The elderly Tibetan man was very enthusiastic. Seeing that I was having trouble distinguishing things, he shouted towards the boiler room, “Chen Xuehan!” His voice was so loud that it seemed to shake the snow off the roof of the post office by a few inches. The person named Chen Xuehan heard the old man’s call and looked up from the crowd, somewhat puzzled, towards our direction. I walked over and discovered he was Han Chinese, with a particularly dark face and rough skin, surprisingly looking a bit younger than he did from afar.
I said in Chinese, “Hello, may I ask if the oil painting in the post office is yours?” Chen Xuehan glanced at me and then nodded. I noticed that his eyes lacked luster; they had the kind of gaze unique to someone living a particularly tranquil life. With so much calmness, he didn’t need to ponder many issues, and the person had entered a particularly routine state.
I offered him a cigarette and asked about the details of the oil painting. Chen Xuehan seemed a bit surprised, sizing me up, then shut the valve of the hot water boiler and asked, “Why are you asking about this? Do you know him?” His voice was particularly hoarse but his enunciation was very clear. I briefly explained the situation, mentioning the man’s background and my relationship with him.
Chen Xuehan showed a hint of surprise, took off the gloves made from a white towel, and stepped out of the boiler room. “You must have mistaken the person. This oil painting was done twenty years ago; how old were you back then?” I was a bit taken aback, not expecting the painting to be that old, even though it did look somewhat worn. I didn’t know how to answer his question, as it wasn’t something that could be explained in just a few sentences. Fortunately, he didn’t seem too eager to know more and continued, “This person has no relation to me; I’ve only seen him once, right here in Motuo.”
He pointed outside in a certain direction, where a snowy expanse could be seen, revealing a snow-capped mountain in the distance. “I saw him there. If you want to know more, you can ask the lamas there.” Following his direction, I looked out and saw, amidst the heavy snow, a building faintly visible in silvery white.
“What is that place?” I asked. “That’s a lama temple,” Chen Xuehan replied. “Twenty years ago, the person in my painting appeared at the entrance of that lama temple.”
“Were there any strange occurrences at that time? Or was there something special about that lama temple?” I inquired, as strange phenomena often accompany his appearances. Or perhaps this lama temple itself was extraordinary.
Chen Xuehan shook his head and, after thinking for a moment, said, “There was nothing strange about it; the only odd thing was that this person couldn’t possibly have appeared there at that time of year.”
“Why not?”
“I can’t explain it clearly, but you can ask the current head lama of that temple; he was present at the time.” Chen Xuehan told me that the oil painting was created three days before this person left Motuo, and the original was done by the head lama at that time. His painting was a copy, made using the leftover paints from the head lama, and the original was in the head lama’s room.
Many lamas in Tibet have a very high level of aesthetic appreciation and expertise. Many great lamas hold multiple degrees from prestigious foreign universities, which I attribute to the focus behind a life of simplicity and rigorous practice. Thinking about this, and considering what might have happened to him on the snow-capped mountains, I found myself a bit distracted.
“Are you going? Three hundred yuan, I’ll take you,” he said. “That lama temple, if you’re not a local, you can’t get in.”
Under Chen Xuehan’s guidance, we climbed through the scattered snow. The snow-covered steps were cleared only enough for one person to pass, and the stairs were extremely steep, almost straight up and down. I brought two companions with me, who insisted on coming along, but now they both regretted it immensely.
Along the way, Chen Xuehan shared some stories about this lama temple and also talked a bit about his life. Initially, I completely overlooked his narrative, but some seemingly insignificant details he mentioned played a significant role in the subsequent developments. Therefore, I hope to record everything, so we can see the whole process of what transpired.
Chen Xuehan’s life experience is quite unique. He lived in Tibet for many years, initially serving three years in the military. After being discharged, he returned to Shanghai for a year, working as a security guard in a company. After three months, feeling very unadapted to city life, he returned to Tibet, spending a year in Motuo doing nothing, earning a meager living by guiding others or acting as a porter. Although it was a hard life, he found it quite pleasant.
During that year, he met many snow mountain guides, and later, through their introductions, he entered the profession. For several years afterward, he worked in this field. There were very few Han Chinese guides with his background in the area, and they were not considered professionals. Generally, they only assisted with climbing; the professional guides were responsible for clearing the paths, while he observed in the middle of the climbing team. His main job was to help carry things for those who were physically weak or to deal with frostbite and similar issues. Although it was tough, the income was quite good.
Having served three years in the military gave him a solid foundation, and he didn’t find the work particularly exhausting once he got used to it. Throughout the year, Chen Xuehan spent about four months in Motuo as a guide, two months on the Nyainqêntanglha Mountains, and the rest of the time had no fixed territory due to the high turnover of tourists. There was a management association for mountaineering that would allocate tasks upon receiving applications. At that time, guides often helped with these procedures, and most of the work was relatively easy. Generally, tourists wouldn’t climb too high or push themselves too hard. Nowadays, people have a more relaxed attitude and understand that many things don’t require obsession.
Tibet is a mysterious and sacred place. In recent years, tourism development, along with Chen Xuehan’s experiences living in Tibet, made him feel that the fog covering Tibet was thinning. However, the events of that year reminded him that it was not so simple. Tibet has always presented us with a face shaped by social changes, while behind it, in the vast and boundless depths of the snow-capped mountains, the ancient and mysterious aspects beneath the glaciers and snow layers remain largely unknown.
In April of that year, he received a group of tourists from Germany in Motuo, consisting of six people: four men and four women. The itinerary was from Motuo to the Nyenchen Tanglha Mountains. He accompanied the group throughout the journey, along with a Tibetan guide named Aga, whose job he had taken on. This group of tourists had experience in mountaineering; it was said that three of them had visited Meili a year prior. Therefore, there were plans to reach the summit.
Of course, there are many different types of summits. He had no confidence at all in being able to climb the Nyenchen Tanglha Mountains. Moreover, his physical condition did not allow for such amateur mountaineering. Their plan was to climb peaks at an altitude of around 4,500 meters, and the route had already been determined. He had seen many foreigners like this; generally, they came for two purposes: to experience Shangri-La and to try climbing snow-capped mountains. So, at that time, he felt that this job was relatively easy.
It was a significant undertaking with a high reward, and both he and Aga were very happy and had prepared well in advance. They had arranged for porters and climbing assistants and arrived in Lhasa about four days early to wait for them.
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