Before I could speak, Xu Zhiwu interjected. "Little Luo, the person making that call—wasn't that the same fellow we bumped into this morning while having breakfast?"

Sensing us discussing him, the man turned, flashed me a smile, and returned to his phone call. This time, I saw him clearly; it was indeed the same person from the first encounter. This... was too much of a coincidence.

Seeing our confusion, Cizong quickly explained, "He’s a guest from a large European tour group. They’re staying at the hotel next to our Tibetan restaurant and come here every night for dinner, always with his companions. They’ve been doing this for about ten days straight."

So that's it. It seemed to be just a coincidence after all. I secretly let out a breath of relief.

Cizong's Tibetan restaurant was decorated in a strikingly antique style. The furnishings in the Lhasa Hall were designed precisely like those in the home of an old, high-ranking noble family—luxurious yet imbued with a sense of warmth and humanity. It wasn't just me; even Laba, who was himself descended from nobility, was captivated. Everyone immediately started discussing the artifacts and decor with great enthusiasm, completely forgetting everything else.

During the meal, Laba and Nijiung, adhering to Tibetan customs, pressed wine and food upon us, which goes without saying. By the end of the meal, everyone felt slightly tipsy. I also felt a bit lightheaded, but thankfully, I remained mostly lucid. A young waitressing girl brought us some sobering tea. The moment the door opened, I saw that European young man again; he was peering inside our room. As if spotting me, he waved quite familiarly and called out, "Hello!" Then, he walked straight in. Perhaps the waitress assumed he was an acquaintance of ours, as she didn't question him and let him enter.

"..." The man walked directly towards me upon entering and greeted me. Unfortunately, I couldn't understand what he was saying. However, the young waitress who brought the tea was biting her lip, trying hard to suppress a laugh. It seemed she understood him perfectly.

"What did he say?" I asked the girl loudly, amplified by the alcohol. Startled by my rough tone, the girl quickly lowered her head and murmured, "Nothing, he just said why you drank yourself into a stupor." With that, she quickly turned to leave.

"Wait, wait a minute..." Xu Zhiwu said, "How could you understand him?" Hearing his question, the girl looked at us with surprise, almost disbelief. "He was speaking Tibetan. Why wouldn't I understand?"

Now it was our turn to be astonished. This foreigner actually spoke Tibetan! We quickly asked the waitress to step outside so we could question the foreigner.

Xu Zhiwu spoke first. Having drunk quite a bit, his words were slightly slurred as he stammered, "Which country are you from?" He then shook his head, muttering to himself, "You don't understand Mandarin... No, wait, how do you know Tibetan? Should I be speaking Tibetan to you then?... Oh dear, the pity is, I don't speak Tibetan. Only English and German..."

The young man watched Xu Zhiwu with a polite, gentle smile. When he finished, he shrugged and said, "Sorry..." I understood this part; he was apologizing.

I wanted to ask why he was apologizing, but by the time the thought formed in my brain, the words coming out were completely different. I tried to ask "why" several times, but couldn't even complete a single sentence.

Fortunately, Nijiung and Laba had better tolerance for alcohol. Although tipsy, they weren't as muddled as the other three of us. Nijiung spoke first, asking the foreigner very calmly in Tibetan. We couldn't understand his reply, but the foreigner responded fluently, showing no sign of displeasure.

Li Zeng's face was flushed red from drinking, and reeking of alcohol, he asked me if I could understand their conversation. I shook my head, indicating I couldn't. He let out a disappointed "Oh," and offered no further comment.

The two conversed for a while, completely ignoring the rest of us. Then, the foreigner walked over to Laba and sat down beside him. Nijiung’s expression turned slightly sour; he opened his mouth several times as if to speak but managed to restrain himself. Laba, however, became immediately alert when a stranger sat next to him. He said something in Tibetan—I inferred from his expression that he was asking what the foreigner was doing.

The foreigner patted Laba’s shoulder in a friendly manner, likely trying to signal he meant no harm. But Laba wasn't buying it. He glared fiercely at the man, crossing his arms protectively over his chest, as if guarding some precious treasure that the foreigner might steal.

Finding no welcome from Laba, the foreigner laughed awkwardly a couple of times, then stood up and politely bade us farewell. We all watched him stagger out, feeling rather dazed.

Drinking the sobering tea did help somewhat. After sitting for a while, I felt a bit better and managed to ask Nijiung, articulating my words clearly enough, "What were you two talking about just now?"

Nijiung glanced at Laba before replying, "We were discussing some Tibetan culture, traditional things. Foreigners are quite interested in that. It’s a pity that so many young people nowadays forget their roots."

For the foreigner to barge in and seek out Nijiung specifically to chat about Tibetan culture seemed exceedingly strange. There were plenty of Tibetans outside, everywhere he looked; why single us out? Thinking this over, my mind, which had just started to clear, became confused again. I couldn't figure it out after a long time, so I decided to stop pondering it altogether.

After a while, the alcohol wore off for everyone else too. Laba insisted we needed to hurry back, constantly saying he felt uneasy. In truth, encountering that young European man repeatedly had already made me feel deeply unsettled. If Laba wanted to go back, I figured we’d feel safer at his place, so I quickly agreed. Cizong, of course, tried hard to persuade us to stay, offering to treat us to Tibetan opera the next day. He even mentioned how difficult it was to hire those performers and how excellent their show was.

No one was tempted by the Tibetan opera because we had more pressing matters to discuss back home. After exchanging pleasantries with Cizong, we headed back.

Cizong's restaurant parking lot was a little distance from the restaurant, and Xu Zhiwu went ahead to get the car while the rest of us waited by the door for him. Just as we were waiting, a girl in her early twenties, dressed in very traditional Tibetan robes, walked straight towards us—or rather, straight towards me. She was ordinary looking, but her voice was lovely. "Excuse me, are you Luo Lian?" she asked me, bowing deeply and very politely in fluent Mandarin.

"Excuse me... who are you..." I was startled by her extremely traditional Tibetan etiquette. The old Tibetan custom dictates that when female family members receive a male guest, they must keep their heads lowered, their gaze only reaching the guest's waist. This girl was observing this almost exactly. Unsure of her background, I hesitated before replying.

"Me?" The girl was utterly deferential. "I am... a person belonging to your friend." She paused here, seeming to deliberate on the most appropriate way to introduce her status. After a brief stop, she added, "She asked me to deliver a message to you."

I grew even more bewildered. A person belonging to my friend? What did that mean? Delivering a message to me?

"May I have a word in private?" I was somewhat distracted, and it took her repeating the request twice before I heard her.

"Certainly." I agreed.

"Then please," she said, politely inclining her head slightly and gesturing for me to lead. I wasn't used to such formality, especially from a girl, so I repeatedly urged her to walk ahead.

"No, you are my master's..." The words left her mouth before she seemed to realize she had let something slip, and she quickly corrected herself, "You are our honored friend, and naturally, you should be treated with respect."

I truly couldn't stand this endless back-and-forth of politeness. Not wanting to prolong it, I started walking to the side. She followed respectfully behind me.

After a few steps, I figured Nijiung and the others couldn't overhear our conversation. I asked her, "Which friend of mine asked you to bring me a message? What is his name?"

"The word 'dare not' is too much," she replied, still bowing her head in deference. "Her name is not something people like us can casually utter. So please forgive me for not being able to tell you her name. However, the message she asked me to relay, I must deliver to you word for word."

I became even more frustrated. What play was this? It was exactly like a scene out of an old novel!

"What is the message?" Seeing that she was truly unwilling to reveal the name of the person who claimed to be my friend, I reluctantly asked, "What did she say?"

"Our commu... no, your friend asked me to inform you. It would be best if you returned to your proper post and did not interfere in any affairs, or it will bring you endless trouble and disaster." She kept her head lowered, so I couldn't see her expression.

"What do you mean by that?" I was completely lost. "Are you telling me not to meddle in Laba's business?"

"No, not Laba's affairs. Do not involve yourself with the 'Golden Eye and Silver Pearl.' The Golden Eye and Silver Pearl are inauspicious objects." After saying this, she paused, then added, "That is all that was said. I hope you will withdraw in time—those were the exact words."

"I... I..." I was at a complete loss for words.

"The message has been delivered. I still need to prepare for tomorrow's Tibetan opera..." She said, "I now take my leave."

I froze. Why was her speech so archaic, just like Nijiung’s old-fashioned manner? I wanted to ask a few more questions, but the girl had already lowered her head and retreated away. Her entire demeanor was like that of a servant from an old noble household—humble, polite, and loyal to her master. What era was this? To have such customs, and someone delivering a message to me—which lofty person was this, engaging in such mysterious charades? Did they not need to show themselves, but insist on using a messenger to maintain their mystique? After venting my frustration for a while, I realized I had completely forgotten to ask the girl's name.

Xu Zhiwu's car soon arrived, so I abandoned the thought of tracking down the girl for clarification and rejoined the others to head back.

In the car, Old Li asked Nijiung, "It’s quite impressive that foreigner could converse with you in Tibetan." He was deliberately steering the conversation toward the young European man.

Nijiung offered a slightly unnatural laugh. "That's nothing. There are many capable people nowadays. Look at Zhiwu; Laba says he speaks the languages of many countries." He deftly passed the ball back to Xu Zhiwu.

Xu Zhiwu took over while driving. "How can I speak many languages! I don't even know your basic Tibetan!"

Nijiung let out a brief chuckle and dropped the topic.

I couldn't shake the feeling that the European man's visit wasn't just about discussing Tibetan traditional culture. His appearance was too coincidental to be true.