Tashi Damba stared at the photograph in his hands, as if struck by a heavy blow. Beyond shock, he felt nothing but shock. The vivid and undeniable image on the photograph seemed to dominate his very soul in an instant. It was as if a scientist who had spent their entire life studying dinosaur fossils suddenly found themselves face-to-face with a living, breathing dinosaur—one of the rarest kinds—standing right before them, within arm's reach. The emotions this colossal revelation stirred were indescribable.
A voice called out from the depths of his being, ancient yet familiar, urging: "Go. Seek it. For your faith and your soul. For the meaning of your existence. Isn't your entire life meant for this moment—to see it?" Then, a sudden wave of self-mockery hit him: "Here you are, lecturing like an expert, while the owner of this photograph is laughing at you. You've never seen a real mastiff. You don't even know what a true mastiff is!"
Tashi stood there for what felt like an eternity, frozen, until he suddenly snapped back to reality. In a frenzy, he questioned the young messenger about the origin of the photograph, but the boy knew nothing. Without hesitation, Tashi jumped off the stage. He knew the person behind this mystery had been at the door just moments earlier. If he let this chance slip away, he might never discover where the mastiff was or where the photograph had come from.
However, amidst the chaos of the event, Tashi struggled to push through the crowd. By the time he emerged, both the mysterious figure and the young boy were gone. Like a man possessed, Tashi stopped passersby, questioned drivers, and asked everyone he encountered if they had seen a man in a trench coat, sunglasses, and a peaked cap, about 167 cm tall. But no one had noticed such a distinctive figure.
Tashi felt as if his soul had been drained from his body. His towering frame slumped, lifeless, and he lost all desire to participate in the Tibetan Mastiff competition he had organized. Although he was the event's initiator and host, he never returned to the venue.
Obsessed, Tashi became like a man on the brink of madness. He couldn't eat or sleep, endlessly poring over the two photographs. Though blurry, he had studied them so meticulously that he could recount every detail of the mastiff. He knew that on its right hind leg, about two centimeters above the third toe, the thirty-sixth strand of fur was split. He also knew there was a scratch on the claw of its left forepaw's first toe. Tashi could recall every detail except one: who had taken the photographs, and where.
If it weren't for the phone call that came later, Tashi might have remained in this state for the rest of his life. The photographs had completely consumed his ability to think.
The phone rang for a long time before Tashi even noticed it. He didn't bother to answer; there were always others to handle calls—his secretary, business manager, or security staff. Tashi never dealt with business calls directly, and only a few of his closest friends had his personal number.
Miss Huo gently opened the door and spoke softly. "Mr. Tashi, there's a call for you."
Without looking up, Tashi replied indifferently, "Tell them I'm not available. For the next few days, no matter who it is, just say I'm not here."
Miss Huo hesitated. "But… the caller mentioned the photograph. They said you'd want to take this call."
When she glanced up again, Tashi was no longer in the lounge.
Tashi gripped the phone tightly and spoke in halting English, "Are you the one who sent me the photographs? Please, don't hang up. Whatever you want, we can negotiate."
There was a brief pause on the other end. For Tashi, it felt like an eternity, as if he were awaiting a death sentence. Finally, a young voice spoke in fluent Mandarin: "The photographs… they're of a dog, right?"
"Yes, yes! The finest dog," Tashi exclaimed. "Where are you? Can we meet to discuss this?"
The caller hesitated. "Actually, I just wanted to confirm something. I don't think we need to meet."
Tashi clung to the call like a drowning man grasping a lifeline. "No, we must meet. Whatever you need to confirm, I'll answer. Let's talk in person. If you're free, I'll drive over now."
The voice on the other end chuckled softly, seemingly surprised. "No need to make such a big deal about it. Alright, come to André Hospital."
Five minutes later, Tashi arrived at André Hospital. At the entrance, he met the caller—a tall and confident Chinese teenager, about 17 or 18 years old. The young man introduced himself as Tang Ming.
Tashi wasted no time. "What do you need to confirm? Don't you know where these photographs came from?"
Tang Ming smirked. "Of course I know where they came from. I just wanted to confirm if this is a mastiff—a true mastiff."
"It's real," Tashi affirmed. "There is no nobler breed in existence. It's the mastiff of mastiffs."
Tang Ming scratched his head, hesitating. "That's not what I meant. I'm asking if it truly exists or if it's some kind of illusion."
"An illusion?" Tashi exclaimed. "How could it be an illusion? Didn't you ask the person who took the photographs? Where did they come from?"
Tang Ming mumbled, "I asked. I even consulted mastiff experts. They all said it's fake. Some even claimed it's a digitally altered image."
Tashi grabbed Tang Ming's shoulders in desperation. "Where is the photographer? Let's find them and ask together. Then we'll know everything!"
Tang Ming winced at Tashi's grip and backed away, surprised by the professor's strength. "The photographs are my brother's. But he… he can't explain anymore."
"What happened? Where is your brother?" Tashi asked urgently.
Tang Ming tilted his head and replied, "Follow me."
To Tashi's surprise, Tang Ming led him inside André Hospital—a renowned psychiatric facility in the United States. Inside one of the rooms, Tashi met Tang Ming's brother and saw even more photographs.
Tang Tao, Tang Ming's older brother, lay on the bed, staring blankly at a wall covered in photos. His expression mirrored Tashi's when he first saw the images—utterly transfixed. As soon as Tang Tao noticed strangers entering, he began trembling uncontrollably. Tang Ming quickly comforted his brother, speaking gently until he calmed down. Tang Ming explained that his brother, five years his senior, had once been a professional photographer.
Tashi's attention turned to the photographs on the wall, especially the ones of the mysterious mastiff. Among them, the two he had were the clearest. The rest were so blurred they looked like clouds of black and green.
"What happened to your brother?" Tashi asked quietly.
Tang Ming sighed. "We don't know. The doctors say it was extreme shock. That's why we came here, hoping American specialists might help. Recently, I heard about your mastiff competition and decided to show you the photographs."
Tashi glanced back at Tang Tao, now sitting silently under the bright lights. Even in broad daylight, every light in the room was turned on, as if warding off some unseen fear. Tashi's curiosity deepened. What had Tang Tao seen that had left him in such a state?
Tang Tao and Tang Ming were of similar height, but Tang Tao was noticeably more robust, with skin as dark as iron and a physique that exuded strength. His hair was cut very short, each strand standing upright like steel needles. He had a strikingly handsome face, one that seemed vaguely familiar to Tashi Damba. However, Tashi didn't linger on Tang Tao's appearance; his attention was drawn to the photographs covering the walls.
The walls showcased landscapes from around the world, some so stunningly beautiful that Tashi Damba couldn't help but marvel. He could tell these were the works of a professional photographer, the kind of images that any photography magazine would feature on its cover and pay a hefty price for. "Did your brother take all these?" Tashi asked.
"Of course," Tang Ming replied proudly.
Tashi looked around at the walls, noting the clarity, composition, and artistry of the photographs—all top-notch. Yet Tang Tao didn't seem to pay any attention to them; his gaze was fixed on a particular section of the wall.
Following Tang Tao's line of sight, Tashi focused on a section distinctly different from the others: a cluster of blurry photographs. All were of the mysterious mastiff. Only now did Tashi realize that the two photos in his possession were the clearest among them. The others were so indistinct they looked like black clouds floating on a sea of green.
"What happened to your brother?" Tashi finally asked.
Tang Ming sighed. "We don't know. He's been like this ever since he returned. The doctors say it's due to extreme shock. We brought him here from China, hoping the doctors in America could help. He's been undergoing psychological therapy. A few days ago, I saw a report about your mastiff competition here, so I decided to show you these photos."
Tashi nodded. "He seems calm now."
"It's because he has scotophobia—fear of the dark," Tang Ming explained, pointing to the lights above. Only then did Tashi notice that, despite it being broad daylight, all the lights in the room were on. He couldn't help but wonder what the photographer had seen that day.
Tang Ming continued, "I believe the photos are real. My brother has never taken fake ones. But I don't know where he took these, and none of them are clear."
Tashi suddenly asked, "If your brother was traumatized, how did he make it back?"
Tang Ming replied, "The Kokoxili Mountain Patrol found him. They said he was running for his life when they discovered him, completely delirious. If they hadn't tackled him to the ground, he might have kept running until he collapsed. When he was subdued, he passed out from exhaustion. After regaining consciousness, he was incoherent, repeatedly saying only two things: 'The madman at Menghe was right—it's the gate of hell.' And, 'They're coming! Run!' That's all. No one knows what he meant. Later, the patrol found his abandoned off-road jeep 300 kilometers away, out of fuel."
Tashi was stunned. If Tang Tao had abandoned his jeep and run 300 kilometers on foot, what could he have seen to put him in such a state? Yet amidst his shock, Tashi felt a thrill of excitement, for he understood the two cryptic phrases in a way others could not. Suddenly, he thought of a name and blurted out, "The Lone Ranger? Your brother is Tang Tao, the Lone Ranger?"
Tang Ming nodded, as if to say, "You've finally realized."
Tashi now understood why Tang Tao had seemed so familiar. Tang Tao, the Lone Ranger, was a prominent figure in China's extreme sports and adventure community. The eldest son of Tang Minghui, one of China's dairy tycoons, Tang Tao inherited a fortune after his father passed away at an early age. Instead of pursuing a business career, Tang Tao embarked on a life of adventure.
From crossing the Tangula Mountains alone to traversing the Taklamakan Desert, climbing Mount Everest solo, rafting down the Yellow River, Yangtze River, and Yarlung Tsangpo, and even swimming across the Bohai Strait, Tang Tao's exploits were legendary. He sought out the world's most dangerous peaks, fastest rivers, and deadliest valleys—places no one dared to go. Though many doubted his survival, Tang Tao always returned to civilization, defying the odds.
When asked why he pursued such a perilous lifestyle, Tang Tao had once said, "To prove my existence." His love for photography developed during his journeys, though he rarely shared his work publicly. Many magazines had offered exorbitant prices for his landscapes, but to no avail.
Flushing with emotion, Tashi finally said, "Mentor, think about it—how could photographs taken by someone like him possibly be fake?"
Fang Xin sighed. "It seems your resolve is strong, my child. Go then, and I wish you success." But his expression betrayed doubt, as if he believed the endeavor to be nearly impossible.
Tashi, dejected by his inability to convince his mentor, felt as though he had lost his most important ally. Sullenly, he packed up the photographs and walked heavily toward the door. Just as he reached the threshold, he turned abruptly and asked, "Mentor, do you remember your first lecture with us?"