Chapter 193

I exchanged a glance with Shirley Yang, both of us searching the other's face for answers, but like me, she could scarcely imagine what truth lay hidden behind this ancient legend. The phenomenon of wild animals committing mass suicide occurs worldwide, especially among marine creatures, yet it is almost unheard of for different species to gather together and die in unison. Moreover, in this Tibetan land that reveres high mountains and lakes, how could they name this region the "Sea of Disaster," such an inauspicious term? These things are truly hard to fathom.

The guide, Chu Yi, explained that the legend of Bone Gorge was told by elders generations ago. Whenever the crescent moon rose like eyebrows, the mountain beasts would gaze at the moon, leap from heights into the gorge, and dash themselves to death upon the rocks, their sacrifice appeasing the wrath of the spirits. Another version holds that any animal that dies by jumping into the deep gorge can escape the beast realm and be reborn as human.

Yet to this day, no living person has ever seen wild animals leaping from the cliffs there, nor do we know whether those ancient legends are true or false. Still, in Bone Gorge one can see many animal remains, and at night ghost lights flicker there. Moreover, the terrain is complex and connects to the ancient glacier of Divine Spiral Gorge. If you seek a place encircled by four snow mountains, it lies within the Divine Spiral Glacier. From there, it will take roughly five more days' journey.

The terrain of Divine Spiral Gorge is exceedingly rare. This northern Tibetan plateau is already vast and sparsely populated, with a harsh environment; the area around Kalamaili is almost entirely uninhabited, most regions inaccessible to humans. Chu Yi himself had at most ventured into Divine Spiral Gorge to gather herbs, and never gone deeper. Kalamaili has plenty of snow mountains and ancient glaciers, but only the Divine Spiral Glacier is encircled by four snow peaks. All Chu Yi could do was lead us to that place.

The expedition team rested in the mountain pass for over half an hour; it was nearly time to set out. Those whose strength was exhausted and who struggled to breathe rode on horseback. Guide Chu Yi slung his hunting rifle and Tibetan dagger across his back again, then produced a wineskin full of barley liquor, gulped several large mouthfuls with glug-glug sounds, and afterward swung his whip three times in the air to inform the mountain god. Then he said to everyone: "To enter Bone Gorge, first cross Gaiqing Slope. Let's go." Having spoken, he held a prayer wheel in one hand and gripped the whip in the other, leading the way into the mountains.

The rest of the people and horses followed behind him, winding seven turns and eight through the great mountains until we finally reached Gaiqing Slope (also called Gaiqing Height). Although the place name includes the word "slope," compared to the towering peaks and rugged ridges, it is hardly inferior. The altitude here is so high that clouds veil and mist locks the scene; Chu Yi and the other Kamba men felt nothing, but Ming Shu began to struggle. Previously, inlanders coming to the plateau, unable to adapt to altitude sickness, who stayed over sixty days would die. Because atmospheric pressure gradually enlarges the heart, over time it exceeds the body's capacity; later, medical means can alleviate this condition, but significant danger remains.

I had always found it strange: by rights, someone like Ming Shu should have had more than enough money, so why would he risk his old bones in these Kunlun Mountains, staking his life to find the glacial crystal corpse? Only later, from Han Shuona's mouth, did I learn that Ming Shu's current holdings consist only of that Beijing residence and a few antiquities. His entire fortune had been squandered by his two sons in Hong Kong through gambling, leaving him deeply in debt. Ming Shu wanted to make one last big gamble while his legs still worked; otherwise, after he passed on, his two sons and adopted daughter would be left to drink the northwest wind. Knowing this, I felt a certain sympathy for Ming Shu.

I worried that if we went higher, Ming Shu and Axiang might meet with misfortune, so I caught up with Chu Yi ahead and asked him how much farther it was to Bone Gorge.

Chu Yi suddenly stopped, beckoned me with a wave, and pointed obliquely downward, indicating I should look that way. Following his gesture, I saw the mountain wind dispersing the clouds and mist, revealing a deep gully cleaved in the ground. Looking down from above into the ravine, I saw only a murky, unfathomable expanse. To say nothing of jumping down, merely glancing at it filled me with dread. If the mountain-top clouds were thicker, someone unfamiliar with the terrain would surely press on, plunge into the gully, and be shattered to pieces.

This below is "Bone Gorge." Our position is precisely where, according to legend, countless wild animals leapt to their deaths; the locals call this place the "Beast-Resting Platform."

Chu Yi handed me the wineskin of barley liquor, urging me to take a few swigs to dispel the mountain chill's bite, and said: "From now on I'll call you Doji—how does that sound? In Tibetan, Doji means 'Vajra Brave,' and only true warriors dare to look down from the Beast-Resting Platform into Bone Gorge. Doji brother, you are excellent."

I took two sips of liquor, grinned at Chu Yi, and thought: You don't know, after just those few glances my calves really did feel a bit cramped; now, taking a detour downward, we might still make it out of Bone Gorge before nightfall. We were about to urge the yaks forward when the mountain wind rose again, the thicker cloud mass above slowly drifting apart, revealing a towering snow peak of ten thousand ren emerging from the cloud sea. This silver snow peak, as if suspended in heaven, seemed within reach—no wonder locals say: "Upon Gaiqing Height, stretch out your hand and seize the sky." Bathed in sunlight and white clouds, the snow mountain possessed overwhelming visual and spiritual impact; Chu Yi and the five porters were accustomed to it, but we inlanders unaccustomed to snow mountains stared wide-eyed, wandering for a long while until another cloud bank drifted over and veiled the peak, whereupon we withdrew step by step, glancing back.

At the entrance of Bone Gorge I checked the time; due to misjudging our pace, we could no longer cross this deep gorge before dark. It seemed we would have to camp outside the gorge overnight and set out again at dawn.

But the entrance itself lies above 4,500 meters; just now, while crossing Gaiqing Slope, some of the weaker members suffered severe altitude sickness. Though they took medicine, there was no improvement, so they needed a lower place to rest for the night—and that could only be inside Bone Gorge.

Chu Yi said that tales of hauntings and animal suicides are ancient legends; frankly, I do not believe them. Nevertheless, entering the gorge at night still poses dangers: though it is free from avalanche threat, if loose rock occurs on either cliff face, even a small fragment falling just right onto one's head—even if wearing an iron pot—would be crushed through. That is one danger. Another is that countless thousands of beasts have died there; phosphorescent fire often appears, and yaks and horses are easily startled. Though yaks usually look honest and dull-witted, once they go mad, in the narrow confines of Bone Gorge they would trample us all to death.

I looked at Ming Shu and his family slumped on horseback, felt it difficult, but in the end Shirley Yang devised a plan: let the yaks go ahead, the rest of the party follow behind, descend from here. Bone Gorge contains many dead trees; setting up camp behind them would reduce danger to a minimum. After discussing details, we finally decided to camp within the gorge.

Once we detoured into Bone Gorge where the altitude drops below 3,000 meters, those with breathing difficulties finally got a chance to catch their breath. This place is called a "gorge" rather than merely a "valley" because the terrain is excessively narrow, with sheer cliffs on both sides as if cut by knife and axe; looking up, only a thread of sky is visible. Inside, scattered rocks and weeds abound, and indeed there are countless remains, most numerous being cattle and goat horns, which have endured intact for hundreds or thousands of years.

It is said that Divine Spiral Gorge, connected to this place, has a completely different environment: there are vast primeval forests, many kinds of precious plants, and the mountains especially abound in medicinal herbs, hence its alternate name "Medicine Mountain."

After traveling about a quarter of the route, night had already fallen, and we still had not found a suitable campsite. The yaks had walked all day, and after dark they began to grow restless. For safety's sake, we stopped near a cluster of dead trees, pitched our tents, and buried the kettle to boil water.

Since Bone Gorge runs east-west, we could see the moon in the night sky—a cold moon like a hook. Because this place is truly deep, the moonlight appeared especially dim and hazy; only the fire kindled from dried cow dung could give us light.

The crowd sat around the fire eating and drinking; the hearty guide Chu Yi told everyone Tibetan folk tales. I hastily ate a few bites, then left the fire and sat alone on a nearby tree stump to smoke.

I had barely taken two puffs when Shirley Yang came over, snatched the cigarette away, and crushed it underfoot: "Smoking on the plateau is extremely harmful to the body—no more smoking. I have some matters to discuss with you."

I had wanted to tell Shirley Yang, "How dare you act like a fascist, openly seizing and taking?" but I immediately dismissed the thought. Since entering Bone Gorge, I have had a strange feeling, and Shirley Yang surely sensed some unusual signs as well, which is why she came to consult me. This concerns everyone's lives and safety, so let us not joke—formal talk is what matters now.

Shirley Yang indeed came for this reason: the great quantity of animal bone epiphyses in this gorge caught her attention. These cattle horns, sheep horns, bear skulls, and similar remains appear to date from as recently as two or three hundred years ago. If the legend were true, why have there been no recent instances of animals leaping into the gorge to kill themselves?

I thought it over and told Shirley Yang: The legends passed down from antiquity may preserve only shadows of the truth, and they cannot be dismissed merely because some natural phenomena seem tempting—those things, though fantastical, do exist in the world. However, I believe at least here such phenomena do not occur.

My grandfather left me half a scroll of residual writing, authored by a Qing Dynasty tomb-raiding master, which actually mentions the structure and layout of the Nine-Story Demon Tower in Tibet. I suspect that in past ages, tomb-raiding commanders must have overturned the Nine-Story Demon Tower. Such a tomb in the form of a demon tower would certainly have two dragon-shaped burial trenches of equal scale accompanying it; perhaps the Bone Gorge we are in is one of them. The remnants of the Demon Kingdom, returning to their sect, may have once held unknown rites here.

I kicked the half-dead tree stump beside me; on it was a very blurred three-eyed human-head ghost face, undoubtedly left several hundred years ago and now nearly weathered away. Since entering Bone Gorge, I have already seen similar totem markings on trees. For us, this should be good news—it indicates we are not far from the Phoenix Divine Palace.

I was discussing with Shirley Yang the layout of this sacrificial trench and the possible location of the demon tower when suddenly the people gathered around the fire let out a startled cry, their voices full of panic and chaos. I hastily turned my head, and the scene before me was almost unbelievable: in the dim moonlight, a Tibetan bear of enormous size, baring fangs and claws, was plummeting from a height of thousands of meters.