Go into the mountains and become a savage

“A-Jia.”

“A-Jia, why’s your hair so weird? Half black, half yellow.” @Infinite Good Stories, Exclusively at Jinjiang Literature City

The curious, childish voice broke her thoughts. Sitting on the steps, gazing at distant snow-capped mountains, she turned to the child.

Under the sunset, she looked tanner, her skin a wheatish hue, cheeks flushed with plateau red, rough but healthier than before. Gone was her sharp edge, now like a stone dulled by frost, quiet yet resolute.

As for the hair the child mentioned, months without bleaching had left it far from its former glory—now a “pudding head,” black roots clashing with faded yellow ends, grown past her shoulder blades, wild in the wind.

“A-Jia?” The child, impatient, repeated herself.

Xu Fengluan chuckled, teasing, “Because I’m a savage from the mountains.”

“Savage?” The four- or five-year-old Tibetan girl, far more gullible than city kids, widened her round eyes, unquestioning.

“Yup, I’m a savage. Didn’t you see us come down from the mountains?” Xu Fengluan said brazenly, no guilt for tricking a child.

But the girl wasn’t that naive, catching a flaw. “Only you have hair like that! They don’t!”

Grown-ups don’t give up easily. Blinking, Xu said, “That’s because I’m the only savage. They captured me.”

The girl froze, stammering, “They… they captured you?”

“Yeah, yeah. I was living fine in the mountains, but they dragged me out, saying there can’t be savages after the founding of the country. They want to send me to school, make me finish compulsory education.”

Xu’s story grew wilder, fully in character, her green eyes bewitching.

The girl’s mouth gaped, terrified. “Do I have to go to school? Even savages have to?”

Xu nodded eagerly. “Yup, all kids have to go to school. Even hiding in the mountains, they’ll drag you out to study.”

“I… I don’t wanna go to school. I wanna ride horses.”

The girl nearly cried, not yet school-age but already scared by Xu’s tale, thinking if even mountain savages had to study, it must be terrifying.

Xu laughed heartily until a teammate called, “A-Feng, what’re you laughing at? Let’s go, it’ll be too late.”

Xu stood, ruffled the girl’s hair, and teased, “Study hard, okay?”

Her drawn-out tone dripped with mischief.

The girl’s mouth quivered.

Her teammate, seeing the near-tears child, didn’t grasp the power of those words but, pressed for time, stuffed candy into the girl’s arms, echoing, “Study hard.”

This only confirmed Xu’s story, and the girl burst into tears.

Startled, Xu and her teammate scrambled to soothe her before returning to the SUV.

Once inside, the driver laughed, “Told you not to tease kids.”

Xu scratched her head awkwardly.

Another teammate, glum, had given all her candy to the girl.

“Oh, your phone rang earlier. Someone called twice while I was chaining the tires with the boss. Didn’t check who.”

Xu “oh”ed but didn’t grab her phone from the passenger seat, instead picking up her DSLR.

The screen lit up, showing endless glaciers, a pure blue expanse.

Though she’d seen it in person, Xu was still drawn into the blue, flipping through photos carefully.

This was her fourth month since leaving S City.

Her departure was sudden. At the airport, she bought the next available ticket, arriving in Tibet dazed.

She wasn’t sure if her soul was cleansed, but the altitude’s oxygen scarcity blanked her mind, leaving her groggy for days.

Once better, she wandered—temples, monasteries, tossing in a yuan, even joining pilgrims one day, kneeling every step for three hours until her legs shook, barely getting up the next day.

Chu Cheng and the others would’ve laughed if they knew.

But her madness let her pass unrecognized—no one connected this disheveled figure to the lead singer of a trending band. She could act out, be wild, until she stumbled into this group, inexplicably joining their glacier-seeking adventure.

They’d just descended from one. Expecting warmer weather, they hadn’t brought tire chains, but light snow fell, and fearing icy roads, they’d bought some at a steep price from a nearby shop.

While Xu teased the girl, her teammates handled the chains, having agreed she’d slack off while they led the glacier trek.

She finally checked her phone, setting the DSLR down.

Snow slowed the SUV, and as night fell, the cabin darkened.

Xu dimmed her screen, squinting at messages. @Infinite Good Stories, Exclusively at Jinjiang Literature City

As expected, Burning Meteor’s group chat was buzzing, @-ing her repeatedly.

She skimmed, finding it mostly nonsense, and ignored it, sending glacier photos instead.

The group erupted.

Chu Cheng: [AHHHH you little punk finally showed up! Thought you got snatched by savages!]

[Another glacier? This one’s gorgeous, maybe better than the last!]

Ji Lunan: [Another unopened glacier?]

[That blue ice cave is unreal!]

[Oh no, Zhao Zhao saw it and wants to go!]

Kuang Ye, practical as ever, quoted each photo, labeling them “nice.”

Xu smiled, bantered briefly, then checked private messages.

Chu Cheng had spammed dozens, pushing herself near the top.

Xu glanced at her pinned contacts. Besides the group, only one was marked with a “.”—that woman.

Hesitating, she opened it. Unlike Chu Cheng, her messages were sparse, maybe busy or wary of bothering Xu, sending one or two daily—mostly photos or videos of Fat Cat.

Her hand moved faster than her brain, opening a video of a cat toy’s sound, set in Xu’s familiar living room. The fluffy silver Maine Coon yowled, chasing a feather, collapsing after a moment, lured back up by treats, scampering after them.

Light reflected off the window, catching Xu’s softened eyes and faint smile.

Her teammate glanced over, then looked away, restrained.

They’d agreed to shield Xu’s identity and not leak her whereabouts.

All were adults with strong boundaries, avoiding Xu’s unspoken topics, part of why she stayed with the group.

But restraint didn’t kill curiosity. Recalling Xu’s gloom when she joined, and the V-Blog frenzy over her rumored girlfriend, they wondered if she’d reconciled or…

How many breakups and reunions? Was Xu being toyed with?

But that didn’t fit. If someone dumped her, why send daily messages?

Xu’s attitude was odd, too.

When conditions were rough, sharing beds, one teammate slept beside her. Waking at midnight, she saw Xu scrolling through chat logs, rereading from the top.

What was this?

The teammate half-regretted Xu wasn’t just a normal teammate—she’d have gossiped hard.

The video ended, another started. A chubby Maine Coon did a backflip.

Xu blinked, amazed Liu Tingsong trained it, especially such a big cat.

The clip was short, three seconds.

Xu replayed it, finally using Bluetooth earbuds, cranking the volume, catching a surprised, joyful female voice.

She inhaled deeply, exhaled, reaching for her pocket, forgetting she’d quit smoking. On a starry night, she’d tossed her half-full pack and lighter into a bin.

She exhaled again, fogging the window, hiding her reflection.

Saving the video, she switched apps.

Chu Cheng complained about Xu’s silence, her sudden disappearance.

Xu didn’t explain much, just: [Busy]

Scrolling up, she was flooded with Chu Cheng’s dramatic messages.

[Went to the hospital today, paid for Liu Tingsong like you asked. You didn’t even warn me! She’s not short on cash—aren’t you just spying?]

[Think Tingsong-jie saw through it. She left the door cracked so I’d hear the doctor.]

[Doc said she’s recovering well, can communicate normally now.]

[Heard her tell an assistant she’s prepping a new song? Practicing these days?]

[Oh, our collab song’s done. Might drop soon. Use this version for now, rerecord when you’re back—your audio’s off.]

Xu had finished the song’s lyrics earlier, briefly leaving Tibet to record in a studio, sending the audio and score to Burning Meteor.

[When you coming back? Not planning to stay a savage, right?]

[When Zhao Zhao’s older, I’ll bring her to see you. Do your gorilla chest-pound for her.]

The rest was aimless chatter. Xu replied to a few, then set her phone down.

Feeling dizzy, she closed her eyes to rest, but a teammate spoke, “I reckon it won’t be too cold after this snow. No more glacier trips—too risky.”

Xu knew this; they’d discussed it during planning. Unsure why it was brought up, she stayed silent, listening.

Sure enough, the teammate continued, “What’s your plan? We’re heading to Nepal. Wanna join?”

Her tone was casual, almost certain, as Xu had followed their rhythm, a drifting leaf with no roots, going wherever they went.

But this time, Xu surprised her, shaking her head firmly. “No, you guys go.”

“Huh?”

The unexpected reply startled her. “Where you going, then?”

Realizing her overstep, she stammered, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry…”

Xu didn’t mind, smiling faintly, her eyes untouched. “Maybe I’ll leave the country, like you.”

The teammate froze, words catching.

Xu looked back at her phone—more from Chu Cheng.

[Found that Camille you asked about. Here’s her contact.]

[What’re you up to?]

[Whatever, just come back safe. We’re waiting.]

Xu stared, managing only a “Good” after a long pause.