At the foot of the Snow Mountain, at the third quarter of the Mao hour, the drifting fragrance of butter filled the air. Moli wore a green tunic, over which she had thrown a woolen vest hastily made by Huwa overnight. The collar of the vest was embroidered with a tiny, endearing "cold-protection figurine"—a smiling face holding an abacus bead, its eyes fixed straight upon the reflection of the distant Snow Mountain. Leaning against a low wall built from yak horns, Zhang Yifan burst out laughing. "Master Xiao's getup is far more eye-catching than the prayer wheels of the Tibetans."
"Mind your own tongue!" Moli flicked her sleeve and marched indignantly toward the market. Her sheepskin ledger slapped against her leather waist-guard with a crisp *snap*, startling several snow-sparrows resting upon a "grain-protection wooden sign" into a flurry of beating wings. That sign was a smiling face carved by Huwa from snow-mountain pine, its abacus bead eyes staring directly at the knot of a highland barley sack. Amidst the ringing bells of the trading caravans, Tibetans were trading caterpillar fungus for glass lamps from Persian merchants, the six-word mantra on the prayer wheels reflecting the colorful glow of the glass lamps in a most fascinating display.
"Take a good look now," Zhang Yifan's abacus beads danced merrily before a stall of caterpillar fungus, catching the sunlight until they seemed like strings of crystal-clear ice crystals. "When Tibetans value caterpillar fungus, t…
Chapter 85