Menyu Ping led Luodan along the path to where the Tibetan people were boarding the boat. Near the shore, the lake was frozen solid, and stepping on it felt no different from walking on land. However, as they moved toward the center of the lake, the ice grew thinner, and with one misstep, a chilling cracking sound echoed beneath their feet, sending a wave of anxiety through them. They had no choice but to walk along the edge of the lake.

The shape of this large lake was particularly strange; unless viewed from above, it was hard to understand its form. The entire surface resembled a giant fan, with one part being fan-shaped and another part forming a deep valley, creating a long, narrow handle. In such a high-altitude, cold region, one would expect the entire surface of the lake to be uniformly frozen, so why was the center of this lake in such a condition?

They followed the long handle of the fan for at least four or five hours before finally making their way around it. At this point, Menyu Ping understood why a boat was necessary; if they had one, this distance would have taken only about ten minutes.

After rounding the fan-shaped section, they found themselves on a narrow stretch of lake flanked by steep cliffs, both covered in white snow. Although the lake appeared narrow, it actually seemed quite wide. They continued walking deeper into the canyon, nearly until dusk, reaching the middle section of the gorge when they suddenly noticed something unusual ahead.

At the end of the canyon, a temple was surprisingly built in mid-air. As someone who studied architecture, I could almost immediately envision the structure: it must have utilized large horizontal beams anchored to the cliffs on either side, with vertical columns driven deep into the lakebed, and the temple constructed atop these beams.

It was a typical lama temple, quite ancient, built from black Himalayan stone, standing at least seven stories high, with the first floor equivalent to two and a half stories of a regular building. This lama temple blocked the entire gorge like a dam.

The lake lay just below the temple, elevated more than three stories high, with many horizontal beams beneath it supporting a number of small wooden boats.

As Menyu Ping walked beneath the lama temple and looked ahead, he saw the lake extending into the distance, seemingly without end. Among the boats resting on the beams, one was covered with a layer of new ice, while some areas were still quite wet.

He instructed Luodan and Laba to wait to the side while he climbed up onto the beams, slowly making his way up. Indeed, he discovered an entrance beneath the temple, but it was blocked by a wooden board. When he pushed against it, it seemed to be weighed down by something very heavy and wouldn’t budge.

Menyu Ping didn’t give up. He stepped back, took a deep breath, and then forcefully pressed against the wooden door. With all his strength, he silently pushed the wooden door upward.

It’s worth noting that it’s quite difficult for a person to exert force upward; lifting and carrying weights are two entirely different challenges. It is very hard for one person to lift an object because the upward motion is something we rarely practice, meaning the muscles used for lifting upward aren’t well-trained.

However, Menyu Ping’s arms were evidently well-conditioned. He slowly pushed the wooden door up, and afterward, he recorded that what was pressing down on the door was a stone weighing over two hundred pounds.

He turned and entered through the wooden door, discovering a storage room used for making, repairing, and storing food and materials. As he looked around, he saw a lot of charcoal, wood, food supplies, and meat hanging from the beams, the nature of which was unclear. Lamas are allowed to eat meat.

The meat was frozen solid, as if it were made of stone; there was no such thing as air-drying here. As long as there was moisture, it would turn into “Himalayan stone” in just a few minutes. The quantity of meat was substantial. In the light filtering through the cracks in the stone wall, he found a staircase leading further up—just a straight wooden ladder. He carefully climbed up and immediately smelled a strong scent of Tibetan incense.

The upper level was filled with various woolen blankets, and there were many charcoal stoves between them, making the entire room very warm. It was unclear whether they were drying the blankets or using them to maintain the room’s temperature.

As he searched for the staircase to go up further, the warmth of the place was overwhelming. After walking in the cold for many days, he couldn’t help but stop to let his body relax. At that moment, he heard a faint sound of breathing coming from among the blankets, almost imperceptible, seemingly from a woman.

After pondering for a moment, he stealthily moved toward the sound, passing through several blankets until he saw something lying in the center among four of them. The blankets were hung very neatly, forming a square area that seemed to outline a room. The object was on the floor in the middle, trembling slightly.

It was a woman, or rather, a part of a woman, as her limbs had all been severed and were only hanging by skin. She had long hair, a typical Tibetan face, and was covered with a blanket-like material. As he approached, he noticed that the woman’s eyes were also blind and cloudy. He crouched down quietly and saw that her features were very delicate; she was quite a beautiful girl.

It was unclear what had caused this girl such immense suffering. It was evident that her hands and limbs had been broken by someone, the flesh torn apart. On the surface, she appeared normal, but the agony and torment from the inability for her bones to heal were immense. During ancient massacres, many women had their hands broken in this manner before being violated.

It seemed that her eyes had also been burned blind; this girl must have endured extreme torture.

He felt no pity; having witnessed the various evils of the world, he understood that emotions were the most useless thing. He turned to leave, but after taking just a few steps, he heard the girl say something in Tibetan, which he couldn’t understand. When he looked back, he saw that the girl had lifted her head and was looking in his direction. Although she couldn’t see, she had still managed to find him through sound.

He stood still and watched as the girl painfully tried to sit up, continually turning her head. Suddenly, she spoke in Chinese, “Who are you?”

He paused, remaining silent. The girl kept turning her head. After waiting a moment, he took two more steps, and she said, “If you don’t speak, I will call out, and then you won’t be able to escape.”

The oil bottle stood still again, turning his head to see the girl facing him with a sly smile on her face.

He had never seen such a smile on anyone’s face before. Although she had no limbs and couldn’t see anything, in this room, she seemed to have the upper hand.

He knew he could knock the girl unconscious in a matter of seconds; in front of him, her little cleverness was completely useless. But he realized something was off—this girl’s attitude might actually be useful to him.

“Do you know who I am?”

The girl nodded.

“Do you know I’m Han?” he asked softly.

“I can smell your scent. Only one Han has been here, your scent is like his, but you are not him. You also came from the mountain below?”

“Yes,” the young man asked, “then who are you?”

“Are you here to find him? That Han said someone would definitely come here,” the girl said. Her Mandarin was a bit awkward, but she made no pronunciation mistakes. She didn’t answer the oil bottle’s question directly but continued, “You need to be careful; they don’t like Han people.”

“I don’t know who you’re referring to,” the oil bottle replied. The girl insisted, “Never mind that, just hurry and take me away from here.”

“Why?”

“Since you’re Han, you must want to know what this place is. If you take me away, I’ll tell you everything.”

The oil bottle looked at the girl, whose face showed a hopeful and urgent expression. He nodded and said, “Alright,” then walked over to her and pressed down on her neck; she fainted immediately.

Those who like to threaten others would definitely not reveal secrets easily, he thought to himself; it’s better to rely on himself.

He gently laid the girl down and was about to move forward when he suddenly heard footsteps coming from the other side. Someone was speaking in Tibetan, seemingly having come to check after hearing their earlier conversation.

The oil bottle quickly sidestepped and retreated behind a few curtains, catching a stronger scent of Tibetan incense. He saw two Tibetans carrying a stove, passing in front of his hidden spot, and moving the items next to the girl, starting to arrange things around her.

The attitude of the Tibetans was very respectful, and the smell of incense grew stronger. However, the oil bottle sensed something was off; he detected another familiar foul odor that shouldn’t be mixed with the incense.