky paths.
And there were no flying mischievous monkeys—but that was okay, because Xia Yiyang, scrambling on all fours, tumbling, and trudging along in utter misery, filled the void of a giant monkey on Mount Qingcheng all by himself.
Sheng Lin carried the young master’s sports bag on his back, holding the front end of the hiking stick, while Xia Yiyang gripped the back end with both hands and was hauled up step by step.
A tourist with a little dog passed by them—the toy poodle weighed barely seven or eight pounds, nimble as anything. It bounded past Xia Yiyang with a few rapid pat-pat-pats, shooting him a dismissive glance.
Xia Yiyang was deeply wounded and tattled to Sheng Lin: “That dog looked down on me!”
Sheng Lin comforted him: “You’re overthinking it.”
“I’m not!” The young master was indignant. “It’s got four legs—of course it runs faster than me with my two. And it’s so light—if it gets tired, its owner can carry it. If I get tired, nobody’s carrying me.”
At those words, Sheng Lin paused. He stood on the stone steps and turned back to look at the boy. The mountain air was heavy with cold dew, and Xia Yiyang had put on a long-sleeved jacket before heading in. But the jacket was far too big for him—his slender frame almost rattled around inside it, with thin arms poking out from the rolled-up sleeves.
“You’re pretty light too,” the man suddenly said.
Xia Yiyang: “…?”
Wait—what did he mean by that?
They reached a spot where they could take a break. Xia Yiyang couldn’t go any further—he plopped down onto the stone ground, not caring how dirty or cold it was.
“Young man, want some fresh fruit?” A local mountain vendor struck up a conversation, warmly unstrapping her bamboo basket and inviting them to take their pick.
For tourists, this mountain trail was a “hiking boot camp,” but for the locals, it was just part of everyday life. The large bamboo basket was divided into two sections: one side held fresh, juicy tomatoes and cucumbers, the other side chilled bottled water and cola. Naturally, the prices were quite a bit higher than down the mountain.
Xia Yiyang was craving it, his mouth watering—but he couldn’t bring himself to buy a twenty-one-yuan iced cola. Instead, he spent money on a big cucumber. Squatting by the edge of a bluestone slab, he rinsed the cucumber in the mountain spring water. The icy, clear water ran through his fingers, soon turning his fingertips red from the cold.
Once washed, he snapped the cucumber in half with a crisp crack. He carefully compared the two pieces, then handed the slightly larger one to Sheng Lin.
“Boss, have some cucumber.”
Sheng Lin found it amusing—this was the first time he’d ever eaten something so down-to-earth while hiking. He didn’t stand on ceremony, took the cucumber, and sat down on the stone bridge next to Xia Yiyang, enjoying the view as they munched together.
Mount Qingcheng was renowned as “the most serene mountain under heaven.” Layers of green unfolded from light to deep, with towering shade trees and the unmistakable scent of forest vegetation filling every breath. Stopping to rest here was the only way to experience the tranquil ease that neither Beijing nor Rongcheng could offer.
The young master hummed a cheerful tune, swaying side to side to its rhythm. Each time he tilted to the right, his body lightly brushed against Sheng Lin’s—even through two layers of clothing, he could feel the man’s radiating warmth.
Close, then apart, again and again. Sheng Lin didn’t pull away, and Xia Yiyang pretended it was purely accidental.
Xia Yiyang loved documenting his life. An idea popped into his head, and he suggested: “Boss, how about we take a photo together?”
Sheng Lin: “How?”
Xia Yiyang: “Let’s make it silly—let’s both bite into our cucumbers.”
Sheng Lin: “…Are you sure?”
Without waiting for an answer, Xia Yiyang raised his phone, switched to selfie mode, and held his cucumber up to his mouth while making funny faces at the camera.
Click. The phone captured their “silly” moment.
No—correction—only Xia Yiyang looked silly. In the photo, Sheng Lin was also holding his half-cucumber, but his face was turned sideways toward the lens, looking helplessly at the boy beside him, a trace of a smile softening his features.
Xia Yiyang opened WeChat and started editing his post.
@Yiyi: Eating cucumbers on Mount Qingcheng—even the cucumbers taste extra delicious~ [Yay] [Yay]
He wanted to post the photo of them together, but for reasons he couldn’t quite explain, he used a sticker to cover Sheng Lin’s face before publishing it.
Sheng Lin glanced at his screen and asked: “Am I that embarrassing to be seen with?”
“…” The young master pretended not to hear and just kept adding more stickers to “patch up” Sheng Lin’s image.
Just as he hit the send button, a drop of water landed on his phone screen.
At first, Xia Yiyang thought it was just splashing spring water and wiped it away without a second thought. But then, more and more drops fell on his phone, coming down thick and fast… It slowly dawned on him—he looked up and realized it was raining.
The clear sky from moments ago had turned overcast without warning. The lush green of the forest had deepened into a dark, almost inky emerald. The clouds grew heavier and heavier, blotting out the sun, and the rain fell faster and faster.
“Why did it suddenly start raining?” Xia Yiyang quickly pulled up the hood of his jacket, looking bewildered. “The weather forecast said no rain today!”
The mountain vendor who had sold them the cucumber was hurriedly packing up her bamboo basket and putting on a raincoat, saying anxiously: “The weather in the mountains changes faster than you can turn a page! You two kids need to get down the mountain right away—this rain looks like it’s about to get heavy!”
Sheng Lin’s expression turned serious, and he immediately pulled Xia Yiyang, who was still clueless about the situation, up from the ground. There was an old saying: don’t enter the mountains during the rainy season, because the mountain climate is unpredictable, and the slightest mistake could lead to trouble.
“Stay close to me—we’re heading down now!”
Xia Yiyang had grown up on the plains and couldn’t possibly imagine the dangers of mountain rain, but his greatest strength was that he listened. Seeing the man’s stern expression, he forgot about his unfinished travel plans and followed closely behind Sheng Lin, retracing their steps.
As they walked, the rain grew heavier. But to Xia Yiyang, it didn’t seem like a “downpour”—it barely qualified as “moderate rain.” He pulled up his jacket hood and didn’t feel particularly cold; the raindrops just felt a little dense against his skin… How could rain of this intensity make everyone so alarmed?
A few minutes later, nature’s might gave him the answer. A thunderous roar echoed in his ears as torrents of water cascaded down from the mountain!
Mount Qingcheng was already famous for its many streams and waterways. As the rainfall increased, the upstream flow surged even higher and began discharging down the mountain slopes. In the blink of an eye, the crystal-clear brook had turned into a muddy river, rushing violently and even flooding over the bluestone path beneath their feet.
Xia Yiyang had never seen anything like this. Watching the water rise over his shoes, he was terrified and instinctively grabbed Sheng Lin’s hand.
“Don’t be afraid—I’m here.” Sheng Lin held his hand back firmly, his voice steady. “Do you remember? There’s a pavilion up ahead on higher ground where we can take shelter.”
The boy’s face was pale, and he was too stunned to speak—he could only nod.
They followed the mountain vendor down the mountain. After rounding a bend, they indeed spotted the pavilion ahead, built on a large rock that rising water couldn’t reach. Several people were already taking shelter inside.
The problem was, the path to the pavilion had originally been a shallow ford. When they’d come up, the stream had been clear, and they could cross by stepping on stones. But now the entire ford was submerged under murky yellow water, already reaching an adult’s calf and still rising.
In front of the ford, a young mother was pacing anxiously. She held the hand of a little girl crying in terror, and an elderly woman stood beside them—likely three generations traveling together who’d been caught in the flash flood.
Before Xia Yiyang could react, Sheng Lin immediately took off his backpack, pulled out the valuable items, and shoved the whole bundle into his arms: “Hold this.”
Sheng Lin walked over to the elderly woman. After a brief exchange, he crouched down without hesitation in front of her. Steadying her legs, he strode toward the pavilion. The river rushed violently, splashing water that soaked his shoes and socks completely. He didn’t rush or take reckless steps—each stride was firm and measured—and eventually, he got the old woman safely across.
As he turned back to help the young mother with her daughter, he saw Xia Yiyang wading through the shallow ford from the other side, carrying the little girl in his arms.
Xia Yiyang had handed the bag and valuables Sheng Lin had given him to the young mother, telling her to follow behind him while he carried the girl. He’d even taken off his own jacket to drape over the child.
The little girl sat in Xia Yiyang’s arms, trembling as she clung to his neck. The big friend whispered softly to the little one, quickly soothing her until her tears turned into smiles.
Sheng Lin hurried over, reaching out to take the girl from him, but she wouldn’t let go—she shrank back timidly into Xia Yiyang’s embrace.
“Let me handle it,” the young master said, looking up at Sheng Lin through the rain. “I want to be like you.”
Rain soaked the boy’s hair, messy strands plastered against his cheeks. His drenched T-shirt clung to his slender but not frail frame—he wasn’t pitiful; he looked proud, like a little phoenix.
Fortunately, the ford wasn’t long. After Sheng Lin escorted Xia Yiyang to the pavilion, the girl’s grandmother and mother rushed over, showering them with endless gratitude.
In just that short time, the water had risen to knee level. Without their help, the young mother alone couldn’t have gotten both an elderly woman and a small child across safely.
“Don’t come into the mountains during the rainy season,” Sheng Lin warned them. “Especially with an elderly person and a child—it’s too dangerous.”
The sudden rain showed no sign of letting up, and more and more tourists crowded into the pavilion, turning the once-spacious space cramped and tight. Xia Yiyang was pushed to the edge of the pavilion, his rain-soaked T-shirt sticking uncomfortably to his skin.
He lifted the hem of his shirt to wring it out, unaware that the raised fabric revealed glimpses of his fair, slender waistline—strikingly visible against the dim, rainy backdrop.
Just then, a T-shirt still carrying body heat fell “from the sky” into his arms.
“…Huh?” Xia Yiyang recognized the shirt and quickly looked up at Sheng Lin.
Sheng Lin had originally been wearing the same combination as him—a waterproof jacket over a fitted T-shirt. At some point, he’d taken off his T-shirt and was now wearing only the jacket, bare-chested beneath it. The jacket’s zipper wasn’t pulled all the way up, revealing glimpses of his powerful, well-defined muscles.
“Put it on,” the man said calmly. “Don’t catch a cold.”
Xia Yiyang’s brain momentarily short-circuited. He actually obeyed, turning around to peel off his wet clothes and pull on Sheng Lin’s T-shirt. Throughout this, Sheng Lin stood behind him, shielding him from prying eyes.
The T-shirt was too big for him, but it brought back long-lost dryness—and with it, Sheng Lin’s body warmth and scent.
It hit him belatedly—it felt like he was wrapped in Sheng Lin’s embrace.
He stammered: “Boss, thanks for the shirt. I’ll wash it and return it when we get back—”
“Since we’re out having fun, don’t call me ‘boss,’” Sheng Lin interrupted, not looking at him.
Xia Yiyang was confused: “Then what should I call you?”
From the very first day they’d met, he’d been his boss, and he’d been his employee. Though they lived under the same roof and the boundaries of their private lives had long blurred, their relationship had always been defined as boss and employee.
The man’s low voice cut through the rain to reach his ears.
“Just call me ‘brother.’”
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