Laba looked at Tashi Damba helplessly, his expression indicating he hadn't expected things to escalate this way. But Tashi Damba had caught on to something. He calmed Basang down and carefully questioned him about the person they had killed. Surprisingly, Basang remembered the incident vividly. After finishing his inquiries, Tashi Damba left the room without saying a word and asked Chaxi to summon Basang's doctor.
Dr. Luo Zhui, after listening to the situation, explained slowly, "This is actually a sign of recovery. When a person's brain encounters a trauma too extreme to process, it suppresses the memory, not deleting it, but hiding it in the deepest recesses. If he hadn't forgotten this incident, the memory would repeatedly stimulate his nervous system, driving him mad. As for the details of the deceased that he described, they are likely accurate. A person's conscience leans toward good; for someone committing their first murder, the memory of that first victim is deeply imprinted."
On the way out of the prison, Tashi Damba remained silent, his head lowered slightly. No one knew what he was thinking. In the car, he continued staring at the floor, making Laba uneasy. After all, he had recommended Basang to the young master, but now it seemed that Basang might not be of much help. Hesitantly, Laba asked, "Young Master, about Basang…"
Tashi Damba suddenly smiled faintly, then lifted his head as though he'd made a firm decision. Patting Laba on the shoulder, he said, "Uncle, I've decided. I'll find a way to get Basang out of prison. He'll be the best guide we could have."
"What?" Laba and Zhang Li both exclaimed in surprise.
Tashi Damba, brimming with confidence, continued, "Remember how he mentioned killing someone? I carefully asked about the clothing and appearance of that person. Without a doubt, it matches the description of the Goba tribe's traditional attire that I heard from Father. Coupled with the region where they were, it's clear they unintentionally entered Goba territory. As for what exactly happened there, I asked the doctor—he said returning to that place might help Basang recover his memory."
Zhang Li shuddered and warned, "But, Damba, there's something you need to understand. Basang and his team were a professional special forces unit with over ten members, yet only Basang came back alive—and he went mad! That place… whatever happened there, it's beyond our comprehension. If just the few of us go…"
Tashi Damba smiled with a hint of pride. "Looking at everything we've pieced together, it seems to explain the mystery. The Goba territory is likely guarding ancient, lost Buddhist scriptures, and it's also the rumored location of the mythical creature, the Purple Qilin. Basang's poaching team accidentally entered their land and killed a Goba tribesman, sparking their wrath. The conflict likely escalated into a bloody battle where both the Blue Spider unit, armed with modern weapons, and the numerous Goba tribespeople suffered catastrophic losses. As for Tang Tao, the adventurous photographer, he might have stumbled into the Goba territory during this chaos, attempting to photograph a large canine creature. Instead, he accidentally witnessed the carnage. The confrontation must have been brutal and bloody. Thus, the madman is the sole survivor of the Goba tribe, Basang is the last of the Blue Spider team, and Tang Tao was a bystander. All three went insane. This time, though, if we go, aside from dealing with the forest's flora and fauna, we shouldn't face much more danger."
Zhang Li didn't argue but thought, That's quite a stretch, Damba. First off, the timelines don't match. Basang has been in prison for over ten years, while Tang Tao only recently lost his mind. And that madman? If the timeline aligns with Basang's, he would've been four or five years old when the Goba tribe perished—how could he still speak today? Besides, their statements are inconsistent. Based on your translation, the madman claimed his tribe was 'all bitten to death.' Are we to believe these groups attacked each other… with their teeth?Zhang Li shuddered and stopped himself from imagining further, contemplating instead, If we examine their fears: Tang Tao fears darkness, the madman fears dogs, and Basang fears crowds. Darkness, crowds, dogs… bitten to death. Could it be— A chill ran down his spine, and his hands trembled slightly on the steering wheel.
Feeling optimistic as they neared their goal, Tashi Damba suggested, "Since we're here, let's grab some Sichuan food at the Yarlung Tsangpo Hotel. Or we could go to the Lhasa Hotel—the ambiance there is nice. Afterward, I'll visit our company's breeding base in Lhasa, and Uncle Laba can shop at Barkhor Street to bring some goods home."
At the Lhasa Hotel, Tibet's first four-star international hotel located just ten minutes from the Potala Palace, the three chose a window seat in the second-floor restaurant, overlooking the fountain.
Just as they settled in, Zhang Li suddenly stood up, exclaiming, "Whoa!" His face lit up with excitement.
Tashi Damba turned his head and asked, "What is it?"
"A Hummer H1 Alpha!" Zhang Li said. "Manufactured by AMG in the U.S., military-grade, four-wheel drive, front-mounted V8 turbocharged engine. It's a rugged beast! This is the ultimate man's car—powerful and full of character. Built for war, it embodies indestructible strength. I've always dreamed of owning one."
Tashi Damba also noticed the imposing vehicle. Its muscular build and agile performance were impressive, but his focus was on the license plate: Diplomatic Plate 224-009. That marked it as a foreign embassy car. Why would an embassy car be here? He wondered. Could it be transporting someone important to visit the Potala Palace?
Then it hit him. That unsettling sensation returned—the same chilling feeling as before, like a slimy eel sliding down his back or a rotting sea star clinging to his face. It was the same as at his home—the sensation of a venomous gaze filled with malice. Tashi Damba's hair stood on end.
He turned to see a tall figure seated three tables away, facing away from him. Judging by the view, the person was slightly taller than himself. The man wore a gleaming leather trench coat draped over his shoulders like a cape, unbuttoned, paired with a red beret. His golden hair and bronze skin marked him as a foreigner. Tashi Damba decided to approach.
But just as he rose, the man stood too. His broad shoulders and imposing stature resembled a statue of Vajrapani. Even Tashi Damba couldn't help but admire, What a formidable figure. The man's dominating presence reminded him of the Hummer parked outside.
As the man walked, two black-suited bodyguards flanked him, heading toward the exit. His footsteps were heavy, the floor creaking under his weight. Intrigued, Tashi Damba noticed steel plates embedded in the soles of the man's high military boots.
Frustrated, Tashi Damba sat back down. Then, glancing at their table, he realized the hotel staff had just brought out the food they had ordered. Yet the foreigner and his companions, who had only just arrived, left abruptly without eating. So, they noticed me standing up?Tashi Damba thought. That man must be highly vigilant. But where have I seen that familiar figure and gaze before? Why can't I remember?
Zhang Li was still enthusiastically praising the Hummer, while Laba, noticing Tashi Damba's odd behavior—standing up and sitting down—asked curiously, "Young Master Damba, what's wrong?"
Tashi Damba replied, "Oh, nothing. Ah, the food is here, the excellent hand-pulled beef steaks! Let's eat!"
Just then, Zhang Li exclaimed, "Look! The owner of the Hummer is coming—so cool!"
Tashi Damba glanced over, his heart shouting, It's him! The tall, blond foreigner was dressed in a Swiss winter field army uniform under a black leather military coat, the stark contrast between the snowy white uniform and the dark leather perfectly highlighting his panther-like physique. The shoulder epaulets gleamed brilliantly under the sunlight.
He wore dark aviator sunglasses perched on a slightly prominent nose, his face as cold and hard as a stone on the peaks of Nanga Parbat—weathered by a thousand years of wind and frozen for millennia in snow. The man glanced at Tashi Damba, seemingly unintentionally, then climbed into the Hummer and drove off, the turbocharged engine roaring with power.
Tashi Damba grew even more puzzled. How could I have no memory of such a unique individual if we've met before? But that silhouette, that gaze—it gnawed at his nerves, a painful, nagging sensation.
The ringing of his phone snapped Tashi Damba out of his thoughts. He answered, "Hello? Professor? Ah, you're in Lhasa too? Why not join us? Oh, I see. We're at the Lhasa Hotel. Okay, see you soon."
Tashi Damba turned to Zhang Li and Laba. "Professor Fang Xin is here, but he has other matters to attend to."
Zhang Li asked, "Should we pick him up?"
Tashi Damba shook his head. "No need, he's already eaten and is at the Jokhang Temple. We'll head there after lunch and meet him. Laba Uncle, it's on the way to Barkhor Street—you can do some shopping too."
The three drove to Barkhor Street, a must-visit destination for tourists in Lhasa looking to pick up some unique souvenirs. The bustling street was lined with shops and thronged with devotees and visitors. The area was alive with colorful displays of Tibetan handicrafts: prayer wheels, incense, knives, rings, bracelets, ethnic clothing, and more. Monks in white robes from northern Tibet, warriors from the Kham highlands, and residents of Barkhor in bright attire filled the streets, spinning prayer wheels as they circled the Jokhang Temple.
Zhang Li drove slowly, giving Laba time to browse for anything he might want to take home. As they turned onto the circumambulation path near the Potala Palace, Tashi Damba suddenly tapped Zhang Li on the shoulder and said softly, "Stop! Stop the car!"
Zhang Li stopped and was about to ask what Tashi Damba had seen when he noticed that Tashi Damba was staring straight ahead, as if his soul had left his body. He didn't even open the door himself—Zhang Li had to do it for him. Tashi Damba stepped out of the car, still in a daze, and walked forward as if in a trance.
Following his gaze, Zhang Li saw a girl, about 17 or 18 years old, wearing a cream-colored ski hat, a white down jacket, red high-heeled boots, and pale yellow fur gloves. Her cheeks were rosy, and her large, bright eyes shone like a swan by a winter lake, as pure and delicate as a snow sculpture.
Tashi Damba was about ten meters away when the girl noticed him. Her expression mirrored his—shock, joy, disbelief, and sorrow. Zhang Li felt a strange tension in the air.
"Minmin, you… you're here!" Tashi Damba stammered, his chest tight with emotions that words couldn't express. He had dreamed of her, worried about her, and now, unexpectedly, she stood before him. Overwhelmed, he wanted only to hold her tightly and melt her into his embrace. Tang Min, the ethereal fairy of Tashi Damba's heart.
"Yes, I'm here," Tang Min replied softly, tears welling in her eyes. It was as if they were star-crossed lovers reunited after lifetimes apart, even though they had only been separated for less than a week. They embraced tightly, as though no force on earth could ever part them again.
From the car, Zhang Li watched in confusion. "What's with all the drama? Could she be his daughter?"
Tashi Damba pressed his face gently against Tang Min's, kissing her forehead. His long-suppressed emotions erupted in that moment as they clung to each other.
"You're so silly. Didn't I tell you not to come? When did you arrive? Where have you been staying?" His reproach was laced with deep concern. Tang Min answered with a poetic line, "If the heavens could see, they would never separate us. If Aphrodite could see, she would restore us to life together."
Tashi Damba lovingly cupped Tang Min's face, kissed her again, then rested her head against his chest. "Have you been in Lhasa this whole time? Are you okay? You're not frozen, are you? No altitude sickness? Are you eating well? How's your brother?"
Zhang Li thought, Seems like Damba really dotes on his daughter.
Laba, on the other hand, was puzzled. Strange. I don't recall the young master ever mentioning a daughter. Am I getting too old to remember?