We sat in the waiting room with our bags between our feet. Rows of yellow seats were bolted to the floor, facing a giant window that looked straight toward the mountain. From here, the five peaks of Huashan looked like a lotus flower.

I looked up, then pointed at the highest peak.

“Tomorrow.”

The sun hung low on the horizon.

“Tomorrow.”

Dani yawned.

“In the meantime, I’m having trouble finding our hotel.”

She held up her phone.

“No internet.”

I sat back down.

“Hang on.”

I unzipped my bag and started unpacking it onto the next seat.

“I have a map here some—”

“Ni hao.”

I looked up.

A man beside us wore glasses, a bowl haircut, and a black leather jacket.

He smiled.

“My name is Zhao. I’m waiting for my friend to come down the mountain.”

He looked at us.

“You look lost.”

Then he pulled out his phone.

A moment later, a new wireless network appeared on Dani’s phone.

She connected, opened the map, and soon found the street near the trailhead.

She zoomed in. Then she scrolled and zoomed in again.

“It’s bit there.”

Zhao leaned over.

“There are taxis outside. Write the name of the street and hotel. I translate for the driver.”

Next to her, I searched my emails.

“Here it is. Huashan Fengguan Inn.”

Just then, another man walked into the waiting room.

Zhao stood.

“Excuse me, but my friend is here.”

We thanked him and watched them disappear into the crowd.

~

Outside the tourist center, a parking lot held a row of idling shuttle buses.

“Zhao said to take a taxi, but I remember the hotel was right next to the trailhead.”

Dani smiled.

“Worth a try.”

Then she nudged me toward the nearest vehicle.

The attendant stepped out as I approached.

I pointed toward the mountain and made a climbing motion with my hands.

She laughed.

Then she pointed inside.

We climbed aboard.

Nobody else was inside.

The attendant waved us toward the seats.

Twenty minutes later, the bus was full.

The driver climbed aboard, shut the doors, and started the engine.

~

The sun dropped behind the mountain as we drove.

By the time we reached the trailhead, the town was dark.

We stepped off the bus through a gift shop and onto a narrow street.

Taxis honked.

Shopkeepers ran across the street.

“Hello! Room!”

“Food!”

“Beer!”

Then a group of old women hurried toward us, waving white cotton gloves.

“Gloves! Gloves!”

One caught Dani’s sleeve.

Another held a pair beneath my chin.

“No, thank you.”

We pulled away.

The women followed us for a few steps, then turned toward another group getting off the bus.

We needed the Huashan Fengguan Inn.

Every hotel sign seemed to begin with Huashan.

None seemed to end with Fengguan.

We walked past the same stores.

Then past them again.

And again.

Dani stopped.

“Maybe this one?”

We looked at another sign.

Not it.

The light faded. The street signs disappeared into the dark.

Every time we stopped, another merchant noticed us.

Then Dani spotted a police officer.

She waved him over.

He listened, then turned toward the crowd and shouted.

The merchants scattered.

He walked with us.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Then he stopped beside a small convenience store and pointed through it.

We followed him inside.

He pointed toward the back.

Behind the store was a dark parking lot.

Beyond that stood our hotel.

~

A few minutes later we were sitting on the bed of our room while the proprietor handed us a trail map.

Then he gave us two pairs of white cotton gloves.

I looked at them.

He then opened the translator on his phone and began typing.

He showed us the screen.

“Sharp rocks.”

“Rusty chains.”

“To protect your hands.”

He pointed at the map.

“What are you planning?”

We showed him our route.

North.

Middle.

East.

South.

West.

Then the cable car down and a train to Beijing.

He counted on his fingers.

Then shook his head.

He pointed to North Peak.

“First cable car.”

Then he traced a line across the map to West Peak.

“Dragon Ridge.”

Then he pointed to the cable car.

“Down.”

He tapped the map again.

“No upside down.”

I looked at Dani for help.

She thought for a second.

“He means no backtracking.”

The proprietor nodded.

“Don’t waste time.”

We put the gloves beside our bags, set the alarm for before dawn, and went to bed.

When the sun rose behind the mountain, we were already climbing.

~

A narrow ledge ran along the cliff. On our right, rock rose above us. On our left, the mountain dropped toward a rocky stream far below.

Far above, sunlight flashed from the cable cars.

Between us and them was the mountain.

Then the trail steepened.

Chains became our handrails.

Stone stairs climbed almost straight up through a narrow crack in the rock. Moss covered the edges. Water ran down the steps beneath our feet.

The morning sun disappeared behind the walls.

Ahead of us, a man in his twenties stopped at a landing to photograph the mountains and waterfalls.

Nearby, a girl bent to pet a feral cat.

The cat scratched her.

She pulled her hand back and looked at her finger.

Blood.

As we approached, she held it up.

“Do you have a bandage?”

We didn’t.

The photographer did.

He handed her one.

They started talking.

We kept climbing.

~

Hours later, we saw them again.

They were holding hands.

They climbed ahead of us, stopping together whenever the trail narrowed.

I looked at Dani.

A chain hung from the rock beside us. Her cotton glove caught on a rusted link.
She pulled it free, leaving behind a clump of white fibers.

She held out her hand.

I reached forward and took it.