A Love Letter from Lhasa  5

Chapter 4: The Reunion of Father and Daughter in Chengdu

19

In the arrivals hall of Chengdu Airport, Annie walked out alone, pulling a suitcase behind her. She hailed a taxi at the entrance and got in.

"Miss, where would you like to go?"

"Chengdu University of the Arts."

The taxi pulled away from the airport and headed toward the city.

Dragging her suitcase, Annie arrived at the building housing the university's Department of Fine Arts.

She stopped a female student with a ponytail and striking facial features to ask for directions.

"Excuse me, could you tell me where Professor Zashi's office is?"

"Professor Zashi is my thesis advisor. He should be teaching a class right now. My name is Natsen Meido. Would you like me to take you there? You can leave your suitcase in his office."

Annie smiled. "Thank you."

Natsen Meido accompanied Annie to the office so she could leave her suitcase there, then led her into a large lecture hall. Meido waved goodbye to Annie and left.

Annie took a seat in the back row and sat in on her father's lecture on the History of Tibetan Art.

She thought to herself, "Father looks much older than he does in the photographs. He knows Tibet, his homeland, so well. He must go back there often, doesn't he?"

20

When class ended, the students began leaving their seats. Annie walked to the front entrance to wait for her father. Zashi gathered his lecture notes and came to the front entrance. When he saw Annie, Grace's face suddenly appeared in his mind. He stood there, stunned, for quite some time.

In Tibetan, Annie called softly, "Father, I am Tsangyang Annie."

The lecture notes slipped from Zashi's hands. He opened his arms and embraced Annie. Reunited at last, father and daughter were so overwhelmed with emotion that tears filled their eyes and neither could speak. Several students nearby watched them curiously.

Zashi led Annie back to his research office. Annie took from her backpack the book written by her grandmother, An Illustrated Collection of Tibetan Esoteric Buddhist Murals and Stupa Designs, and handed it to Zashi.

Father and daughter sat facing each other on wooden chairs and spoke in Tibetan.

"Father, this book was written by Grandma Drolma. The reason I came back this time is that I want to fulfill her final wish."

"Did Grace tell you about the manuscript of Tsangyang Gyatso's love poems?"

"Yes. She also told me what happened between you, Mother, and Uncle Li Jianhua."

Zashi gave a bitter smile. "Oh? I owe Grace and you an apology..."

"Father, Mother has passed away."

Zashi looked shocked. "Oh? I still didn't make it back in time to see her one last time..."

"Did you know Mother had brain cancer?"

"Yes. About a year ago, Jianhua informed me in a letter. I never imagined Grace's condition would deteriorate so quickly!"

"Before she died, Mother told me that I must not blame you. She also said that she was sorry for what she had done to you."

"Alas... Actually, I've already forgiven her. At the time, I had just returned from China and was submitting my doctoral dissertation to the Institute of Fine Arts. During that period, I unexpectedly learned that your mother and Li Jianhua had been having an extramarital affair. I was devastated. My mother, Drolma, blamed herself for not having kept a closer eye on her daughter-in-law. My decision to return to China was certainly influenced by Grace's infidelity, but I actually had another, more important purpose: to search for the manuscript of the love poems written by our ancestor, Tsangyang Gyatso. It was a treasured heirloom of the Tsangyang family, and Drolma also agreed with my decision."

"Yes, Father. I heard Grandma mention that manuscript of love poems to Mother."

"After the War of Resistance Against Japan ended in victory in 1945, my mother, Drolma, and her husband, Nayo Lun, a Flying Tigers pilot, hid it inside the wall of the family shrine in our old home in Lhasa before they followed the Nationalist government to Taiwan. But after the devastation of the Cultural Revolution, our old home was razed to the ground and our relatives scattered. The sandalwood box containing Tsangyang Gyatso's love letters was lost from that time onward. For the past twenty years, I've frequently returned to Tibet, making inquiries both openly and discreetly in the hope of finding the manuscript of those love poems. But I've never received any reliable information. Whether the manuscript still exists or where it might have ended up remains an unsolved mystery to this day."

Annie said, "Oh. From the sound of it, finding that manuscript again may come down to sheer luck."

21

Zashi and Annie drove back to his residence.

Zashi led his daughter into the house, through the living room, and into the guest room.

"Annie, put down your luggage and get some rest. I'll go to the kitchen and prepare dinner."

Annie entered the guest room, set down her suitcase, and opened the window to look at the scenery outside.

Zashi went into the kitchen and personally prepared butter tea and yak meat.

In the dining room, the table was set with a small wooden barrel of butter tea, a bowl of roasted barley flour for tsampa, and a plate of braised yak meat.

Zashi and Annie sat across from each other. Annie poured some butter tea into a clay bowl and used a spoon to mix it with the tsampa flour. Her movements looked somewhat clumsy.

"I haven't had a chance to eat food from home like this since Grandma passed away."

"Annie, use your hands to mix it. We Tibetans are used to eating it this way. Give it a try."

Annie put down her spoon and used her fingers to knead the tsampa flour, working it into a ball.

Zashi picked up a slice of yak meat and placed it on the plate in front of Annie.

"Try it. This is authentic yak meat. You can't get this in America."

Annie picked up the slice of meat and took a bite.

"It's very chewy. The meat is quite firm."

"I could stew it longer, but I like its springy texture. Have some more. Help yourself!"

22

In the living room, Annie sat on the sofa, flipping through a photo album. Zashi brought over a plate of Asian pears and apples.

"These fruits are locally grown. Give them a try."

Zashi sat down. When he noticed the photo album, he leaned closer to look at it.

In one photograph, Zashi was holding Annie, who was just over a month old, while her mother, Grace, leaned against him. He looked handsome and full of youthful vigor. Father and daughter looked through the album together, and Zashi gazed at Grace in the photograph.

"Grace was so beautiful back then. Did Li Jianhua come to our house often?"

"Uncle Li only came to our house once a year, on my birthday, to celebrate with me. But he always treated Mother with great respect. He never said or did anything inappropriate."

Zashi said with relief, "Yes. He really did keep his promise. His actions matched his words."

"Mother took me to the church every month to collect a living allowance. I suspect Uncle Li was the one who provided that money each month."

"Actually, I've already forgiven both of them."

Just then, Meido appeared, carrying roasted barley flour (tsampa) and barley wine as gifts.

Before Zashi had a chance to introduce the two women to each other, he realized that they had already met.

Meido smiled. "It's nice to see you again."

"Zashi is my father. I just came back from the United States."

Zashi smiled and asked, "Have you two met before?"

Meido replied, "Yes! Professor, when are we leaving for Tibet to collect research materials for our theses?"

Zashi said, "Once I've finished grading the students' final papers and submitted their grades, we'll set off for Tibet together."

23

On the day of departure, a young man named Luo Zhe Zhangyang, dressed in work overalls with suspenders, arrived in a van.

Zashi introduced him. "This is my daughter, Annie. She just came back from the United States."

Zhangyang extended his hand. "Pleased to meet you! Pleased to meet you! My name is Zhangyang."

Annie shook his hand confidently and said, "Nice to meet you! It's a pleasure to meet you." She spoke the second sentence in Tibetan.

Zhangyang looked surprised and gave an awkward smile. "So you speak Tibetan!"

Zashi said, "Zhangyang is our local guide. Whenever I return to Lhasa, I always hire him to drive."

The three of them followed Zhangyang in loading their luggage into the vehicle. Zashi sat in the front passenger seat, while the two women sat in the back. The van set off along the Southern Sichuan-Tibet Highway, beginning their journey to Lhasa.