"I didn't go, the troops were the Tibetan Transport Committee's auxiliary political commissar, Ren Qiming's. My translator, Dunzhucaidan, whose Chinese name was Li Deshou also participated, and he was the only ethnic Tibetan in a troop of over thirty people." Mu Shengzhong muttered to himself for some time, "They took over fifty camels, twenty mules, three horses, and two rubbertired carts and set out from Xiangride, and they walked along what is now our heavenly road. As they travelled, they used a shovel to flatten the ground, and to pad the road, they went north, bypassing Hubei, arriving in Delingha, crossing Da Qaidam, and across the flat expanse of the salt lake, to Golmud, crossing the Kunlun Mountains via the Nanshan Pass, where there road was obstructed by a gorge of two or three meters wide, but luckily, in the road investigation troop there was a carpenter, who took three days to build a bridge, and they were finally able to cross, thereafter following the Naij Tal, reaching Xaimar Xang, the Kunlun Pass, crossing the Xueshui River: the wilderness of Hoh Xil extended as far as the eye could see. One day, there was a huge snowfall, and you couldn't see the figure of a person less than three meters away, Ren Qiming and Dunzhucaidan had deferred their roles, and became separated from the troops. More than an hour passed, and they found several clumps of red poplars, which they ignited, spending the night in the snow, the two men back to back, when they were suddenly surrounded by a pack of wild wolves, and the men and the wolves faced each other, seeing who would last to the end: if they slept even for a moment, they would become dinner for hungry wolves, and the direct confrontation continued until daybreak, when they were saved by colleagues who had rushed over when they had heard the news. When we reached Daowuliang, they had splitting headaches, they moaned in pain, and it was hard to bear. They crossed Fenghuoshan Mountain, and it became even more difficult to breathe, however, they still stubbornly continued onwards, walking the road of the Mongolian lamas into Tibet, and, having reached the Tuotuo River, they waded barefoot through a glacier, and the chill of the cold water pierced their bones. Afterwards, they headed toward the Tanggula Mountains through a vast expanse of wind and snow. Crossing the Tanggula Mountains proved that the road could pass along the entire route; reaching Amdo, they again headed down to the ten thousand mile Changtang Plateau; on January 1, 1954, they reached Heihe, seeing Heihe work committee Secretary, Hou Jie, when Ren Qiming sent me a telegram at the appropriate time saying that the road could proceed completely, you have no idea how happy I was that evening, I drank all night, and fell asleep drunk, I haven't been that drunk in a long time."
The story of General Mu Shengzhong and the officers and soldiers under his command, like a legend left Liu Deji and Wang Lijie in awe and excitement. Afterwards, every night in the cotton tent, when the cold windy and snowy air knocked on the flaps, they looked up into the depths of the dome of the sky, and several winter stars shone like the silver studs on King Gesar's saddle, and, squinting crafty eyes, listening again to Mu Shengzhong tell the stories of war and of Tibet while drinking strong alcohol, every night on the Qinghai-Tibet Plateau became a feast in that tent. If, on a given day, General Mu was drunk in the evening and unable to tell them stories, on the day after, when the small group went surveying, they felt as if they had lost something.
Intoxicated by the stories of General Mu on the plain, Cao Ruzhen and the three of them surveyed the proposed route. The rail's direction and curves for the most part were selected to fall not far away from the highway, and finally, entering the small city Golmud on the back of a car, Mu Shengzhong waved a hand and said, "Three days holiday, let's buy supplies and regain our strength!"
In the end, they only rested in Golmud for two days, before Mu Shengzhong once again took Cao Ruzhen on the road. Climbing the wilds of Kunlun, the elevation above sea level gradually increased, Cao Ruzhen and the two engineers would travel for a while, before getting out of the car to make estimates from sight, to select the line, and draw it on the map. It's hard to say how much road they travelled on the extremes of the plateau, seeing far from up high, wading across rivers, and even lying down was like purgatory.
They crossed Ho Xil's Xueshui River, and the word "permafrost" suddenly took hold of Cao Ruzhen's brain, making him anxious. The geography of the Qinghai-Tibet Plateau had almost no influence on the construction of the line, if it weren't for the oxygen-depleted environment of the plateau, the difficulty of its engineering would be far less than the high mountains and rivers of the Chinese heartland. However, the problem of the permafrost had not been overcome, and it was an insurmountable barrier, and all around, everything was white with snow, it was hard to tell what was glacier and what was snow-field—or was that the highway? One time when the car entered thick ice and mud, and it began to slide, unable to gain traction, General Mu Shengzhong at once leapt from the car, taking off his own padded cotton coat, placing it under the wheels of the car, calling out loudly to the driver, "Hit the accelerator, increase the gears, and go straight forward."
The engine of the gas jeep howled, and finally went straight ahead along the road's surface. Seeing that General Mu's military coat was completely covered in mud, Cao Ruzhen was ill at ease, but General Mu patted him on the shoulder, "Cao, not to worry, when the sun comes out, I'll dry it, and the dirt will brush out."