Ye Xun said, “I don’t know how I fell asleep — or whether I lost consciousness.”
Everyone’s faces were etched with disbelief.
Ye Xun’s expression suddenly turned horrifying, as though he had been plunged into a nightmare. “Then I found myself — no, I and the car both fell into water. Water was flooding in from somewhere, and the whole interior of the vehicle was filling up rapidly. I could hear it: gurgling, gurgling — we were sinking, and everything around me was black. I was terrified out of my mind. I couldn’t get out. I was desperate, panicking. The water filled the cabin completely. I held my breath. I couldn’t stand it anymore — I was choking, drowning. Just when I felt I was about to die, the window broke open, the water rushed out, and I… I seemed to come back to life.”
And so it was.
As Ba Yunye listened, she was stunned — and also deeply satisfied. She shot him a sidelong glance, thinking to herself: Damn well serves him right.
“You might have… fallen asleep in the truck and had a nightmare,” someone offered.
“It was not a nightmare!” Ye Xun said with absolute certainty. “It was real!! It was all completely real!!”
A chill ran through everyone present.
What Ye Xun described was not a dream. Looking at how soaking wet the outside of the truck was, and the drowning symptoms he had shown when first pulled from the vehicle, the whole situation did indeed closely resemble a case of falling into water. Yet the spot where the truck had come to a stop was not a place where falling into water was even remotely possible. For a moment, everyone was at a complete loss — like a monk before a riddle no scripture could solve.
Ba Yunye glanced at the herders outside, still kneeling in prayer, and said softly:
“The Celestial Lake.”
Diao Zhuo’s eyes widened slightly.
Ba Yunye stepped out of the tent. Diao Zhuo followed. She wore an expression of rare gravity. “According to accounts, some of the earlier explorers who crossed Qiang Tang once photographed an enormous number of Tibetan antelopes gathered at a vast lake inside the zone. Because of its altitude and its obscurity, it came to be called the ‘Celestial Lake.’ Whether it was actually a third major gathering site for Tibetan antelopes — alongside Zhuonai Lake and Sun Lake — was something everyone desperately wanted to know. Strangely, when a survey team went specifically to find it, using photographs and coordinates provided by those people, they found nothing. Occasionally others reported catching sight of the Celestial Lake, but the coordinates they gave were completely different from the first group’s. Over time, it became a profoundly mysterious place. The herders of northern Tibet say it has legs — that it migrates just like the Tibetan antelopes, and it is the final protective deity of the highland spirits.”
Inconceivable. How could a body of water exist in the world that came and went without a trace? But then again — there were countless unsolved mysteries in the world. Why couldn’t such a place exist?
Perhaps it was like a mirage — appearing only in a specific environment at a specific moment, flickering into being for just an instant. It could discern goodness from evil. It was gentle, yet ferocious — and above all, it was solemn.
Diao Zhuo turned the implication of Ba Yunye’s words over in his mind and ventured a theory: “Ye Xun encountered the Celestial Lake. Not with his own eyes, though — he ‘personally’ fell into it. This was most likely the result of acute psychological stress during his time alone in the uninhabited zone, producing a sensory hallucination vivid enough to feel entirely real. A hysterical episode. The water on his vehicle and on the body bag was simply the result of last night’s snow melting.”
“It seems Heaven doesn’t actually want to take his life,” Ba Yunye said. “It only wanted to give him a warning. Qiang Tang does not welcome human beings.”
“If I hadn’t seen him drowning with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have believed it.”
“Good is rewarded, evil is punished — nothing more.” Ba Yunye curled up the corners of her lips. “I’ve never seen the Celestial Lake myself, but I believe that even if it appeared before you one day, it would be in its gentler form.”
Diao Zhuo reflected on this for a moment, then nodded. “May your words prove true.”
The others still believed there must be a rational explanation for Ye Xun’s drowning episode and flatly refused to accept his account. Ye Xun was furious — but there was nothing he could do about it. He cautiously glanced at the rescue team members and began performing weakness, claiming first that he might be running a fever, then that his stomach hurt — clearly intent on not giving them a moment to bring up the matter of how he had drugged them and slipped away on his own.
The rescue team members had no interest in wasting words on him. They turned and walked out of the tent. Outside, the two herders had already, with practiced ease, stacked stones of varying sizes into two prayer cairns for blessings.
The group stepped out onto the open ground and began to discuss things among themselves.
“Whatever else can be said, we found both Ye Xun and the body believed to be Zou Kaigui’s.”
“Ye Xun isn’t getting away. He planned and financed Zou Kaigui’s illegal crossing — but did he know the truth about Zou Xiaowen’s situation?”
“If he knew, and still arranged that whole ‘thousand-mile search for a daughter’ spectacle together with Zou Kaigui, then it was nothing but fraud — exploiting the goodwill and compassion of the public.”
“Xiao Zi might not just quietly go home either. Maybe the moment she lands, she files a report.”
“Right! Twenty million in insurance compensation!”
“The whole tangle of relationships between them is too complicated. My brain can’t keep up.”
All the rescue vehicles eventually drove away from the uninhabited zone and headed directly into Amdo County seat.
Two days later, the autopsy report came back: the body was indeed Zou Kaigui’s. Everything seemed to have settled — yet it also felt as though things were only just beginning. The forensic examination showed that Zou Kaigui had died from cardiac failure under conditions of extreme cold. In plain terms, he had frozen to death. Additionally, there were traces of a powerful blow to the back of his skull. The site where he died was very far from where he had made his camp. The police concluded that he had been knocked unconscious, transported to the vicinity of where his body was found, and then abandoned there. When he regained consciousness and tried to make his way back to his camp, his body — already severely depleted from prior physical exertion — could not withstand the plummeting temperatures in the middle of the night. He had collapsed and perished.
Zou Kaigui’s body had no outer jacket when found. This was assessed to be the work of whoever had knocked him out, with deliberate intent to ensure he could never return to his camp.
As for Ye Xun, he too was temporarily detained by police for the use of illegal substances. The rescue team’s guesses had been correct all along — after handing in her resignation, Xiao Zi had gone to the local public security authorities and filed a report, alleging that Ye Xun had serious personal misconduct issues and was suspected of insurance fraud. Overnight, Zou Kaigui and Ye Xun became “internet celebrities.” The online discussion exploded.
The hashtags “Zou Kaigui” and “Exposing the False Philanthropist Ye Xun” instantly shot to the top of trending lists.
The power of internet users proved limitless. They somehow dug up a Weibo account — with a follower count of barely two digits — that had posted photographs from an illegal crossing of the uninhabited zone around the time of Zou Kaigui’s death. Even though the account holder deleted all of their posts very quickly, eagle-eyed users had already captured screenshots and spread them widely. Based on those screenshots, public security authorities tracked down the owners of several off-road vehicles. Those individuals confessed that while illegally crossing Qiang Tang, they had chanced upon Tibetan antelopes and, on a sudden impulse, attempted to “round them up.” In the process, they had accidentally rammed and killed two or three of the animals — including one that was pregnant.
The news that the off-road vehicle owners had been identified reached them just as the rescue team and Ba Yunye had already returned to Lhasa. Having slept at altitudes above 5,000 meters every night on the northern Tibetan plateau, arriving in Lhasa at an elevation of 3,600 meters gave everyone the strange illusion that they were practically at sea level.
That evening, to celebrate their success, Long Ge treated everyone to skewers. It happened to be a weekend. The lively skewer restaurant was packed and buzzing with noise. The distinctive, numbing fragrance of Sichuan pepper and chili floated through the air all around.
News about developments in the case kept coming in online. Everyone scrolled through updates while dipping skewers into the broth — sweating profusely from the spiciness while simultaneously following the twists and turns of the investigation.
Consistent with Diao Zhuo’s deductions from the footprints, the masterminds turned out to be a young couple. The woman had no outdoor experience whatsoever and had been wearing high heels at the time, purely for the sake of looking good in photos. They said that Zou Kaigui had helped them push a Tibetan antelope, bound with a stone, into the water. After that, he demanded that they take him in their vehicle when leaving the uninhabited zone, and on top of that, made what they considered the outrageous request that they pay him a small fee for his labor.
When the negotiation broke down, Zou Kaigui turned on them. He claimed he had filmed them disposing of the antelope carcasses on video, and threatened that if they refused, he would expose everything once he got out. With no surveillance cameras or police in the uninhabited zone, the young man’s mind turned to foul intent. He pretended to agree, sent his companion ahead, then knocked Zou Kaigui unconscious, drove far off the intended route, and abandoned him.
The two had assumed Zou Kaigui would be mauled to death by a bear or a wolf, and his body would never be found. So after making it out of Qiang Tang, they said nothing at all about the incident. But the young woman couldn’t contain her excitement. A few days after returning home, she posted photos on Weibo boasting of her successful illegal crossing of Qiang Tang. In doing so, she delivered the final act in her own spectacular legend as the teammate who destroyed them all.
“You know, about Zou Xiaowen…” River Horse couldn’t help but ask.
Long Ge filled everyone’s glasses and gave a knowing smile. “What we can say with certainty is that the little girl is never going to turn up.”
“Every debt has its debtor, every grievance has its author.” Ba Yunye’s expression carried a trace of cold irony.
As for Ye Xun — he reportedly insisted he had acted purely out of kindness in funding Zou Kaigui’s travel expenses and flatly denied that the so-called “chance encounter with Tibetan antelopes” tour route was his next planned business venture. Meanwhile, his dispute with the insurance company over compensation had also erupted openly.
Ba Yunye said, “These past few days, he’s been saying his experience inside the truck — the drowning — was a supernatural encounter. The police had a doctor see him. The doctor said it was a hysterical episode triggered by psychological collapse. The drowning symptoms were partly the result of hallucination, and partly caused by drinking an excessive amount of water while in a mentally disordered state. But since returning to Lhasa, he’s been relentlessly demanding to go to the Jokhang Temple to do prostration kows. My feeling is — the Celestial Lake wasn’t Ye Xun’s destination. He knew nothing about it.”
Diao Zhuo’s brow furrowed. “Meaning — the search for the Celestial Lake was Zou Kaigui’s personal agenda?”
Long Ge fell silent, deep in thought.
Diao Zhuo continued: “Why would he want to find the Celestial Lake…”
Ba Yunye was equally puzzled. “Poachers are the ones who would want to find the Celestial Lake. Zou Kaigui was, at most, a fraud artist — he wasn’t hunting Tibetan antelopes, and he wasn’t developing tourism routes. Whether or not he found it held absolutely no meaning for him personally. Unless someone else commissioned him.”
Xiang’an looked alarmed. “The way you put it, his backer is very possibly a poacher!”
Diao Zhuo said, “— Most likely a poaching syndicate. Organized. With far more advanced killing equipment than freelancers like Lao Jin. One strike from them inflicts devastation on a scale far greater than those scattered individuals. Our country maintains strict regulations on weapons — a syndicate like that might be operating from outside the border.”
Long Ge rubbed his double chin. “We’re only speculating. Now that he’s dead and can’t give testimony, only the police can find out who the real backer is. Every person who enters the uninhabited zone without authorization and dies there does not die for nothing — and every one who survives does not survive for nothing. When all is said and done, it’s fate.”
River Horse laughed. “Long Ge, you’re too superstitious!”
Long Ge, a little tipsy, swayed slightly and waved his hand with a smile.
River Horse slapped his thigh. “If you want to make money, you’ve got to do it the honest, above-board way — just like us!”
Ba Yunye raised her glass and clinked it boldly against Diao Zhuo’s. “There’s a saying: every way to strike it rich is written somewhere in the Criminal Code.”
The whole table couldn’t hold it together and burst out laughing.