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墨書 Inktalez
I suddenly sat up in my sleeping bag, drenched in cold sweat, my heart racing uncontrollably.
Looking at the intact tent before me, I realized it had all been a dream. The terrifying goat from my nightmare, its crimson eyes and the nauseating stench, still lingered in my mind.
I gasped for air, trying to calm the fear that gripped me, but found the surroundings eerily silent.
This silence was more unsettling than the horrors of my dream.
I reached out to touch the space beside me; it was empty and cold.
Where is Yang Mengfan? I unzipped the tent and poked my head out. Outside, the wind and snow howled relentlessly. In the distance, I could see a light glowing from Brother Wang's tent.
I jumped out of my tent, slipping on my shoes, and hurried over to check if Yang Mengfan was inside. The sight that greeted me froze me in place—there was no one inside.
A strong sense of foreboding washed over me.
I rushed into every tent, calling out their names loudly, but all I received in return was endless silence.
Every tent in the camp was empty.
Mengfan, Brother Wang, and the other members of our group… they were all gone.
The camp that had been bustling with activity in the evening now felt like a ghost town, lifeless and still, with only the lights from the tents illuminating the dark night.
I took a deep breath of the frigid air; ice shards mixed with snowflakes scraped against my throat like knives, sending a shiver down my spine. Stay calm; it's crucial to remain composed in times like this!
But how the hell am I supposed to stay calm?
The camp, which was once bustling with activity, now left me as the sole commander.
Outside the tent, the wind howled like a mad beast, reminiscent of a monster from a horror film that devours its prey. How the hell am I supposed to stay calm?
Where did they go? In this pitch-black darkness, one misstep could send me tumbling into a ravine.
I strained my eyes wide open, scanning the surroundings. The spot where we set up camp was relatively flat, a rare find in this desolate place.
Looking around further, I was struck by the steepness of the surrounding peaks, their edges sharp like they had been cleaved by an axe, covered in thick layers of snow.
In this impenetrable darkness, they resembled giant monsters lying in slumber.
God knows if they might suddenly wake up and start feasting on us!
I glanced at my watch; it was exactly three in the morning. The temperature was nearly that of Antarctica!
I felt like I was turning into a popsicle. In this cursed weather, there was no way they could have returned to the village.
Where's Brother Wang? He had warned us repeatedly before we left that climbing up was easy, but coming down was another story altogether.
Especially on these steep slopes with deep snow; one misstep and you could vanish without a trace. Besides, Yang Mengfan would definitely not leave me behind.
Should I continue climbing the snow-capped mountain?
It seemed even less likely now. Although I had made all the necessary preparations, everyone knew that climbing such a high peak was like dancing on the edge of a precipice.
To climb recklessly was akin to lighting a lantern in a toilet—an invitation to disaster!
As I pondered this, only one possibility emerged... they were in danger!
I could hardly bear to think of this possibility; I feared that if I did, they would truly be lost.
The moment that thought crossed my mind, I felt a chill surge up from the soles of my feet, like icy little snakes slithering up my legs, coiling around my heart and freezing me to the core, making me shiver uncontrollably.
My stomach churned violently as I leaned against the nearest rock, retching without producing anything but bitter bile rising in my throat. My vision blurred, and I nearly lost my balance.
“No! It can’t be! They absolutely can’t be in trouble!”
I sprang to my feet and stumbled toward my tent.
The wind and snow continued to rage, and I squinted against the storm, struggling to find my way.
With each step, my heart sank further.
I staggered back into my tent.
Inside was a chaotic mess; my sleeping bag lay overturned on the ground, supplies scattered everywhere—oxygen tanks, ice picks, ropes… these items lay there quietly, unmoving, as if mocking my helplessness.
I sat on the ground in despair, surveying everything familiar around me, and tears finally streamed down my face. The tent still held the faint scent of Mengfan, a mix of tobacco and his signature aftershave—a fragrance that belonged solely to him.
I noticed Yang Mengfan's backpack still resting in the corner of the tent, with his ever-present military canteen hanging from it.
I was all too familiar with that canteen; its dark green surface had chipped paint from years of use, and there were several scratches at the bottom, remnants from our last climb up the snowy mountain.
Engraved on it were the initials “Y&M.”
He had carved those letters during our hiking trip in Inner Mongolia the year we graduated from university, symbolizing "Yang" and "Meng."
Seeing that canteen pierced my heart like a needle, a wave of pain spreading throughout my chest. I trembled as I picked it up, holding it tightly against me, as if that would allow me to feel Mengfan's warmth.
Tears flowed uncontrollably, dampening the engraved letters on the canteen.
Just then, the tent flap was suddenly thrown open, and a figure stumbled in. I jumped in fright, instinctively shrinking back, my heart racing wildly.
Snow and wind rushed into the tent, and I squinted, trying to see who had entered. The person wore a thick down jacket with a windproof hood and a mask covering their face, leaving only a pair of terrified eyes visible.
“Meng… Mengfan?” I called out hesitantly, my voice trembling. The figure pulled down their mask, revealing a familiar face. It was really him!
I lunged forward and wrapped my arms around him tightly, fearing that if I let go for even a moment, he would vanish.
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