Chapter 133

Pangzi swung his shovel and smashed a large chunk of the wax layer containing the jade egg—he hadn't expected this at all; he'd only wanted to cut off the outer wax shell, but the inner fat jade was only a thin layer, truly as fragile as an eggshell, breaking at the slightest touch. Pangzi had used too much force, and regretting it now was too late. He consoled himself: "Whether whole or broken, it's still jade inside and out—still the same things."

Beneath the "wax" and "jade" layers lay another layer of "softwood." Judging by appearance, these items were all moisture- and rot-proofed. What exactly required such meticulous preservation? The contents of "Gourd Cave" were intricately linked to the Xian King and his high priest. The Xian King himself did not preside over major rituals; instead, there was another high priest. This indicates they operated under a politico-religious separation system, unlike the common politico-religious unity seen in ancient Chinese frontier regions.

The softwood was extremely dense and much thicker than the two outer layers. Pangzi had learned his lesson—afraid of breaking valuable items inside, he dared not use brute force. Yet, holding back his strength made him impatient. He could only gently scrape away wood shavings bit by bit with his entrenching tool. At this rate, it would likely take several minutes to safely cut through this layer.

I watched the jade fragments fall to the ground, feeling odd. I idly picked up a few pieces and saw that the jade shells were engraved with extremely fine cloud patterns. A thought struck me: "Could these also be engraved with soul-stabbing talismans? Are the vengeful spirits of those who died with grudges sealed beneath this wax-jade-softwood layer?"

I told Pangzi to pause, then Shirley Yang and I walked two steps forward, crouched down, and examined the jade pieces not shattered by the entrenching tool. I scraped off the wax-like surface with my paratrooper knife, revealing crystalline patterns on the jade shell: dragons, tigers, hundreds of beasts, sacred mountains, and holy trees—especially the towering, steep peaks, their aura solemn and severe, clouds sealing, mist locking, with clear totemic traces. They looked deeply familiar, as if depicting "Mount Shelong" in ancient myth and legend.

Yet these totems bore little resemblance to what we know, carrying strong ethnic minority characteristics and dating back to a distant era. In the hunting scene beneath the sacred mountain, the weapons used were peculiarly shaped—appearing to be stone tools.

The jade egg was not natural, nor was the jade material a single solid piece; it showed clear signs of joining, and all were ancient jade. I told Shirley Yang and Pangzi: "This is no trivial matter. It likely dates to four or five thousand years ago, Neolithic period. It may not belong to the Xian King—perhaps it was a sacred artifact enshrined in the mountain god's cave by the ancient inhabitants of Mount Shelong. We must not act rashly."

Pangzi said: "Commander Hu, don't try to pull the wool over my eyes—I'm also a veteran expert in the antiquities trade, well-known in Panjiayuan, a notable figure. As far as I know, four or five thousand years ago was still the Stone Age; humans hadn't yet used tools harder than jade. How could they have worked jade? Carved such intricate jade patterns? I say this is the Xian King's doing. As agreed, all his burial goods are ours to take—no adding complications, no inventing Stone Age terms to bluff me."

I told Pangzi: "Commander Wang, let's not argue—let Chief of Staff Yang weigh in; she's probably more knowledgeable than us two."

Pangzi nodded: "Then let the American consultant assess it. Though she's only slightly more knowledgeable than you, compared to my level, we're roughly equal..."

Shirley Yang said: "This jade material is uncommon—I can't tell its period. But in the Stone Age, humans had indeed mastered jade-working techniques. The first Chinese dragon unearthed from the Hongshan culture, along with the Liangzhu ancient cultural relics in the Yangtze River basin, have yielded large quantities of exquisite jade artifacts. Yet for that relatively primitive, barbaric era, how humans used backward tools to produce such jade remains unresolved in archaeology—an unsolved mystery."

Upon hearing there was still no consensus—Pangzi thought: "Then we can't tell if it's Yi or Xian King's"—he lost interest in understanding further, grabbed his entrenching tool, and resumed digging through the thick softwood layer.

I had no choice but to let him proceed. Truthfully, I too was eager to see what required such meticulous sealing. My only worry: if it were some Yi people's sacred artifact, removing it might trigger unforeseen consequences. We've already had enough trouble on this journey—though no one died, we've been stripped bare, our gear and stamina more than half spent. Continuing like this, even if we enter the "Xian King's Tomb," we might not get out easily.

With our current means of identification, we cannot yet determine what period the strange objects in this large copper cabinet belong to. The depiction of "Mount Shelong" mythological era on the jade shell might also have been carved during the Xian King's time. These layers of tight sealing are like layers of fog, obscuring our vision. Without opening the final layer, we see nothing.

Pangzi worked with unusual dexterity—within half a cigarette's time, he had peeled open the softwood. Under the light of his tactical helmet-mounted flashlight, dark brown softwood revealed a dark-green ceramic jar inside.

Pangzi and I reached in together, carefully lifting the jar from the softwood and placing it on the nearby ground. This blue-green bottle-jar stood about forty centimeters tall, its widest point ten centimeters in diameter—straight mouth, tall body, bulging belly, narrow neck, three low outer-splayed ring feet. The mouth was fully sealed. Near the bottle mouth on the shoulder, five oddly shaped short tubes protruded—like a wine pot's spouts, though their mouths were sealed. Their bases connected to the diamond-patterned engravings on the jar body, giving it a strong three-dimensional feel.

We stared at this simply shaped, warmly lustrous jar—none of us knew what it was, not even Shirley Yang could guess immediately. However, this finely crafted ceramic bore no "corpse poison" markings, so likely unrelated to such things; its contents were probably not harmful.

I thought: Since it's already out, I might as well open it. I used my paratrooper knife to scrape off the lacquer-wax sealing the mouth. Pangzi then became cautious, fearing I might accidentally break the jar and lose its value—reminding me to move gently, as the contents might be less valuable than the jar itself; breaking it would be worthless.

As we spoke, I had already pulled open the lid. All three of us leaned in, curious, peering into the narrow mouth. Inside was a full vessel of clear water. Seeing this utterly transparent water, I couldn't help but mentally ask: Does a water-container really need such secrecy?

Shirley Yang found the helmet-mounted tactical flashlight unclear, so she took out her "Wolf Eye" flashlight, shone it into the jar, and said: "There's something at the bottom—what is it? Ah……is it a fetus?"

Pangzi and I also saw clearly: in the jar's terrifyingly clear water, a bluish-green fetus floated, curled at the bottom, head raised as if gazing at us—though its eyes remained shut. My strongest impression was its unusually broad forehead.

How could a fetus be here? Its size, posture, and form differed greatly from a human fetus. I stared in astonishment, then suddenly saw the fetus seemingly snap its eyes open. Its features were only outlines, but in the wavering waterlight, two black holes seemed to widen, threatening to swallow me.

My heart turned cold—I jerked back a step, nearly sitting down hard, pointing at the jar and blurting: "What ghostly thing is in here?" Then instinctively reached for my black donkey hoof.

Shirley Yang asked me: "What are you up to now? There's no ghost here—this fetus is a jade artifact."

I swore toward heaven: "I promise Chairman Mao—just now that little devil glared at me… and bared its teeth." Feeling my earlier action was embarrassing, I added half a sentence afterward, making KB somewhat understandable.

Pangzi said to me: "Could you be seeing things? We were looking together—I saw nothing wrong."

Shirley Yang said: "Perhaps the water in the jar refracts light, and your angle happened to be just right, causing you to see double. Don't believe me? Pour out the water—then you'll see whether the fetus is jade or stone at a glance."

I came to my senses, also wondering silently: perhaps recent stress has made my nerves hypersensitive, causing me to jump at shadows. I steadied myself and returned to Pangzi and Shirley Yang's side.

Shirley Yang said the water inside was too clear—possibly a special liquid. Don't pour it on the ground yet; transfer it into a water bottle. After we examine the bluish-green fetus's details, we can pour it back. We're only here to gather intel on the "Xian King's Tomb"—we must not damage these miraculous ancient objects.

Pangzi was also unnerved by this bluish-green jade fetus, temporarily abandoning the idea of packing it to take back to Beijing. He decided to examine it first before deciding. If it's truly jade, packing later is fine; if it's alive, carrying it around would be highly improper. Following instructions, he poured the jar's clear water into an empty water bottle—but the fetus inside was wider than the jar's narrow mouth, so it couldn't be removed without breaking the jar. Still, it was now much clearer to see, since even the clearest liquid is denser than air and blocks flashlight beams to some extent.

It was indeed a jade fetus—at least the upper half resembled one closely: the small hand's fingers could be counted, even the frontal suture was clearly visible. Only the lower half was unformed, yet bore no trace of artificial carving—appearing naturally grown, a wonder of nature beyond human comprehension. Yet its resemblance to a true fetus was so striking that, were it not only fist-sized, one might mistake it for a living fetus turned to jade by evil magic.