A small residence was hidden around the side of Mount Tianwen's large girth.
Liu Sumeng and Xuelan found themselves there, from directions surrendered from nearby villagers.
Elsewhere, spring brought buds of green to the trees and snow thawed into slush. When the wind gusted and howled there was a biting chill still reminiscent of winter. But the bright sun and its luminous warmth foretold of summer.
A thin sheen of frost still clung stubbornly to the ground, coating fresh ferns that struggled to sprout during the changing seasons. As the altitude rose, the cold became better preserved.
The tiny residence was built with mudbrick, its roof strained from lack of repairs and abuse from the elements. It did not look like anyone was home.
Yuan Xuelan jogged out in front, eyes peeled for anything to take note of.
