The evening sun dipped fully behind the jagged crests of the granite mountains, leaving the high-altitude plateau bathed in deep shades of indigo and violet.
The mountain breeze grew colder as night took hold, rustling the heavy boughs of the pine forest surrounding the clearing. Around the campfire, the atmosphere remained light and cheerful, filled with the savory residual aroma of the seared alpine trout they had enjoyed earlier.
Wu Haoran was sitting cross-legged on a smooth stone, gesturing dramatically as he recounted another absurd story from his high school days to Yang Zixuan and Zhou Yaya.
Zhou Yaya was leaning back against a wooden crate, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she tossed quips into his story, keeping the small group in easy, relaxed spirits.
