Why did the system take my request to take photos with a cosplayer seriously?

Ding Heng sat up, rubbing his temples as he felt a headache coming on.

Baima handed over a cup of warm butter tea: "Here, your aunt got up before dawn to make it."

Ding Heng took it and took a sip. It was salty, fragrant, and warm, and went down smoothly.

What time is it?

"A little after eight o'clock."

Baima sat down on the edge of the bed, swinging her two short legs: "Brother, are you hungry? Auntie made tsampa and dried meat."

Ding Heng took another sip of butter tea: "Where is your aunt?"

"I'm going out."

Baima murmured, "After the earthquake, the Living Buddha had to perform rituals to pray for the deceased and for the survivors. She went there early in the morning and didn't come back until evening, leaving the two of us to play by ourselves."

After saying that, she jumped off the edge of the bed, walked to the window, and opened it. The cold air rushed in instantly.

"The weather is nice today."

Baima turned around, standing against the light by the window, smiling sweetly and lovelyly: "Shall I accompany you, brother, for a stroll around?"

After finishing the last sip of butter tea, Ding Heng threw off the covers and got out of bed.

"Row."

Half an hour later, the two walked out of the yard.

Ding Heng wondered if it was just his imagination, but since returning to her hometown, Bai Ma seemed much more energetic and capable, completely lacking her former spoiled nature.

Ding Heng followed behind her, his gaze sweeping over the scattered tents and fences in the distance.

"Are all the herders from your cooperative living around here?"

"Correct."

Baima walked ahead without turning her head: "There are about a dozen households in this grassland, and there are more further west. It would take most of the day to ride a horse. The tents of each household are far apart, but they can see each other."

The two walked along a dirt road worn into the ground by car wheels, with wisps of smoke rising and dissipating in the distance.

Someone was driving yaks down the hillside when they saw Pema in the distance. They reined in the yaks and shouted something in Tibetan to her.

Baima replied in a light and cheerful tone.

The man grinned, nodded to Ding Heng, and continued driving the yaks forward.

Ding Heng asked, "What did he say?"

They asked us if we had eaten breakfast.

"That's it?"

"if not?"

Baima glanced back at him: "You expect people to talk to you about life ideals?"

Ding Heng smiled but didn't reply.

As the two passed a gray-white tent, an old woman poked her head out from inside.

Upon seeing Pema, the old woman moved her lips twice and uttered a string of Tibetan words.

Baima stopped and replied to her in Tibetan, his tone much more serious than when he had spoken to the herdsman earlier.

The old woman nodded, took two pieces of milk curd from the tent, put them in Baima's hand, patted the back of her hand, and muttered a few words.

Baima bent down, touching his forehead to the back of the old woman's hand, and performed a Tibetan greeting.

Then he straightened up, smiled at the old woman, and turned to continue walking forward.

Ding Heng followed behind, with a piece of milk curd stuffed into his hand by Bai Ma.

It's hard and smells sour.

"Try it."

Baima had already taken a bite, her cheeks bulging.

Ding Heng took a bite; it was sour, hard, and not tasty.

What is this?

"Milk curds, made from yak milk."

Baima chewed earnestly and mumbled, "When I was little, there weren't many snacks, so I ate this. It was as hard as a rock, and it took me ages to chew through it."

More than just food, it's a memory...

The two stopped to rest on a hillside. Baima stopped, put his hands in his pockets, and gazed into the distance.

The wind blew up the stray hairs at her temples, and the hem of her windbreaker fluttered in the wind.

"Brother."

"Ok?"

"Don't you think the sky is bluer here than elsewhere?"

Ding Heng looked up at it.

The sky was indeed blue, so clean that there wasn't a single impurity.

"It's quite blue."

"The clouds are lower than elsewhere."

Pema reached out her hand, as if trying to reach for a cloud that was slowly drifting by in the sky.

“When I was little, I always thought that if I climbed to the top of that mountain, I could touch the clouds. Then one time I really struggled to climb up there, stood on tiptoe and reached out to touch it... but I couldn’t reach it at all.”

She withdrew her hand, a self-deprecating smile on her face: "I was quite disappointed back then, feeling like the adults had lied to me."

Why do you want to touch the clouds?

"Because I'm bored."

Pema's answer was devoid of any sentimentality or poetry; it was concise and clear.

"Living on this plateau is so boring!!!"

Ding Heng seemed to be deep in thought...

Afterwards, Baima became obsessed with electronic products, which probably stemmed from the "boredom" of her childhood.

Someone rode by on horseback in the distance.

He was a young herdsman, wearing a dark Tibetan robe with a red silk sash tied around his waist.

He rode a dark brown horse, its hooves treading on the withered grass, moving at a leisurely pace.

Upon seeing Baima, he reined in his horse and dismounted.

The movements were swift and fluid, completed in one go.

He walked up to Pema and greeted her politely in Tibetan.

Pema nodded and replied to him in Tibetan.

The two chatted back and forth, and the man gradually relaxed from his initial restraint, a smile spreading across his face.

He turned to look at Ding Heng, his eyes filled with curiosity, but he didn't ask any further questions.

Finally, he took a leather bag off his horse and handed it to Baima.

Baima took it, sniffed it, and thanked him.

The man remounted the horse, squeezed its flanks with his legs, and the horse galloped away.

Baima stuffed the leather bag into Ding Heng's hand.

"Try this newly brewed barley wine, brother."

Ding Heng unscrewed the cap and took a sip. It was sweet and sour, refreshing, and not too strong in alcohol.

Why would he give you this?

Consider it a temporary thank-you gift.

Pema explained, “His mother is a veteran herdsman in the cooperative. She has known my mother for more than ten years, and she sponsored his university education.”

Ding Heng took another sip: "Your mother has quite a bit of influence..."

"That's not."

Baima's lips curled up, her tone smug: "My mother invests money in the cooperative every year, repairing roads, building greenhouses, hiring veterinarians, buying fodder... everything costs money, so they appreciate my mother's kindness and naturally treat me politely as well."

"The fox borrows the tiger's might!"

"Humph!"

Turn another corner, and you'll see an old herdsman squatting in front of his tent, his brows furrowed.

Pema recognized him, quickly walked over, and greeted him in Tibetan.

The old herdsman looked up, his expression anxious, and spoke and gestured.

After listening, Baima turned to Ding Heng and said, "Brother, two of his yaks have run away. The fence collapsed during yesterday's earthquake, and the yaks were startled and ran away. They haven't been found yet. It's been a whole day and night, and they're probably far away."

Ding Heng asked, "Where should we look?"

Baima squatted down and glanced at the hoofprints on the ground: "Judging from the footprints, they should have gone north. There's a valley over there, and yaks like to go into those kinds of places when they get scared."

The old herdsman hurriedly said a few more words, explaining how troublesome it was that the road had collapsed due to the earthquake and that they had to take a detour.

Baima readily agreed, "Uncle Dorje, your legs aren't very strong, I'll go find it for you."

The old herdsman waved his hand repeatedly, meaning that the yaks had been gone for so long and the road was difficult to travel, so the two young people probably couldn't handle it.

Baima put her hands on her hips and said, "Uncle Dorje, have you forgotten? One year, during a heavy snowfall, my family lost three yaks. My mother wasn't home, so I rode my horse and searched for them all by myself for most of the day."

The old herdsman was taken aback at first, then turned around and went into the tent, took out a bunch of keys and handed them to Baima, pointing to the motorcycle not far away.

Bai Ma took the key and gestured with her chin towards Ding Heng.

"Brother, let's go."

The two arrived at a motorcycle that was neither new nor old.