There are some mottled Buddhist murals on the walls of this courtyard. Since they are outdoor murals, they have peeled off to the point where only patches of color remain, making it impossible to discern any patterns.
I saw a figure from behind, and I was certain that this person was just daydreaming; he wasn’t really looking at anything. But I hesitated to approach because I was too familiar with that silhouette—so familiar that, in that moment, I doubted whether I was hallucinating or had entered another time and space.
It was the silhouette of the young man. He was wearing a black snow jacket and quietly sitting on a stone in the courtyard, surrounded by snow. He seemed completely unfazed by the cold, as if he had completely immersed himself in his own world.
I don’t know how long I stood there, dazed, just staring at this figure. I thought to myself, what is going on? Didn’t he say it would take ten years? How did he come out?
Could it be that he was deceiving me all along? Or has something changed again? And if he came here, could it be that this place is truly the key to everything? Did he step out of the bronze door and arrive here directly?
When I finally turned to face the figure, my dreamy confusion suddenly turned into a mix of frustration and anger, along with bewilderment. Because I realized that it wasn’t a person sitting there at all; it was actually a stone statue.
A black snow jacket was draped over the statue, neat and orderly, with a snow hat on its head, making it look just like a real person. I was angry about who could play such a prank by putting a snow jacket on a statue, and I was puzzled as to why this silhouette resembled the young man so closely.
As I got closer, I saw the true face of the statue. It was a simple stone carving made from Himalayan stone, very rough and lacking any details, but the overall shape really resembled the young man. Instinctively, I looked at the fingers of the statue’s hands and found that the carving wasn’t detailed enough at the fingers.
I glanced around; this type of snow jacket is quite valuable, and for the trekkers who come to this place, it’s not easy to get here. It’s unlikely that someone would carry two jackets and leave one here as a prank.
This jacket definitely has an owner, and if he wanted to go down the mountain, he would surely come back to retrieve it.
There was no one around, so I circled around a few times and returned to the statue to examine it closely.
It felt strange; the remnants of the young man’s influence around me were very few. Apart from some blurry impressions in photos, I realized that I hadn’t left behind anything else during the time I spent with him.
This made me feel that we were ultimately not friends.
In life, when things seem meaningless, that’s when one can have truly meaningful friendships. Otherwise, friendships formed in meaning raise the question of whether they still exist once that meaning disappears.
I lit a cigarette and looked at the unfinished statue, thinking that I definitely needed to ask the lama what this was all about. But I soon realized that the statue wasn’t lacking in detailed carvings; it had simply been left unfinished partway through.
All the carved parts have completely different levels of detail, and the most surprising part is the face, which must have been the first part intended to be completed. I can see the general expression and the sculptor’s intent from all the details and carvings on the face. I realize that the face of this statue is that of the young man.
The young man’s face is quite distinctive; he is not someone who would blend into a crowd. However, that is not what I care about; what I care about is the expression on this face.
I notice that this face is crying. As I step back a few paces, I feel increasingly eerie. I discover that the entire statue presents a shocking scene— the young man is sitting on a stone, his head lowered, and he is crying.
The young man never shows any obvious expressions, including crying. I have never seen him display even a hint of pain. I look at the statue and finish my cigarette, then prepare to take off that jacket and directly ask the Lama about this matter.
But when my hand touches the surface of the jacket, I realize something is wrong. When I pinch the jacket, it leaves a dirty powder on my hand. I cautiously continue to unzip and open it, only to find that this is not a black jacket at all; its original color is indeterminable, likely white or red, but it has turned black due to being extremely dirty and old.
This jacket must have been draped over the statue for a long time. From the material, it is made of nylon composite, indicating it is not more than three years old. This means that someone threw this jacket over the statue within the last three years, and that person never retrieved it, while it seems no one has discovered it during this time.
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