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The last thousand kilometers stretched into two thousand. The Golmud River, Kunlun River, Tuotuo River, Nagqu—mountains, meadows, snowy plains, herds of yaks, sheep, horses, wild wolves, stray dogs, sky burials. Heaven met earth, clouds served as curtains, and the landscape unfolded like an ink-wash painting. One item on Shang Zhitao’s pre-30 bucket list was to visit Tibet.
She had achieved it—with Luan Nian by her side.
From now on, Tibet was no longer just words and pictures in books—it was something she had truly seen and experienced.
As the altitude slowly climbed, Shang Zhitao still felt uncomfortable but could endure it. Luan Nian continued to take care of her, rarely losing his temper, though his sharp tongue remained unchanged. For instance, when Shang Zhitao asked, “Can we bring some butter tea back with us?”
Luan Nian replied, “Do you not know how to shop online?”
And so on, ad infinitum.
After bickering and squabbling all the way, the two finally arrived in Lhasa.
The names they had once seen in books and online now unfolded before their eyes—the Barkhor Street, the Potala Palace, milk tea and yak meat, pilgrims with sunburnt, reddened faces, and Tibetan girls whose eyes were as pure and clear as those of young animals. The boys revealed dazzling white teeth when they smiled. Here, people spoke of faith with unwavering devotion; spiritual fulfillment made their hearts rich.
They stayed at a guesthouse on Barkhor Street. Below the guesthouse was a bookstore, and next to the bookstore was a folk music bar. The Tibetan mastiffs there were particularly majestic. Luke rested its front paws on the low windowsill, eager to go out and play with its newfound companions.
“Are you stupid?” Luan Nian finally scolded it. “You can’t even fight, and you want to play with Tibetan dogs? They’ll bite you to death.”
Luke tilted its head, thought for a moment, and barked twice: “You’re lying! They’re all my friends!” It looked just like a stubborn son arguing with his parents.
The two of them found a milk tea shop and took a seat on the flat rooftop, from which they could see half of Lhasa below. Shang Zhitao wore a wide-brimmed hat, and Luan Nian donned a baseball cap. Despite this, they could still feel the intense UV rays.
Shang Zhitao’s skin had started to show signs of sunburn. She felt she didn’t look good anymore, and Luan Nian said, “Your advantage was never beauty, was it?”
“What is my advantage then?” Shang Zhitao protested.
“Performance?” Luan Nian glanced at her. Everything about Tibet was wonderful—the scenery, the people—but the nights were less so. Holding someone like her close meant he couldn’t do much, fearing she’d feel unwell.
Shang Zhitao’s face flushed red. Luan Nian’s gaze lingered on her, burning through her clothes and onto her skin.
“Luan Nian.”
“?”
“Can you stop looking at me? Look over there.” Shang Zhitao pointed downward, where someone was photographing Tibetan scenes. “Nice, right?”
Luan Nian pursed his lips.
Shang Zhitao wanted to take photos and wanted Luan Nian to join her. After gazing pensively for a long time, she asked softly, “Luan Nian, how many times have you been to Lhasa?”
“Three times.”
“You’ve come to Lhasa three times and haven’t taken any photos like this? Then what did you come here for?”
“…” Luan Nian was momentarily stumped by Shang Zhitao’s seemingly simple question. He had never considered that one day he’d be flustered by such a straightforward query.
“Do I have to take those kinds of photos when I come to Lhasa?” he countered.
“Yes, otherwise why bother?”
Luan Nian waved his hand dismissively. “Go ahead if you want—I’m not taking any.”
“And you won’t accompany me?”
“I can.”
“Then let’s go now!”
Shang Zhitao dragged Luan Nian out of the door and found a photography studio. She went inside to choose outfits while Luan Nian waited outside with Luke.
While picking out costumes, Shang Zhitao asked the shopkeeper, “Do you have models? Male models who can take photos with me?”
“Yes, for an additional fee. They’re all handsome Tibetan men.”
“I want someone especially handsome!”
“And include my dog! Couple photos!”
Shang Zhitao raised her voice slightly and glanced outside. Sure enough, Luan Nian walked in. He glared at her, pinching a few pieces of clothing between his thumb and forefinger, his expression disdainful. The shopkeeper glanced at Shang Zhitao, who winked at her.
“What did you pick?” Luan Nian asked.
Shang Zhitao showed him the clothes draped over her arm: “This one, this one, this one.”
Luan Nian glanced at them and pulled out several outfits.
“Luke will also be in the photos? Didn’t you say it’s tacky? Didn’t you say you’d never take tourist photos?” Shang Zhitao teased him mercilessly.
Luan Nian shot her a frosty glare and took the clothes to the fitting room. Shang Zhitao followed him and stood outside the door, saying sweetly, “You don’t have to force yourself, you know! The boss said the models are very handsome—I can get good shots too!”
“And I think we might not look good together!”
“I think I’d better pair up with the model.”
Shang Zhitao stood provocatively at the door. When the fitting room door opened, out stepped Luan Nian in traditional Tibetan attire. Shang Zhitao mentally swore under her breath, then felt her heart explode with admiration. God really favored him, giving him a body that looked good in anything.
The shopkeeper approached, giving him a thumbs-up: “I’ve never seen such a handsome Tibetan man.”
Luan Nian paid no heed to the compliment and glanced down at Shang Zhitao: “No makeup?”
Makeup!
Shang Zhitao applied makeup to resemble a Tibetan girl—rosy cheeks, two thick braids, and exaggerated Tibetan accessories on her head. She wore silver bracelets on her wrists. Smiling, she asked Luan Nian, “How’s this?” Her bright white teeth stood out even more; she really did look like a Tibetan girl—earthy and rustic.
Luan Nian raised an eyebrow, picked up one of her braids, weighed it in his hand—it was heavy—and then let it drop.
When Shang Zhitao posed for solo shots, Luan Nian stood aside watching. He didn’t quite understand why women were so enthusiastic about taking photos. Shang Zhitao let the photographer arrange her, bowing and kneeling dramatically—it was all rather amusing.
He stood aside and said to Luke, “See that? Your mom’s gone crazy.” He proudly referred to himself as Luke’s dad and called Shang Zhitao Luke’s mom, completely oblivious to how intimate the terms “mom” and “dad” sounded.
When the makeup artist patted powder on his face, he frowned, clearly unhappy. But before he could protest, Shang Zhitao chimed in: “Wow! With a bit of powder, you look even more like a tough guy!”
During the couple shots, he didn’t need the photographer’s instructions—his natural pose was already photogenic. The photographer, having an unusually easy day, was in a good mood and gave them directions: “Husband, move closer to the wife.”
“Wife, smile.”
“Husband and wife, pray together…”
“Let the dog sit and smile with you.”
The photographer kept calling them “husband” and “wife,” perhaps out of professional habit. Shang Zhitao felt awkward, especially when the photographer asked the “husband” to hold the “wife.” She quickly clarified with a wave of her hand: “We’re not husband and wife…” Worried that Luan Nian might bluntly reject the idea and embarrass everyone.
“We’re not…”
Before the word “not” had fully left her lips, she found herself lifted into the air. Surprised, she looked at Luan Nian, whose eyes met hers—not annoyed at all, but with a hint of amusement. The photographer, skilled at capturing moments, snapped several photos in quick succession and then reminded Shang Zhitao: “Relax, be softer.”
Shang Zhitao felt uncomfortable, unsure what “be softer” meant. Luan Nian teased her quietly: “Aren’t you usually soft enough?”
After speaking, he kissed the corner of her mouth lightly and gently set her down.
Altitude sickness? Handle with care!
Is this what it feels like to be in love?
Shang Zhitao secretly messaged Sun Yu: “I think I’m experiencing my first love. My heart flutters whenever he looks at me.”
“I’ve known him for so many years, and I’m still not tired of looking at him. Even after all these years of sleeping with him, I haven’t grown tired either. Why is that?”
“And also, why is he so gentle? It’s not like him at all?”
Shang Zhitao felt like she was back in her teens, confiding her feelings to her best friend. After reading one message after another, Sun Yu finally couldn’t help but tell her: “Taotao, you’re really in love.”
Shang Zhitao put away her phone and ran to the computer, thinking every photo looked good. She stood there selecting for a few minutes. Unable to bear her wasting time, Luan Nian asked the shop owner: “If we want all the photos, how much extra will it cost?”
“No extra charge needed. Can we choose one to hang in the shop?” The shop owner had been running the photography studio in Lhasa for years and rarely captured such great photos. The intimacy between the two people in the pictures was indescribable—the man incredibly handsome, the woman exuding an inexplicable charm. They were a perfect match.
“Then you’ll have to pay me,” Luan Nian glanced at the shop owner, thinking, You’re quite the businessman, aren’t you? But seconds later, he changed his mind: “You can pick one, but it has to be hung in the center of the shop. Use premium photo paper, and I’ll inspect it after it’s framed.” He spoke sternly, without compromise. But the shop owner was already thrilled—one photo was enough. Happily, he handed over all the negatives to Shang Zhitao and said: “Don’t worry, miss. Such beautiful photos won’t disappoint after retouching. Just wait for the prints—they’ll look great framed at home. Tibetan couples use these kinds of photos for their weddings.”
Shang Zhitao didn’t know how to respond to the shop owner’s overwhelming enthusiasm and simply nodded along vaguely. She packed the digital files into her bag and walked out with Luan Nian. As they reached the door, Luan Nian turned back to ask the shop owner: “You’ll hang it there, right?”
He pointed to the most prominent spot in the shop. The owner nodded: “Yes, it can stay there for years. It’ll be hard to capture better photos than these.”
They stepped out of the photography studio and crossed the street, both glancing back. From now on, anyone passing through Barkhor Street who paused here would see the large photo hanging inside the shop.
It was a testament to a man and a woman’s love.
In the prime of their lives, deeply in love.
After staying in Lhasa for two days, they drove toward Nyingchi. Luan Nian had booked a hotel in Nyingchi. He said: “This hotel suits someone like Shang Zhitao, who suffers from altitude sickness, because there’s nothing to do here. Just lie in bed, pull back the curtains, and you can see snow-capped mountains, lakes, and forests. We’ll relax in the hotel for a couple of days before heading back.”
Shang Zhitao listened to Luan Nian.
He hadn’t lost his temper during the trip, nor had he abandoned her in Lhasa. He had become the most trustworthy person in her heart.
It was in the hotel in Nyingchi where Shang Zhitao sat basking in the sun on the tatami mat. Her father, Old Shang, and Da Zhai called her to ask about her trip. She answered question by question: “It was great—the scenery was beautiful, the food was delicious, the altitude sickness wasn’t severe, and Luke had a lot of fun.”
“So, who did you go with? A boyfriend?” Shang Zhitao glanced at Luan Nian lounging on the couch opposite her. The sunlight from Nyingchi bathed half his face, making him look unusually calm, even serene.
After a moment’s thought, she replied: “Yes, a boyfriend.”
Da Zhai’s voice nearly shattered her eardrums: “You’re dating? Since when? What does your boyfriend do? Is his family wealthy? Is he healthy? What kind of person is he?”
Facing such a barrage of questions, Shang Zhitao felt overwhelmed and unsure where to start. Luan Nian rose from the couch, walked over to her, took the phone, and spoke calmly: “Hello, Auntie. I’m Luan Nian.”
He answered all of Da Zhai’s questions—his age, height, income. When it came to income, he heard Da Zhai whisper to Old Shang: “Isn’t that too high? Where did it come from…?”
So he reconsidered and said: “Less than two million a year.” He underreported significantly.
This exchange thoroughly revealed his background, and Shang Zhitao bit her lip, gazing at the shimmering lake outside. Her eyes grew warm, and tears threatened to spill at any moment.
As Sun Yu would say: “After enduring hardship, the clouds part to reveal the moon.”
That night, intoxicated by the moonlight, she snuggled into Luan Nian’s arms, feeling that with such beautiful scenery, they should do something. Luan Nian pinned her hands firmly above her head, locking her legs with his, and growled menacingly: “Behave yourself, or I’ll throw you out to feed the wolves!”
“I want to.”
“Wait until you catch your breath!” Luan Nian pinched her cheek. “Don’t touch me. If anything happens, I’ll have to clean up your corpse.”
“I’m fine today,” Shang Zhitao coaxed, trying to get closer, but Luan Nian held her tightly in place. “Get lost!”
He told her to leave, yet his body pressed against hers rigidly, as if wanting to crush her into pieces. He gritted his teeth near her ear: “I really want to kill you!”
He pushed her away and went to sleep on the couch.
Once he left, Shang Zhitao felt empty again. She teased him: “Do you want me to help you?”
“No need.”
“Then can we talk for a while?”
“Mm.”
“Let’s start from Pangu splitting heaven and earth…” Shang Zhitao said with a laugh, and Luan Nian chuckled: “Don’t make me laugh.” Shang Zhitao protested: “What I meant was, let’s start from the first time I saw you…”
It was the summer of 2010. She was sitting in the lobby on the first floor of Lingmei when Luan Nian pushed open the back door of the coffee shop and walked out, looking every bit the gentleman. At that moment, Shang Zhitao thought: This is the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen in my life.
She rambled on, and Luan Nian listened patiently. Later, she grew sleepy but persisted, asking Luan Nian: “What about you? What did you think of me the first time you saw me?”
Luan Nian thought for a long time and finally said four words: “Like a fool.”
A big fool.
Their Tibet journey ended, and with this trip behind them, the rest of the year didn’t feel difficult at all. Shang Zhitao printed a few of their photos and tucked them into her books, occasionally flipping through them and finding them delightful.
And so, another year passed.
Yet another year—Shang Zhitao returned to Bingcheng, and Luan Nian went to the U.S. They wouldn’t see each other for another two or three months.
That year, Bingcheng banned fireworks. There were only a few faint sounds of firecrackers, and Luke sat by the window, puzzled by the absence of colorful lights. Shang Zhitao comforted him: “The era of fireworks is over, but maybe in a few years, it’ll come back. Luckily, there’s still your favorite snow here.”
Luke barked once, and Shang Zhitao understood. But there was no Luke here for him to play with.
Across the ocean, Luan Nian seemed to hear Luke’s bark. For the first time, he sent Shang Zhitao a New Year’s greeting: “Happy New Year. Next year, do you want to watch the Northern Lights together?”
Shang Zhitao stared at the message for a long time and giggled softly.
Happy New Year. As long as it’s with you, I’ll go anywhere in the world.
2015 passed, and they would always cherish it.