Chapter 6

Another cold splash of disappointment. She stared at the tent for a long time. The flap hung half open.
…
She lifted the flap and bent to go in.
A smell of rot hit her. Whatever the case, she needed somewhere to rest tonight, and this tent was the only option.
Inside, the layout surprised her. Everything was still in place; there was even a half-spread bedding on the ground.
As if the owner had just stepped out.
She frowned. Nothing on this mountain made sense.
She set her backpack down. Dust flew up and made her cough.
She checked her supplies. She’d brought all the water and food from the hotel rooms. If she didn’t find the tour group, this would last her at most three days.
She couldn’t help picking up the old camera again. Two buttons—simple to use.
She pressed the red one. It turned on.
First photo: the couple’s sweet selfie, bright background, intimate pose. Carefree.
She pressed the other button. Next photo.
They’d loved taking pictures—even a single flower got a dozen poses. The whole trip was documented in detail.
Then a photo appeared without warning. Her finger paused.
A face she didn’t know—no, she did. It was the guide. Xiao Chen.
He seemed to have turned around by chance, looking at the couple.
In the first shot he was still smiling. The second: same pose, but the smile looked stiff.
She flipped to the third. Xiao Chen’s face filled the frame in close-up.
No smile now. Just a blank stare. He was looking straight at the lens.
As if he’d seen something.
Slowly she went to the fourth. Still Xiao Chen’s face. This time his expression was almost vicious, slightly twisted.
Her finger stayed on the button. She didn’t press.
The photo felt wrong. Why would that slick, worldly guide look like that?
Was it on purpose?
She pressed again. In this one his face was even closer—the focus had been pulling in.
He’d raised one hand, as if pointing ahead.
The fear on his face was clearer now, twisting into something like terror.
She stared at his expression. It was so real—the fear seemed to bleed out of the photo and into her.
If he was faking, he deserved an Oscar.
The camera showed three photos left.
She steadied her breath and pressed again…
In the next photo he kept almost the same pose, hand stiffly pointing forward. But this time his finger was aimed almost at the lens, his gaze fixed—from her perspective it was as if Xiao Chen were looking through the photo, straight at her.