Under the leadership of Chen Xuehan, we climbed upward through the falling snow. On the snow-covered mountain steps, only a very narrow path had been cleared for a single person to pass, and the steps were extremely steep, almost vertical. I brought two companions with me, who insisted on following me up, but now they both regretted it deeply.

By noon, we finally arrived at the entrance of the lama temple that Chen Xuehan had been chattering about. I had visited various types and sizes of temples before, including many lama temples, but this particular one was a first for me.

First, there was an extremely dilapidated temple door, very small, with a wooden door only half a person’s width. Behind it was a tiny courtyard, which had been cleared of snow, revealing many stone mills, stone tables, and stone chairs. At the end of the courtyard was a house built against the mountain, rising so high that I couldn’t see the top, quite a spectacular sight.

Even so, I knew that there wasn’t much space within this type of temple architecture. Although it appeared to cover a large area, the building’s internal space was quite small due to its construction against the mountain.

Three young lamas were sitting around a stone mill, roasting by the fire. When they saw us enter, they didn’t show much surprise and remained silent and still. Chen Xuehan stepped forward to explain our purpose, speaking in Tibetan, which I couldn’t understand. One of the lamas then led us into the building.

The largest structure was where the lamas performed rituals. Behind the house, there was a wooden ladder that led upward. We climbed layer by layer for what felt like a long time, passing through numerous rooms, until the leading lama finally stopped, and I realized we had arrived at a completely dark room.

Chen Xuehan and the lama respectfully withdrew, leaving only me and my two companions standing in the pitch-black room. As I looked around, I discovered that this seemed to be a meditation room, with only one spot letting in a bit of light.

We cautiously walked over, and as we gradually adjusted to the dim light, I slowly began to see many vague shadows around us—all piles of scriptures. We navigated around them until we reached the illuminated area, where I found it was a window.

The window was covered with a very thick blanket, but the blanket was so old that it had rotted and developed many tiny holes, allowing light to seep through.

I contemplated pulling the blanket aside to let the daylight in, but just as I was about to take action, I heard a voice from the darkness say, “No light, come here.”

I was startled by the voice and turned to see a spark of firelight in a dark corner. Then, amidst the dim light, I gradually saw five lamas, who became fully illuminated.

These five lamas must have been there all along; I couldn’t see them in the darkness, possibly because they possessed a special meditative technique, and it seemed we had disturbed them.

Remembering their words, “come here,” I walked over. As I approached, I saw that several of the younger lamas had their eyes closed, while only one older lama was looking at us with keen eyes.

After we explained our purpose, the older lama closed his eyes and said, “It is that matter; I remember.”

I had some unexpected thoughts. I thought he would have a more intense expression, like trembling and saying to me, “You, you know him too,” or something like that. But he just closed his eyes and said, “It’s about that incident; I still remember.” I didn’t reveal my little thoughts and pretended to be calm.

The truth is quite magical; I suddenly realized that many things I consider particularly important might not even elicit a yawn from others. I can truly understand this.

In the bedroom of the great lama, we sipped freshly brewed butter tea, waiting for him to gradually finish recounting the events. The room was warmed by a charcoal stove, and I was sweating slightly while listening to the young man’s experience of appearing in the world.

The great lama spoke very briefly, almost casually, but for me, I still inevitably thought it was the most important clue in the world. During the narration, there were parts that the great lama himself didn’t fully understand, so he would take out some scrolls and notes to check. After he finished speaking, I also carefully looked over the contents of these notes. Therefore, the following content comes from various sources; some I saw in the notes, and some were narrated by the great lama.

Due to the abundance and randomness of the information, both the narration and the notes mixed in a lot of Tibetan and local dialects, so many details became quite one-sided. I have organized it a bit while recounting here.

The situation from fifty years ago is still vivid in the great lama’s memory. It was the third week of heavy snow, and it had become very dangerous to descend the mountain. All the lamas were preparing to engage in a winter of rigorous retreat.

At that time, the great lama was still very young and was not yet the lama of the temple, but for the sake of distinction, we refer to the young great lama of that year as the old lama.

According to the customs of the temple, that day the old lama cleared all the snow in front of the door and placed three large charcoal stoves at the temple entrance to prevent snow from covering the ground again. Such an action occurred once every ten years since the temple was built. Although the old lama did not understand the significance of this act, generations of lamas strictly adhered to it.

That noon, during his fourth trip to add coal to the stoves, the old lama saw a man standing in front of the stove, warming himself.

The man was dressed in a particularly strange outfit, seemingly a very thick military coat, but the patterns on the coat were Tibetan. He carried a large, heavy backpack on his back.

The man looked particularly robust, and at that moment, the old lama had this exchange with him—Old Lama: “Where do you come from, esteemed guest?” Man: “I come from the mountains.” Old Lama: “Where are you going, esteemed guest?” Man: “Going outside.” Old Lama: “Did you come from the village across the mountain?” Man: “No, from deep within there.”

After saying this, the man pointed in a direction that led to the heart of the snow-covered mountains. For the old lama and everyone in Motuo, they all knew that it was an uninhabited area, with nothing inside.

At the place where the temple connects to the surrounding area, there are no roads, only a spot that could be called a cliff. Although it is not a true cliff, it is not far from it due to the accumulation of snow and its steepness, with a drop of over two hundred meters, making it the most dangerous place in this lama temple.

No one would come from this direction, the old lama chuckled, thinking that the mute oil bottle must have pointed in the wrong direction. However, he quickly realized something was amiss, as there were only a pair of solitary footprints where the mute oil bottle stood, with no signs of any continuation.

In such heavy snowfall, for there to be such an effect, it would mean that the mute oil bottle either fell from the sky or truly climbed down from the cliff.

The old lama asked, “Why does the esteemed guest stop at our doorstep?”

The mute oil bottle replied, “It’s warm here; I’m just warming up a bit and will leave soon.”

He pointed to the charcoal stove, and suddenly the old lama had a strange thought. This temple had a peculiar custom of lighting three stoves of charcoal at the entrance every ten years. Could it be that this was done so that if someone passed by, there would be a place to warm up? Or perhaps, someone hoped that those passing by would stop because of these three stoves?

Since the temple was built, this rule had been in place, and he always found it particularly strange. Could it be that the builders of the temple had predicted such a situation long ago and established this custom?

The old lama looked at the mute oil bottle, and the two exchanged silent glances for a while. Feeling a bit awkward, he said, “It’s warmer inside; why don’t you come in and rest a bit, have a cup of butter tea before you go?”

The old lama was being polite, but the mute oil bottle was not hesitant, nodding directly and saying, “Alright.”

So the old lama led the mute oil bottle into the lama temple. As the host and having not had a guest for a long time, he naturally wanted to extend his hospitality. After the mute oil bottle warmed up and had some butter tea, the old lama took him around the temple.

During this time, the old lama intentionally and unintentionally wanted to ask the mute oil bottle some questions. Strangely, the mute oil bottle did not hide anything; he repeatedly emphasized that he came from the snowy mountains, and in his words, there was no hint of lying or concealment.

Although the old lama was young at the time, he had undergone training and had a special control over his curiosity about the world. He did not continue to press for more questions.

(Originally, this matter would have passed after the mute oil bottle stayed one night. After he left, the old lama’s life would return to normal.)