88: Camping at Zhire Temple

The next morning, the horizon over the plateau was just beginning to turn a pale fish-belly white.

The air carried the dampness of morning dew; the cold wasn't biting, but it was enough to wake a person up.

The two didn't dally. After a quick wash and tidy, they were ready to set off.

Jiang Yuan slung a massive hiking pack over one shoulder, the size only used for professional heavy-load trekking.

It was stuffed full of water, self-heating food, oxygen tanks, and various emergency supplies—all, of course, prepared for Lamu.

This amount of weight on his back was no different than carrying an empty schoolbag.

Since breaking his genetic lock, his concept of weight had become blurred. Sometimes he even felt his current strength was somewhat “unreal.” This heavy package felt weightless in his hands; it was only the large volume that made it seem cumbersome.

Their luck was good today.

The temperature hovered around eleven or twelve degrees Celsius, and the wind was light, not stinging the face—it was a rare, perfect day for trekking.

Lamu had changed into thick Tibetan robes, topped with an exquisite white fur hat, her hands encased in warm gloves, and a golden prayer wheel held in her right hand.

As she walked, the prayer wheel spun gently, emitting a faint friction sound.

She softly chanted scriptures in Tibetan, her eyes fixed determinedly on the path beneath her feet.

As expected of a girl born and raised on the plateau, even at an altitude of five thousand meters, she could still walk and chant simultaneously, occasionally turning back to joke with Jiang Yuan, showing none of the breathless distress typical of people from the lowlands.

Jiang Yuan followed half a step behind her, walking quietly.

He watched the figure ahead, rising and falling with the mountain path, a smile unconsciously hanging on his lips. This experience of accompanying someone walking for their faith was quite novel to him.

The initial section of the route was a gentle dirt road.

The view was open, and they could already see many others making the pilgrimage.

Most people trekked like them, but a very few devout believers measured the earth with their bodies.

They clasped their hands and raised them over their heads, prostrating themselves fully, performing three steps and one full bow, their foreheads striking the gravel-filled dirt road with a dull thud.

Jiang Yuan put away his casual attitude, and as he passed these ascetics, his gaze held a new respect.

You don't have to believe in faith, but you must respect it.

After walking about six kilometers, the Prayer Flag Plaza appeared ahead.

In truth, there was a scenic bus from the starting point to here, and many tourists chose to ride, skipping this boring first half to save effort.

But Lamu refused, feeling that the kora was about cultivating the heart, and since they came, missing even one step would make it incomplete.

“tashi delek.”

By the roadside, an uncle who had just finished a long prostration stood up. His forehead was covered in dust, but upon seeing Jiang Yuan and Lamu, he flashed a smile of white teeth and offered the most genuine blessing.

“tashi delek.”

The two smiled and responded, not stopping their pace, and quickly passed the man, continuing forward.

Before they knew it, the distance covered had exceeded seven kilometers.

As the altitude slowly climbed and her stamina was depleted, Lamu's steps noticeably grew heavier.

The previously steady chanting became intermittent, replaced by short, rapid gasps.

After all, she was just flesh and blood; high-intensity trekking in this oxygen-depleted environment inevitably led to exhaustion.

Jiang Yuan saw this and didn't waste any words.

He reached into the large backpack, which looked like a “treasure chest,” and pulled out a bottle of energy drink.

Jiang Yuan twisted off the cap and handed it over, “Drink this. It restores stamina.”

“Thank you.”

Lamu didn't hesitate at all, taking the bottle and gulping it down.

The instant the liquid went down her throat, a warm current instantly burst forth, flowing down her esophagus and into all her limbs.

Her legs, which had felt like they were filled with lead, miraculously surged with renewed strength, and even the burning sensation in her lungs lessened considerably.

Lamu was stunned. She held the bottle, feeling the changes in her body, her eyes wide with surprise:

“Jiang Yuan, this... this is amazing! What kind of drink is this?”

This immediate effect was a hundred times more exaggerated than Plateau Rhodiola Rosea.

Jiang Yuan naturally took the empty bottle, casually stuffing it back into the bag, and told a lie without batting an eye:

“A special energy drink I got abroad, specifically for special forces. It replenishes energy extremely fast and has no side effects. As long as it works, that's all that matters.”

Lamu nodded, half understanding. If Jiang Yuan gave it to her, it must be good stuff.

With her stamina restored, their pace became brisk again.

Turning a bend in the mountain, the view suddenly opened up.

Mount Kailash, which had only shown a corner before, finally revealed itself completely before their eyes.

The massive black mountain body resembled a tower reaching the heavens, exuding a suffocating sense of oppression and sanctity in the sunlight, topped by year-round, unmelting snow.

When the two arrived at Zhiri Monastery, the setting sun was hanging obliquely over the peak.

This was the most important node on the kora route, and the best viewing platform to directly face the north slope of Mount Kailash.

The enormous vertical ice wall stood before them like a mirror reaching the sky, imposing and overwhelming.

Unlike the surrounding trekkers, who leaned on poles, had unsteady steps, and pale faces, Jiang Yuan and Lamu were in an almost excessively relaxed state.

Thanks to that energy drink, Lamu not only felt no leg soreness, but her breathing was exceptionally stable, and her face was flushed with excitement.

“There are so many people.”

Lamu looked at the bustling campsite, somewhat astonished.

Because this was a last-minute decision, the two were unsurprisingly turned away.

The owners of the few guesthouses all waved their hands, indicating they were full. The only option left was a thirty-person communal room that still had two beds available.

Standing at the doorway, before even stepping inside, a warm current mixed with yak butter, fermented sweat, and foot odor rushed out.

Jiang Yuan frowned imperceptibly. Before Lamu could speak, he immediately pulled her and turned to leave.

“We’re not staying here.”

He couldn't bear to let Lamu suffer this, and truthfully, he didn't really want to suffer it himself either.

“Then we...” Lamu didn't feel delicate about it, but she was curious about the plan for the night.

“We have our own room.”

Jiang Yuan pointed to an empty patch of ground nearby, patted the backpack behind him, and smiled, “It’s a bit small, but it’s no problem for the two of us.”

They found a sheltered patch of grass in the empty area.

Jiang Yuan pulled a professional high-altitude two-person tent from his bag.

To explain how it fit in the backpack, he produced one of those tents that prioritized extreme lightweight design. Such tents are excellent against wind and snow, but their only drawback is extremely tight space.

After setting up the tent, the two climbed inside.

It was indeed tight.

With two adults sitting side-by-side, their shoulders had to touch.