The morning mist drapes like a veil over the Yarlung Zangbo River. Black-necked cranes arrive as scheduled, foraging and flapping their wings gracefully along the tranquil riverbank, their clear calls carried by the wind across the water. They spend the winter here alongside the river, year after year, in an eternal vigil between living beings and the river, adding a touch of lively and poetic vitality to the snowy plateau.