Why is This Clingy Snow Leopard Acting So Innocent? - Chapter 13

Chapter 13: Into the Mountains — Is This Official?

December. Deep winter.

At 25 years old, Su Wen took the first photo he could remember in the snow mountains.

A short distance away, Yun Shu held up the camera and asked, “Want to see?”

He shrugged. “No need.”

The morning snow had stopped, but a thick layer had accumulated on the ground. Every step sank deep, then shallow. If it wasn’t so early in the morning—and if he didn’t have the urge to just lie down and sleep right where he stood—it would actually be quite interesting.

When the two were within a few dozen meters of the patrol station, a motorcycle zoomed closer. Two dark-skinned young men on the bike waved at them. Yun Shu waved back.

“What are you guys doing here?”

Their accents weren’t heavy; it seemed the years of compulsory education had paid off. “The captain sent us. We’re coming along.”

“Into the mountains?”

“Yeah. I saw a snow leopard a couple of days ago while herding the cattle.”

Yun Shu pushed open the iron gate of the patrol station, and one of the young men rode the bike inside.

“Are the cattle okay?”

“The dogs chased it off. I even filmed a video; I’ll show you later,” said the young man getting off the back.

These two were Solang Dawa, Dawa’s son, and Tsering, Dawa’s nephew.

In recent years, Sare Village had aggressively developed snow mountain tourism. The villagers had escaped poverty; many gave up herding to start guesthouses. These two were among the few still sticking to traditional pastoralism.

“Actually, raising yaks and sheep can support a family just like a guesthouse,” Solang said. “But it’s exhausting.”

“Did you used to have close encounters with snow leopards like this often?”

Su Wen was referring to the footage playing on the screen. It was filmed on a phone; the lens was shaky, but you could still see a snow leopard attempting to approach a young yak grazing on the slope.

“Sometimes, but not this frequently,” Solang said. “You don’t usually see them on the mountain. You only run into them when they want to eat our cows and sheep.”

“Hahaha,” the others laughed. Tsering added, “Uncle is going to be furious. The leopards around here love your family’s livestock the most.”

Though it was a joke, Dawa’s family had indeed lost many animals over the years, especially young yaks. Calves only a few months old were often taken before they could grow. Dawa’s family lost at least a dozen a year.

Ten years ago, before the Wildlife Protection Law was strictly enforced, local herders would simply shoot a leopard on sight if they caught it attacking their herd. This also bred poachers. While poaching still existed, it had decreased significantly. The local wildlife museum still displayed snow leopard pelts confiscated years ago from herders and poachers.

Because the leopards were nearly extinct, the government confiscated the herders’ firearms and established a compensation system for livestock losses, maximizing leopard protection while maintaining the herders’ interests.

Based on the activity shown in the two videos, the leopards’ location was estimated to be at a higher altitude, around 4,500 meters.

“Our main goal is to find the one we suspect is pregnant,” Lin Zhihuan said. “Being pregnant at this time of year is very dangerous.”

“Why?” Su Wen was confused.

“Generally, snow leopards mate between January and March, or sometimes as early as November or December. The gestation period is about a hundred days. If she mated in November, she could give birth as early as mid-to-late January. Giving birth then is perilous. It’s deep winter; daytime temperatures are -10°C to -20°C, and nights are even lower. If the cubs don’t have a warm den, they’ll freeze to death instantly. Plus, hunting is harder now, which puts the mother’s life at risk too.”

…

The rivers in the mountains were frozen solid, which meant they didn’t have to hike the whole way in.

The patrol station’s largest vehicle, a seven-seater MPV, had just returned from a glacier monitoring mission in the Aloqing Mountains. The anti-skid chains were still on the tires.

“Hey, Shao-zi, is there enough gas?”

The buzz-cut ranger named Shao-zi, who had been introducing himself to Su Wen, ran out. “Yeah, plenty! Filled up yesterday. It was a short trip back; should have over half a tank. More than enough.”

“Good. We’ll take this one then.”

“You’re driving over the river?” Shao-zi asked. “Want me to come? That’s a tough drive.”

He made a fair point; he was one of the few steady drivers on the team. The others were the captain and…

“No need. Yun Shu is coming.”

“Oh,” Shao-zi realized. “That kid is good. He’s a steady driver. I’m going to go rest then; call me if you need anything.”

The film crew responsible for shooting the leopards had left much earlier on foot, guided by local herders. Cheng Daozhi got into the MPV with Su Wen. Though she didn’t say it, Su Wen knew she was there to keep an eye on him.

Once ready, Solang and Tsering followed the MPV on their motorcycle until they reached the frozen river. Song Nan swapped seats with Yun Shu, letting him drive. Su Wen was moved to the passenger seat, and the filming equipment in the front was turned on.

Su Wen felt a bit speechless; it seemed Cheng Daozhi was deliberately pairing the two of them for the footage. But he didn’t mind it.

Yun Shu looked calm, clearly not intimidated by the terrain. He gripped the steering wheel, even finding time to signal to the two on the motorcycle leading the way.

It was Su Wen’s first time driving on ice. He instinctively gripped the door handle. Yun Shu didn’t floor the gas; “gliding” would be a more accurate term for how the heavy vehicle, loaded with seven people and gear, moved along the frozen riverbed. Rock walls lined both sides. If the car slid and hit one, the consequences would be dire.

Su Wen’s face was pale as he stared out the window. The people in the back were much more relaxed, chatting and laughing, making him feel like he was the only one undergoing a trial by fire.

“Are you scared?” Yun Shu’s voice cut through the chatter. “Should I go slower?”

Su Wen had ridden in a car driven by Yun Shu three times: twice on mountain roads, and once now. Yun Shu was a steady driver—steadier than the local taxi drivers. Logically, he should trust him. But he was essentially putting his life in Yun Shu’s hands; a little nervousness was normal.

“I’m fine.”

Yun Shu let out a soft chuckle, eased off the gas, and slowed down even more.

A trip that would have taken at least four or five hours on foot took only thirty minutes by car. The only difficult part left was the hike. High altitude and cold weather made physical exhaustion come quickly.

The car stopped in an open space by the river. Solang locked his motorcycle to the car. They were currently at about 3,500 to 4,000 meters. To find the leopard, they needed to reach 4,500.

For locals like Solang and Tsering, who climbed these mountains daily to herd or gather herbs, this was nothing. For the rangers who patrolled this altitude regularly, it was manageable with the occasional hit of bottled oxygen.

The hardest part was for the crew. However, Cheng Daozhi and the cameraman felt fine; they had been here for nearly a year and had adapted to filming with the herders.

The only one who needed special care was Su Wen.

He had always thought he was naturally gifted because he didn’t have many memories of snow mountains, yet he had adapted to the thin air remarkably fast. But that was below 4,000 meters. Above that, it was a different story.

The others, worried about him, lowered their search target to around 4,200 meters. Lin Zhihuan agreed; a pregnant leopard would seek a warmer spot. At higher altitudes, even in a rocky den, the temperature wouldn’t rise above -15°C.

The group began the hike, their feet sinking into the snow. Shards of rock were hidden beneath the white blanket, threatening to twist ankles. Su Wen had to take a breath of oxygen every few steps. As predicted, the higher altitude was much harder to handle.

But he found a labor-saving method.

Yun Shu.

He looked incredibly energetic—more so than the two local herders. Walking at 4,200 meters seemed like a stroll in his own backyard. It made Su Wen feel like a complete weakling.

Su Wen reached out and grabbed Yun Shu’s arm.

Yun Shu turned back, confused for a second, but quickly understood. He reached back and pulled Su Wen close to support him.

Su Wen’s original idea was just to lean on his arm for a bit of leverage, but Yun Shu had wrapped an arm around his shoulder, essentially half-carrying him. It definitely made things easier; it gave Su Wen the feeling he could climb another few hundred meters.

Except… they were too close.

Su Wen instinctively struggled for a second but couldn’t break free. Was it his imagination, or did the grip tighten?

“Yun Shu,” he whispered, hoping the camera wouldn’t catch this. “Yun Shu, loosen up a bit. Don’t hug me.”

Yun Shu didn’t say anything, but the pressure eased slightly. He didn’t let go, though. It was better than before; for a second there, Su Wen thought Yun Shu was going to lift him off the ground entirely. He sighed but decided to stay put.

Looking ahead, he saw Solang and Tsering walking close together too. See? No problem. Friends were just this affectionate. He reminded himself of soccer players huddling together after a game.

The group ahead stopped by a protruding rock on a cliff face. As they crouched to examine something, Lin Zhihuan suddenly stood up and looked back at them. Her expression changed, a hint of teasing appearing on her face. She walked toward them, her tone much more lighthearted than the serious PhD persona she usually wore.

“And what is this?” She scanned them, her eyes landing on Yun Shu’s hand. “Is this official now?”