King of Snowland

About the Author

Huang Pingxi, a Chinese American, was a professor at the University of Electronic Science and Technology of China (Chengdu). In 1981, he was hired by the United Nations Population Fund as a film and television equipment expert. He led the visit to countries to inspect. In 1993, after immigrating to the United States, he became an independent producer.

Copyright Information©

Pingxi Huang 2025

The right of Pingxi Huang to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781035897889 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781035897896 (ePub e-book)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published 2025

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd®

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Acknowledgement

I would like to thank my family, especially my wife and daughter, for supporting me throughout this process and always encouraging me to move forward.

My daughter Rui helped me translate this book, and I’m very grateful to have her by my side.

Lastly, I want to thank Austin Macauley Publishers for cooperating with me.

Prologue

This story is written according to Mr. Gao Ping’s Cangyat Jiachuo, translated and edited into this book. This will forever commemorate Mr. Gao Ping. Thanks!

1

Death of The Fifth Dalai Lama

On the vast, pristine snowy plains stands the resplendent, towering Potala Palace, reaching into the clouds.

An old man prostrates himself in the snow, facing the Potala Palace, gradually moving further away…

In the unfinished Potala Palace, people are laboriously carrying stones, building the divine temple with their blood and sweat atop the roof of the world.

In Lhasa, during the reconstruction of the Potala Palace, a significant event occurred in Tibetan history: the death of the Fifth Dalai Lama.

The Fifth Dalai Lama, Ngawang Lobsang Gyatso, passed away on the 25th of February in the twenty-first year of Kangxi, 1682, at the age of 65.

In his final days, the Fifth Dalai Lama fell into a coma. The prince regent, Sangye Gyatso, heard the following song:

If you have one brother,

Only at home is there Ula;

If you have two brothers,

One must become a Zaba;

If you have three brothers,

The third must flee,

Or stay home and play mute.

Hearing this, Sangye Gyatso frowned. He shook the copper bell that only the Dalai Lama himself could use. The attendant, Geden, thought the Dalai Lama had woken up and rushed in excitedly, but upon seeing it was Sangye Gyatso, he immediately bowed his head.

It’s Ula singing: ‘The slopes are too steep, the stones hard to carry up. Singing can ease the fatigue — that’s what the great Fifth Dalai Lama once said.’

I know that Sangye Gyatso’s tone did not reproach him for speaking out of turn. He added: The Fifth Dalai Lama has passed away. Keep it strictly confidential!

What he couldn’t understand was why the death of the Fifth Dalai Lama was being kept a secret as it would prevent everyone from sharing the chest-crushing grief.

On the construction site, the unprecedentedly melodious and heavy song echoed. People looked up at the Dalai Lama’s quarters in the White Palace, some kneeling in prayer.

2

Birth of Tsangyang Gyatso

A year after the Fifth Dalai Lama passed away — in the twenty-second year of Kangxi, near Wu Jianlin Monastery, a loving couple had an adorable boy. The father named him Awang Norbu, who would later become the Sixth Dalai Lama, Tsangyang Gyatso.

That same year, a pilgrim seeking shelter arrived at Awang Gyatso’s home, claiming to be on a pilgrimage to India and passing through. Tashi Danzeng and his wife warmly welcomed him.

I heard you have a clever and good-looking boy, the pilgrim began, trying to find a topic to express his compliments and gratitude. As soon as I entered the village, I heard about him. Kind-hearted people always find good fortune. May you have auspiciousness, prosperity, and peace.

Thank you, thank you. The child is not too foolish, but he is quite mischievous, Tashi Danzeng replied modestly.

How old is he?

Three, Tsawang Lhamo answered, He should be considered four, given his birth date.

Ah, I see, Tashi Danzeng avoided his wife’s gaze, responding nonchalantly while respectfully adding butter tea for the guest.

After the meal, the pilgrim asked, Where is your son? May I see him?

Tsawang Lhamo looked at the setting sun, He should be home soon.

Please go about your business. I’ll do some rituals, the pilgrim said, taking out a delicate yellow copper bell from his leather bag, touching it to his forehead, and placing it gently on a wooden cabinet. He clasped his prayer beads, half-closed his eyes, and began to chant peacefully.

As Tashi Danzeng and his wife were about to leave, Awang Gyatso ran in, covered in dust, his curly hair adorned with bits of grass and his cheeks glowing with the sunset hue. Naturally outgoing, he grabbed the copper bell the pilgrim had placed on the cabinet and shook it joyfully. It was the first time he had played with such a precious toy, and he was reluctant to let go.

His parents rushed forward simultaneously, holding his hand, scolding him to return the bell and apologizing to the pilgrim.

The pilgrim, unfazed and smiling broadly, said, It’s alright, it’s alright… truly intelligent! Ah… my deepest apologies, this bell is a family heirloom, otherwise, I would certainly give it to him. But I promise, one day, I will bring him an identical copper bell… to your home.

The next morning, the pilgrim bid farewell. Surprisingly, he took out a substantial amount of silver and, with a pleading tone, insisted that the hosts accept it.

Tashi Danzeng declined repeatedly, Even if I take your meal and lodging fees, I can’t use up even the tips you’ve given!

The pilgrim insisted, A true friend goes all the way. Your family is not affluent, and my money is more than sufficient.

Still, the host refused, You are on a pilgrimage to India, with a long journey ahead. You’ll need more money…

To tell you the truth, the pilgrim said, "last night, Buddha gave me a revelation in a dream to do this.