There is an article in The Reader called Samsara, which should have happened two or three years ago. It's about a young couple. The man works as an engineer in Tibet and the woman takes the bus.

I walked south along the Qinghai-Tibet Highway.

The setting sun set on the distant snow-capped mountains, turning the horizon crimson.

Walking on this Qinghai-Tibet highway, whenever there is a passing car, the driver will honk his horn in a friendly way, and the passengers on the passing bus often applaud me.

This is a scene I never dreamed of.

Cheers also come from cyclists.

Their applause is only for a strange woman walking alone on the road.

They are expressing friendship, which is blooming everywhere in this special land of Tibet.

I decided to go for a ride and sit by the side of the road and wait.

It was such a decision that my trip to Tibet passed away from death for the first time.

During lunch, I heard from local people that the roads in northern Tibet are very dangerous after rain, and the roads often collapse.

I have no choice but to stop this jeep.

The driver warmly greeted me to get on the bus.

There is already a woman sitting in the car, and she doesn't seem to see me.

I chatted with the driver and knew that this woman had come to take her husband home. Her husband is an engineer at Tanggula Mountain Oil Pump Station. He had a heart attack a few days ago and is being rescued.

My heart tightened a little, and the slogan I saw a few days ago appeared in front of me: work hard, work hard, work hard, and dedicate your life.

This woman's husband is only 42 years old and this dedicated engineer is only 42 years old!

The jeep can reach their pumping station after running for more than an hour. You can see that women's eyes are beginning to feel anxious, and the driver can't help but speed up.

Under the pressure of our jeep wheels, this short section of subgrade of Qinghai-Tibet line collapsed.

We turned over on the grass only half a foot away from the subgrade with the jeep.

I was wide awake when the jeep wheels landed vertically on the soft subgrade. It feels like a plane landing, and suddenly I feel my heart leaning to the left.

I tried to bury my head and it hit the steel plate of the jeep. For almost a few minutes, I didn't know what happened. I had a splitting headache and then I lost consciousness.

Maybe a few minutes, maybe a century, I regained consciousness.

My leg touched something soft and I struggled to look down. It's a woman in the same car. She is pale and bloodless.

She closed her eyes. I shook her gently and called her, but there was no response.

At this time, I found blood on her forehead. I don't understand. There was no blood just now. Seeing more and more blood on her forehead, I held her head, and the blood flowed down her cheeks to her mouth. My consciousness gradually recovered. I wiped her blood with my hand and held her neck in my left hand as if there were no cervical vertebrae.

I finally understand that we should plug the bleeding place first.

I groped for her forehead with my fingers, and found no wound, but I kept seeing blood dripping on her face and a few drops on the back of her hand. Looking up, I suddenly realized that my head was bleeding.

I dragged her out of the car and remembered the driver. I shouted, but there was no response.

The sky becomes clear and the sun is dazzling overhead, but I can always feel the chill in the air.

The woman lay motionless in my arms, her body slowly cooled down and her limbs slowly stiffened. I took off my coat and put it on her, looking at her face: quiet and detached, with really long eyelashes and smooth and wrinkle-free skin.

Only then did I really believe that she was dead.

I laid the woman flat on the ground, still covering her with my coat and sitting next to her.

Never knowing that death would be so close to me, I fell into fear.

At this moment, I heard a faint groan. I suddenly opened my eyes and followed the sound to find the driver. His head is bleeding and his leg is stuck by something.

I managed to get his leg out. It seems to be broken.

The driver boy quickly climbed up to the woman and shouted, crying through my heart.

It was the day after I woke up again. I see. The woman's name is Shanshan, from Shanghai. Her husband has worked in Tibet for 14 years.

I heard that her husband stopped breathing almost at the same time as her.

I heard such a perfect love story in the hospital: they have been married for 10 years, and their feelings can only be summed up in two words-love. Their love was conveyed entirely by letters. They visit their relatives once a year like cowherd and weaver girl, and that holiday every year is as happy and sweet as honeymoon.

I also heard that Shanshan made a wish to burn incense in Ta 'er Temple before entering Tibet. It is said that one of her wishes is to be with her husband this time and never be apart again.

This story left me with too much suspense and imagination, and the hero of this story made me admire.

When I left, I went to the couple's grave and presented a bunch of wild flowers I picked on the mountain.