The army unit was stationed in Gyangze, which couldn’t have been more different from Gongzha’s homeland: a series of large fields stretched into the distance, people sang, they yoked yaks together in pairs, they dressed fashionably to work in the fields, they ate tsampa and vegetables, and their robes were made of finely woven wool. When they addressed each other, they used courtesy terms, and when parents called to their children, they always added a ‘dear’ to their name. Coming from the grassland, Gongzha found all this very strange.
His biggest problem was the language. He could barely understand anything the locals said, let alone the Mandarin spoken in the unit. There was only one other Tibetan soldier in his platoon and he was from Chamdo. Their dialects were so different, it was like they were speaking different languages.
The company commander was from Shandong, a large man with a square head and a voice so loud that when he was angry it sounded like he’d opened fire. The day Gongzha arrived, the commander called the squad leader and Gongzha into his office and said, eyes bulging, ‘Gongzha is from a nomad area. He’s young. He can’t speak Mandarin. Arrange for two older soldiers to look after him!’
The squad leader saluted, and dragged Gongzha, who hadn’t understood a thing, away.
Gongzha liked guns, and when he saw the rifle he’d been issued, he was as happy as if he’d found a piece of treasure. On his first day at the range, it took him only a few rounds before he was hitting the centre of the target every time, stunning the company commander, who was training the new recruits.
‘Fuck, Gongzha, how come your marksmanship’s so good?’
Gongzha understood that the commander was yelling excitedly at him, but he had no idea what he was saying. The only word he could pick out was ‘cigarette’ – although that was because the Mandarin word for ‘fuck’ and the Tibetan word for ‘cigarette’ sounded almost identical. He thought the commander wanted a cigarette, so he scampered off to the corner shop and bought a five-fen pack of Economy cigarettes. When he came back, he gave them to the commander and, beaming, said, ‘Here are the cigarettes!’
The commander didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, but he swore cheerfully as he took the cigarettes. ‘Fuck, Gongzha, if you don’t hurry up and learn Mandarin, I’m going to end up kicking your ass.’
Again, Gongzha had no idea what he was saying. He heard only the word ‘cigarette’ and assumed that the commander wanted a different brand, so he scampered off again, bought a pack of Da Qian Men cigarettes, and, chuckling, handed them over. ‘Cigarettes, Commander!’
The commander took the cigarettes and rolled his eyes in exasperation. It would be inappropriate to keep them, and he would normally have thrown them away, but he didn’t want to hurt this minority soldier’s self-respect. He ground his teeth impatiently, pulled a five-mao note from his pocket, stuffed it into Gongzha’s hand, turned round and walked away.
Looking at the five mao in his hand, it took Gongzha a long time to react. He’d only spent one mao and five fen on the cigarettes – why had the company commander given him so much money? Clearly he was meant to buy more cigarettes for him in the future.
Because his marksmanship was so good, Gongzha became the unit’s model new recruit. The regimental commander and the company commander both liked taking him on their hunts. By the time he’d been there a year, he could just about make himself understood in Mandarin. Of course he still occasionally made a fool of himself, but compared to the fools the new Han recruits made of themselves with the Tibetan locals, he did fairly well.
*
Six years passed. The sun and the moon rose and set over the plateau, and the children grew, changing a little with every day. Basking in the grassland sun, Cuomu slowly matured into a young woman. Her beauty and her naturally lovely voice were Cuoe Grassland’s most vibrant scenery, and she began to draw the eyes of young men from tents near and far.
Cuomu was the only child in her tent. To her father, mother and two uncles, she was as precious as their own eyes. So when she announced that she was now old enough to live by herself, her two uncles immediately set about making her a charming little white tent to stand beside the family tent. The day it went up, several young men circled around it. Cuomu knew exactly what they wanted. She peeked out through the tent flap at the glances being cast in her direction and giggled. The young men assumed that she would now be free to do as she liked after dark, but when they saw the fierce dog her uncle had led over and was now chaining up beside the tent, their eyes darkened.
As night fell, the dogs stationed outside the tents of the encampment’s unmarried women would bark without let-up at every visitor. Only if their mistress came out and called them off would they desist. Her graceful figure would appear in the doorway, and a shy smile would play across her face. That meant that the man outside her tent had captured her heart.
That night, Cuomu amused herself by watching the shadows flitting past. She laughed loudly, shut the tent door, opened the roof flap and sat on her brand-new rug. Her younger uncle had exchanged a fox-skin for it and it was the palest blue, like the lake water in springtime. Beyond the roof flap, stars glimmered against the black night. She began to sing the old herders’ song with great feeling.
‘The stars in the sky
Are like Brother’s eyes
Watching Sister’s silhouette.
The butter lamps ablaze all night
Cannot see your eyes, Brother,
As they fall inside the tent
To light up Sister’s heart.’
‘Our snow lotus has grown up,’ Cuomu’s mother Baila said as she heard Cuomu’s song. She was pouring milk into a wooden bucket and taking a rest between pours. ‘Her buds will open and bear fruit. It’s just we don’t know which young man will be able to climb to the mountain peak and pluck our tent’s flower!’
‘Luobudunzhu has already circled the tent quite a few times!’ Cuomu’s elder uncle, Niduo, said, looking up from the shoes he was repairing.
‘Luobudunzhu? Would Cuomu accept him?’ Danzeng put down his tea and glanced out at the white tent. ‘A girl’s first night always goes to the man she likes. I don’t see Luobudunzhu getting into our Cuomu’s tent.’
‘Then who? Shida? They do get on very well,’ Cuomu’s younger uncle, Duoji, said.
‘I don’t think it’ll be Shida. If they were going to get together, they would have done so already – no need to wait until today!’ Baila said, laughing and keeping her eyes trained on the goings-on around the white tent.
‘Do you think she’s waiting for Gongzha?’ Danzeng said. ‘She’s been unsettled ever since he left.’
‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you?’ Baila said unhappily. ‘If your old lover’s son marries your daughter, it would be quite reasonable for you to move in, wouldn’t it?’
‘Cut the sarcasm, can’t you? That family’s having a hard time. What’s wrong with me checking up on them regularly – has it meant you’ve had any less to eat or drink?’ Danzeng set his cup down heavily and left the tent in a huff.
He walked over to his daughter’s tent and kicked the dog, which was staring at him. Dragging its chain, the dog whimpered and went off to lie down.
‘Aba.’ Cuomu saw her father and stopped singing.
‘This is not at all bad – you’ve made it very neat.’ Danzeng sat down and gazed at his precious daughter’s moonlike face. ‘Have a little chat with your aba.’
Cuomu got up and moved over to sit beside him. She lay with her head in his lap, her long, skinny plaits fanned out around her. ‘Aba, would you say I’ve grown up?’
‘I would. My snow lotus has definitely grown up,’ Danzeng said, stroking his daughter’s cheek.
‘I want to ask you a favour, Aba.’ Cuomu traced her finger aimlessly across her father’s chuba.
‘Tell me, my snow lotus. What would you like to ask your aba?’ Danzeng smiled indulgently. All four adults treated Cuomu like a pet and did everything they could not to overburden her with chores. When she was young, a wandering monk had told them that she was a maid from King Gesar’s palace and that she would remain in their tent for only twenty years. She was eighteen now.
‘Can I choose my own man?’ Cuomu said, biting her lower lip, her face reddening, her voice as soft as a mosquito.
‘What did you say? Speak up – Aba can’t hear clearly.’
‘I said… will you and Ama let me choose my own man?’
‘Of course we will. Isn’t that why you’ve got your own tent, so you can choose for yourself? Don’t worry, we definitely won’t interfere.’ Danzeng was laughing loudly now that he’d understood.
‘That’s not what I meant.’ Cuomu’s finger wandered across her father’s chuba again. ‘What I mean, Aba, is can I choose the man I marry?’
‘You want to get married?’ Danzeng’s eyes widened in surprise.
‘I’m talking about later on. Will you and Ama let me choose for myself?’
‘You want to find your own man?’
‘Mmm… Will you let me do that, Aba?’
‘I certainly have no objections, but your ama… I doubt she’ll agree to it.’
‘I’m begging you, Aba, let me decide for myself. I want to spend my days with a man I like.’ Cuomu jiggled his knees and pouted at him.
‘Alright, alright. Aba agrees. But you’ll have to persuade Ama yourself.’ Danzeng laughed resignedly. He’d never been able to refuse his stubborn daughter.
On this vast wilderness, where wind, sand, rain and snow battered the land and its inhabitants throughout the year, the only way humans could continue generation after generation was by relying on one another for help. It was the tight bonds of marriage that guaranteed this help would be given. The people of the grassland knew from experience that strong relationships made life more stable and more prosperous. Their sons and daughters could do what they liked with their bodies, but they had to do what their parents said when it came to marriage. This tradition had been handed down from ancient times; it was an established custom and everyone stuck to it. If a family were to have a child decide for herself, they would be seen as having turned their back on tradition and experience and would become the laughing stock of the grassland.
The reason Cuomu had dared to suggest to her father that she be allowed to find her own man was that she knew he was bitter about not having been able to decide his own marriage. Who on the grassland did not know about him and Gongzha’s mother, Dawa? Her father’s feelings for Dawa were complicated – when did a man looking for a simple fling seek out the same woman for decades?
That night, the herders watched the goings-on around the small white tent with interest. Everyone wanted to know who would be the first to pluck Cuoe Grassland’s snow lotus. Cuomu’s dog repeatedly leapt up and barked fiercely, inciting the neighbouring dogs to bark with him, but no one heard Cuomu call out to him. If she had, everyone would know who she’d chosen and that would have been the end of it. But Cuomu never made a sound, quietly letting the dog howl. Finally, she called her youngest uncle over, saying she was afraid and wanted him to keep her company.
Many tents accommodated entire families, but that didn’t stop the young men from making their nocturnal visits. At night, when everyone was in their own corner of the tent, they would still come and try their luck, and the adults weren’t bothered by this at all. But Cuomu was on her own and when she suddenly called her uncle over, that sent a different message. It told the young men she wasn’t interested in any of them. They turned away mournfully and for the rest of the night the grassland was silent.
Three days later, Cuomu and her good friend Yangji were sitting by the lake. A herd of sheep were grazing behind them. Yangji picked up a flat rock and skimmed it. She watched it skip three times, then turned to Cuomu and told her the gossip.
‘You know what, Cuomu, they’re betting on which man you’ll pick.’
Yangji was Ciwang’s youngest daughter. No one knew why, but Ciwang had suddenly been removed from office and had recently returned to the grassland. For a former Commune Revolutionary Committee Director to return home and become a herder again was a significant fall from grace. Some people said he’d been chasing a Han cadre – Han cadres weren’t like the women of the grassland and didn’t let men go dog-driving. They also said that because he’d never properly dealt with the living Buddha or found the Medicine Buddha, the higher-ups were unhappy and had fired him.
Cuomu and Yangji were the same age. They’d grown up together.
Cuomu shrugged off one sleeve of her leather chuba and tucked it into her belt. She gazed at the ripples on the lake and laughed. ‘They’re crazy.’
‘So who will you pick to be your wild stallion?’
‘Don’t worry, I won’t pick your man – I know you like Shida.’ Laughing, Cuomu pulled Yangji’s plaits. ‘Didn’t he visit you last night?’
‘Screw you.’ Yangji blushed and splashed water at Cuomu’s hair and face.
‘You’re still embarrassed about that? Even so, Yangji, you need to be careful. Your father looks down on Shida and wants you to marry someone from the town.’
‘Why are you still going on about it? If you mention it again, I’ll kill you!’ Yangji pushed Cuomu, who laughed as she fell back against the rocks, spreading out her arms and letting the sun warm her face and body.
Yangji caught a ladybird on the shingle and called to Cuomu. ‘Get up! Get up! Let’s see where our men are.’
Cuomu came over and crouched behind Yangji, and they both stared at her cupped hands. Young girls often played this game: whichever direction the ladybird flew off in would be the direction in which they’d find the man they would marry.
Yangji slowly opened first one hand and then the other. The ladybird crawled up her palm and flew off to the left.
‘Your man is that way.’ Cuomu giggled, slapping Yangji on the shoulder.
‘And your man is that way!’ Yangji turned round and pinched her.
The two girls laughed as they tussled on the stony shore.
After they’d had enough, Yangji propped herself up on one hand and, looking sideways at Cuomu, asked, ‘Be honest, who do you really like? Is it Luobudunzhu?’
‘Him?’ Cuomu laughed disparagingly. She lay back on the ground and with her eyes half closed watched a white cloud creep across the sky. ‘He’s not worthy of entering this celestial maiden’s tent.’
‘Then who is worthy of this celestial maiden?’ Yangji laid her face next to Cuomu’s and looked into her eyes, full of curiosity.
‘None of your business!’ Cuomu gave Yangji’s head a little shove. ‘It’s not Shida, anyway.’
‘You still miss him, don’t you?’
‘Who?’
‘You know who. It’s been years, and he’s only come back to see you twice. Are you going to wait for him forever?’
‘Who’s waiting for him? It’s just there’s no one I like on the grassland.’ Laughing, Cuomu pillowed her head on her hand as her heart conjured the image of Gongzha in his uniform.
‘You need to stop thinking about him. Your mother will never agree to it, anyway, and if you keep waiting for him, Miss Snow Lotus, you’ll wither. You should find a man while you’re still young and pretty.’ Yangji lay down, following Cuomu’s example.
‘Spoken like an old matchmaker.’ Cuomu smiled and nudged her friend’s waist.
Yangji rolled away with a laugh.
Three horses clattered up. Luobudunzhu and his two companions dismounted and came towards them.
‘I was wondering who was laughing so prettily! It was our snow lotus! Cuomu, do you want to see what I’ve brought you?’
Cuomu turned over and sat up. ‘Luobu, what are you doing coming here instead of going home?’
‘I was going home, but the laugh of the celestial maiden led me here.’ Smiling, Luobudunzhu drew a red cotton headscarf out of his chuba. ‘What do you think? Do you like it? I actually sent someone to the county town to buy it!’
‘Thank you, but I can’t take it. You should keep it for the woman you like!’ Cuomu laughed, sprang up, dusted herself down and set off towards the distant herd of sheep.
‘You are the woman I like,’ Luobudunzhu said eagerly, grabbing her by the arm. ‘Cuomu, I’m serious, I want to marry you.’
Cuomu whooped with laughter when she heard that, as if it was the funniest joke in the world. ‘Luobu, you want to make me your woman? I’m afraid my parents would disapprove!’
‘They wouldn’t – your parents like me.’ As he looked into her flower-like face, he couldn’t resist dipping his head to kiss her, but Cuomu blocked him.
‘My mother likes you, but I don’t like you.’ She peeled his hand off her arm and ran towards the herd, her laughter drifting back on the wind.
Luobudunzhu’s expression changed as he stared after her. Most people saw him as a young man with prospects, and all the other girls greeted him with a smile. Only Cuomu thought him unworthy.
Yangji shot him a sympathetic look, then raced off after Cuomu.
*
The grassland was as empty as it was vast. As the girls’ bodies matured, so did the workings of their hearts. For girls with something on their mind, there was plenty of room to roam by themselves, alone with their thoughts and their turbulent hearts, free to yearn and to dream.
Cuomu often sat alone in the remotest parts of the grassland, absorbed by the rolling mountains. Her longing for Gongzha would creep up on her without warning. Yes, Gongzha, her childhood sweetheart, her companion in herding and singing, her friend who in the space of just a few years with the army had become an eagle.
The first time he came back to visit his family, the two of them had sat together by the lake. As they gazed at the water under the light of the moon that first night, they pledged to marry each other.
The green grassland turned brown; the brown turned to green again. As the seasons changed, any unrest on the grassland slowly settled; peace returned and people’s hearts grew calm again.
Cuomu knew her mother’s feelings. It was not Gongzha she disliked; it was Gongzha’s mother, Dawa. Everyone on the grassland knew about Aba and Dawa’s relationship. Even though they were both old and the passion was no longer there, Aba still frequented Dawa’s tent. This made her mother furious; she said Dawa was a disruptive jenny who’d seduced her father. Once, her mother had even gone cursing to Dawa’s door and fought with her. Danzeng stayed home for two days after that, but on the third day he crept back to see her again.
The next time Gongzha came home to visit, Cuomu kept out of her mother’s sight and quietly went with Gongzha to an unused sheep pen. The two of them tumbled together on the dried sheep droppings.
‘Brother, I missed you so much. When you’re not here, I miss you every day, and I keep wondering when you’ll come back for good.’
‘I miss you too. I miss you when I’m eating and when we’re doing drill. Cuomu, Cuomu, you are my celestial maiden, you are my one and only celestial maiden!’ Gongzha gazed at the woman in his arms, the person he cherished most in the world.
‘Yes, I am your one and only celestial maiden. I am your Cuomu.’ Cuomu caressed his tanned and ruddy cheeks, her tears glistening. From the moment she’d understood what love was, she’d given her heart to him; she had never considered taking another man, and her tent was open only to him.
‘My celestial maiden, we just need to wait a bit longer. My senior officer says I should wait until I’ve got a work assignment before I leave the unit. So let’s wait till then. Trust me – I promise I’ll come back and marry you. I promise I’ll make you the woman of my tent.’
‘Alright. My man, do not forget the grassland, and do not forget that your woman is waiting for you.’
This was their vow, made in a tumbledown sheepfold full of dried droppings. As they held each other, the faint smell of sheep dung wafting up their nostrils, light clouds racing across the blue sky overhead, and the clear, jade-blue waters of the lake in front of them, they promised to spend the rest of their lives together.
And so they waited, month after month and year after year.
He’d said that this winter he would come home for good. To Cuomu, this was a promise, and motivation enough to continue quietly waiting. She wanted to be his woman, to be with him and only him for the rest of her life. Such strength of feeling was unusual on the grassland. Her friends got tents of their own and began raising children, and meanwhile Cuomu waited, day after day and year after year.
Baila was always dropping hints to her daughter, saying that Luobudunzhu was a good man, that he was kind to the elderly, courteous to others, and wise, but Cuomu never responded. ‘You need to get married,’ Ama repeated at every opportunity. ‘You need to find a man to spend your life with.’ Today, Cuomu had escaped her mother’s nagging and was sitting on the grass, hugging her knees and staring at the distant mountains. Her longing surged through her like the floodwaters of Cuoe Lake, covering everything in its path.
Recently, Ama had taken to going out early and coming back late; when she returned, she would whisper secretively to Aba and the uncles, and as soon as Cuomu walked in, they’d fall silent. Cuomu knew what they were discussing, so one afternoon when they were all home she said, ‘Ama, there’s no need for you to find me a man. Stop interfering in my life.’
When Baila heard this, she jumped up, shouting that Cuomu had been spoilt by her father and would not even listen to her elders.
Cuomu had stood up too, and stabbed her knife into the yak meat. Tilting her head towards Danzeng, who seemed to be buried in his cup of tea, she shouted, ‘Aba, if you and Ama find a man for me behind my back, I’ll leave the grassland and become a nanny in the city!’ In the last few years, several girls who were unhappy at home had gone to the city to become nannies, cooking and taking care of other people’s children. When they came back they wore showy clothes and no longer seemed like grasslanders.
‘Just you try it!’ Baila slammed down her tea and stared at her. ‘If you dare go, I’ll break your legs!’
‘If you find me a man behind my back, you just see if I dare!’ Cuomu snorted. She slammed down her fist and strode out of the tent.
As she clasped her shins and gazed at the mountains, Cuomu’s tears fell like rain. Behind her, the black tents stood in rows; in the distance, the yaks and sheep wandered slowly. Gongzha, I miss you so much – do you still miss me?
Just then Shida walked over, sat down beside her, and said quietly, ‘Are you thinking about him again?’
‘He said that next time he comes home, he won’t leave again. Do you think he’ll really stay, Shida?’
‘If he said he’ll stay, he’ll definitely stay. When do we grassland men not keep our word?’ Shida plucked a blade of grass and put it in his mouth.
‘That’s true – he’s still one of us!’ Cuomu laughed and was a little ashamed to have doubted her lover.
‘Is your mother still against it?’
‘I’ve thought about it, Shida, and when he comes back this time, whether Ama agrees to it or not, I’m going to marry him.’ She had a determined expression on her face.
After a brief silence, Shida said lightly, ‘Would you never consider anyone else?’
‘Shida, I’m sorry. I know you have feelings for me, and I know you’ve tried twice to come to my tent, but my heart only has room for him and no one else.’ Cuomu spoke with her head lowered. ‘Yangji’s a good girl – go and have a serious talk with your father and marry her.’
‘They’ve already made a marriage arrangement for her, didn’t you know? With someone from across the lake.’ Shida gave a dry laugh.
‘Isn’t that because you gave up?’ Cuomu turned to look at him. ‘Yangji’s been waiting for you all these years, but your father has never sent anyone to her family to discuss marriage.’
Shida avoided her gaze. ‘Cuomu, I—’
‘Shida, you and Gongzha are good friends. I’ve never hidden my feelings from you. I will never marry anyone but Gongzha. Yangji likes you – if you go to her family, you’ll still be in time.’
Shida shook his head obstinately. ‘If you can wait for Gongzha, I can wait for you!’
‘That’s asking for trouble!’ Cuomu laughed bitterly and turned back to the mountains.
While Shida and Cuomu were talking, Luobudunzhu was at Cuomu’s family tent. He gave Baila a thick shawl, and Baila cheerfully busied herself making tea for her guest.
‘Cuomu just went out, Luobu, dear. Sit and I’ll pour you some tea.’
‘I’ll help you, Ama.’ Luobudunzhu wasn’t sure when he’d started calling Baila ‘Ama’ instead of ‘Auntie’, but Baila had tacitly agreed to this change.
‘How are things with you and our Cuomu, Luobu? Have you made any progress?’
‘Ama, Cuomu… she… doesn’t seem to like me.’
‘How could that be? You’re so capable and handsome. Luobu, you’re a man – you need to be more proactive.’
‘I’ve already gone to her several times, but it’s no good. The dog at her door is fierce and I can’t get into her tent.’
‘That’s easily dealt with. I’ll get her uncle to take the dog away tonight.’
‘Thank you! Thank you, Ama.’ Luobudunzhu was so delighted that he gave the table a vigorous kick and the tea water went flying.
That night, Cuomu brought the sheep back, took the two lamb chops her mother had prepared specially for her, threw one to the dog at her door and chewed on the other herself. She lit the stove, poured in a shovel of sheep droppings, closed the door against the wind and put the kettle on to boil; the tent soon warmed up. Humming herders’ songs, she took off her thick chuba and changed into a long silk dress. The hearts of all the young men watching ached at the sight of her lovely silhouette, clearly visible on the outside walls of her tent.
Hearing movement outside, Cuomu stopped washing her face, lifted her head and asked, ‘Who’s there?’
‘It’s me.’ It was her youngest uncle’s voice. ‘I’m taking the dog. We’re afraid the wolves will come tonight, and the sheep-pen needs him.’
Cuomu agreed and thought nothing of it. These past couple of days there’d been a rumour flying around that the chain that tethered the Wolf Spirit to the top of Mount Chanaluo had stretched, and that meant wolves would be coming to terrorise the grassland again. Every family had sent people to the sheep pens to keep watch through the night. The yak-pens weren’t such a worry; yaks were large and the young men who watched over them were the strongest in the encampment, so the wolves wouldn’t bother them. But sheep were docile by nature and wolves understood them better than anyone. Faced with danger, sheep would immediately try to escape, and that made them an easy target. As long as the wolves didn’t run into any humans, there would be rich pickings.
The wolves of northern Tibet tended to act alone, unwilling to share their food unless they were desperate, or to put themselves in unnecessary danger. When a pack of wolves went out, they risked getting picked off by a gun before they’d even got near their prey. Guns were unpredictable and could move in any direction; even the fiercest wolf was no match for a hunter.
There were many people in Cuomu’s family, so night-watch duty had not yet fallen to Cuomu herself. And being the only child with four adults doing everything they could to keep her safe and well, it was unlikely she’d be asked to go. How could they make her spend the night at the sheep pen in the company of a group of foul-smelling men?
Baila thought well of Luobudunzhu, and Cuomu’s father and uncles had nothing against him. Among all the young men of the grassland, Luobudunzhu stood out, and his family circumstances were good. There were four brothers; he was the eldest and he was clever and hard-working. He’d recently fallen in with some Khampas who’d come to the grassland on business, looking for antiques. Rumour had it that he’d made quite a bit of money. A smart man could make life comfortable for a woman, protecting her from the worst of the relentless wind and sand. Even though Danzeng secretly approved of Gongzha, he knew that his brothers and his wife were angry about his relationship with Dawa, so when they paid repeated visits to Luobudunzhu, he didn’t dare say anything.
Shida didn’t know why, but that night he couldn’t sleep. The news that Yangji was going to get married made him uncomfortable. He was not unaware of Yangji’s feelings for him, but he’d always liked Cuomu. Even though he often went dog-driving to Yangji’s tent, that was just how the young men and women of the grassland spent their lonely evenings. There were no promises, no spiritual bonding, just two bodies coming together. No one expected it to be a long-term thing.
That was the way Shida thought, and the way he acted. Even as he gave his body to one woman, in his heart he was thinking of another. But Yangji felt quite differently. She loved Shida and she was hurt by his behaviour. She’d waited so long for him to come and seek her in marriage, and when he didn’t, her heart froze like the waters of Cuoe Lake in winter, and she was angry.
That night, as she’d watched Shida and Cuomu sitting talking together on the plain, so close they seemed like lovers, her tears had fallen uncontrollably. She had intended to wait for Shida to come back, but in the end she welcomed another man to her tent for the first time. For no other reason than to forget.
Shida stood outside Yangji’s tent in the moonlight. When he heard the laughter inside, he retreated silently. He felt strangely unmoved. Letting his body do the talking had been easy enough, but his heart was a lot more choosy.
All of a sudden, screams and curses ripped through the quiet night. They came from Cuomu’s white tent.
Cuomu had been in a deep sleep when suddenly she felt someone pressing down on her and pulling at her clothes. She yelled out and reached for the dagger by her pillow, but before she got the chance to use it, her arm was grabbed.
‘Cuomu, it’s me!’
‘Luobudunzhu, you bastard, get out!’
‘Cuomu, my snow lotus, be my woman. I think of you every night – I think of you so much, I can’t sleep.’ Luobudunzhu lay down on top of her and began smothering her face with kisses.
‘You bastard, fuck off!’ Cuomu pushed him hard and shouted for her uncles, mother, and father in the next tent, but no one responded.
‘Don’t shout – your mother agreed to my coming. If she hadn’t made your uncle take your dog away, how could I have got in?’ Luobudunzhu lifted up her underwear. As she lay there trembling, her full breasts gleaming in the moonlight, her body seemed to glow. He was mesmerised.
‘I don’t want to! I don’t want to!’ Cuomu shrieked, kicking and scratching and leaving a bloody trail across Luobudunzhu’s face.
‘Hey, hey, don’t yell. Tonight I will make you my woman, and tomorrow I’ll get my family to come and discuss marriage. Come on, my snow lotus!’ Luobudunzhu tried to tug down her pants.
‘No!’ Cuomu screamed piteously. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t break free of this man, so fired up with lust. ‘Luobudunzhu, Gongzha will kill you when he comes back – if you dare touch his woman, he won’t let you get away with it.’
‘What right does he have to compete with me? What has he got that I haven’t?’
It would have been better if Cuomu hadn’t brought up Gongzha. At the mention of his name, a burst of ruthless anger surged through Luobudunzhu. He thought of the night they’d had a struggle session for the old living Buddha and how Gongzha’s angry eyes had remained fixed on him throughout, as if it had been his own father they’d tied up. He was a little afraid of those eyes, because their expression was like that of a bloodthirsty leopard, and he was its prey.
Just when he was on the point of getting his way, the tent flap moved and a figure came in, followed by a rush of freezing wind.
‘Cuomu…’
‘Shida, help me!’ Cuomu shouted in desperation.
‘This is none of your business,’ Luobudunzhu snarled at Shida from where he was lying on top of Cuomu. ‘Get the fuck out.’
Shida immediately withdrew. According to the rules of the grassland, when a man was visiting a woman’s tent, regardless of whether she had agreed to it or not, no one else could interfere.
‘No, Shida, help me!’ Cuomu repeated. ‘I beg you, help me!’
Shida spun round and went back into the tent. He yanked Luobudunzhu upright and punched him in the face. Luobudunzhu stumbled to one side, clutching his cheek.
Cuomu leapt up, pulled down her clothes and grabbed her knife, ready to rush over.
Shida held her back.
‘Let go of me! I’ll kill him, the bastard – how dare he touch me!’ Cuomu struggled and waved the knife in the air, her eyes burning with hatred.
Shida pulled at her arm. ‘Forget it, Cuomu. Just be a little more careful next time.’
Luobudunzhu scrambled up, a streak of blood at the corner of his mouth. He glared viciously at the two people by the bed, especially Shida. If Shida hadn’t burst in, Cuomu would have been his tonight. The more Luobudunzhu thought about it, the angrier he got. Eventually, without any thought for the consequences, he grabbed the gurgling pot of boiling water from the stove and swung it at Shida. Shida dodged, but the pot hit his leg. The boiling water soaked through his trousers and the stabbing pain made him stagger.
‘Shida!’ Cuomu cried as she held him upright. Turning to Luobudunzhu, she laughed coldly. ‘What a bastard you are, Luobudunzhu – you fail to seduce me, so you resort to violence instead? If you think you’re going to be my man, you’re dreaming. I’ll never accept you.’
‘Fine. You won’t be my woman, you want to be Gongzha’s woman, you want to be that nothing’s woman… Fine, fine…’ Luobudunzhu bellowed, his eyes red. He pulled his knife from his belt and hurtled over. Shida pushed Cuomu out of the way and the knife plunged into his chest. Warm blood spurted out.
Danzeng, Baila and Yangji came running into the tent at Cuomu’s screams. When they saw the blood on Shida’s chest, they froze. Danzeng was the first to react and quickly helped Cuomu support Shida out of the tent. Luobudunzhu fled immediately.
When Shida’s parents saw Danzeng helping their bloody son into their tent, they were so frightened, they didn’t know what to do. Danzeng called to the women to help Shida onto the bed. Then he told everyone what had happened.
Shida’s uncle stood up with a roar, drew his knife and was about to rush out, but Danzeng held him back. ‘Help the boy first. Deal with the rest later.’
‘Uncle, Father, forget it. Don’t go after him!’ Shida also tried to stop his raging uncle.
Yangji helped Shida’s mother take off Shida’s robe and use clean strips of cloth to bind the wound, but the blood continued to gush out. Shida was obviously and rapidly losing colour, and his vision began to go cloudy.
‘What can we do?’ Yangji started crying.
There was no doctor in the encampment. Before, the herders used to consult the living Buddha of Cuoe Temple when they were sick. But now the living Buddha had been forced to resume a secular life, had been beaten into a cow-ghost snake-spirit, and had become the lame Zhaduo. With that kind of history, who would dare ask for his help? Especially given that, back during his struggle session, Shida’s parents had been the first to rush at him.
‘It’s after midnight – we can’t go to the town,’ Danzeng said.
‘Find Uncle. Doesn’t Uncle know some medicine?’ Cuomu said, looking at her father expectantly.
Shida’s father also looked at Danzeng. He was the team leader. If he nodded, that would make whatever followed a little better.
‘We can’t overthink it. Cuomu, go and get your uncle and explain everything to him,’ Danzeng said, looking first at Shida and then back at his daughter. ‘Shida’s mother, light two more lamps and make the tent brighter.’
Cuomu ran out. A short while later she returned, bringing lame Zhaduo with her.
Zhaduo did not greet anyone; he went straight to the bed and glanced at Shida, then pulled a medicine pellet from his chuba and stuffed it into Shida’s mouth. Yangji served Shida a little hot water.
After watching him swallow, Zhaduo began to undo the strips of cloth. ‘Bring a bowl of water!’
Shida’s mother quickly did as he’d asked.
Zhaduo used a cloth to carefully clean away the blood. Then he pulled a bottle of medicine from his chuba and shook some powder onto the wound. Once the bleeding had stopped, he found some clean cloths and bound up the wound again. By the time he’d finished, it was almost dawn. Zhaduo straightened up and said, ‘He’s lost too much blood. Once it’s light, find some Party medicine for him to take.’
‘Party medicine’ was what north Tibetan herders called Western medicine. In the past, the grassland hadn’t had Western medicine, but after the Eighteenth Army Corps had come to Tibet and the Han doctors had walked out onto the Changtang Plateau to treat the herders, it began to spread. Because the Communist Party brought it, the herders called it Party medicine.
Danzeng left for the town in the morning. He returned shortly before nightfall, bringing with him a bespectacled Han army doctor with a medical bag on his back. The two of them went straight to Shida’s tent.
When the people in the encampment heard that a young Han doctor had come, they gathered outside Shida’s family tent, gossiping about the new arrival. Because Cuoe was deep in the grassland, it seldom saw outsiders, let alone a Han doctor. ‘I heard my man say his last name is Zhuo – he’s called Zhuo Mai,’ Baila whispered to her neighbours, deliberately mysterious. ‘He’s in the Border Defence Regiment. My man ran into him in the town. When he told his leaders about Shida’s injury, they told him to come and take care of it.’
The herders began swarming up to the tent door, craning their necks and trying to catch a glimpse of Shida with all the white cloths wrapped around his chest. His father was standing by the bed, holding up a bottle with a tube coming out of it, and the tube was stuck into Shida’s wrist. Shida’s colour was much better than it had been that morning and people were clicking their tongues in amazement. Those at the back couldn’t see, so they kept jumping up and supporting themselves on the shoulders of the people in front of them, which won them a stream of curses.
Dr Zhuo stood up and smiled at the people around the door. ‘Come in, dear friends,’ he said. ‘Let me give you all a check-up.’ His fluent Tibetan shocked the herders.
They shuffled in sheepishly, pushing one another along.
Danzeng took control. ‘Come on in. Line up one by one and don’t crowd,’ he said.
Young and old alike were curious to see what was happening, and the queue was long. One at a time, they stood in front of Dr Zhuo, their heads bowed. When the doctor lifted his stethoscope to listen to their chests, some of them couldn’t help doubling over with laughter. Danzeng put on a sober expression and shouted, ‘Be a little more serious. If you carry on laughing, you won’t be examined.’ The laughers straightened up and deliberately kept their faces taut so he couldn’t tell whether they found it funny or not. Those who got a pellet or two of medicine left proudly under envious gazes.
On the grassland, conflicts were traditionally resolved either by taking revenge in blood, or by accepting money instead. On the third day, under the supervision of a clan elder, the two families came together and a yak was give in compensation for Shida’s injury.