Li Yundong followed Qiangbale and the others early in the morning, heading toward the direction of the sacred Mount Meili. Their group was diverse, comprising elders in their seventies and eighties, like Qiangbale, as well as youngsters barely seventeen or eighteen, such as Meiduo. Despite the complexity of the membership, every single one of them was deeply devout, and their preparations for the pilgrimage were meticulous.
Li Yundong noticed that some of them carried not just cooking pots and bowls, but even a full set of knives strapped to their bodies. Meiduo explained this was for protection against wolves, and also to hunt wild game for a change in diet.
Pilgrims were forbidden from using motorized vehicles; it was deemed unholy. However, some in their party drove horse-drawn carts or oxcarts pulling heavy loads. The flatbeds behind these vehicles were spacious and piled high with various belongings, and those who grew too weary to walk could rest there for a spell.
Initially, Li Yundong politely declined the invitations from Qiangbale and the elders, choosing to walk on foot with the main body of the group rather than ride the carts.
Li Yundong’s presence sparked a palpable sense of crisis and wariness among the Tibetan young men in the group. This was especially true because Meiduo constantly, intentionally or otherwise, maneuvered herself close to Li Yundong. This naturally stoked the jealousy and envy of the young men who held affections for Meiduo.
Yet, Li Yundong was Qiangbale’s savior, which restrained them from saying much. They merely nursed a simmering resentment, hoping to wear down this Han man during the journey; in their collective impression, Han people were inherently frail.
As they quickened their pace, the entire column was unintentionally pulled along faster. The elderly and the young within the group silently lamented the exertion. Meiduo managed to persist through sheer grit at first, but eventually, unable to keep up, she climbed onto a cart. From there, she watched the young Tibetan pilgrims sandwich Li Yundong in the middle, tacitly competing against him.
From the cart, Meiduo was initially worried. Although she knew Li Yundong was a man of ascetic discipline, her own compatriots, these young runners, were strong long-distance travelers. Moreover, being at high altitude, many Han people suffered altitude sickness. She genuinely doubted how long Li Yundong could endure.
But Li Yundong, having run all the way to Tibet, had long since forged a body of iron and sinew, his internal organs honed like refined steel. How could he possibly fear them?
After several days, the Tibetan pilgrims one by one began to flag, collapsing onto the carts. Only Li Yundong remained full of vigor, striding forward with boundless energy.
Meiduo, sitting on the cart, looked at Li Yundong with wide-eyed admiration. “When you said you walked here from over two thousand kilometers away, I didn't entirely believe you. Now, I truly do. You are incredible; of everyone I’ve ever met, I’ve never seen anyone who can walk like you.”
Li Yundong smiled toward her and corrected her, “Let me adjust one point—I didn't walk here.”
Meiduo laughed, “Did you ride, like us?”
Li Yundong shook his head, smiling. “No. I ran the entire way.”
The smile instantly vanished from Meiduo’s face, replaced by sheer astonishment. “What? You ran here?”
Li Yundong chuckled. “Of course. If I had just walked such a distance, when would I ever arrive? Didn’t you notice I’m barefoot? My shoes wore out from running!”
Meiduo stared at Li Yundong with a mixture of awe and reverence, her expression deeply shaken. “You are truly astonishing!”
Li Yundong merely smiled without speaking.
Meiduo gazed at him admiringly for a moment. Suddenly, a thought sparked in her mind: Was this Han elder brother subtly hinting that he wanted me to make him a pair of shoes?
With that notion, her eyes drifted down to Li Yundong’s feet. She saw his bare feet, thick and completely calloused. She nodded secretly, confirming her suspicion in her heart: Yes, that must be it!
With this conviction, her eyes darted around. She hopped off the cart and hurried to the very back of the procession, finding an elderly woman. “Puchimu Zhaxi, do you have any needle and thread? Could I borrow some?”
The elderly Tibetan woman had been turning her prayer wheel while reciting mantras along with the caravan. She stopped spinning when she heard Meiduo’s voice and smiled. “Are you mending something? I have some; let me look.”
Saying that, she walked to her own cart, rummaged through her bundles for a moment, and pulled out a small red box containing a needle and thread, which she handed over.
Meiduo took it with unrestrained delight. “Puchimu Zhaxi, thank you so much! I’ll return it as soon as I’m done!”
With that, she flew back to the front of the line like a swallow.
Puchimu Zhaxi watched Meiduo smile so radiantly. As someone who had lived long enough to understand such things, how could she not grasp the girl’s intention? She shook her head with a soft laugh and sighed, “It seems our Meiduo’s heart is no longer with us.”
Another elderly woman nearby chuckled. “Indeed, her heart has already flown over the snow mountains.”
Puchimu Zhaxi looked at Meiduo’s receding back with affection. “May the gods of the snow mountains watch over her.”
After borrowing the needle and thread from Puchimu Zhaxi, Meiduo also gathered a pair of soles and some cloth from others. Based on her estimation, she crafted a pair of cloth shoes. Her hands were deft, and she finished them in a single day. The next day, she approached Li Yundong as if presenting a treasure, filled with both nervousness and anticipation, shyly yet boldly holding out the neatly stitched cloth shoes. “Here, try them on—do they fit?”
Meiduo had grown clever through her interactions with Li Yundong. Instead of asking if he would accept them, she directly told him to try them on and asked if they fit. This closed-ended questioning left Li Yundong no room to refuse.
Li Yundong looked with surprise at the simple yet skillfully made cloth shoes Meiduo offered. He smiled. “Did you make these?”
Meiduo’s cheeks flushed red as she nodded, the hand holding the shoes trembling slightly. She was terribly afraid that Li Yundong would refuse the shoes, which would utterly mortify her.
The Tibetan young men watching turned red with jealousy. Meiduo was the goddess in their eyes; they feared offending her or causing her unhappiness, yet this Han man seemed hesitant even to accept her kindness—how infuriating!
Li Yundong paused for a moment. Seeing that it was Meiduo’s sincere goodwill, and knowing he truly needed footwear, he readily accepted them. He slipped them on and tested the fit; they were exactly right.
Seeing Li Yundong accept them, Meiduo’s heart settled back into her chest. She let out a breath, her eyebrows curving into a bright smile. “Comfortable?”
Li Yundong laughed. “Comfortable, a perfect fit. You have quite the skill!”
Meiduo puffed up with pride. “Of course! I have many other skills. Would you like to see them sometime?”
This statement carried a hint of delicate, budding flirtation, but Li Yundong at this time was entirely focused on his cultivation, and in his spare moments, he thought only of Su Chan. How could he possibly notice such subtle girlish intentions?
Li Yundong casually replied, “Sure!”
Meiduo’s heart leaped wildly, filled with elation and joy: He, he agreed? Does this mean he actually has feelings for me?
Meiduo’s face was flushed crimson; she was overwhelmed with sudden shyness, let out a soft sound, turned, and sprinted toward the rear of the caravan, her long, thin braids bobbing and dancing above her head.
Li Yundong watched her go with a moment of confusion, shaking his head with a suppressed smile.
Walking with the Tibetans, even at his swift pace, he felt the journey was too slow. Feeling bored and unable to practice his internal exercises while moving, he remembered the stitched book Qiangbale had given him.
Li Yundong pulled it from his robes and opened it, intending to pass the time reading.
But upon looking inside, Li Yundong froze.
The very first page of the bound book displayed two lines of golden script, one in Sanskrit and one in Tibetan. Li Yundong flipped a few more pages and couldn't help but grimace; the entire book was filled with Sanskrit and Tibetan characters, not a single Han character in sight. How could he read it?
Li Yundong flipped through a few more pages with reluctance, discovering the dense text filled with tightly packed Sanskrit and Tibetan—the Tibetan script being larger, with the Sanskrit smaller beside it. However, as he turned toward the later pages, he noticed the book contained various illustrations of mudras (hand seals).
Curious, Li Yundong couldn't help but glance up, scanning the group to locate Meiduo, and walked toward her.
When Meiduo saw Li Yundong approaching, her heart was filled with renewed tension and expectation. Anxiously shifting, her gaze flickering, she didn’t know where to put her hands or feet.
But Li Yundong walked over, presented the stitched book to her, and smiled. “Could you help me translate this?”
Meiduo was deeply disappointed but couldn't show it. She took the book and glanced at it. With just one look, she gasped. “This is the Mahamudra Esoteric Sutra? Qiangbale gave you this classic text?”
Li Yundong asked, puzzled. “Is it very valuable?”
Meiduo replied with a serious expression, “It is the treasured possession of the Katok Monastery, detailing the methods for practicing the Esoteric Mahamudra!”
Li Yundong was immediately startled. “Then quickly give it back to me. I need to return it to Qiangbale. How could I accept something so precious?”
Meiduo inwardly regretted her outburst: Why did I say that? If Qiangbale intended to give it, why did I have to point it out?
She managed a strained laugh and tried to cover her mistake. “Of course, it used to be the treasured possession, but maybe not anymore. Now, the Katok Monastery is even selling these as tourist souvenirs.”
Li Yundong was stunned for a moment, but then he reasoned: Even the supreme cultivation manual of Daoism, the Huangdi Neijing, is brazenly sold in Xinhua bookstores. Why couldn’t a supreme treasure of Esoteric Buddhism be sold?
With that thought, Li Yundong was placated and dropped his insistence. “Then help me translate it? I find this completely incomprehensible, like reading heavenly script!”
Meiduo was about to say, Fine, wait here while I translate next to the text and hand it back to you.
But as the words reached her lips, a thought struck her, and she smiled instead. “Then why don't you sit on the cart with me, and I’ll translate it sentence by sentence for you?”
When the two sat on the cart, they had to sit extremely close, and with the cart swaying, physical contact between them would be unavoidable. The thought of such intimacy made Meiduo’s ears burn. She thought to herself: Will he agree?
Li Yundong, unaware of her inner turmoil, immediately agreed with a smile. “Alright.”
Upon hearing this, Meiduo was overjoyed: He, he agreed to that too? Does this mean he really is interested in me?