The New Year was fast approaching, and the festive atmosphere on the streets grew ever richer. Counting down, there was only a week left until the New Year holiday. On the last weekend before the break, Yan Xixi and Huang Xiaojue went mountain climbing.
The rear slopes of Mount Qingcheng weren’t crowded in winter. By the ti they reached the foot of the mountain, it was almost noon. They first found a small eatery for so local snacks: Heartbreaking Jelly, beef noodles, Ye’er Ba, and the famous Qingcheng Mountain traditional cured at. Yan Xixi ate a bit of everything with a hearty appetite. She knew she needed a full stomach to have the energy to climb.
Seeing her eat with such gusto, Huang Xiaojue smiled. "Xixi, want anything else?"
"No, I’m stuffed."
He paid the bill. She happily slung her small backpack over her shoulder. "Xiaojue, let’s race! See who’s faster!"
He grabbed her arm. "No way. Mountain climbing is hard work. Don’t burn all your energy at the start. No rush, let’s walk slowly first."
All along the path, stalls selling various snacks abounded: grilled corn, sausages half a chopstick long, steaming hot pieces of cured pork ribs, and large pots of trella soup. Yan Xixi couldn’t hold back, sampling a bit of corn, sausage, and cured ribs. All that food made her thirsty, so she drank so trella soup. Eventually, she couldn’t walk another step—not from exhaustion, but from being utterly stuffed.
When she picked up yet another baked potato and began to liberally douse it with dried chili powder, Huang Xiaojue exclaid in disbelief, "Xixi, you’re *still* eating?"
She clutched her stomach, laughing heartily. "Xiaojue, you don’t know this, but for a very long ti, I’ve desperately craved the chance to go out and just buy and eat whatever I wanted..."
He felt a pang of sympathy, as if watching a child whose dearest wish had finally co true.
His voice was exceptionally gentle. "Xixi, give your backpack. I’ll carry it for you. Let’s rest a bit before we go on."
Nearby, a small pavilion offered rest for tourists. It contained only one long bench, currently occupied by a couple locked in an embrace, kissing incessantly. Seeing no available space, Huang Xiaojue suggested, "Let’s walk a bit further."
But Yan Xixi just grinned, pulled his hand, and brazenly sat down right beside the couple. Then, she unwrapped her baked potato, sprinkled it with dried chili powder, and began to eat with abandon.
The kissing couple finally separated, shot her an irritated glare, got up, and left.
Yan Xixi let out a low, hearty laugh. "Xiaojue, look, now we have seats!"
Huang Xiaojue chuckled in spite of himself.
She took another bite of the potato but couldn’t manage any more. So, she carefully placed it in a food bag and tucked the bag securely back into her backpack. Huang Xiaojue handed her a thermal flask of hot tea. She took a contented sip, then leaned her head on Huang Xiaojue’s shoulder, her eyes softly closed.
"Xiaojue, will you accompany on outings often in the future, okay?"
"Okay."
"But you often have to fly around."
"Whenever I’m ho, I’ll do my best to accompany you. Besides, in a few years, I won’t be so constantly busy."
She was very satisfied. He had said, "I’ll *accompany* you on outings"—unlike Wan Donglin, who used to say, "I’ll *take* you out," "I’ll *take* you out to eat," "I’ll *take* you to..." That one-word difference signified a world apart.
"Accompany you" implied equality.
"Take you" implied you were just an accessory.
She had seen Wan Donglin’s ssages to Zhou Ting; he would say to Zhou Ting, "Okay, I’ll *accompany* you." Whether he loved Zhou Ting or not, in his mind, Zhou Ting was clearly his equal, soone who deserved respect.
But Yan Xixi had been bought—there was no need for "accompanying," only for "taking"—as sothing rely brought along, an accessory.
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