Crazy Dorje

About This Novel

That day coincided with the Tibetan New Year. The weather is extremely cold this year. There had just been a snowfall some time ago. When it was just dawn in the morning, the cold wind howled and picked up the snow on the ground. This irresistible cold and the blizzard that connected the heaven and the earth gave people a faint sense of sadness. In the alley, not to mention people, even animals are very rare. The sparrows, who are usually like naughty children, good at circling and chirping, can't stand the cold and quietly hide under the eaves. In short, this plateau town lies in the wind and snow, like a lifeless object. At this time, on the riverside in front of the town that was hit by the biting cold air, a man in his early fifties, wearing dirty, thin clothes and disheveled hair, was walking aimlessly in the snowstorm while holding a small poodle like a lion cub, muttering in his mouth. Sometimes he picked up the puppy from the ground, put it on its face, and petted it; sometimes he put the puppy on the ground, stared at it with wide eyes, wrinkled its mouth and nose, drooled, and threatened, "I'm not a madman. You are the madman. Shameless, you who cross the bridge and have no conscience are the madmen..." The wind became stronger and stronger, and the snowy wind wrapped his hair, cheeks, and whole body like a snowman.

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