A Mountain Elsewhere, a Life Beyond

[Cool, wealthy heiress × wild, streetwise young funeral-home owner]

“Elsewhere” is a mountain, and Elsewhere Mountain is a huge cemetery.

In a border town at the foot of the mountain,

there’s a funeral parlor called “Afterlife,” owned by a man surnamed Yu.

That year, at a low point in her career, Tang Wanshu came alone to the “Afterlife Funeral Parlor” at the foot of Elsewhere Mountain and handed in her resume.

Young Boss Yu was handsome, with a naturally wild edge.

He shot a roguish glance at her luxury designer bag:

“The pay here won’t even cover one of the metal fittings on your bag.”

“You’ve got a good eye, Boss,” Tang Wanshu replied coolly.

Tang Wanshu stayed on. She worked the counter, helped customers, and spent her spare time drawing designs for urns and burial clothes.

Yu Beixing usually handled funerals, burned paper offerings, and carried coffins. He rarely came to the shop unless he had to.

Then one day, as Tang Wanshu was fetching ritual offerings for a customer,

she saw an entire cabinet of masterful oil paintings on the warehouse’s overhead shelves.

There was just one character signed on the back: “Yu.”

Yu Beixing was a top graduate of a prestigious art school, an artist,

and a man with many secrets and many lives and deaths weighing on his shoulders.

But Tang Wanshu never asked. Adults all have secrets,

and she had hers, too.

At midnight, Tang Wanshu changed out of her all-black work clothes,

put on a burgundy cashmere coat and tassel earrings,

and went to the only bar in town to order a cocktail.

The handsome young man dancing onstage had an irresistible physique.

When the song ended, she hooked a long, slender finger into his shirt collar:

“Young Boss Yu, you dance well. Come with me. If I can make a comeback, we’ll open a branch in the capital.”

“Then I’d better make a good impression,” he said with a roguish grin.

“But I might never get back on my feet. Then I’ll have to work for you for the rest of my life.” A moment later, she lowered her eyes and sighed.

“Then I’d better make an even better impression, Wanshu.”

Winter snow and mountains, beyond the pull of day and night,

the aurora and you, both my way home.

Funeral industry / Both leads are each other’s firsts / Light suspense / Intense romantic tension

My next book will be: Wild Hopes in Xinjiang

Cen Qing is a good girl, with excellent grades and an easygoing job.

Her first act of rebellion was dating a dance student.

Her second was quitting her 30,000-yuan-a-month job without notice

and heading west, from Urumqi to Kashgar.

Her tour guide is a local Han Chinese man, handsome and great at his job.

The more Cen Qing looks at him, the more familiar he seems.

Isn’t he her first boyfriend, Mu Ziwang?

She’s changed a lot over the years.

She doesn’t know if he even remembers her.

In Tashkurgan County, west of Kashgar,

Cen Qing rents a local home for a short stay.

The old house has its share of problems: no water today, no electricity tomorrow.

The landlord gives her a list of repair contacts on WeChat:

Water and electricity: AAA Xiao Mu,

heating: AAA Xiao Mu,

internet: AAA Xiao Mu again.

Since moving in a month ago, Mu Ziwang has come over several times,

finishing the repairs and leaving,

never saying a word about their history.

Then one day, a performance in Kashgar Old City goes viral.

It features the best dancers from all over the country.

Audiences have come from far and wide, and tickets are impossible to get.

Cen Qing buys a scalped ticket at a markup well in advance,

for a VIP seat in the front section.

At the grand finale,

she sees Mu Ziwang dancing center stage,

in a top-tier performance that blends wildness with artistry.

After the show, as the dancers sign autographs, Cen Qing joins the line and waits.

At last, the impossibly handsome, roguish young man scribbles his full name, then raises his head with a carefree grin.

“Didn’t your mom forbid you from dating artists?”

Cen Qing smiles brightly and confidently, waving her ticket stub.

“That’s why I’m paying to watch him now.”

At midnight, his rough fingers hold her smooth palm,

and beneath the moon over the old city, he cups her face.

“The wind on the Pamir Plateau has been blowing for all these years.”

Theme: Make peace with the things that have no answers.