Lhotse, the world's fourth highest peak, at 8,516 meters, lies just 3 kilometers from Mount Qomolangma, a giant in Everest's shadow.

Everyone knows Mount Qomolangma, but few mention its neighbor, Lhotse. This "South Peak," while resounding in Tibetan, is often overshadowed by the dazzling brilliance of Mount Everest. I often think how similar mountains are to people. Some are born to attract attention, while others stand silently, unwavering despite the ravages of wind and frost.

Lhotse, at 8,516 meters, is the fourth highest mountain in the world. It's only three kilometers away from Mount Everest, yet it follows it like a shadow, forever bound to its fate. This reminds me of those "second-best" figures who live in the shadow of their greats. Even with their vast talents, they can't escape oblivion. However, Lhotse's sheer precariousness surpasses that of Everest. Composed of two peaks, the main and western peaks are connected only by a narrow ridge, resembling a fissure carved by a natural knife.

Geologists say the mountain was formed 50 million years ago by the collision of the Indian and Eurasian tectonic plates. The ancient metamorphic rock layers, layer upon layer, resemble scars left by the earth torn and then mended. Glaciers, like knives, have carved the mountain over the years, carving deep glacial valleys and steep cliffs. It reminds me of the time-worn cobblestone roads back home, only this "road" is far more treacherous.

The harsh climate is even more daunting. The Indian Ocean monsoon brings abundant rainfall, but winters are dry and freezing. The snow on the mountaintops never melts year-round, and temperatures can drop to -40°C. In such conditions, not only humans, but even the hardiest snow leopards would retreat. Yet, some people, unconvinced, insist on venturing into this "gate of hell."

On May 18, 1955, two Swiss men—Ernst Reiss and Fritz Luhzinger—actually reached the summit. The news astonished the world. I thought they must be crazy, otherwise why would they take such a risk? But on reflection, isn't human progress driven by these "madmen"?

To climb this mountain, one must first cross the Khumbu Glacier before scaling the Lhotse Face. The high altitude makes breathing difficult and headaches agonizing. Furthermore, the weather is unpredictable: a clear sky one moment, then a blizzard of wind and snow the next. Rescue? In such a place, even with wings, it's hard to reach. As of last year, 461 people had reached the summit, with 20 deaths. Behind these figures lie the sorrows and joys of countless families.

Interestingly, the local Tibetans consider this mountain sacred, believing that spirits reside within. Every year, pilgrims flock to pay homage below the snowline. I think this is perhaps the wisest approach—keep a distance. Why bother trying to "conquer" it? Those so-called "conquerors" are merely the lucky few who managed to survive.

Global warming is causing the Lhotse glacier to melt. Yet, the number of climbers continues to increase, as if eager to leave their mark before it "disappears." Environmental organizations urge protection, but who is truly listening? Humans have always been like this, crying until they see the coffin.

Lhotse, while not as famous as Mount Everest, possesses its own character. Like a silent sage, it observes the world's arrogance and stubbornness with a cold eye. Whenever I see climbers advancing one after another, I think of the moths that fly into the flames back home. Perhaps this is both the most tragic and admirable aspect of humanity—doing what is clearly impossible.

May those who yearn for the highest peaks be able to gaze at the stars while remaining grounded; to push their limits while also learning to revere nature. After all, that is what is most precious.