They made their way over. The owner of the teahouse was a short, chubby middle-aged man who seemed to know Olivia Parker. When handing them the tea menu, he slipped in one of her books, titled "The Collapsed Sea." She signed it skillfully and gave a gentle smile.

It was natural—you could tell she was used to this kind of well-meaning interruption.

Henry Foster had met many impressive people before. He understood that after someone becomes impressive, they inevitably endure all sorts of unbearable disturbances, eventually learning to respond to any interruption with a formulaic smile. But Olivia Parker's smile still caught him off guard, because it was so gentle, without a trace of sharpness.

Then Henry Foster watched as she took an envelope out of her bag and poured the photos inside onto the table.

There were a lot of photos. He picked them up and saw they were taken with an entry-level DSLR. Clearly, the photographer was a beginner, but the framing was decent—most of the shots had desert backgrounds.

As he flipped through the photos, Olivia Parker briefly told him how she had entered the desert. The way a novelist speaks is different from others—even casual conversation is interesting. As she spoke, Henry Foster felt as if the photos in his hands suddenly came alive.

Unlike Henry Foster, Olivia Parker had entered the desert simply as part of a hiking group, and the destinations were all pre-planned. Although the route seemed to lead into desolate wilderness, it was always within human control, and they made sure that Land Rover rescue could arrive within four hours.

The chances of an accident on such trips were very low. Most incidents were due to physical exhaustion. Some girls, lacking stamina, would get dehydrated during long treks and suffer organ failure before reaching a hospital. However, nowadays, team leaders are much more professional, and most groups have medical staff, so such cases are now extremely rare.

Another situation is when the leader "adds stops," suggesting detours to unplanned places to earn extra money. Olivia Parker's group encountered this exact scenario.

Her hiking group was quite high-profile. When Henry Foster looked at their group photo, he noticed one member was a host from Shandong TV, and another was an illustrator. It was clear that Olivia Parker and the illustrator were close—many photos featured just the two of them posing together.

"This is Charlie Foster, my best friend," she explained to Henry Foster.

Olivia Parker said that midway through their trip, they had a group meal in an abandoned village called "Donkey Shangri-La," about twenty kilometers west of Badain Jaran. "Donkey Shangri-La" means a hiker's paradise. It's a place almost every traveler passes through to rest. Though it’s far less mysterious and beautiful than the real Shangri-La, it’s at least livelier than the lifeless desert.

There, they ran into another group that looked lost and dejected. After asking, they learned that group had just returned from Gutongjing. After hearing this, their own guide asked if they wanted to visit Gutongjing as well.

This group was young, bold, and energetic, and since the trip was only halfway through, no one was tired yet, so they all agreed. Gutongjing was only seven kilometers away, and they reached it in just two hours the next day, but only stayed for fifteen minutes. The place just felt wrong.

In Olivia Parker's memory, as she approached Gutongjing, she felt involuntary palpitations and anxiety. She couldn’t explain it—it was as if some instinct in her body was afraid. Deep inside Gutongjing, she felt a strong discomfort, like heatstroke, dazed and disoriented, so in the end, she just snapped a few quick photos and left.

There was nothing unusual in those photos—just a few low rocky hills, their surfaces spiraled by desert winds, surrounded by rolling sand dunes, the lines as graceful as Venus’s back. Henry Foster had seen photos of Gutongjing before and knew this must be within its area, but he hadn’t realized the rocky hills were so sparsely distributed. From Olivia Parker’s photos, he couldn’t see what was so special about the place.

Olivia Parker told Henry Foster that she had a series of bizarre nightmares that night. Later, she speculated whether the scenery gave people bad vibes, or if local legends had influenced them, but none of the explanations really made sense. What she was sure of was that the place was truly strange, and she believed she wasn’t the only one who felt it—she clearly saw that everyone’s face looked odd while they were in Gutongjing.

The rest of the trip gradually washed away their unease, and everyone stopped thinking about that strange feeling—until Olivia Parker got home and developed all the photos, and then discovered something was wrong.

When Olivia Parker got to this part, she handed Henry Foster another stack of photos. "These are the photos I took after coming back from Gutongjing. Compare them to the earlier ones—do you notice any changes?"

The lighting in the teahouse was a bit dim. Henry Foster looked at them against the light.