We were trapped in this stone house, a space no bigger than a palm, with cliffs on all four sides.
Although we knew this was impossible and was probably an illusion, we did not dare test it. I even suspected that the path we had taken to get here might have been illusory too.
Only those who had experienced illusions knew that some could drive you so mad that you questioned your entire existence.
That was right—questioning your life, questioning whether you were truly still alive, even questioning whether you were really human.
This was atop Mount Everest, and this stone house had been piled together from rocks. It leaked wind. On a night like this, at the summit, the temperature gradually dropped, growing colder and colder.
Even people with constitutions like Ye Jinghong's and mine found it unbearably uncomfortable.
The cold seeped straight into our bones, as though we had fallen into an ice cellar.
Strangely, the tiny flame on the torch had not gone out completely. It still flickered stubbornly with a weak glow.
Suddenly, a gust of wind blew in. The flame actually grew larger, and then the torch burst into blazing fire, illuminating the entire stone house.
Thanks to the torch, we felt slightly less cold.
We stood in front of the torch, holding our hands close to the flames and lightly hopping on our feet to keep warm.
"I haven't felt cold like this in many years," Ye Jinghong said.
I looked at her. "Does it snow in the world you told me about?"
"No. The seasons there aren't so distinct. It's almost as hot all year round as summer is here."
Summer all year round did not sound bad. At least it saved a great deal on clothing—you could get through the whole year