Communication Under the Starry Sky

Since the announcement of the special training came at dusk, the day's focus was on allowing everyone to familiarize themselves with one another. A series of strict militarized regulations were also announced, such as limiting meal times to no more than fifteen minutes, requiring sleeping on hardboard beds, ensuring absolute tidiness and uniformity in clothing, and even specifying the timing for bathroom breaks.

After dinner, Professor Fang approached Lü Jingnan directly and said, "Instructor Lü, I'm shocked and confused by your actions today. I believe your methods are wrong."

Lü Jingnan responded calmly, "Professor Fang, I respect you as a wise elder. If everyone here were as wise and reasonable as you, I wouldn't need to go to such lengths to manage these people. But as you've seen, this group is completely disorganized. Aside from the two soldiers who can follow orders, the rest come from various professions—even including prisoners released on bail. If I'm not strict, how can I ensure they'll follow my commands in the future? Without uniform arrangements and coordination, it would be impossible to train them into a team capable of exploration, let alone carry out this expedition."

Professor Fang said, "I understand the purpose and significance of your approach. I think others can see your intent as well. But that's precisely the problem. You must realize that our group comprises people from various fields and with age gaps ranging from ten to several decades. We are not soldiers trained to follow orders without question. Everyone here has their own independent way of thinking and personality. While we may be like scattered sand, we are at least gathered in the same container. If you rely solely on force and authoritarianism to make them comply, this fragile cohesion might shatter even faster than you imagine.

"Take Tashi Danba, for example. I know my student well. He's someone who acts on his own will and never submits to authority or power. I've never seen him admit defeat. When he agreed to participate in this training, I thought convincing him would be incredibly difficult. However, perhaps his experiences in Hoh Xil taught him humility and made him aware of his limitations, so he agreed. Otherwise, with his personality, he'd be scaling snowy peaks by now instead of staying in this camp. If you try to make him submit to your orders, the most likely result is that he'll go off on his own, ignoring any risks, to find the Pabara Monastery. That would end all chances of cooperation."

Lü Jingnan tilted her head and asked, "Then, Professor, what do you suggest I do?"

Professor Fang, confident in his advice, said, "It's simple: manage them with a human touch. Don't impose rigid military rules and strict schedules. Take the time to explain the purpose and benefits of each step. Treat them as family—guide them like siblings or elders."

Lü Jingnan furrowed her brows. This approach was entirely unfamiliar to her. She nodded and said, "Understood. Thank you for the advice. I'll think it over."

Later, Dr. Gu held a video call with the group. Professor Fang jokingly said, "Finally, we've seen the Professor's prized student. Truly impressive—she can take down two strong men without breaking a sweat." Dr. Gu hurriedly clarified, "Don't misunderstand. I only taught her archaeology and outdoor survival skills. Her combat skills came from a different master. With my old bones, I couldn't possibly be so skilled." Dr. Gu then held a separate conversation with Lü Jingnan, Eric, and others, but the content was unclear.

Before bedtime, as many complained about the hardness of the beds, Lü Jingnan entered the barracks and offered additional explanations. She said that sleeping on hardboard beds was training to help adapt to lying on the ground in the wild. The strict time regulations were to cultivate precision in managing every second, which could be life-saving in survival situations. However, the set bedtime rule was canceled, allowing everyone to follow their habits as long as they didn't disrupt the next day's training. This announcement was met with applause, and Lü Jingnan nodded slightly toward Professor Fang.

After coaxing Tang Min to sleep, Tashi Danba quietly stepped out of the barracks. The mountain breeze was calm and gentle, with a hint of chill that cleared his mind and swept away his drowsiness. He gazed up at the vast sky, filled with stars and illuminated by a bright moon. The constellations formed a silver chain that seemed to flow across the night—a galaxy, the infinite universe showcasing nature's beauty to humanity. Tashi Danba recalled the night sky in Hoh Xil, when the moon was a crescent. Now, it was full again and soon would wane. For the first time, he doubted this expedition. Could he truly uncover the forbidden gate that no one had opened for millennia? Was the violet qilin really the sacred guardian of the Pabara Monastery? How had his simple aspirations become so convoluted? Now it was a state-endorsed scientific investigation, but he couldn't shake an unease he couldn't quite pinpoint.

"What are you thinking about, young man? The night breeze is strong." Eric's warm and enthusiastic voice was unmistakable.

Tashi Danba found a clean rock to sit on, gazing at the stars, and replied, "Dr. Eric, still awake at this hour?"

The group was divided into three barracks: Tang Min and Lü Jingnan shared one; Tashi Danba, Zhang Li, Yue Yang, and Basang another; and Eric, the Yala Lama, and Professor Fang the last.

Eric chuckled. "Don't be so formal. Past expedition members all called me Uncle Maula. You can call me Brother Maula. I know your friends call you Danba. Mind if I do the same?"

Tashi Danba knew Eric's full name was Maula Eric but didn't know what "Maula" meant. He replied, "Of course, Brother Maula."

Eric said, "I'm a night owl, but I didn't expect to see you here too. You look like you've got a lot on your mind. Care to share?"

Tashi Danba answered, "It's nothing. Just adjusting to this new environment. I couldn't sleep."

Using his characteristic Xinjiang accent, Eric said, "Oh, come on, young man. Lying is no good. Your eyes give you away. If it's about what happened earlier, I can apologize on Jingnan's behalf. She's under a lot of pressure—she has to train you all, who've barely experienced survival in the wild, into a competent expedition team in such a short time. She's anxious."

Tashi Danba relaxed and said, "Honestly, what happened during the day didn't bother me—I understand her intentions. Before this, I had ventured into the uninhabited areas of Tibet several times, all to search for the Tibetan mastiffs I've always admired. You see, only the best mastiffs can be found in Tibet's remote mountains. However, every previous search involved a luxurious team, which is very different from this experience. To be honest, before going to Hoh Xil, I had never encountered real dangers. But from what I know, the place we're heading to is even more perilous—so dangerous that… I can't even fathom the extent of it." He paused, stared at Eric, and asked, "Do you think I'm crazy—for a dog?"

Eric gave a kindly smile and said, "No, quite the opposite. I can understand your feelings. If you were doing all this for the Pabara Monastery, it would simply show you're an ordinary person. But for a dog—"

"A mastiff, a Tibetan mastiff," Tashi corrected.

"Oh, fine, for a mastiff," Eric continued, "then even I must admit my admiration for you." His wise eyes began to shine as he spoke in a nostalgic tone. "A person's life should have purpose and pursuit. But most people are consumed by mere survival, constantly struggling, and when they grow old, they find that their life offers little worth remembering. If you ask such people why they live, they'll simply reply, 'Because I'm still alive.' What's the meaning of a life like that? It's so tragic. When your spirit has a purpose, no matter what you pursue, as long as you firmly believe in it, you should go after it. Even if time and history forget you, as long as you feel fulfilled with what you've done for yourself, that's enough."

Eric's words were like a wake-up call. Tashi Danba, who had stubbornly pursued the same goal despite mixed support and opposition, suddenly felt a deep resonance. Even his mentor, Professor Fang, sometimes failed to fully understand him. Hearing Eric now, he felt an intense connection. Grasping Eric's hands tightly, he said, "Thank you! Thank you, Brother Maula!"

Eric's eyes grew slightly moist as he softly replied, "No need to thank me. On my first day joining the expedition team, my mentor, Dr. Gu Junren, told me these words. Throughout all these years of life-and-death trials, I've never wavered, because Dr. Gu's words have echoed in my ears, and I dare not forget a single one."

"Hey? You're both here?" Zhang Li suddenly stepped out of the barracks.

Tashi Danba teased, "What? Even soldiers can break rules and wander around at night?"

Zhang Li replied, "I often had night duty before. I thought I heard something outside and came to check."

The three, unable to sleep, began chatting in the open space outside the barracks. Tashi Danba started telling them stories about dogs. Once he began talking about dogs, he seemed endlessly enthusiastic, going on and on. He discussed everything from small terriers to King Charles Spaniels, from Pekingese to Bulldogs. Any well-known breed, he had professional knowledge about it. Both Zhang Li and Eric, well-informed as they were, hadn't expected the world of dogs to be so vast and intricate.

Tashi Danba explained, "People often believe that domesticated dogs are unconditionally loyal to their owners for life. That's actually a misconception—it's not entirely accurate. A dog's loyalty to humans is based on mutual trust and understanding. Dogs have their own sense of right and wrong; they can distinguish between good and bad. I've seen many abandoned town dogs. They completely understand that their owners no longer want them, that they've been utterly discarded. As a result, when these dogs integrate into new environments, they often exhibit even more dependence and eagerness to please their new owners. That's because dogs raised in households can no longer adapt to surviving in the wild. When abandoned, the desolation and helplessness they feel are far stronger than a lost child's. So, when they meet kind adopters, they go out of their way to please their new owners. But how many people realize that while these dogs are desperately trying to please, they're yearning deeply for recognition and affection from their owners?"

Zhang Li questioned skeptically, "The way you say it, it's like they're highly intelligent."

Tashi Danba affirmed, "That's right. In many Western countries, dogs are treated as family members, not just pets. Here's an interesting fact: if you're curious, you can verify it. Large dogs—like mastiffs, wolfhounds, shepherds, or bulldogs—can distinguish between being given away, fostered, or sold. Especially if their owners count money in front of them, they'll recognize the reality. If fostered, they'll still show affection if their original owner visits years later. But if sold, even after just six months, they'll act like strangers to their previous owners."

Eric also said, "Exactly, I also believe that their intelligence far exceeds current estimates. My great-aunt lived alone in France and suffered from paralysis in her later years, making her unable to care for herself—even losing control over basic bodily functions. She went through seven caregivers, all of whom left because they couldn't handle the situation. Later, they provided her with a Labrador service dog named Ola. I saw that little guy once—its cleverness surpassed anything you can imagine. My great-aunt only needed to give a look, and Ola knew exactly what to do. Because of her limited mobility, her room caught fire three times, and each time, Ola saved her from the brink of death. Ola served my great-aunt for eleven years, until its passing. When Ola died, my great-aunt was devastated. She simply couldn't believe it had happened, and within half a year, she too passed away. In the last month of her life, her brain condition deteriorated drastically. She became confused, forgetting the names of her late husband and son, the name of her faith, and even who she was. Yet she kept repeating, 'Ola, it's time to go shopping. Ola, bring my shoes. Ola, good boy. Ola, my good boy.' Even on the morning she passed, she looked at the sunlight streaming through the window, smiling as she said to us, 'Ola, go fetch the paper and milk. Ola, we're leaving. Ola, we're leaving.' Every time she mentioned Ola, her eyes were filled with joy. That happiness moved my soul. It was then I realized that Ola was not just a pet—it was part of her life. She couldn't live without Ola, just as a person cannot live without their soul."

Zhang Li's eyes became moist. In Ola's story, he saw a selfless devotion that is rarely found in human society, except in one form: a mother's love. Only a mother's love for her children is pure, selfless, and given without regard for cost or reward. Lost in thought, Zhang Li found himself drifting back to the misty little town of his childhood. The stone-paved roads were damp again. He remembered lying sick in bed for three days. No matter when he turned over, he could see his mother's small figure, sitting on a low stool by the doorframe in her blue homespun clothes, smiling with a kindness like a bodhisattva as she stitched soles for cloth shoes. If he moved too loudly, his mother would come over, gently stroke his back, and murmur, "My little one will be well soon. You'll get better. Tomorrow Mama will buy you something tasty." During the day, traffic bustled past her like flowing water, contrasting sharply with her still presence. At night, stars twinkled above her head, and the moonlight turned her black hair white. For three days and nights, she stayed by his bedside, quietly stitching shoe soles. No matter the time, her warmth was always there. Even years later, waking from dreams, he could still see her sitting by the doorframe, quietly stitching soles—a sight indelibly etched into his soul, impossible to forget.

Eric continued, addressing Tashi Danba, "So, I fully understand your pursuit of this unique breed of dog. Dogs truly are extraordinary creatures. If you treat them as friends, they'll be the most loyal friends. If you treat them as family, they'll become your closest kin—like your own children."

After a moment of silence, Tashi Danba asked in surprise, "What's wrong, Zhang Li?" Although Eric's story had saddened him as well, he was astonished to see Zhang Li shedding tears.

Zhang Li wiped his eyes and apologized, "Ah, it's nothing. Listening to Dr. Eric's story reminded me of my mother." He began speaking softly, almost in a whisper, "When I was young, our family was very poor. My father worked far from home, and my mother earned money for the household by stitching soles for shoes…"

Under the silent night sky, for reasons unknown, the three men, who barely knew each other, began to open up their hearts, sharing their thoughts and emotions deep into the night.

The next day, their targeted training officially began. According to the schedule, the morning was devoted to theoretical studies, while the afternoon focused on practical skills. There was much to learn. The morning classes included outdoor safety, emergency first aid, identification of wild flora and fauna, archaeology theory, and basic knowledge of meteorology and geography. The afternoon's practical sessions started with fundamentals such as basic climbing, simple tool crafting, and introductory combat training. In the evening, they received intensive lessons from the lama Yarra on ancient Tibetan script and spoken Tibetan. They were also required to learn the Goban language, though the Goban script was said to be lost, so they were relieved to be excused from studying it.

Even the theoretical lessons had been condensed by Lü Jingnan. Wilderness survival theory was limited to knowledge applicable to altitudes of 4,000 to 8,000 meters above sea level. Botany and zoology were also simplified, focusing on identifying harmful versus harmless species and recognizing the most toxic and dangerous plants and animals, as well as widely distributed edible ones. Practical training in the afternoon laid the groundwork for the future and was uncompromisingly rigorous. This was where Tang Min's resilience shone. Despite her petite and delicate appearance, she gritted her teeth and never backed down. By the end of the day, her hands and feet were covered in blisters, which she punctured herself with a needle at night, only to continue high-intensity training the next day without a word of complaint.

Evenings, however, were everyone's least favorite time. The ancient Tibetan script was bewildering to understand; even memorizing the symbols felt like a monumental task. Eric and Lü Jingnan hoped to provide foundational knowledge of scripts symbolizing the origins of civilization, enabling the team to deduce the meanings of unfamiliar symbols in the future. This idea faced strong opposition from most members, including Professor Fang. The dissenters argued that this task belonged to specialists and was far too demanding for their level of intelligence.