I don’t know how long I stood there, staring blankly at that figure from behind. I wondered to myself, what is going on? Didn’t he say it would take ten years? How could he have come out so soon? Could it be that he was just deceiving me? Or has something changed again?

And now that he was here, could it be that this place truly held the key to everything? Did he step directly from the bronze door to here? As I turned to face the figure, my dreamlike confusion suddenly transformed into a mix of frustration, anger, and more questions. Because I realized that it wasn’t a person sitting there at all; it was actually a statue.

A black windbreaker was draped over the statue, neatly arranged, with a snow hat on its head, making it look just like a real person. I was angry, wondering who would play such a prank by putting a windbreaker on a statue, and I was puzzled as to why this figure resembled my friend so closely. As I approached, I could see the true nature of the statue—it was a simple stone carving made from Himalayan rock, very rough and lacking in detail, yet the overall shape was remarkably similar to my friend.

Instinctively, I looked at the fingers of the statue, only to find that the carving did not have fine details in the finger area. I glanced around; such a windbreaker is quite valuable, and for the hikers who reach this place, it’s not easy at all. It’s unlikely that someone would carry two windbreakers and leave one here as a prank. This windbreaker 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 the statue a few times and then returned to examine it closely. It felt strange; there were very few remnants of my friend left around me. Aside from some blurry images in photos, I realized that during the time I spent with him, I hadn’t left behind anything else.

This made me feel that we were never really friends. In life, when existence lacks meaning, only then can one have truly meaningful friendships. Otherwise, friendships formed in the context of meaning might not endure once that meaning disappears.

I lit a cigarette, gazing at the unfinished statue, thinking that I must ask the lama what this was all about. But I quickly realized that the statue wasn’t lacking in carved details; it had simply been left unfinished. All the carved areas had varying degrees of detail, and the most surprising part was the face, which seemed to have been intended for completion first.

From all the intricate details on the face, I could discern the general expression and the sculptor’s intent. I discovered that the face of the statue was, in fact, my friend’s face. My friend had a distinct appearance; he was not someone who would blend into a crowd. But what mattered to me was not his appearance; it was the expression on his face.

I noticed that this face was crying. I took a few steps back and felt increasingly unsettled. The entire statue presented a shocking scene—my friend was sitting on a rock, head bowed, and he was crying.

My friend had never shown any obvious expressions, including crying; I had never seen him display even a hint of pain. I looked at the statue, finished my cigarette, and then prepared to take off that windbreaker, intending to go directly to the lama to inquire about this matter.

However, as soon as my hand touched the surface of the jacket, I realized something was wrong. When I squeezed the jacket, it left a dirty powder all over my hand. I cautiously continued to unzip it and open it up, only to discover that this was not a black jacket at all. Its original color was indeterminate—most likely white or red—but it had turned black due to being extremely dirty and old. This jacket must have been draped over the statue for a long time. Judging by the material, which is a nylon composite, it doesn’t seem to be more than three years old.

This means that someone had thrown this jacket over the statue within the last three years, and that person never took it back, while it also seems that no one discovered it during that time. Later, I asked the lama, who told me that the area where the lamas operate is not large, and there are many parts of this lama temple that the lamas may never enter. Only the people who originally built this place would have been there. In other words, who sculpted this statue and who draped the jacket over it cannot be verified.

The lama helped me ask some people, but there were no results, as almost all the lamas said they hadn’t been to that courtyard since they entered the temple. I believe in the honesty of the lamas; for them, coming here is a very sincere act, and their curiosity was overcome during their early training. They live in a very simple environment without any desires, and there is no need to go to places they don’t have to, not even to peek through a door.

Therefore, the carving of this statue likely occurred during the time of the Great Lama Deren, and by then, most of the lamas had already passed away. From this deduction, it becomes even more difficult to verify who draped the jacket over it. I pondered in my mind: during the era of the Great Lama Deren, could it be that on one of those nights of recounting records, a young man secretly cried in this courtyard?

Moreover, the young man’s crying was seen by someone, who then secretly carved it, and within these three years, someone draped the jacket over it. There must be many stories that I am unaware of; perhaps the days back then were not as peaceful as I imagined.

I returned to my room and instructed my assistant not to read through the subsequent materials from beginning to end, but to start flipping through them quickly. I wanted to find any records related to “crying,” while I carefully examined the jacket in my room, hoping to find any information about its owner.

Because I knew that as long as there was a breakthrough, I could find a decisive clue. This jacket was from Columbia, an American brand established in 1938, which has a very large sales volume and stores selling its clothes all over the world. It seemed impossible to start from the brand, and the original color was completely untraceable.

All I could determine was that the size of this jacket was XL, which likely indicated it belonged to a man. Of course, it could also belong to a relatively strong woman, but the chances of that were much smaller. It wouldn’t be a local person, as locals wearing such professional jackets are mostly from scientific expedition teams; the probability of it being an ordinary citizen is very low.

I searched all the pockets and found a few coins in one of them; they were foreign coins. I don’t know much about foreign currency, but I thought this was an outsider’s jacket. In another pocket, I found a receipt from a restaurant. I can’t guarantee it was from the motorcycle restaurant, but it was definitely from a restaurant in a place in Tibet. In the inner pocket of the jacket, I found a piece of paper wrapped in a waterproof bag.

The paper was completely sealed inside the waterproof bag. I took it out and discovered a series of words written in German, followed by a string of numbers: 02200059. I gasped and immediately had my partner go down the mountain to find someone to translate the German.

On the other hand, I was a bit anxious. I thought of those Germans and quickly gathered a few lamas to help find someone at the Germans’ resting place. Some of the lamas knew a bit of German pronunciation, and the German translator helped with the translation. I learned that the text on the paper said:

“Dear Mr. Zhang, I have opened the ancient box you gave me. I understand your meaning, and I have deduced the entire process of the changes in the world that you described. I realize that the situation you are concerned about is already happening.

I apologize for my earlier statements. I hope that the methods of your people that you mentioned can still be effective for a while longer. This is not a problem that our generation can solve. I will do my best to persuade my friends to keep the real hope for the future ten years from now. I hope you will still remember us at that time.

The next arrangement after opening the box is 02200059; it should be the last arrangement. Our time is running out.

I urgently hope to see you or your colleagues soon. If you see this note, please write a letter to my original address, and I will come immediately.

Whoever sees this note, please keep it in its original place. We hope to convey this message to a very important person.”

The signature was blank, but a strange emblem made of German letters was drawn in the signature space.