Chapter 17: Main Text Chapter Seventeen Plan

Main Text Chapter Seventeen Plan

I and Pangzi returned to the small flat we rented near Chongwen Gate, having drunk too much, we slept in a daze until noon the next day.

After waking up I lay in bed, staring at the low ceiling, I thought a lot. Tomb‑raiding is not unfamiliar to me; I am confident I can find some large tombs. Money is not the most important thing to me; I could say I don't care at all whether I have money, but life is full of contradictions, and now I am in great need of money.

My parents are supported by the state, I have no family burden; feeding myself keeps the whole family from hunger. But what about my brothers who died on the battlefield? Who will support their parents? Medical expenses and the school fees for their younger siblings—even that meager pension isn't enough to get by.

On the battlefield, it seemed everyone except me had a reason not to die, yet I was the sole survivor. This life of mine was bought with the lives of many comrades; I ought to do something for them now.

At that moment Pangzi also woke up, rubbed his eyes, saw me staring at the ceiling lost in thought, and said: "Lao Hu, what are you thinking about? Actually I know even if you don't say it—didn't Da Jin Ya's words move you yesterday? I'm also itching; what's going on between us two? I'm just waiting for your word."

I took out the amulet Da Jin Ya gave me and said: "Pangzi, don't treat that guy as a good person; he's also in business, no profit, no early rise. This grave‑claw is what a Gold‑seeking Officer under Cao Cao in the Three Kingdoms period wore. How could he just give us something so valuable? He's taken a liking to our abilities and wants to profit from us."

Pangzi snapped: "Damn, I knew that bastard wasn't any good. I'll go to Panjiayuan later, knock out that big gold tooth of his and toss it in the latrine."

That said, after we discussed it we felt we should still make use of each other and not fall out with him for now. My flaw is being impulsive, not thinking through consequences; I feel tomb‑raiding is a viable path. Chairman Mao said everything has two sides—good can turn bad, bad can turn good—that's dialectics.

The graves of emperors and ministers contain countless treasures, but can we say these riches belong to the tomb owners? They were all extorted from the common people—taken from the people, they ought to be used for the people. How can we let them forever accompany those rotting bones underground? If we're going to do it, we should go big; ordinary folk graves are uninteresting, mostly lacking valuables, and taking from the people harms one's yin virtue.

I once heard my grandfather describe the rules of the Gold‑seeking Officers, which differ greatly from those of tomb robbers. Tomb robbers just dig wildly and grab whatever, doing the deed absolutely—whether you're a loyal minister or a brave general, an official or a commoner, who's who, there are no rules at all; even if there were, they'd be nothing more than what farmers themselves figured out, not the real thing.

When the Gold‑seeking Officers work, whenever they open a large tomb they must light a candle and place it in the southeast corner of the burial chamber. Then they open the coffin and seek gold; the dead's most valuable items are usually on the body—some nobles and above have pearls in their mouths, bodies covered in gold and jade, a heart‑protecting jade on the chest, a jade ruyi in the hand, even gems stuffed in the rectum. At this point they must act carefully, not damaging the corpse, gently feeling from head to toe, and finally leave the deceased with one or two treasures. If the southeast candle goes out, they must return whatever they took exactly as it was, kowtow three times respectfully, and retreat the way they came.

Because legends say some tombs harbor ghosts, it's unclear why these spirits don't reincarnate but linger in the graves for centuries; perhaps they cling to their former wealth and glory, still watching over their riches after death. When encountering a soul that would rather die than part with its treasure, one shouldn't try to take it by force.

Finally Pangzi and I decided, damn it, we'll become Gold‑seeking Officers—never mind conscience, we'll just let the dog eat it, no, half‑eaten, uh… not right either. Let's look at it another way: it's the 1980s, isn't everyone advocating contribution? Now it's time for those exploitative nobles and aristocrats to contribute. These dead spirits have low awareness; don't expect them to volunteer. We'll take on the labor, pluck the wind from these feudal ruling classes, seize the gold and divide the land—truly a busy task.

The strategic direction is set, but the specific tactical objectives and how to carry them out still need careful discussion.

In Henan, Hunan, and Shaanxi—where tomb‑raiding is most rampant—large tombs are hard to find, and crowded places are inconvenient for work; one must also use farming and house‑building as cover. So the best option is to go to remote deep mountains and old forests where few people tread.

Speaking of the deep mountains and old forests, the largest tomb I've seen is definitely the one on Oxheart Mountain. When I went up to the mountains and down to the countryside I was still young and knew nothing, but judging by my experience now, that tomb must predate the Northern Song, dating to the prosperous Tang era when it was fashionable to use mountains as mausoleums; this practice continued into the early Song, but after the Southern Song the state weakened and no royal tomb dared undertake such a massive project.

Pangzi asked me, "You didn't say Oxheart Mountain is haunted, did you? Can't we find a place without ghosts? Dealing with wild dogs and mountain men is no problem, but if we meet a ghost we wouldn't know what to do."

I said, first, there are no ghosts in this world; what I told you before might have been my hallucination. Second, this is our first operation—we don't necessarily have to blast open a mountain. Do you remember how many families in Yanzi's village had antiques? If we go collect a few and sell them, we'll save ourselves the trouble of exhaustive digging.

That day we split up to prepare—Pangzi disposed of the remaining tapes, while I went to the second‑hand market to buy essential tools: flashlight, gloves, mask, candle, rope, water kettle. What delighted me most was acquiring two German entrenching shovels; holding the shovel in my hand felt like meeting an old friend.

This entrenching shovel was issued to German mountain assault troops in WWII, many of which were captured by the Soviet Union; during the Sino‑Soviet friendship period some ended up in China. The German entrenching shovel is light, can be folded and hung at the waist, and its blade is excellent—not only for digging earth or rock, but in danger it can be swung as a weapon, capable of lopping off half an enemy's head in one stroke.

The only regret is not getting a gas mask; during the nationwide three‑defense drive many civilian six‑zero‑style gas masks were issued, and they occasionally appear in the second‑hand market, but today I didn't happen to find one—I'll have to wait. I'm also missing a few other items, which we can prepare when we reach Ganggang Yingzi.

All told I spent over fifteen hundred, mainly because those two shovels were expensive—six hundred each, the price was fixed and couldn't be haggled. In the end I had only six yuan left; that's terrible—I can't even afford a train ticket!

Thanks to Pangzi clearing out the tapes, returning our rented place, and selling the tricycle, we almost had enough for the round‑trip fare. We stayed up buying train tickets; when I left that place I was still under eighteen, and I hadn't gone back in over ten years. Just thinking of seeing my fellow villagers again after so long made us both a little excited.