Chapter 20

Jade Discs with Moth Bodies and Chi Patterns 1

In the forest at the end of the valley came a series of muffled thunderclaps, "Boom—boom—boom—boom—", exactly at noon on a clear day, the sky washed clean, not a cloud in sight—how could thunder suddenly roll? Everyone's heart sank; we had just crawled out of the ancient tomb with great difficulty, and now what mischief was this?

Listening more closely with our ears, it didn't quite sound like thunder; the noise grew nearer, seeming to be some huge wild beast rushing from afar into the valley, its steps heavy, and as it ran its body kept striking the trees, at first hearing it sounded like continuous thunder, with a few dog barks mixed in.

Hearing the dogs bark, I realized three of the valley's dogs were missing—only five large hunting dogs lay on the ground, while the three giant mastiffs had vanished. Earlier, exhausted, I hadn't bothered to examine those hounds closely; perhaps we'd been gone too long and the hunting dogs had gone off hunting on their own—what wild beast had the mastiffs stirred up to cause such a commotion?

Yingzi listened carefully for a moment, then smiled and said it was nothing, just driving out wild boars; let's all go up the slope to watch the fun—we'll have wild boar meat to eat shortly.

We climbed halfway up the slope and already saw the forest's great trees, one after another snapped off; the valley's hunting dogs could no longer lie still, they silently spread out in a fan formation, intending to block the wild boar's escape route in the valley.

Only to see a red pine at the valley mouth crack with a "Crack!" and, from behind the tree, a huge wild boar burst out—if it weren't for the boar lacking a long snout, I might have mistaken it for a half-grown elephant; it weighed over a thousand catties, its mane black and long, its tusks on either side curving upward like two daggers; these tusks were both a proud symbol of its masculinity and a mark that it was the king of wild boars in the forest, its body fat and rounded, its limbs short and thick, it flung open its four hooves and plunged into the valley like a whirlwind.

Behind the great boar, three mastiffs followed unhurriedly, neither lunging fiercely nor biting hard, nor straying too far—one in front, three behind, all ran into the Wild Man's Gully.

The boar's hide, compared to rhinoceros hide, was no less tough; in the forest, when idle, it would rub its bulky body against pine trees—first to relieve itching, second to coat itself with pine resin to ward off mosquito bites; in summer, the mosquitoes in the deep mountains and old forests were as big as small birds, and there's a saying in the mountains: "Three mosquitoes make a dish." This saying is no exaggeration—even old yellow oxen cannot withstand the bites of mountain mosquitoes, but the wild boar fears none; its hide is like iron armor, no one can bite through it. Its two tusks and immense body weight are its magic weapons for rampaging through the forest—truly offensive and defensive; tigers, bears, and leopards in the mountains find it impossible to get a hold on.

However, the mastiffs trained by the hunters have a special move for dealing with wild boars; the mastiffs' build is like that of a young calf, yet compared to this huge boar, they still appear small in stature; these three mastiffs aim to drive the boar deep into the valley before finishing it, because in the forest there are only big trees, leaving no room to maneuver, and when the boar charges, it's like a tank.

In the Wild Man's Gully valley, the layer of fallen leaves is extremely deep; the great boar had not yet run halfway when, due to its own weight, its four legs sank completely into the leaf litter; the three large mastiffs surrounded it, biting east and west, consuming the boar's strength and spirit, while the five large hunting dogs also formed an outer ring—under these circumstances, they dared not interfere and vie for credit with the mastiffs, only standing aside as minor lackeys shouting encouragement.

The great boar, furious and anxious, foolishly struggled in the leaf layer, summoning all its strength to leap upward—it actually pulled its legs free and sprang into the air.

The mastiffs had been waiting for this moment; as the boar reached the peak of its leap, the largest of the three mastiffs suddenly sprang up, striking the boar like a shell fired from a gun—this impact used just the right force and angle, flinging the boar over, belly up, landing in the deep, soft pile of dry branches and rotten leaves.

The two other mastiffs lying in wait gave the boar no chance to rise, lunging to tear fiercely at its belly—the belly and anus are the boar's only weak points; once exposed to the enemy, it's done, especially with mastiffs as fierce and swift as lions—in less than three or four seconds, the boar's intestines, stomach, heart, lungs, and liver were all torn out.

Seeing the boar dead, we three slowly walked down from the slope; Pangzi and I saw these three mastiffs acting in such perfect harmony, even using the terrain tactically, and couldn't resist wanting to pat their heads in praise, grinning as we called them over.

Unexpectedly, the mastiffs and hunting dogs bypassed us two and gathered around Yingzi, who took out dried meat and fed them; the large dogs, seeing their master pleased, all wagged their tails to curry favor.

Left neglected to one side, Pangzi and I exchanged a glance; I shook my head and sighed: "Damn it, our warm faces stuck to the dogs' cold backsides."

Pangzi snorted angrily: "Lao Hu, do you remember what Mr. Lu Xun said? He said: 'Pah, these forces' dogs. Dogs are just like this—dog-eyed they look down on people, dog-faced they don't recognize people. Damn it, we won't stoop to their level.'"

Pangzi went back to the tent side to fetch the knife, axe head, and hunting rifle, returned to the valley, helped Yingzi butcher the wild boar; I carried the hunting rifle and two large dogs, went down the slope to find a spot to bury that boy and girl, lest they come looking for trouble again.

Yingzi said: "Brother Hu, you hungry? Let's have a couple bites first before we go."

I said: "No need—good food doesn't fear lateness; I'll just stay hungry a bit longer, better than burying corpses at night, that'd be kinda creepy."

I had the two large dogs drag the child corpses wrapped in yellow woolen military greatcoats to the mountain pass facing the grasslands, dug a deep pit; my engineer's shovel was left in the ancient tomb, and using the axe head was exhausting—by the time the sun slanted west, I'd dug only over a meter deep, already drenched in sweat, my stomach growling nonstop.

Looking at this pit over a meter deep, I thought it would do—after all, they're just kids, burying them that deep is useless; their bodies are full of mercury, so no need to worry about worms or rats gnawing them.

So I took the two children out of the military greatcoat wrapping, then rewrapped them neatly in two more military greatcoats, placed them side by side in the pit, clasped my hands and bowed twice: "Two ancient little friends, it's a pity you didn't live in a civilized, democratic society filled with sunshine everywhere; society's care you never enjoyed, but this is all fate's decree—you needn't cling too tightly. Fate has its end, fate need not be forgotten, all vain calculations lie within fate. When a person dies, they should return to the earth in peace; those who do not rest in earth are zombies—our conditions are limited, we have no coffin to lay you in, nor incense to offer you; when I return, I'll surely burn more paper money for you, hoping you reach the Western Pure Land soon and don't come to haunt us—we're busy too, and all we can do for you is this. Greedy, insatiable desire is not what good children have."

Having spoken, I and the two large dogs together pushed soil into the pit; a few shovelfuls buried the two ill-fated boy and girl; turning back to gaze afar, only the setting sun like blood, my heart filled with myriad emotions.

The time was already late; Yingzi called me from afar to return, so I brought the hunting dogs back to our campsite on the slope; Pangzi brought over a large stone, sealed tightly the ventilation hole through which the bat-like creatures with pig faces flew out to sneak attack the horses; the wild boar meat roasting over the fire, plus the offal and a pot of soup made with wood ear mushrooms, the pine scent mingling with meat aroma straight into our faces—I couldn't wait, rushed over, cut a piece of meat with my knife, and shoved it into my mouth.

After the meal, we drank the tea bricks Yingzi brewed, discussed how to return—having lost the pack horses, truly not easy to get back to Ganggang Camp; pots, bowls, tents couldn't be moved; the animal skins we'd hunted along the way couldn't be carried; this loss was truly too great; finally Yingzi thought of a plan: let the two dogs return with a message, calling the villagers to organize a horse team to come dig up the Kwantung Army's fortress—here there's so much good stuff, not moving it out would be a waste, and besides, dogs are the best guides; they can lead the villagers here; we'll first find a safe spot nearby to settle in, wait for the crowd to arrive, then together move out enough good stuff before returning.

Things having come to this, we had no choice but to do so; Pangzi wasn't too concerned about these matters, he again took out those two jade discs to examine, I scolded: "Damn you, truly hopeless—can't wait for daylight in your poverty, don't keep those two jades on you, looking at them over a hundred times a day—you're not afraid of wearing them out? From now on, I'll keep them for safekeeping."

Pangzi held the jade discs before my eyes, his face full of doubtful color: "Lao Hu, is this the jade disc we took out from the ancient tomb? Take a look—doesn't something seem off?"

Jade Discs with Moth Bodies and Chi Patterns 2

Since obtaining this pair of jade discs from the tomb, I'd never had the chance to examine them closely. Pangzi, startled and alarmed, handed them to me: "How come the color changed again?" I reached out and took the two jade discs to examine them carefully.

Both jade discs were carved into shapes resembling moths, with whiskers and eyebrows complete, lifelike; the disc bodies bear some strange animal patterns—this creature probably doesn't exist in reality; plump, its body somewhat like a thin lion, yet also like a scaleless flood dragon, plus a few claws and a curled large tail—overall this pattern is very strange; perhaps it's not an animal, but cloud or wave-like decorative patterns.

The craftsmanship of the patterns on the disc bodies is not as fine as the carving of the shapes—just a few rough strokes sketched out; yet although crude, it still gives a sense of simplicity and vividness; sometimes simplicity is itself a kind of beauty.

Really, damn it, strange—remember when we first took them out of the coffin in the ancient tomb, this pair of jade discs was dark green; yet when viewed in the Kwantung Army fortress, their hue was pale yellow.

Now the color is deep yellow, deep yellow—within a single day the color changed several times; how this came about we don't know—could it be that there exists a color-changing jade in this world? We know nothing about antiques; looks like we'll have to go back to Beijing and find Da Jin Ya, the antique dealer, to open our eyes.

Speaking of this antique-hunting operation, it's truly not gone smoothly—aside from the hardship along the way, first, the upper tomb in Wild Man's Gully is a general's tomb; we didn't expect the burial goods to be so pitifully scarce; the only thing possibly worth some money was this pair of jade discs; to get them out we nearly sacrificed the lives of three people—truly, moving mountains and crossing seas cannot convey its difficulty, lingering by the abyss and treading on ice cannot describe its peril. If the appraisal turns out to be worth little, then I truly must find a place to dash my head to death.

This matter has taught me a lesson: noble tombs don't necessarily contain large quantities of valuable burial goods; one must understand the tomb's historical and cultural background as much as possible, and also strive to master antique appraisal knowledge—only then can one act with precision, avoid coming away empty-handed.

Pangzi, on the other hand, appeared full of confidence, betting me that this pair of jade discs is certainly worth at least thirty or fifty thousand, possibly even a national treasure—then we wouldn't sell it to Hong Kong merchants or Taiwan compatriots, but directly offer it to the Palace Museum; the government, pleased, would reward us with eighty or a hundred thousand—no joke—and in Beijing give us a set of rooms, let us wear big red flowers and travel nationwide giving reports and lectures; by then, whatever moving thing we say, we'll say it; after finishing, those female college students in the audience listening with tears in their eyes would run up to offer flowers, offer love letters.

I said: "Stop dreaming—still want you to attend a model deeds report meeting? Not getting us sent to squat in a earth kiln would already be lucky. But if, as Pangzi claims, it could really fetch thirty or fifty thousand, that would already be an unexpected joy; we've been running east and west selling cassette tapes, a year's work nets at most three or four thousand; in bad business years, after subtracting food, lodging, and board, we basically earn nothing."

I'd already gone two days without sleep; after eating and drinking my fill, I chatted idly with Pangzi and Yingzi for a few sentences, then fell asleep—anyway, with the hunting dogs on watch, no need to worry about beast attacks; this sleep plunged me into darkness, and in my dream I returned to the smoke-filled battlefield; above the position floated the faces of my brothers below, each face very young—they had only faces, no bodies; these faces kept bleeding continuously, slowly flying toward the sky; I cried and shouted on the ground, trying to grab them, but my hands and feet kept being summoned, unable to move even a bit……

That night nothing happened—those underground giant bats, I don't know where they flew off to; the surroundings showed no trace of them; perhaps frightened by the gunfire, they went to find new caves to nest in.

I slept straight through until noon before waking; Yingzi had already sent three hunting dogs back with messages, each dog's neck tied with a small leather pouch containing Pangzi's note, stating clearly that the villagers should bring more people, horses, and tools, best to bring explosives, to come to Wild Man's Gully to dig up the Kwantung Army's fortress.

At noon we ate some wild boar meat, brought the hunting dogs, moved the tents and supplies to near the valley entrance, found a large mountain stone at the windbreak, set up the tents there—this place lies at the forest-grassland boundary; when the villagers arrive, they'll find us easily.

Afterwards Yingzi took the dogs to the woods to gather wild greens; I dug some earth and stones to bury a stove, set the pot on it and boiled water; we had brought some flour, which Pangzi handled, making a batch of dumplings filled with wild mushroom and wild boar meat, to celebrate our initial victory; although this engagement was a narrow escape, still, however you say it, at least the three of us came away unscathed, and we did gain somewhat—especially the Kwantung Army fortress, full of supplies, greatly helpful to the villagers' lives; for this too we deserve a couple drinks.

Thus each day we let the dogs hunt, and after over ten days passed, I felt I was nearly becoming a hunter of the mountains; the villagers finally arrived—over forty in total, led by the Party secretary and the accountant; since the men had all gone to Niu Xin Mountain to work, this group was almost entirely women, girls, and half-grown children; the villagers' horses were few, not more than ten, hearing there was a large cache of foreign materiel, they feared insufficient horses and thus brought along mules and donkeys, plus each family's own hunting dogs, noisily bustling into Black Wind Mouth.

The crowd immediately wanted to get to work; I said: "Everyone, after this journey of crossing mountains and wading through waters, having endured much hardship, why not rest one day, then tomorrow, refreshed, get to work? Besides, we can't act rashly—I once served as an engineer, I volunteer myself, to assign tasks to the crowd, we must use logistics, devise a plan, proceed step by step, not act like a rabble."

The crowd clamored noisily, excited, finding it fun, chattering ear to ear, discussion rampant, drowning out my voice—no one heard clearly; in the end, the Party secretary had to step forward and shout loudly: "Don't make noise, don't make noise, all listen to my great-nephew—what he says is what I say, that is, the organization's word; this time we can scoop up the little devils' foreign materiel, we owe much to these two great-nephews of mine and to Yingzi this lass—however they say, so we shall do."

I repeated my words once more, letting the crowd all go pitch tents and set up pots, eat and rest; then I consulted with the secretary and accountant—no explosives, but digging open the underground fortress isn't too difficult; we can start from the general's tomb side, as it's very close to the fortress passage; with five people, we won't need half a day to dig through the collapsed tomb chamber. However, there might be beasts in the fortress, so the crowd must prepare—subterranean animals all fear fire, so we need more torches. Special emphasis must be laid on: after entering, no one may act privately; the military materiel inside may not be taken, only what's needed for daily life—for example, military greatcoats, Japanese big-headed shoes, blankets, generators, electric wires and cables—we'll carry out as much as we can, then after moving it all, rebury the fortress; we must not leak news, otherwise we'll have to hand over all these things.

The Party secretary patted his chest and assured: "Great-nephew, rest assured—so long as these people take things, their mouths will be tight as drumskins, because the crowd has suffered losses before; in the earthquake year, many went to Niu Xin Mountain to pick up treasures, and weren't they all taken away by the Cultural Relics Bureau just like that? This time we've learned well—holding a gun to one's temple, no one would say a word; besides, our village is too remote, not even one outsider comes in a year; this time we'll just make a silent fortune."

That night we buried the pots and cooked rice, set up camp and rested; next morning I rose, divided the forty-plus married women, young ladies, and half-grown children into four groups; the first group consists of the youngest few, led by Yingzi, to go hunt in the mountains; the second group is the opposite—all the eldest, led by the accountant, staying in camp to cook for the crowd; I and Pangzi each lead a group of young, strong people, taking turns to dig the collapsed general's tomb, under the secretary's overall command.

The villagers brought many tools—hoes, picks, shovels, even some brought completely useless shovels; I again divided my group of ten into two shifts—one shift digs the collapsed sealing earth and glazed tiles, the other shift handles transporting the excavated earth and stone; the project proceeds in orderly fashion.

At this moment, from somewhere drifted a patch of dark cloud; thunder and lightning struck suddenly, and large hail began to fall; the crowd fell into chaos, to avoid the hail they all ran toward the tents at the valley mouth.

Returning to camp, the accountant counted heads—aside from the hunting team that went into the mountains, three more were missing……

Jade Discs with Moth Bodies and Chi Patterns 3

The weather in the wild says change and changes; this hailstorm came too fast—hail has killed people and animals before, so the crowd, seeing hail fall, used everything available to shield their heads and ran back; in the panic, it was inevitable someone would run the wrong way.

But what I feared most was the legendary "opium bubble"; since we came to Wild Man's Gully, we've been careful and cautious everywhere, yet we haven't found any opium bubble in the valley; these past few days we've also grown a bit careless. If by accident we let the opium bubble cover us, then even immortals couldn't get out.

I said to the secretary: "Secretary, let's do a headcount, see exactly which three are missing, from which group, so we can infer their activity locations, then I'll take a few people to go look for them."

The secretary said: "Ah, still my great-nephew's little brain works well—I'm so anxious my eyes keep going black; whenever something happens my mind just won't work; hurry, let the accountant's nephew check, see which three are missing."

The crowd, from the panic of dodging hail, gradually calmed down; at this time the hail also stopped—this hailstorm came fierce and fast, went just as fast; a gust of strong wind blew up, scattering the clouds overhead, the mountain wind howled hoo-hoo, blowing the valley's fallen leaves flying all over the sky; suddenly the weather turned cool.

The accountant checked each tent one by one, then came over to report to me and the Party secretary: "Uncle, the three of them are Lingling, Guilan and those two girls, plus Old Wang's second daughter-in-law—what should we do? We should hurry and bring the dogs to look for them."

These three people were from Pangzi's group; since it wasn't their turn to work yet, they were chatting in the ditch—two on the east side, three on the west—when the weather changed, everyone was rushing back, and no one noticed them.

The Party secretary said: "These three pieces of goods—we said not to bring them, but they insisted on coming, and now they've just added trouble, huh? Big nephew Hu, what do you think we should do? Or should we all go look together?"

I said: "That hail and heavy rain just now came down too hard—they might have run somewhere to take shelter from the rain. The search party shouldn't be too large; more people won't help, and if we don't find them and lose a few more, it'll be even worse. I'll take four or five people who are agile and used to mountain paths to search. I've lived in this Wild Man's Ditch for half a month and know the terrain well—you don't need to worry. Just stay put at the camp and wait. The weather's turned cool—let the sisters-in-law boil some ginger soup for everyone to ward off the chill."

The Party secretary slapped his thigh: "That's exactly how it is!"

I and Pangzi brought another five hunters, men used to crossing mountains and ridges, and we started searching from the ancient tomb at the center of Wild Man's Ditch. Most of the hunting dogs had been taken into the mountains by Yingzi and her group for hunting, because we needed large quantities of grain and meat to feed nearly fifty people, and the hunting team didn't have enough dogs.

We also needed to leave a few dogs to guard the camp against wild beast attacks, so we only brought three dogs—only one of them was a hunting dog, the other two were guard dogs, big yellow mastiffs.

Wild Man's Ditch runs north-south; the north side is the vast Outer Mongolian grassland, where our camp is located. To the south lie continuous rolling mountains and primeval forest. At this moment, a strong wind was blowing, howling into Wild Man's Ditch. We were moving with the wind, and at this time, even the dogs' noses weren't very sharp.

I led the search team, searching and calling out as we went, all the way to the southern exit of Wild Man's Ditch. The trees here were already very dense—all white birch and larch. Besides our own voices, footsteps, and the barking of the hunting dogs, there was only the howling wind. I felt something was off here—too quiet, even somewhat gloomy, as if this forest had no animals or birds at all, not even the most common squirrels, making one feel oppressed.

Three Tibetan Mastiffs had once driven out a large wild boar from here. Because this forest was so quiet, we had never come here to hunt before. I was hesitating when suddenly the hunting dog barked.

I released the hunting dog—it shot out like an arrow. Actually, everyone was closely following behind, and under a large pine tree we found the three missing women. Lingling and Guilan were holding Old Wang's second daughter-in-law, at a loss. Seeing us arrive, they hurriedly called for us to help rescue them. They had already heard our shouts, but since they were downwind, we never heard their voices.

Old Wang's second daughter-in-law was foaming at the mouth and unconscious. I tested her breath with my finger: "It's fine—her breathing is steady, not poisoning. She might have fainted from fright. She'll wake up after resting at the camp. How did you end up here? Did you run into wild beasts?"

Lingling explained: While waiting to start work, the three of them were chatting in Wild Man's Ditch. Women's topics were always about which young man was handsome, which girl had dark features, etc. They were chatting animatedly when the clear sky suddenly filled with dark clouds—no time even to look up—before the heavy hail began. They had no hunters at home, were farmers, had never been deep in the mountains, lacked experience, and in their panic, they somehow ran in the wrong direction, heading south.

Guilan added that Old Wang's second daughter-in-law was a few years older than them, and they always called her "Second Sister-in-Law." Normally, in the village, they got along well. At the time, the two of them followed Second Sister-in-Law as they fled. Initially, they just kept their heads down and covered their faces, not looking around. But the longer they ran, the more wrong it felt. When the hail stopped, they looked around carefully—nothing but trees, not even a person's shadow besides the three of them. The dense trees formed a canopy, blocking out the sky. The mountain wind blew leaves like snowflakes—truly terrifying. She then asked Second Sister-in-Law if they had taken the wrong turn, and if so, they should hurry back.

Second Sister-in-Law also felt strange, saying that just then the sky suddenly darkened, and she saw some older people fleeing this way—almost all men, though she couldn't see what they looked like clearly. At the time, the hail had stunned them, so they didn't think much and just followed those people. By the end, besides her and these two younger sisters, there was no one else around—only then did she feel a little afraid.

Suddenly, they noticed a circle of people squatting under an old tree—several hundred of them, all men, squatting with their buttocks raised, row after row, only their backs visible. What were these people doing? They had heard that in the mountains there were ginseng, polygala, and lingzhi—all precious medicinal herbs, especially ginseng, which has many names: also called divine herb, earth sprite, heavenly dog, cudgel. These grow deep in the mountains. A heavenly dog that's hundreds of years old becomes a spirit—it can turn into a fat boy or a big girl. If someone entering the mountains encounters a top-grade old mountain ginseng, they must never shout that they saw ginseng; they can only tell their companions they saw "erjiaozi," "dengtaizi," or "sanhua bazhang"—this is secret talk. Otherwise, the ginseng spirit, upon hearing someone saw it, would vanish into the earth. One must quietly tie a red thread around a button, wait until it sleeps at night, then come dig. Before digging, one must first worship the mountain god, fast and bathe, and wrap the dug-up ginseng in red cloth to bring it home.

These people were squatting there, motionless—were they digging for ginseng? Why so many ginseng? Curious, they wanted to go look. Lingling and Guilan were timid and tried to stop her, but she didn't listen. She walked over and tapped the shoulder of the man squatting on the ground: "Big brother, what are you doing?"

I don't know what she saw, but she let out a piercing scream and fainted on the spot. Lingling and her two companions rushed over to support her. At that moment, the men squatting under the tree had all vanished—just as if they had evaporated into the forest air.

Lingling said to me: "Brother Hu, then you all came running over—we were scared to death. In broad daylight we saw ghosts—those old people……were all following that cat……also don't know what they were doing……in the blink of an eye they were all gone."

I called Pangzi, and together we went to the place Lingling described to have a look. The ground was covered with fallen leaves—autumn had already passed halfway, deep autumn was approaching. The birch leaves were blown by the wind into a rustling sound—where could there be several hundred people squatting on the ground? We walked and searched, and if there was really something going on, we had to find out quickly—we couldn't let these matters threaten the group.

After just a few steps, Pangzi tripped over something and fell flat on his face. He cursed as he got up, thinking it was a tree root tripping him. He touched it with his hand—it didn't feel like a root. He held it up to his eyes and immediately threw it down: "My mother, a human thigh."

I found his words strange, walked over, picked it up, and looked—it was actually a half-section of a human arm bone. Then I went to where Pangzi had fallen and examined the soil—there was still a small section of bone sticking out. Possibly Pangzi had dragged his leg across it, kicking the bone that was protruding from the soil and breaking it.

I sent two people to first take Lingling and her group back, then led the remaining few to use the hunting rifle's front fork to dig open the soil. We hadn't dug a few times when the soil revealed a large number of human bones. Pangzi asked me: "My heavens, so many? Could it be the laborers who built the Kwantung Army's underground fortress, all killed by the Kwantung Army and buried in this forest's ten-thousand-person pit? What Guilan and her group saw just now—were those ghosts?"

A bone-chilling mountain wind blew through, the cold gradually intensifying. The few people digging felt goosebumps rise all over their bodies.

Moth-bodied dragon-pattern double ji bi 4

One skeleton after another lay buried and pressed together in the mud. We had only cleared a small area beneath the leaf layer, and already we couldn't count how many human bones there were. The bones showed clear signs of violent trauma—knife marks on ribs, neck bones, and skulls, clearly visible. Moreover, many skulls were detached from the bodies and scattered about—clearly chopped off by blades.

There are many legends about Fengkou of the Black Wind; the most famous is probably from the end of the Jin and beginning of the Yuan dynasties, when the Mongols crushed the main force of the Jin army in that renowned battle—hundreds of thousands of Jin soldiers, their corpses piled into mountains. When the Mongols cleaned the battlefield, they hastily threw the bodies into Wild Man's Ditch. It's said the entire mountain valley was filled in. As an ancient battlefield, it has now lasted nearly a thousand years—the corpses of those Jin soldiers and generals have long since rotted into soil and air.

The white bones scattered in the forest should not be from that era. The Black Wind Fengkou battle of the Jin-Yuan period is also historically the only large-scale battle ever fought here. After that, until the Kwantung Army secretly garrisoned the area, no further battles were heard of.

After thinking it over, there seems to be only one possibility. Comrade Lenin once said: "When analyzing any problem, the absolute requirement of Marxists is to elevate this problem to a certain historical scope." Pangzi feels that the large number of human bones in the forest are all Chinese laborers killed by the Kwantung Army—this hypothesis fully meets Comrade Lenin's standard.

But there's still one thing I can't figure out: when Pangzi was walking under the tree, he tripped over an arm bone, which led us to discover the large number of buried remains. But how could a skeleton's arm be sticking out half a meter from the soil?

This is really quite strange. If, when the Kwantung Army buried the corpses back then, they had left an arm exposed, then the corpses buried here would have long been dug up and eaten by wild animals. Could it be……that it deliberately reached out from the soil to trip Pangzi once, so we would discover them? Thinking this, I feel a bit creeped out—I dare not think further about it. I called everyone to refill the dug-up soil, then hurried back to camp to consult with the Party secretary on countermeasures.

We hurried back to the other end of the mountain valley camp, and saw that Yingzi's hunting team had also returned from the mountains with their game. Although they had encountered hail, they still caught several roe dogs, black bears, and roe deer—enough for people and hunting dogs to eat three or four meals.

Several older women were busy cooking rice, while the rest were either resting or gathered around the tent to visit Old Wang's second daughter-in-law. I entered the tent and saw she had already woken up, had drunk a few mouthfuls of hot ginger soup, and was now telling the Party secretary and others about her experience in the forest: "If I get closer and take a look……aiya, you guys guess what's going on……can you guess it? Let me tell you……it's like this……aiya that guy……you might not believe what I'm about to say……it's really terrifying"

The Party secretary impatiently urged her: "You're here telling storytelling, singing Peking Opera about the Water Margin's Little Five Heroes—what's that got to do with it? Don't drag in irrelevant stuff—what's there to guess? Just say what's useful."

Old Wang's second daughter-in-law is a very fiery woman. She gave the Party secretary a white look: "What are you yelling about? I'm in the middle of speaking—don't interrupt, okay? I just got to where I was saying……Oh……right, you guys guess what's going on? It's like this—I saw a circle of people squatting ahead, their attire—each one more filthy than the last—I was puzzled, so I wanted to go see what was going on. At first I thought they were old hands digging for ginseng, but when I got closer and took a look, nope—they were all kowtowing to a big tree? You say what are they kowtowing to the tree for? Can a tree even be a Bodhisattva? I just reached out and slapped one person's upper back, wanting to ask what they were doing—now you guess what happened?"

The Party secretary got anxious: "You say you're this kind of person——aiya, I'm about to die of anxiety—how did Old Man Wang's second son marry a woman like you……aiya, I'm worrying for him, you talk so much—let Old Man Wang's second son go back and pare you down……"

I feared these two would keep arguing and get more worked up, so I gave Yingzi a look. She understood and quickly changed the subject, grabbing Old Wang's second daughter-in-law's hand: "Sister-in-law, you say—what happened afterward? What did you see?"

Old Wang's second daughter-in-law said to Yingzi: "Aiya, he wasn't squatting? Then when he turned around, mommy—he had no head……after that, I got scared and fainted, then after I woke up again, I found myself in this tent, Lingling was feeding me soup, and then after that I just started telling you all what happened, what happened, how it came to be……"

The women feared ghosts, and the people around hearing her say this all began to mutter. The Party secretary quickly stood up and said: "What gods or ghosts—we're now basking in the spring wind of reform and opening up, soaking in the sunshine of the household responsibility system—this broad daylight, the universe is clear and bright—no one should be spouting nonsense."

I took the Party secretary out of the tent to a secluded place and told him everything I had seen and heard in the forest.

After hearing me, the Party secretary lowered his eyes and tears came: "Our village back then didn't lack those little Japanese devils capturing laborers—not one came back. My second uncle was taken by the devils. Later I heard some people say he was sent by the Kwantung Army to Hokkaido in Japan to mine coal, others say he was sent with a large group of laborers to the Greater Khingan Range to build fortifications. Where exactly he went—even now we have no definite word. It's a case of not seeing the person alive, not seeing the corpse dead. My grandmother and grandfather both cried their eyes blind, just hoping he'd come back—hoped until death and still didn't see him. Among those bones buried in the forest, perhaps there are our fellow villagers from the village—even if not, they're all our Chinese people. Speaking from conscience, we can't just ignore them. Furthermore, if these people's resentment is too heavy and their spirits linger, they might come out and scare the living daylights out of everyone—then we couldn't just pick up foreign scraps and leave. Big nephew Hu, you say—shouldn't we dig them all up and rebury them properly?"

I advised him a few times: given our capabilities, we can't do much about this. Pingdingshan also discovered a mass grave left by the invading Japanese army—if we were to find every single bone, rebury them properly, it would be nearly impossible, because many bones are already shattered, limbs mismatched, haphazardly pieced together—putting this person's skull on that person's body. For the deceased, that's also deeply disrespectful. Besides, our mobilizing so many people to go pick up the Kwantung Army's leftover scraps—we can't just come in high spirits and leave in low spirits, can I? My meaning is: we should prepare some incense, wine, and meat, go to the forest to offer sacrifices once, and later we could erect a memorial stele for them or something.

The Party secretary wiped his nose and tears with his sleeve and replied: "Exactly—just like that. When we return to the village, we'll get a few lamas from the banners to chant sutras and perform liberation rituals, so they may rest in peace soon."

Before, I never believed there were ghosts in the world—until recently, I understood a principle: in this world, there's nothing that is definitely non-existent. A hunter goes up the mountain to hunt, spends a whole day and catches nothing—this doesn't mean there are no wild animals in the mountains. In life, what we see and hear, compared to heaven and earth, is merely insignificant and trivial. Still, we should hold a bit more reverence for the unknown world. Even if there are no ghostly hauntings, the remains of the dead in the forest still deserve our sympathy—no matter from which angle we look, we should do something for them.

After the incident with Old Wang's second daughter-in-law, the people in the village have already begun to suspect ghosts and spirits—this place truly is sinister, everything seems to exist, we can't linger too long in Black Wind Fengkou—who knows what might still happen.

After lunch, I let Pangzi continue leading two groups to dig for the Kwantung Army's fortress, striving to break through a passage before evening. The accountant remained at camp, bringing a few old women to prepare meals for everyone, guarding the mules, horses, and supplies. I, Yingzi, and the Party secretary again selected a few bold individuals, brought several jugs of wine—these wines were all homemade distilled liquor from the village—and also brought some beef jerky and similar food, heading to the southern forest of Wild Man's Ditch to offer sacrifices to the laborers' souls.

By now the wind had stopped, the forest was silent as the grave. We laid out the wine and meat on the ground—no incense, so we just stuck in a few cigarette rolls. The Party secretary, tears and snot streaming, made a vow and swore: the little Japanese devils have long been driven back—when we return, we will definitely invite lamas to perform liberation rites for the souls, and we will also erect a monument.

Only then did I realize: actually, these people in the village—none are more superstitious than the Party secretary. He talks on and on without end. I stood aside smoking and waiting, when suddenly I noticed something felt off about certain parts of this forest.

The trees here are not lush—compared to the towering trees of the primeval forest, they are much sparser. What's strangest is that there are actually several withered old locust trees here. In the forests of the China-Mongolia border, it's mostly pines and birches—hardly any locust trees at all, not even the common black locust found in the northeast.

The nature of the locust tree is most yin—just from its name, one can see: one wood radical plus one ghost radical. If a locust tree withers, it's yin upon yin. In the "Sixteen-Character Yin-Yang Feng Shui Secret Technique," one of the sixteen characters is "Zhen"—graveyards must absolutely not have withered locust, willow, or elm trees, or else the deceased's souls will be entangled by yin energy, nailed to the area around the dead locust tree for miles, unable to go anywhere. In ancient times, some people, after killing their enemies, would bury the enemy's corpse beside a withered locust tree, so that after death, the enemy could not be reborn.

I hurriedly counted the locust trees around here—all were withered, a total of seven. Arranged according to the number of the Big Dipper's tail sweep—I don't know if they grew naturally, or if among the Japanese there was someone versed in yin-yang arts. No wonder Old Wang's second daughter-in-law saw those people's spirits all running to squat under the trees—definitely these spirits wanted to seize the moment of cosmic color change to escape this forest, but in the end, they didn't make it out.

I explained the situation to the Party secretary: "We should hurry and bring people to cut down these withered locust trees."

Moth-bodied dragon-pattern double ji bi 5

The Party secretary commanded with thunderous vigor—everyone said, let's do it, let's do it. Although we didn't have handy tools for chopping trees, those few locust trees were already withered—perfect for cutting down rotting wood, and it wasn't laborious.

In the time it took to eat one meal, we had felled the seven old locust trees. The Party secretary was very satisfied, then poured all the wine we brought onto the soil, laid out some wild fruits, mountain apricots, deer meat, rabbit meat, etc., stood in silent mourning. I, Yingzi, and others dug a few firebreaks, lit a fire, and burned those locust trees.

The flames soared, the withered wood emitted strange cracking sounds, from within rose clumps of black smoke—this kind of smoke, its stench fills the sky, hard to withstand. Everyone covered their noses with their hands and stepped back—only when sparks flew beyond the firebreak did someone go over to extinguish them.

Lighting a fire in the forest is no child's play—if not careful, it could easily spark a prairie fire. No room for carelessness—everyone anxiously guarded the site until the fire burned out completely, then used soil to bury the ashes, to prevent reignition.

After a busy period, it was only by evening that we returned to Wild Man's Ditch—Pangzi and his group had already dug open the underground fortress. Everyone rushed back to camp, saw that Old Wang's second daughter-in-law was no longer seriously hindered, could eat meat and walk fine—so everyone ate their fill, drank their fill, and rested to restore energy.

The next morning at dawn, we lit pine-oil torches—over twenty people, leading several mules and horses, from the passage expanded from the General's Tomb wall, entered the underground fortress. At the arsenal iron gate, the traces of battle were clearly visible—that ancient corpse had already been torn apart, and another few corpses of the great ground sloths of the grasslands, their bloodstains dried into dark red. Seeing these things again now still gives one a chill.

There will be no more danger here, and besides, we're bringing many torches—pine-oil torches burn long and are not easily blown out by wind. Even if there are still fierce beasts in the underground fortress, seeing the firelight, they won't dare come out to attack.

The village secretary saw such a large amount of Japanese military supplies, far exceeding his most optimistic previous estimate, and was overjoyed, quickly calling everyone to pick up the foreign goods, loading bundles of military coats, shoes, rain tarps, dry batteries, and field lunch boxes onto the backs of donkeys and horses, and continuously transporting them out.

In the mountain village, what was most lacking were these industrial products, so now everyone rushed forward, bravely shouting work calls and greeting each other, as if they had returned to the era of the Great Leap Forward.

I and Yingzi led a few people to search the other side of the passage; according to the map, there was another larger warehouse there, and following the map, it was not difficult to find.

The warehouse door was tightly shut, requiring a horse to pry it open; upon entering, everyone was stunned—row after row, filled entirely with artillery: mountain guns, field guns, 91-model howitzers, 60-model guns, various sizes of mortars, and piles of ammunition boxes stacked like mountains, endless to the eye.

It appears these guns were prepared for mobile warfare; the Japanese army's entire force can be divided into six parts, including the home forces, namely those stationed in Japan's four islands, including its colonies Taiwan and Korea, these forces are called the home army.

Additionally, there is the China Expeditionary Army, namely the troops invading China's interior, and the Southern Army, namely troops fighting in Southeast Asia and Australia, plus the navy and air force, as well as the Kwantung Army stationed in Manchuria, making a total of these six major military districts.

Among them, the Kwantung Army was most favored by the Emperor and Imperial Headquarters, hailed as the elite of the elite; the Japanese regarded China's three northeastern provinces as more precious than their own land—first, due to great strategic depth; second, abundant resources; third, vast forests and mineral wealth beyond calculation; furthermore, they could strike southward at any time. Long ago, Japan had a famous Tanaka Memorial, which already revealed their greed for China's Northeast; even during WWII, another Tanaka Plan emerged, suggesting that even if they abandoned the home islands, they would not abandon Manchuria, showing how much the Japanese valued Manchuria.

Therefore, the Kwantung Army's matériel and equipment were top-tier among all Japanese army units, only rivaled by the navy's Combined Fleet; however, these militarist ambitions have long become a laughingstock before history's wheel, so we need not be polite with the Kwantung Army—just as they were not polite with us initially; everyone rolled up their sleeves, shouting to take everything back.

I told them to be careful with torches and not get too close to the ammunition boxes—if this exploded, no one could escape; they'd all be buried alive. Behind countless artillery pieces were even more large wooden boxes, stamped with the red steel seal of Kashima Heavy Industry; prying one open revealed small generators, but they were too heavy to lift—horses couldn't carry them—so we had to slowly disassemble them and carry the parts back in batches.

The supplies in the underground fortress had been moved all day, yet only less than one-tenth had been extracted; the accountant was busy counting—this time we struck it rich; we couldn't use it all ourselves, and we could sell the rest for money—these old items could fetch old money.

At dinner, the village secretary found me; he calculated that moving at this pace would never end, and the horse teams couldn't carry so much; now it's nearly late autumn—if we left a guard detail and sent another team back to the village with supplies, the mountain roads are difficult, requiring over a month round trip, we couldn't make two trips before heavy snow blocked the passes; better to bury the fortress entrance, have everyone return to the village, and come back next spring to continue.

I thought it made sense—I'd been out of Beijing for over a month, staying in the mountains wasn't sustainable, and the items we'd retrieved needed to be taken back to Da Jin Ya for sale, so I agreed with the secretary's opinion; next time, I and Pangzi wouldn't be able to come with them again, so I entrusted the secretary: when spring opens next year, come to Heifengkou to burn some paper money for that pair of buried boy and girl. Also, remember: do not touch the military supplies in the underground fortress—they're not for ordinary civilians to use.

The secretary understood the situation and readily agreed, saying that after returning to the village, he'd find a lama to chant sutras and, incidentally, bring those two children along to be liberated together.

To be able to depart the next day, nearly everyone stayed up all night, packing things continuously; after finishing, the sun had risen; fortunately, although busy, nothing else happened that night.

All along the way, silent, returning to Ganggang Yingzi, the village was like celebrating New Year—family members called back the men who had worked on Niu Xin Mountain, and every household had pork stewed with vermicelli.

That night, I and Pangzi sat cross-legged on Yanzi's family's kang, drinking with Yanzi's father; after just a few cups, we heard someone outside shouting loudly, and even the village's hunting dogs joined in—my intuition again told me something had happened, and this matter was certainly not minor.

Moth-bodied dragon-pattern double ji bi 6

We went outside to see—the village secretary was going door to door, smashing doors, calling people out: "This is terrible! A landslide on Niu Xin Mountain has buried the archaeological team inside—everyone, grab tools and go rescue them!"

I only learned the full details much later: originally, the ancient tomb complex inside Niu Xin Mountain had been dug layer by layer, each layer revealing another; archaeology is not like grave robbing—direct and quick—but the archaeological team cleared one layer at a time, time-consuming and labor-intensive, while also clearing surrounding chariot and horse pits, sacrificial pits, etc. They dug down to the seventh underground layer before reaching the coffin and sarcophagus of the Empress Dowager.

China's policy on excavating ancient tombs is protective: we never initiate excavation actively; only when construction, earthquakes, grave robbing, etc., threaten the tomb's existence do we send archaeological personnel to the site for rescue excavation.

The Liao Dynasty ancient tomb at Lama Gou, Niu Xin Mountain, belongs to this nature—an earthquake caused the mountain to split, exposing the underground palace; over several years, as the archaeological team excavated, over three thousand cultural relics have been unearthed; the mysterious veil of the final layer of the underground palace is also about to be lifted.

However, just as the seventh layer of the underground palace was opened, the people from the village who had been picking up foreign goods returned to Ganggang Yingzi; to celebrate, they had someone call their family members working at the archaeological site to ask for a few days off—normally, work schedules were tight and manpower insufficient, so leave was only granted during holidays, but that day, by some strange coincidence, the underground palace had already been excavated to its final layer, with no major work remaining, so the supervisor approved everyone's leave, leaving only a dozen or so archaeological team members to clean the seventh layer.

The villagers who had gone to work left—then the collapse occurred; that year, the earthquake caused the mountain to split from bottom to top; the waterfall at the mountain peak had dried up since then; the fractured part of the mountain body—perhaps it was a hollow mountain—after cracking, could not withstand pressure and outward tension; perhaps it was related to the archaeological team digging too deep in the mountain—a severe collapse occurred, burying the eleven archaeological team members still inside, clearing the tomb owner's coffin and sarcophagus.

This incident took over half a day to reach Ganggang Yingzi—we only knew the mountain had collapsed, trapping many people; knowing it would take half a day to reach Lama Gou, we knew going there wouldn't help in time for rescue, yet we couldn't delay—after all, those buried below were comrades sent by the organization to work.

While the secretary organized personnel on one side, he also sent someone to notify the medical station in the banner; I and Pangzi joined in; we dug at Niu Xin Mountain for two days and two nights; everyone had completely given up; the banner's leadership also arrived, saw the situation, and declared no hope of rescue—finally, the only thing we could do was dig out the victims' bodies and bury them.

This matter is somewhat suspicious—the mountain didn't collapse early or late, but precisely after the villagers left for leave; most people escaped unharmed—this can be called a fortune in misfortune; in the dark, everything follows heavenly will—who can say clearly?

Thus, over fifty people remained to slowly dig on the mountain, while the rest of the elderly, young, and women returned to the village; this delay lasted another three or four days; I didn't want to linger longer, bade farewell to everyone, and returned to Beijing with Pangzi after many days apart.

We got off the train, went nowhere else, headed straight for Panjiayuan; Da Jin Ya was still the same—ugly-looking, full of petty trader air, not showing off, but in fact, in Panjiayuan, he is a very experienced, veteran expert.

Upon seeing us two arrive, Da Jin Ya quickly put down his business, asking eagerly: "Sirs, why did it take you so long to come back? I almost thought you were dead."

Pangzi immediately wanted to pull out those two jade bi to show him, to see how much they were worth—this had been troubling us both, and today we could finally learn the truth.

Da Jin Ya hastily gave us a glance, signaling not to take out our things: "Let's go to Dongsi instead—last time the hot lamb restaurant was nice, quiet; Panjiayuan is full of fish and dragons, crowded, many eyes, not a place to talk—wait a moment, I'll finish this business, then we'll leave."

The "mingqi" Da Jin Ya mentioned is trade jargon, already mentioned before—it's a synonym for funerary objects; this "ming" does not refer to Ming dynasty antiques, but specifically refers to burial goods, just like "antiques" and "curios"—these terms are used to obscure ears and eyes, sound pleasant, but actually all relate to "dao dou"; earlier, they were called "gu dong," "gu wan," referring to objects left by previous dynasties.

While speaking, Da Jin Ya took out an early Qing dynasty "icebox" along with a "Yongzheng official kiln ware Ji Hong small teapot" and handed them over—the buyer was a foreigner with a Chinese translator; actually, this stuff isn't much—just small trinkets; I didn't see how much he sold it for, but I estimate that foreigner got severely ripped off.

After finishing this deal, Da Jin Ya counted the banknotes: "Three days without opening, today's opening is enough to feed me for three years—these foolish foreign devils, buying two fakes and acting like they got treasure—go back and cry, you." After counting the money, he turned to me again and said: "Back in the Gengzi year, when the Eight-Nation Alliance invaded Beijing, they didn't lack good stuff taken from us—today you also count as doing heaven's work—Master Hu, you say it's not so, right?"

Now I and Pangzi are asking him to do something—of course we must follow his lead; we quickly gave a thumbs-up and praised: "Anciently, Huo Yuanjia defeated a Russian strongman in martial arts; now, Master Jin cleverly took unjust wealth from foreigners—for the country's glory, truly—high, indeed high."

After tidying up, we went once again to that small restaurant where we first talked; Da Jin Ya may have earned a lot today, plus being flattered by us two to the point of lightheadedness, he drank alcohol and even came out with two lines of Peking Opera recitation: "Good foreign slave, I hold a steel whip and strike you—wa ya ya ya ya."

I looked around—now isn't mealtime; the restaurant is cold and empty, only our corner table occupied; the waiter is slumped on the counter dozing; there are two workers responsible for lighting the hot pot, squatting by the door chatting about eggs; no one notices us three.

So I had Pangzi take out the jade bi to show Da Jin Ya, and briefly recounted the general course of our Northeast trip, mentioning only the important points; Da Jin Ya examined them carefully, occasionally bringing them to his nose to smell, then licking with his tongue tip, and asked us some details about that ancient tomb.

Da Jin Ya said: "In antique appraisal, I only know a little—it's all family ancestral skill; today I'll just embarrass myself in front of you two—this object, upon arrival, is like a Chinese doctor taking the pulse—there's also the method of observation, smelling, questioning, and feeling—especially for mingqi, because mingqi differ from ordinary antiquities; family heirloom collections are often handled and rubbed over time, so their surfaces develop luster; mingqi are dug out from tombs, always buried in ancient graves—these graves also have classifications like new dou, old dou, water dou, dirty dou, and chen dou. First is observation: look at the style, craftsmanship, shape, and color. Second is smelling: this is a crucial step in identifying mingqi—some people down south fake age by soaking imitations in urine pits, but although the color looks old, the smell differs—it's even more stinky than a corpse's butt plug (ancient jade stuffed in a corpse's anus to prevent corpse gas leakage and rotting)—even if the appearance looks ancient, one sniff reveals it—no fooling an expert's nose. Third is questioning: where did this object come from, what's its provenance? Those who dig up tombs naturally explain which dou they dug it from; I can then judge whether they're telling the truth, whether there are inconsistencies—this also helps judge authenticity and value from another angle. Finally, it's about feeling by hand—this is a realm that can only be understood, not spoken—over the years, countless antiques have passed through my hands; these hands of mine are connected to my heart—true antiques are treasures—no matter size or weight, one lift, one touch, one squeeze, and you can feel the heft—this heft doesn't refer to the object's actual weight; antiquities themselves possess spirituality, and also a sense of heaviness accumulated over hundreds or thousands of years—no matter how well fakes imitate appearance, this feeling cannot be fabricated."

Pangzi said: "My goodness, you said so much—I didn't understand a word—hurry up and tell us, how much are our two mingqi worth?"

Da Jin Ya laughed hahaha: "Pangzi, you're impatient—I was just chattering—I meant well, hoping you two would learn more about antique appraisal someday—those burial items in ancient big tombs number in the hundreds or thousands—if you don't know something about this, you'll struggle later. Now I'll just say about these two mingqi—I can't say their names—we'll temporarily call them, based on appearance: E-body Chi-pattern Double Ji Bi. As for their value..."

Moth-bodied dragon-pattern double ji bi 7

Antiques have no fixed price—unlike white sugar or coal briquettes, where you know the price per jin; antique values are highly subjective—as long as there's a buyer who recognizes the item, it's worth money; otherwise, no matter how good it is, if no one buys it, it has price but no market—it's worth nothing.

I'll give these two mingqi a bottom-line price: based solely on their intrinsic value, domestically they're worth between 40,000 and 50,000 yuan; of course, overseas they'd be far higher—but currently, in China, that's the market. When we sell, if we find a suitable buyer, we could ask for more—but it's hard to say—depends on the situation.

Da Jin Ya said he used to have an acquaintance in the trade, also doing business in Panjiayuan—his stock were mostly tile ends, arrowheads, old coins, seals, ink, figurines, snuff bottles—small trinkets—later this guy stopped doing that, went to Xinjiang to trade dried corpses—and now he's made a fortune.

Pangzi exclaimed: "Damn, aren't those dried corpses just ganzi? Can they still be worth money?"

Da Jin Ya said: "No—what we see as that ganzi-type dried corpse, to foreigners, becomes treasure—again, in Beijing, pre-Ming dried corpses trade at 20,000 yuan; take them abroad, they're worth 100,000, mei zi. You think—foreigners just like looking at these ancient lively mysterious things, right? In foreign eyes, our Eastern ancient nation is full of mysterious colors—for example, at the New York Natural History Museum, they run an ad: 'Today exhibiting mysterious Eastern beauty mummy'—wouldn't that cause a sensation? This dried corpse craze was triggered by the excavation of the Loulan Xiaohe River tomb group, uncovering the Loulan female corpse. Even in our country, if you casually find a place to exhibit, you'll have to queue to see it—this is a business opportunity."

I and Pangzi, after hearing this, suddenly understood, nodding repeatedly—indeed, there are many more intricacies here—truly, if not spoken, not clear; if not lit, not dark; plus, learning these two jade bi are worth about 50,000 yuan, we all feel satisfied—pulling teeth from a tiger's mouth, after all, our effort wasn't wasted.

I asked again: "Master Jin, you said our mingqi are called what-what-what bi? Why is it such a mouthful?"

Da Jin Ya poured me a full beer: "Don't rush—today we have plenty of time—listen as I explain slowly—this is called E-body Chi-pattern Double Ji Bi; in our antique trade, there's a rule: if an item has no official name, we always name it based on its features."

Just like that famous national treasure, the Marquis Yi of Zeng's bells—this instrument definitely wasn't called that before, but what exactly it was called, in modern times it's hard to verify—so archaeologists named it based on the excavated tomb and the instrument type.

This E-body Chi-pattern Double Ji Bi—this name already states its features: E-body, its shape resembles a pair of flying moths—this came from a Jin dynasty general's tomb; in ancient times, this flying moth symbolized a self-sacrificing warrior—isn't there that saying? 'Flying moth into the flame—goes and never returns—knowing it's death, yet still bravely walks into the fire.'

Of course we now know it's because moths can't see, and fly toward light—but ancient people didn't think so; they greatly admired the spirit of this large flying moth, used its shape to make decorations, gave them to those with battlefield merit and military achievements—it's an honor.

Now look at the pattern on top—it also has a name: this is 'Chi pattern'—it resembles a lion's head and a tiger's body, but actually isn't—Chi is a kind of dragon, this dragon lacks horns on its head; objects engraved with Chi pattern can ward off evil—just recently, at Yun'nan Mu Jia Shan, they opened a Ming dynasty prince's tomb—maybe you've heard the storytelling of 'Da Ming Ying Lie'—that Zhu Yuanzhang had a general under him, surname Mu, named Mu Ying—when excavated, that was Mu Ying, Mu Wang Ye's tomb, which unearthed a pair of 'jade double Chi bi' similar to your E-body Chi-pattern Double Ji Bi—put in modern terms, it's a kind of medal, a military decoration, etc.

Now let's talk about the 'double'—as the name suggests, it means a pair—there's also a rule here: this kind of decoration is hung on both sides of a helmet, so it must be a pair—if only one side, it's worthless.

What is 'Ji'? This refers to its craftsmanship; additionally, the value of this E-body Chi-pattern Double Ji Bi mainly comes from its historical and aesthetic value—the material itself isn't precious—it's a 'dry yellow discoloration' produced in the external Caucasus region—actually not jade; of course, if one insists on classifying it as jade, it's not impossible—dry yellow is now valuable, but the material of this bi is not top-grade—top-grade would change color twelve times over twelve double-hours.

Hmm, there's writing here—inscribed, it's a personal name, called 'Guo Ziwa'—it seems the owner of this bi was him—this person appears to be a late Jin dynasty left supervisor of the marshal, who, while defending the city, killed over two hundred Mongol soldiers and officers with a hard bow, extraordinarily brave; finally died in battle—also counts as such a figure—legend says the Jin king used 100,000 taels of gold to buy back his corpse from Mongol hands.

I feel it's like listening to heavenly script—some parts I can understand, but not many; Pangzi simply stopped listening, stuffed cow tripe, lamb slices, chicken pieces, greens, mushrooms—plate after plate—into the hot pot; these days eating barbecue has made me nauseous; today I finally caught a chance to have hot lamb—swung open my cheeks, just one word: 'eat'.

I asked Da Jin Ya what's currently hot in the antique market, what can sell for high prices.

Da Jin Ya said: "Foreigners call our country's porcelain, and it can be said that porcelain is always the hottest item in the antique market trade; the porcelain produced during China's most glorious historical periods cannot even be matched by modern advanced craftsmanship—for example, have you heard of Chenghua porcelain? Especially the colored ware among Chenghua porcelain, which is the most impressive—no need to be large, just as tiny as a three-year-old child's little penis, taking it to Panjiayuan, it's worth a hundred thousand yuan, no bargaining needed. You just said there were many porcelain and pottery items in the ancient tomb at Heifengkou on the China-Mongolia border, a pity they weren't unearthed; those should be from the late Northern Song Dynasty, truly a pity. Let me say something you might not want to hear—don't take offense—you misjudged this time; those jars and vats you didn't unearth are worth far more than this pair of moth-body chi-pattern double-dragon bi discs. So your eyesight still needs improvement; take the opportunity—next time I go to the countryside to collect items, you come along too, see the ropes here, and after one trip, you'll at least be able to handle a few million."

I repeatedly agreed, saying to Da Jin Ya: "I really do have this idea; currently I have a relatively bold plan—next time we prepare to overturn a large tomb, solving the problem in one go. The business of digging graves and searching for gold in deep mountains and old forests is not like inland operations; the risk is too great. Even if I had several more lives, I couldn't withstand such torment. I intend to find a top-grade feng shui treasure cave with a large tomb to start with, but this is no child's play—I need to make thorough preparations beforehand, otherwise I fear I won't be able to cope."

Da Jin Ya asked: "Master Hu, do you really want to go for a big one? Have you picked a target?"

I said: "No, I just suddenly had this thought—such large tombs in remote areas are extremely hard to find, and now I'm like a farmer; besides knowing how to read feng shui to locate tombs and veins, I'm completely clueless about historical archaeological value appraisal—two eyes covered in darkness, I understand nothing. Target selection is extremely blind, and I'm not eager to act recently. Our action this time appears somewhat rushed and profit-driven; such short-term behavior must not continue. However, this needs to be said from both sides—although this trip to the Northeast didn't unearth any major items, we did accumulate some experience and funds, which can count as a practice run for tomb robbery."

Da Jin Ya said: "Hearing you say that, I suddenly thought of something—this Xinjiang, then..."