The Bomi dynasty and Bomi culture have always been among the most fascinating aspects of Tibetan culture for foreigners, because Bomi’s treacherous terrain and fierce people allowed its feudal separatist forces to remain independent from the world after the fall of the Tubo dynasty. The local government of Tibet launched repeated expeditions, but it was not until the late 1920s that the Bomi royal army was finally defeated. The last generation of Bomi chieftains was murdered by his own subordinates while fleeing from Motuo through Chayu, and thus this feudal lordship, which had lasted for over a thousand years, was officially declared extinct. However, even after the Bomi chieftain was gone, the local feudal forces remained powerful. Up until the start of the Cultural Revolution, feudal leaders were still collecting taxes as usual.

Due to the infiltration of British colonists and the region’s isolated geography, it was common to see 18th-century British items in the Bomi dynasty’s capital, Zhamu Town—items that would fetch sky-high prices elsewhere. Unfortunately, the locals were generally unwilling to part with these heirlooms.

In addition, the people of Bomi are skilled in swordsmanship, always carrying long and short knives. The Bomi knife is a famous Tibetan blade and is also one of Zhamu Town’s main export goods. The villagers of Zhamu line up long rows of stalls along the Qinghai-Tibet Highway, energetically attracting passing drivers. When Ian Lawson entered Zhamu Town, it was just noon, so he followed the long row of stalls, picking out items that caught his eye.

Although the Bomi knife is famous, what Ian Lawson cared about were the personal belongings of the Tibetans. Among these items, an 18th-century British hip flask, pocket watch, or lantern might appear at any moment. At this moment, Ian Lawson was squatting in front of a stall, having bought several Tibetan knives, and was now bargaining with the stall owner over a lighter.

Ian Lawson handed over a pair of binoculars, but the Tibetan shook his head.

Ian Lawson added a headlamp, but he still shook his head.

Ian Lawson gritted his teeth and added a mountaineering knife—still no luck, the man kept shaking his head.

Here, none of the usual business tricks worked. The Tibetans were honest; if you pretended to walk away to whet their appetite, you would truly lose the chance to negotiate further. However, Ian Lawson’s mountaineering knife was of good quality, worth over 500 yuan by itself. If he added anything else, there would be little profit left in the British-style lighter.

Ian Lawson patted himself down, signaling to the other party, “If there’s anything you’re interested in, just say so.”

The Tibetan smiled honestly and pointed at Ian Lawson’s neck.

Ian Lawson reached up and pulled out a necklace—the one from the corpse in the valley. The shiny pendant gleamed in the sunlight, and the stall owner’s eyes lit up, staring fixedly at the necklace. At the same time, an exclamation sounded beside them.

Ian Lawson calmly covered the pendant with his hand and slowly turned his head to see where the sound had come from.

At some point, a tall young white man had squatted down beside them. He carried a backpack, looked haggard, hadn’t shaved, and his pant legs were covered in mud. He was now staring intently at the necklace. When Ian Lawson turned his head, the man immediately broke into a friendly smile, nodding repeatedly at Ian Lawson.

Ian Lawson returned the smile, turned away, gripped the necklace, and firmly shook his head at the Tibetan, refusing. He slung his bag over his shoulder, making as if to leave.

The antique trade required paying a 20% special consumption tax, plus 17% value-added tax, and then the usual business tax, city expansion fee, city greening fee, streetlight management fee, security fee, sanitation fee, migrant management fee, bridge toll, and 43 other charges. Add to that employee wages, rent, and reasonable profit—if you didn’t evade taxes, something that cost 100 yuan would have to be sold for 200 yuan just to break even. Since the Tibetan had raised the price of the lighter so high and still wouldn’t budge, he might as well keep it as a family heirloom.

The Tibetan called out to stop him, pointing at Ian Lawson’s water bottle.

It was Ian Lawson’s mountaineering water bottle, made entirely of fine aluminum. Considering the cold in the mountains, Ian Lawson had chosen a double-walled vacuum flask with excellent insulation. Although it was more expensive than the 10-yuan bottles sold at the stalls, Ian Lawson was clearly satisfied to exchange it for a British antique lighter.

In high spirits, Ian Lawson continued walking along the road, picking out items he liked as he went. Sometimes he paid cash, sometimes he bartered, buying two pocket watches, a British lantern, and two or three antique gas pressure gauges from India. Just as he was marveling at his haul, a call from the roadside snapped him out of it.

“Hei, come on!” The young white man he’d seen earlier had already flagged down a passing car and was urgently calling for Ian Lawson to join him.

Traffic in Zhamu Town was sparse; if you missed a ride, you might have to wait hours for another vehicle willing to pick up backpackers. Ian Lawson didn’t dare delay, thanking the young man as he ran over.

The cab had two rows of seats, both quite spacious. Vehicles on this road usually had two drivers, with the back row serving as a place for drivers to take turns sleeping. Long-distance travel through the desolate wilderness made drivers eager for conversation. Of course, women were the most popular topic. After a few words, Ian Lawson and the drivers were chatting enthusiastically, forgetting there was a white man beside them.

Finally finding a break in the conversation, the young white man interjected in English to introduce himself: “Hey, hello, I’m Jenny.”

Jenny is a very common name among foreigners; many foreigners in China introduce themselves this way, just as Chinese people might call themselves “Zhang San” or “Li Si.” Ian Lawson didn’t care whether it was his real name—after all, it was just a name for chatting.