Seeing Xu Ke again, he’d turned into a cycling vlogger.
His beard was long, hair messy, clothes filthy, but his eyes were unusually clear, as if he’d gone through a great baptism, having shed all low tastes and ascended to a higher spiritual realm.
By my reckoning he’d been gone nearly two months.
When he came back and met Chen Qi, he couldn’t stop repeating one line: “The mountains and rivers are magnificent—well worth the trip!”
“Where did you go? So long and not a single letter,” Chen Qi said.
“Northwest, southwest, East China Sea, South China Sea. I was going to go to the northeast provinces too—”
“Dong San Sheng! The three northeastern provinces!” Chen Qi corrected.
“All the same. Too bad it’s summer now—if it were winter I’d definitely go to Heilongjiang.”
Xu Ke was ecstatic.
He’d brought back a pile of photos and several videotapes.
At Chen Qi’s home, Gong Xue and Shi Nansheng stayed to watch with him.
Those towering snowy peaks, the desolate deserts, the boundless sea—all of it was truly stirring; they kept exclaiming in turns.