Written by Wu Longhui
　　Reported by Zhang Chengxian

　　
　　It’s already early November in Yitunbulake Town. The wind still howls unabatedly, sweeping up sand and whistling across the rugged terrain like a lone wolf cry in the wilderness.
　　Standing at an altitude of 3,299 meters, the Yitunbulake Police Station under the Korla Railway Public Security Division of the Urumqi Railway Public Security Bureau features a solitary courtyard, where clusters of withered Gesang flowers – a unique symbol of resilience in Tibetan culture –sway tenaciously against the bitter wind.
　　The police station, lying in the depths of the Altun Mountains in the Xinjiang Uygur Autonomous Region, is the highest along the entire route of the Ge’ermu-Ku’erle Railway. The police station’s jurisdiction, a 173.54-kilometer section between Suzukesayi Station and Mangya Station, snakes through the rough terrain of the Altun Mountains.

　　Defying the "Forbidden Zone"
　　The Altun Mountains stretch diagonally across the southeast of the Xinjiang Uygur Autonomous Region, forming a natural boundary between the Tarim and Qaidam basins. With the Tianshan Mountains to the north and the Tibetan Plateau to the south forming two high barriers, this vast expanse of land is cut off from humid air all year round and is characterized by extremes like drought, cold, and thin air.
　　At an average altitude of 3,600 meters above sea level, this region comes with even thinner air than other parts of the plateau due to its severe aridity. Here, the oxygen level falls to less than 70% of that in the plains, with the annual average temperature as low as 12.8 degrees Celsius and the atmospheric pressure just 50% of the standard level. Walking here feels like carrying an extra 15 kilograms on your back in low-altitude regions. Winds at storm-force level and above rage for up to 233 days a year, and even a pressure cooker cannot guarantee that rice will be fully cooked. It is no exaggeration to say that the region is truly a "forbidden zone for life."
　　Yet, through this barren expanse, the Ge’ermu-Ku’erle Railway forces its way forward with unwavering resolve, turning what was once impossible into reality.
　　On December 9, 2020, the railway went into operation, becoming the first logistics artery linking southern Xinjiang to the wider railway network, overcoming the freight bottleneck that had constrained the Tarim Basin. Now, it serves as a critical corridor connecting the inland regions of the Belt and Road Initiative with Western Asia and Eastern Europe.
　　Six months before the railway came into service, police officers had already taken up their posts at the Yitunbulake Police Station, the highest along the line. Undeterred by snowstorms, they were determined to tough out the challenges of altitude sickness, potential dangers, and overwhelming loneliness.
　　They say they’ve hardly stored their winter coats away in early June when they already need them again by mid-August.
　　The unforgiving environment leaves little room for human settlement.
　　In 2020, Yitunbulake Town had 12 permanent households. Today, however, they have all relocated to Tashsay Village in Washixia Town, Ruoqiang County, which is more than 300 kilometers away, in search of more viable conditions for living and herding.
　　Yitunbulake Station provided passenger services when the Ge’ermu-Ku’erle Railway initially went into operation, but the services were suspended only three days later.
　　The railway’s strategic value is best demonstrated in the freight sector. It is coupled with the Linhe-Hami Railway to form the southern and northern wings of the new railway network in Xinjiang, with the Lanzhou-Xinjiang Railway and the Lanzhou-Urumqi High-speed Railway as the main thoroughfare. Currently, an average of 64 freight trains run along the new railway per day, with a train passing by every 22.5 minutes. This has significantly enhanced Xinjiang’s capacity to deliver its abundant goods to other parts of the country.
　　It was not until July 1, 2025, that passenger trains bound for Sichuan and Chongqing were added to the Ge’ermu-Ku’erle Railway timetable, providing residents of southern Xinjiang with more convenient, direct, and comfortable travel options.
　　Meanwhile, the growing strategic importance of the new railway has increased the responsibilities of the police officers.
　　"Saving strength for Trudging"
　　When winter arrives, the temperature plummets by 10 degrees Celsius almost overnight, suddenly plunging the Altun Mountains into hibernation.
　　The rougher the weather, the more critical it is to safeguard the railway line.
　　Many unexpected problems could happen along the line: The gale could blow rocks down onto the tracks, forcing trains to jolt or even halt; high winds could blow debris into power lines, causing a power outage and leaving trains stranded; and wild animals, such as blue sheep, could drift through railway fences into tunnels to shelter from the bitter cold and biting winds.
　　The police station officers must, therefore, thoroughly inspect 67 critical risk points along the line each day. In winter, especially when snowstorms set in, incidents involving animals increase. Feed shortages drive domesticated cattle and sheep to the railway in search of sparse vegetation. Wild animals are more likely to stray onto the tracks looking for food. These incidents pose large challenges to winter patrols. But the tough natural environment has never deterred the officers from performing their duty with due diligence.
　　"Today’s operation involves detecting and eliminating all potential risks in 12 tunnels spanning nearly 70 kilometers between Altun Mountains Tunnel to the exit of Qimianfeng No. 4 Tunnel," said Instructor Gao Bowen as he and his colleagues were packing their policing gear and food before setting out for a routine patrol early in the morning. "The weather is not bad for now. As we advance deeper into winter, the temperature will drop to minus 20 degrees Celsius, making patrols much more challenging even with the assistance of drones."
　　Just like the zipper on a coat, the winding Ge’ermu-Ku’erle Railway cuts its way through the vast, bleak mountain ridges. Each week, the officers must patrol the whole 173.54-kilometer route, marked by six mountain ridges, two snow-clad mountain passes, and 24 raging torrents of icy rivers.
　　While navigating along the rugged mountain paths, the patrol vehicle lurches as steep slopes, scattered rocks and deep potholes emerge ahead without warning, jolting everyone on board from their seats.
　　This is a truly prinstine patrol route; more a set of makeshift trails left over from railway and highway construction teams than a proper road, characterized by an endless alternation between Gobi gravel and mud. "Since the Bashikaogong Workshop was established, the patrol route conditions have improved significantly over the past two years – it is much wider now," said instructor Gao.
　　"There won’t be any mobile phone signal once we turn that corner," said Auxiliary Officer Abulizi Tuersuntuoheti as he observed the path ahead.
　　Assigned to the police station five years ago, Abulizi has memorized the entire route.
　　"Sometimes, we rescue injured blue sheep, as well," said Deputy Director Chen Hu. While on patrol, the officers also act as tour guides to assist cycling enthusiasts, as rescuers to relieve drivers in emergencies, and even as "traffic police" for Tibetan antelopes, helping them pass through railway culverts safely.
　　Many extended tunnels of the Ge’ermu-Ku’erle Railway punctuate the karst landscape of the Altun Mountains. When patrolling sections that are hard to access by vehicle, officers have to continue their operations on foot. It is already a challenge to simply walk on the plateau, let alone climb steep mountain ridges along the railway line. The experience, as they put it, "makes your lungs feel like they will explode."
　　When they patrol on foot, fierce winds blow sand and lash their exposed cheeks like needles.. However, they have long since adapted to the tough weather and grown adept at traversing these daunting mountains.
　　Apart from the sound of trains whizzing by, the only sound is the whistle of the north wind and the crunch of their boots pressing into the saline-alkali soil.
　　They chat enthusiastically at the start of the patrol mission, but gradually lapse into silence over time, because "you must save your strength for trudging."
　　As they move forward, they walk more than 10 kilometers along meandering paths worn by herded livestock. In some sections, they must even climb jagged volcanic rocks barehanded or wade across icy rivers. The section from Bashikaogong to Suzukesayi is particularly treacherous. In winter, the whole valley, stretching over 20 kilometers, is covered with frozen waterways. Each time they drive through this valley, they must proceed with the utmost caution; a momentary lapse could send the vehicle skidding out of control on the ice or trap it in the river.
　　One patrol in December 2022 remains vivid in everyone’s memories. At that time, Auxiliary Officer Rezhake slipped over and nearly fell off a cliff. In the life-or-death moment, Officer Li Jidong lunged forward to grab Rezhake’s arm but was pulled downward and, in a split second, both of them twisted their bodies and clutched at protruding rocks to slow their fall. When they finally stopped falling, Rezhake had slid three to four meters down the edge of the cliff. Their hands were bleeding heavily from the sharp rocks and their clothing was torn.
　　The entire incident lasted only a few seconds, but it was frightening enough to leave all the officers there drenched in cold sweat. Li’s wrists were injured, but he insisted on continuing the patrol after receiving basic treatment.
　　In January 2023, then director Tian Yuchen and Officer Yang Fan also had a narrow escape on their way back from a safety inspection at the Altun Mountains No. 1 Tunnel, sitting at an elevation of 3,900 meters. When they were driving across the frozen river, nearly one-third of their front tires sank into a mixture of slushy ice and freezing water. They jumped out of the car and waded into the water in an attempt to push it back onto solid ice. Suddenly, the rear tires lost traction, causing the vehicle to slide and rotate left nearly 70 degrees before coming to rest in the icy river.
　　The slippery ice and the steep slope made it impossible for them to reverse the car out of the water. The two officers removed wooden boards and sacks from the trunk, placed them beneath the wheels, while spreading a thick layer of sand, shoveled from the riverbank, over the ice to increase friction. After nearly an hour of hard work, they finally managed to free the vehicle.
　　By then, their shoes and trousers had frozen solid, and their hands were riddled with cuts and bruises.
　　"We were so lucky to have made it out, or else I can’t even imagine what might have happened in this area with no people and no phone signal," Tian recalled, still shaken by the memory.

　　High-spirited on the Oxygen-deficient Highland
　　"We had not thought it would be so harsh here," said Tian Yuchen, the first director of the Yitunbulake Police Station.
　　When the station was first established, there was no mobile phone signal within two kilometers around the station. The closest town (Huatugou in Mangya City, Qinghai Province) had just one small grocery store and one modest restaurant, both operating only during the summer months. To purchase daily necessities such as toothbrushes and soap, police officers had to drive 70 kilometers to the town. When snowstorms or sandstorms cut off transportation, they had to go without vegetables.
　　The Korla Railway Public Security Division tried three times to deliver a freezer to the station. But it never functioned properly when it arrived after the long, bumpy drive.
　　All officers experienced varying degrees of altitude sickness after they arrived at the station. Their lips turned dry and purple, their noses red and swollen with peeling skin, and their fingers and toes covered with frostbite.
　　In his early days at the station, Officer Deng Shuiping suffered from dizziness, nausea, palpitations and insomnia. For many days in a row, he slept just one or two hours a night.
　　"I lost up to four kilograms in the first week. I felt so unwell that I could hardly eat. But I just carried on. The body will gradually adapt," Officer Chen Hu recalled.
　　During the day, officers are busy with work. However, as the rosy afterglow of sunset fades away and the moon hangs in the sky, night brings with it a deep and lingering loneliness that reminds them of their families far away.
　　In the days after the station opened, mobile phone signals were so unstable that they had to climb to the top of a distant sandy hill just to make a phone call home. Now, wireless internet access has been installed, allowing them to contact their families over video calls and easing their homesickness.
　　Five years have flown by, and most of the first batch of officers have been transferred to other posts. The people might be different, but the spirit remains unchanged: Our bones are harder than rock, our courage greater than oxygen, our spirit higher than the altitude, our resolve stronger than steel.
　　In October 2024, with the caring support of the Urumqi Railway Public Security Bureau, the Korla Railway Public Security Division, and the Party Committee of China Railway Urumqi Group Co., Ltd., the station was installed with oxygen diffusers in both working and living areas, significantly alleviating the problem of low-oxygen at high altitude.
　　Previously, only one train stopped at Yitunbulake Station each week for railway staff to commute. Today, there are three trains per week, making it more convenient for both railway workers and police officers to go home for family visits.
　　Even so, the journey between their homes and the police station remains long and arduous.
　　For Instructor Gao Bowen, whose hometown is in Aksu City, each trip between his home and the police station can take nearly 24 hours. Each time he returns to duty after a leave, he must board a train at 3:08 a.m. from Aksu Station, arriving at Korla Station after seven and a half hours. He then needs to take a 4:30 p.m. train from Korla to finally reach Yitunbulake Station at 2:38 a.m. the next day.

　　A More Robust Anti-Fraud Initiative
　　Close to midday during one patrol operation officers stopped for a lunch of naan bread and instant noodles. Shortly after finishing their meal, they continued their rush to the Bashikaogong Workshop, where an anti-telecom fraud awareness session had been scheduled for railway staff.
　　The Bashikaogong Workshop is located within the Altun Mountains National Nature Reserve, 101 kilometers from Yitunbulake Town, where there is only one small seasonal grocery store. The workshop also falls in a single-track maintenance section along the patrol route. Occasionally, when it gets too late for officers to rush back to the police station from patrol duties during the day, railway workers will prepare a hot meal and a few rooms for them to stay overnight. The officers, in return, would seize these opportunities to offer awareness sessions on relevant laws and regulations about railway safety, as well as telecom fraud prevention.
　　By the time the officers arrived, the railway workers who had just finished their shifts had already gathered in the hall of the office building.
　　"Dear fellows and friends, thank you for coming," Officer Chen Hu said in a resonant voice, capturing everyone’s attention. "Today, I won’t talk about complicated rules or abstract theories. Let’s just chat about everyday life – about how to keep our money safe."
　　His words were plain yet powerful, speaking directly to the hearts of the listeners. "Your job is unique. You work in shifts and in dispersed locations. Every cent you have earned came from hard labor. Yet fraudsters often commit their crimes by taking advantage of your sense of responsibility, creating an illusion of emergency, or using the information gap."
　　The workers sitting around him nodded in agreement, some of them exchanging thoughts with one another in low voices.
　　"Don’t ever trust phone calls or messages from strangers. Don’t ever disclose your ID information, savings, bank accounts, or any other personal information about you or your family to strangers. If anything feels suspicious, call the police immediately lest you fall victim to fraud," Officer Chen said more earnestly, casting his eyes around the room. "In the railway system, safety always comes first. The smooth and safe operation of trains is undoubtedly what we must guarantee, but we must also ensure that our personal assets don’t ‘derail.’ I hope each one of you will become an anti-fraud advocate for your family. Only when everyone strengthens their awareness can we leave no room for fraudsters lurking online to prey!"
　　The half-hour awareness session soon came to an end, but many workers were reluctant to leave, surrounding the officers for further advice on how to fight against fraud. It seemed an invisible fraud awareness net was taking shape in everyone’s mind.
　　Darkness had fallen by the time the officers returned to the police station. Hearing the engine of the returning vehicle roar, Director Dang Yanbin hurried out, setting steaming dishes on the table and inviting them to sit down, "Just help yourself. You must be exhausted."

　　Resilient and Blooming Flowers
　　When the plateau sinks into dormancy, all the plants outside seem to be at the mercy of the brutal cold. Seen from afar, the contours of the ravines resemble the light ink strokes in a traditional Chinese painting, blurring the boundary between the vast, barren earth and the grey, overcast sky.
　　However, in this desolate landscape, there are always some unnoticed plants growing mysteriously and lushly, and some flowers blossoming brilliantly beyond expectations.
　　In this high-altitude region where the police station stands, most plants cannot survive. Nor can the vegetables and fruits the officers tried to grow.
　　Last spring, after learning that Gesang flowers are exceptionally resilient amid the severe climate conditions of the plateau, they sowed a handful of seeds in what they call the orchard of the station.
　　Then a miracle happened. Tender shoots broke through the soil, grew into small plants, and slowly formed buds. With exceptional care from the officers, several clusters of flowers blossomed in the crystal-clear sunlight one afternoon a few months later. Their purple, pink, and white petals were delicate yet unyielding, like the railway police officers stationed atop the plateau.
　　In Tibetan, "Gesang" means happiness, so the officers were eager to take photos with these flowers. The sight of the flowers in a riot of color is heartwarming and encouraging.
　　"Everything will get better. We are convinced that by this time next year, there will be even more Gesang flowers in bloom," one of the officers said proudly.
　　At night, the high wind rose again as usual, blowing against the window and howling across the wilderness. The oxygen-deficient climate in the highland over 3,000 meters above sea level kept me lying sleepless on the bed. From the command room next door came the soft voices of instructor Gao Bowen and director Dang Yanbin, mingled with the gentle, occasional hisses of the oxygen diffuser. In the vast silence and untamed solitude of the wilderness, even these faint sounds brought me a sense of reassurance and peace of mind.
　　The sun rises and sets. Spring comes and goes. Day in and day out, such stories repeat every day.
　　Outside, the wind was sweeping across the land, as sharp as a blade. Yet, amid the chill, a resilient green splashes forth — as magnificent and promising as the officers themselves, carrying new hopes and dreams..■
　　
　　About the author: Wu Longhui from the Korla Railway Public Security Division of the Urumqi Railway Public Security Bureau