The joy in the courtyard had disappeared by the time Tan entered the gate. The colonel solemnly eyed the assembly. With rising dread Shan realized that if he had brought the doctor, then it must mean they intended to clear Ko for return to his prison. He glanced at his son, whose crestfallen expression showed that he understood. Yara clutched Ko’s arm tightly, as if to prevent him from being dragged away.

“You, you, and you,” Tan snapped, pointing to Yara’s son and two teenagers from the herding families Lhamo had invited. “Go help the pilot bring down the liquor and cakes.” A mischievous glint rose in the colonel’s eyes. “This is a wedding, isn’t it?” he asked, then helped Amah Jiejie out of her coat. She was wearing a surprisingly elegant dress, with a Tibetan comb of silver and turquoise in her hair. Tan took off his own coat, revealing a dress uniform resplendent with medals. He hesitated as he saw the uncertain expressions of the Tibetans, then Amah Jiejie tugged his arm and whispered in his ear. He considered her words, studying the Tibetans again, then unbuttoned his tunic and tossed it on the front rail of the stable, leaving him in a simple blue dress shirt.

Choden broke the tension by bringing the colonel a mug of beer, and the smiles began returning, which grew wider as the pilot led in the procession carrying cartons of vodka, arack, sweet rice cakes, sacks of uncooked rice, fresh fruit, and a surprising array of Chinese foodstuffs.

“Eight dishes for the married couples,” Tan declared, referring to the traditional Chinese wedding feast. Several of the courses appeared to be in cans, but Shan appreciated the effort. “Eight,” Meng explained to the curious Tibetans, “is the lucky number for weddings, because the number eight also sounds like the Chinese word for good fortune.” Marpa ventured forward and Amah Jiejie began explaining how the food should be prepared.

Shan watched silently as Dr. Anwei approached Ko, bending with an ear to his son’s chest to listen to his breathing. Ko stood still as a statue, his countenance hardening as if he were already bracing himself to reenter the razor wire compound of the 404th. Anwei lifted Ko’s arms and probed the flesh over his wound, nodding and murmuring words of approval. Yara hovered close by, reminding the doctor that Ko was still very weak and greatly in need of rest. The doctor smiled and vaguely nodded, as if not understanding the worry his presence had caused, then stepped away as the helicopter pilot held up a glass of beer for him.