On this old man's forehead there was a vague scar. He was wearing a brown Tibetan hat， on the right side of which was pinned a peacock feather. He carried a cup of tea with him and would sip at it， stand up and exercise a little after speaking with me for a while， which he explained might give his heart trouble if he got too tired.
Luonian Tinley is not his real name， only a nickname given to him by local people when he operated the film projector at Coqên County. His real name is Tinley Taerqin. Having no last name and only given names is common among most ordinary Tibetans.
After retiring as vice-chairman of the CPPCC of Ngari Prefecture， he and his wife settled down in a housing estate on Xianzu Island (Holy Feet Island)， in the middle of the Kyi River. He lived an easy life in old age and collected documents about the history and culture of Ngari in his spare time.
When he was born in the sheepfold， his mother had no idea where the father was， nor of the exact time of his birth. The only thing she told him was that the following day was the harvest time of qingke， so he picked a date for his birthday： October 1， 1949. When he grew up a little， he was told that his father was a herdsman. He fled to India with another woman from his hometown in Rutog County， where he got into some kind of trouble. A few years later he returned to Tibet， married a woman in Zanda County， and had several children. Father met him and his mother in Shiquanhe Town after Tinley began working. The man said sorry to his mother repeatedly， which she ignored but she did accept the twenty or thirty yuan he gave them. After that， the man vanished from their life as if he had never existed.
Tinley had a sister， whom her mother had with another man， who also vanished into thin air. The two children received a father's love from their stepfather， who joined the family when Tinley was four or five years old. Mother and Stepfather didn't have children.
When Mother was a little girl， she came to Rutog Village with her little brother from a pasturing area far， far away. Rutog Village was only several kilometers from the county town， so every traveller would pass by it on their way from Xinjiang Province to Ladakh or Lhasa. A dealer in sheepskin adopted her brother and she never heard from him again. She made a living by shepherding for an old woman and was called the "Shepherding Nima" because of the good job she did.
After Tinley was born， mother continued shepherding. He was taken care of by the old woman， who tied him by a woollen cord in case he ran about at will. He got his scar when he was still little： he somehow tripped over the stove and hit his forehead.
At the age of six， he became a zhaba. As he had an extraordinary memory， he learned the sutra by heart quickly and fluently. The older monks in the temple were all fond of him. The state advocated freedom of religion after the Democratic Reform， so anyone who didn't want to be a monk anymore could resume secular life. His hometown happened to have founded a primary school at that time， so Tinley returned to school for a couple of years. Mother was still shepherding， and his stepfather worked at the construction site of military depots. Every time he carried home a bag of Xinjiang flour， the whole family cheered because it was finer and produced pancakes more crisp than those made from Ladakh flour.
In this difficult but happy situation， Tinley grew up to be a young man who was good at herding， riding and lassoing horses. At the time his family already had more than a score of horses. Their pasture was not far from Bangong Lake where the gift of nature provided abundant water and luxuriant grazing for the cattle. The temple employed herdsmen for their cattle， so did the county government for their horses. Tinley often helped the government herd and round up the horses， except in winter. It was so cold that his nose， face， and ears were frozen solid. The wind lashed at him， rendering him unable to speak or to hold the reins.
One afternoon， the county government sent a message for him and asked him to round up a dozen horses to town the next day because some cadres would ride to the countryside. In town， he noticed that all the cadres were wrapped in cotton-padded clothes and wore felt hats and boots and some even had a leather topcoat on. He， however， only had a sweater， a Tibetan robe made of thin cloth， a pair of pants made of the same thin cloth， his liberation army cap and a pair of cleft rubber overshoes. The chilblains on his hands were bleeding so much that he couldn't clench his fists. Seeing him shivering with cold， the head of county， surnamed Liu， handed him a cigarette， but Tinley was too cold to clamp it between his fingers. Liu led him to the fireplace in his room to warm up and offered him a bowl of food in the shape of thin worms. Tinley was afraid to eat it， but yielded to the tempting smell and tried a few. They tasted so good that he quickly ate them all. He didn't know they were called noodles until a long time later. It was the first time in his life he ate noodles. He had forgotten the flavor， only remembering that it was really delicious. For herdsmen used to eating mutton and milk， qingke was a luxurious thing； most people never knew the flavor of rice and flour， not to mention noodles. When Tinley started working， or when he went to the countryside with his colleagues， he often sent qingke to the herdsmen. When the adults fried it， their children began crying and ran out of the tents out of fear； even dogs barked at them because they had never heard the sound of frying before. The herdsmen only knew the bleating and nickering of sheep and horses.
The head of county asked Tinley whether he wanted to herd horses， send letters and cook for the government. He ran home happily with the good news which cheered up his mother and stepfather. They gave him a wooden case， a wooden bowl， and two Tibetan tapestries (or small Tibetan carpets， a kind of bedding in Tibetan families)， which when combined together could be used as a cushion in the day and a quilt at night.
