Chapter 21

Sand Sea Demon Nest 1

It turned out that Da Jin Ya happened to know a professor from the Beijing Institute of Archaeology and Cultural Relics, and they often engaged in horizontal exchanges. Recently, something happened, and the detailed circumstances are as follows.

Archaeological protection activities that were forced to halt during the ten years of the Cultural Revolution were restarted after the reform and opening-up. In the past three years, archaeology has entered a peak period, with a large number of ancient tombs and ruins surfacing one after another.

The trade and exchange of antique collections have also become extremely frenzied, with various tomb-robbing gangs, big and small, rushing to the scene upon hearing the news, digging wherever they see earth mounds, especially in Shaanxi, Henan, and Hunan, and the situation is growing increasingly intense.

Since the discovery of the Xiaohe Tomb Group in Loulan, Xinjiang, people seem to have suddenly realized that in the vast deserts of Xinjiang, the once-glorious Silk Road, the thirty-six states of the Western Regions along the Peacock River—Huhu, Loulan, Milan, Niya, Luntai, Puli, Qiemo, Xiye…—a paradise for adventurers, countless treasures and prosperity lie buried beneath the endless yellow sands.

For a time, countless expedition teams, archaeological teams, and tomb robbers rushed into the Taklamakan Desert in search of treasure, marking the second wave of exploration fever following the desert exploration craze of the early nineteenth century. However, for most inexperienced explorers, this vast desert is, as the renowned Swedish explorer Sven Hedin described the Taklamakan, a place of no return, a sea of death, hence its name.

The protection of Xinjiang's ancient tombs and ruins is urgent, yet the official sector lacks sufficient manpower and financial resources to conduct excavation and preservation of the relics in the Taklamakan Desert. A large number of archaeologists are instead racing against time in Henan to excavate ancient tombs already looted or damaged by construction.

The professor whom Da Jin Ya knows has long studied Western Regions culture and has been deeply concerned about the destruction of Xinjiang's ancient tombs. He has repeatedly appealed to superiors, hoping to personally lead a team into the desert to conduct an on-site assessment of these relics and then apply to relevant authorities for excavation or protection.

However, superiors have repeatedly delayed, citing insufficient funds as an excuse—though funding is secondary. The real reason is that too many people have encountered accidents in the desert recently, and they fear mishaps befalling the professor's team. Having undergone the baptism of the Cultural Revolution, China's officialdom now follows an unwritten rule: seek no merit, but avoid blame; not making mistakes is considered a great achievement, and promotion and wealth are merely a matter of time.

Until recently, when an overseas Chinese American stepped forward to provide full financial support for the professor's archaeological team, the plan could finally proceed. Currently, this archaeological expedition team is still in the preparatory stage and still needs to find a leader with extensive desert survival experience, as well as someone skilled in feng shui and celestial observation, since most team members are bookish scholars with no practical experience. Without a leader, entering the desert would mean certain doom; without someone who understands celestial feng shui, they would be unable to locate ancient tombs or ruins.

Finding such people is no easy task—though some apply, most are frauds who expose their inadequacy upon discussion. Thus, the professor has also asked Da Jin Ya to search among the folk for such capable individuals.

Da Jin Ya asked me if I wanted to go, noting that the American was offering a substantial reward, and we could go to the desert to see whether there were any major tombs—just to gain experience for future operations.

I said: "This opportunity is not bad; for us, it's a rare chance at practical experience. We've never interacted with archaeologists before, and if we could go together, we could learn a lot from them. I've been to the desert before—my unit once conducted two military drills deep in the desert, and while leadership is essential, entering the desert also requires finding a reliable local guide. As for celestial feng shui, I understand it: as long as there are stars in the sky, I can guide them to the place they seek. But I don't understand why this American is funding our Chinese expedition—what is her motive? Americans aren't Lei Feng; they are pragmatic, value practical benefits above all, and won't act without gain."

Da Jin said: "I don't know the full details either, only a rough outline. The American sponsor is a woman of Chinese descent; her father was a tycoon on Wall Street, who usually enjoyed exploration and archaeological activities. Last year, she, her fiancé, and a group of Chinese explorers went to Xinjiang together. Her father seemed especially interested in the Jingjue culture, and their purpose was to find the hidden Jingjue Ancient City buried in the heart of the desert. They went and never returned—not a single person came back. Local garrison troops dispatched aircraft to search, but found nothing, not even a clue. She inherited a substantial fortune from her family and likely hasn't given up on her father's fate. This sponsorship may well be her way of doing her utmost to search for her relatives. Though she is American, she is ethnically Chinese, and by our Chinese tradition, the dead must be buried in their homeland—not left in the desert to be blown by wind and scorched by sun, which would leave distant relatives uneasy."

We three drank until late at night before parting, agreeing that Da Jin Ya would contact the buyer and introduce us to Chen Professor, the organizer of the upcoming archaeological team. Whether we could join still depended on a meeting with Chen Professor.

Two days later, Da Jin Ya took us to Tianjin, to a small antique shop on Shenyang Road. The shopkeeper was a woman in her thirties with fair skin, whom we all called "Han Jie." Han Jie was the kept woman of a Hong Kong tycoon, one of the few major antique collectors in Hong Kong. The tycoon opened this shop for her in Tianjin: first, to give her something to do in her dull life; second, to purchase antiquities and burial goods.

Han Jie was not a talkative woman, but she had exceptional skill in antique appraisal. After examining our burial goods, she generously paid us sixty thousand yuan: "Current market prices are at most fifty thousand; I'm paying an extra ten thousand in hopes of becoming friends. If you find anything good in the future, please bring it here."

I took the thick stack of cash in my hand, feeling excited, my hands slightly trembling. I silently cursed myself: "Old Hu, old hu, you've seen the world before—when Chairman Mao reviewed the Red Guards on Tiananmen Gate Tower, did you feel excited when you joined? Honestly, I was excited then, but not as much as now. You've climbed trees in the primeval forest, dug pits on Kunlun Mountain, fired guns in the counterattack against Vietnam—how come today you're so excited you can't even hold onto the money? Ah, this is the power of money—you may not respect it, but without it, you can't string power lines for villagers in the mountains, nor improve the lives of fallen comrades' families. Money is too great—born to die, for what? For money."

After returning, I divided the money into four shares: one for Yingzi, one for Pangzi, one for the Party Secretary, and distributed the rest among the group, leaving one share to be saved for equipment purchases and future operational funds.

Pangzi refused his share, saying this money was neither small nor large—enough neither to repair the roads of Ganggang Yingzi nor to leave much after our split. He said he'd heard that Old Hu's unit had many rural martyrs' families, with large households, and though they received government subsidies, life was still extremely difficult—some elderly mothers, whose sons had sacrificed, couldn't even afford bus tickets to Yunnan to visit their sons' graves. Hearing this, my eyes welled up, my heart felt uneasy. He said, "Just send my share to those martyrs' families and wounded, disabled comrades. In this life, my greatest wish is to serve as a soldier on the battlefield, but my father died early, and I never got that chance. Old Hu, help me fulfill this wish. When we have more money later, we can give me my share—no rush."

Speaking of this, my eyes also teared up. I patted Pangzi's shoulder: "Good—your awareness is growing. There will be plenty of chances to earn money. This time, let's aim for Xinjiang and earn American money."

After a few days of rest, Da Jin Ya came to notify us that he had arranged a meeting with Professor Chen of the archaeological team, bringing me and Pangzi to the professor's office. The professor was no longer young, and upon seeing him, I couldn't help but worry: this old frame still wants to venture into the world's second-largest shifting sand desert?

Along with Professor Chen was his assistant, Hao Aiguo, a middle-aged intellectual in his forties, with hair messy like a chicken coop, clearly lacking experience in social interactions. His thick myopia glasses indicated he possessed a rigorous, pragmatic, and diligent scholarly attitude, and he paid little attention to his appearance. Such people were not uncommon during the Cultural Revolution, but after reform and opening-up, with the rise of new knowledge, new trends, and fresh values, such old-school types have become rare.

Hao Aiguo scrutinized us seriously, without pleasantries, and got straight to the point: "Comrades, we already know your purpose. You must also know our archaeological team's requirements. This time, it's an exception among exceptions, a rarity among rarities—we need talent. You two have desert survival and exploration experience, or do you understand celestial feng shui? This cannot be taken lightly. If you lack these abilities, we won't even consider going through the back door." He glanced at Da Jin Ya: "No amount of connections will help."

Professor Chen felt Hao Aiguo spoke too bluntly. Since he was close to Da Jin Ya's father and often consulted them on antique appraisal, he didn't want to strain relations. He rose from the sofa to smooth things over, invited us to sit, chatted briefly, asked me and Pangzi a few questions, then smiled and nodded: "Not simple at all—former platoon leader in the People's Liberation Army, combat experience, and you've been to the desert—truly rare. As a leader for us bookworms, you're more than sufficient. Most desert ruins and tombs are buried under yellow sand; the ancient Kongque River route has long dried up and is hard to trace. Without celestial feng shui, finding them would be nearly impossible. Do you two understand this?"

I knew this celestial feng shui was also called the Tianqiong Qingnang Technique, the heavenly volume of the *Yin Yang Feng Shui Secret Technique*, the most obscure and difficult chapter. I had never actually used it, but now I could only bluff. I scratched my head and replied: "Old sir, it's not that I'm boasting—I'm well-versed in this star-dial moon-carving feng shui technique, though I'm not sure where to begin…"

Sand Sea Demon Nest 2

To earn this USD-paid job, I poured out all my stored knowledge, hoping to overwhelm them with talk. Initially, Hao Aiguo thought I was young and assumed I was Da Jin Ya's relative, using connections to sponge off them. But after I spoke a few points clearly and logically, he couldn't help but look at me anew, listening intently beside me.

This feng shui, known as the supreme of geographical studies, can be simply summarized as: a place that shelters wind and gathers water. As the *Book of Burial* says: "Burial means riding the vital energy. Energy disperses when carried by wind, and stops when bounded by water. The ancients gathered it to prevent dispersion, and guided it to achieve stoppage—hence the term feng shui."

Later generations expanded feng shui infinitely—not limited to tomb site meridians, but gradually evolved into Kan-Yu, the study of heaven and earth. In plain terms, it is the discipline analyzing the relationship between heaven, earth, and humanity.

But today I will only speak to the professors and teachers present about one branch of feng shui: "Celestial Feng Shui." Ancient emperors and nobles valued the afterlife greatly, believing that the treatment they enjoyed in life should continue after death. Moreover, they believed the rise and fall of the world stems from the dragon veins, so tombs must be placed in feng shui paradises. Emperor Yongzheng once outlined imperial tombs thus: "The area where heaven and earth gather excellence, where yin and yang converge—dragon caves, sand and water, nothing beautiful is missed; form and momentum, principle and energy, all auspiciousness complete; water and mountain methods, clearly ordered—truly supreme auspicious soil."

Though only a few short lines, this is undoubtedly the most direct, vivid, and lively description of imperial tomb site selection. Yet he only spoke half the story—ancients seeking harmony between heaven and earth needed not only mountain and water methods, but also the sun, moon, and stars.

Since ancient times, people have observed celestial phenomena, studied stellar changes, and used them to predict fortune and misfortune. When selecting feng shui paradises, they also incorporated the essence of astronomy: the distance between heaven and earth is eighty-four thousand li, while the distance between a person's heart and kidneys is eight cun four fen. The human five elements—metal, wood, water, fire, earth—correspond to the five heavenly stars, and there are twenty-four stars corresponding to the mountains, rivers, and geography of the world. Stars have good and evil; land has auspiciousness and inauspiciousness.

Any land of supreme auspiciousness must correspond to the sun, moon, and stars in the heavens. The method of determining tomb sites by tracing the movement of star clouds—the Qingwu Technique—is the most difficult to master in celestial feng shui.

There are twenty-four lunar mansions, twenty-four hours in a day, twenty-four solar terms in a year, hence feng shui also has twenty-four directions and twenty-four positions. Which twenty-four? They are: Tianhuang, Tiangang, Tianguan, Tianyuan, Tian Shi, Tianchu, Tiankua, Tianhan, Tianlei, Tianfu, Tianku, Tiangui, Tianyi, Shaowei, Tianhan, Tianguan, Tiandi, Nanji, Tianma, Tianping, Taiyi, Taiwei.

To understand the auspiciousness and inauspiciousness of these stars, then use a compass to locate them, is how we find the places we seek. However, this celestial feng shui school has many branches, each with its own methods, and contradictions are not rare. In the vast desert, ancient relics lie buried for millennia—having even a two or three percent chance of finding them is already good.

Upon hearing this, Professor Chen stood up, delighted, and said: "The *Hutong Zhi* spoke wonderfully—heaven has opened its eyes! At last, we've been sent someone like you. In Xinjiang's vast desert, after a thousand or even several thousand years, seas have turned to mulberry fields; former oases and cities have become endless deserts; mountain ranges and rivers have vanished. If we wish to find the tombs along the ancient Silk Road, celestial feng shui is the simplest and most effective method. I announce: from now on, you two are officially members of our archaeological team."

Hao Aiguo also came over and warmly shook our hands, apologizing for his earlier bluntness: "Sorry, sorry—we intellectuals are all old stinking ninths. After so many years of the Cultural Revolution, we've been stuck in earthen huts, our minds addled, and we're not good at speaking. Please don't take it to heart."

I secretly rejoiced: "Hehe, I only know this much—if I go further, I'll expose myself. Celestial feng shui is so profound I can't imagine it—I don't really understand it. But surely you, these bespectacled intellectuals, can't withstand the desert's harsh conditions—you'll be running back in two days. Besides, I exaggerated, saying the chance of finding relics is extremely low. If we don't find anything, it won't be my fault for not knowing celestial feng shui—but our wages, not a single cent can be less."

Just as I was feeling pleased, a young woman entered the room. Professor Chen hurriedly introduced her: "This is Miss Yang, the sponsor of our expedition's funding. She will also join us—don't let her gender fool you; she is a renowned photographer for the American *National Geographic* magazine."

I adopted a gentlemanly demeanor, shook her hand, and thought: since she's American, I should speak English—how do you say hello again? Is it "ha……ha……ha lou"?

Miss Yang smiled faintly: "Mr. Hu, I speak Chinese—let's just talk in Chinese. From now on, you can call me Shirley Yang." I hadn't expected her Mandarin to be so fluent, with no trace of an American accent. As for what an American accent sounds like—I really had no concept—but I felt she was no different from a Chinese person.

Shirley Yang then shook hands with Pangzi and raised a question: "Mr. Wang Kaixuan (Pangzi) came with Mr. Hu. Mr. Hu's abilities are great—he commanded troops and understands celestial feng shui—but what skills does Mr. Wang have? We haven't seen them yet. This desert expedition is of great importance—we don't need people without unique skills."

I hadn't expected Americans to be so direct. Everyone turned to look at Pangzi, so I quickly spoke for him: "The desert is unsafe—this friend of mine is excellent with firearms."

Pangzi, seeing the American woman look down on him, flicked his lips, snorted angrily, and said: "What's Xinjiang? Back in the day, my father went to the Xinjiang desert to suppress bandits, killed bandits in the Niya oasis until they were fleeing with their pants down, and even personally shot the bandit leader. Look—these are his spoils." He then pulled out a jade pendant and flashed it before everyone: "Have you seen this?" This jade pendant was a gift from his father's old Red Army comrade when he was a child, obtained from a bandit gang he destroyed in the Niya oasis, Xinjiang.

I stood there, mouth twitching, thinking: this idiot, spouting nonsense he can't even make consistent—attributing his father's generation's heroic deeds to himself, and claiming he went to Xinjiang to suppress bandits when he was still wearing open-crotch pants. Saying he ate Xinjiang lamb skewers would be more believable. Now it seems I can only bluff—if Pangzi doesn't go, neither will I; I suspect they'll eventually have to compromise.

Yet no one objected. Professor Chen and Shirley Yang's eyes were fixed on the jade pendant in Pangzi's hand—wherever he moved it, their gaze followed, and they didn't even want to blink.

Sand Sea Demon Nest 3

Shirley Yang originally disagreed with Pangzi joining the archaeological team, but after seeing his jade pendant, she immediately agreed to pay us each ten thousand USD, with double payment if we find the Jingjue Ancient City in the desert's heart. However, this payment will only be made after we return from Xinjiang.

Da Jin Ya had also seen Pangzi's jade pendant, but with his experience, he couldn't determine its origin—he's not as knowledgeable as Professor Chen and others, since Da Jin Ya deals in trinkets, while Professor Chen has studied Western Regions ancient culture for decades. Shirley Yang's father was a friend of Professor Chen's, and Shirley Yang, raised in that environment, is herself a semi-expert on Western Regions history. So when they saw the jade, they immediately recognized its significance.

Professor Chen believes the jade is at least 1,500 to 2,000 years old, inscribed with Guichong script. Guichong was a minority ethnic group in ancient Western Regions, now extinct. According to some unearthed texts from Dunhuang, the queen of Jingjue State was of Guichong descent. The exact meaning of the ten Guichong characters on the jade still requires further verification.

Professor Chen and Shirley Yang's father are both obsessed with Western Regions culture. Jingjue, once a prosperous and splendid city, can be said to be the outstanding one among the thirty-six states of the Western Regions—unmatched in its prime. Later, it seems a great disaster struck the state: the queen died, and from then on, this ancient city vanished without a trace.

Its former glory has been buried under yellow sand. The proof of its existence is only scattered references in ancient texts. Legend says the Jingjue queen was the first beauty of the Western Regions—she was like the sun in the sky, her appearance making the stars and moon dim in comparison.

Shirley Yang's father was searching for this queen's tomb, leading a Sino-American team of five explorers with top-tier equipment into the desert's depths—yet they never returned.

This expedition has two goals: first, to conduct on-site assessment and survey of Xinjiang's ancient tombs; second, to try our luck and see if we can find the remains of those five explorers, so we may give them a proper burial.

Shirley Yang wanted to buy the jade pendant in Pangzi's hand, and Pangzi and I thought it was a rare opportunity, so we stubbornly refused to sell, secretly calculating how much we could swindle from her in US dollars. We joined this expedition team composed of scholars and photographers, I became the team leader, Pangzi became the deputy leader, and the matter of going to the desert was settled like that.

The train heading west raced across the vast western lands, Pangzi and I slept in the sleeper car until it was dark, our first stop was Xi'an, where we were to meet several students of Professor Chen, then Ürümqi, where the expedition team's equipment would be directly checked in.

As soon as Ha Aiguo entered, he almost fell over from the stench of Pangzi's smelly feet, he pushed me awake: "Hutong Zhi, wake up, wake up, Professor wants to discuss something with you, come over for a moment."

I looked out the window, it was still bright outside, I didn't know what time it was, I had slept in a daze, I put on my clothes and followed Ha Aiguo to the next compartment.

Professor Chen and Shirley Yang were looking at the map, when they saw me come in, they greeted me to sit down, Ha Aiguo poured me a cup of hot water, I asked them what was the matter?

Professor Chen said: "We'll be able to reach Xi'an tomorrow morning, after picking up my three students, the personnel will be all here, you are our team leader, I want to discuss the route with you in advance."

Shirley Yang also said from the side: "Yes, Mr. Hu, I and the professor have discussed, we plan to set off from Bositeng Lake, head south to find the ancient Kongque River channel, then, through the ancient Kongque River channel enter the deep desert, follow the Zidu Anhe River southward, searching for the traces of the Jingjue Ancient City, we want to solicit your opinion."

I felt amused in my heart, these intellectuals and rich people, theorizing on paper with wild ideas, if you walk like this you're just going in circles in the desert Gobi, who would dare walk a Z-shaped route in the desert, even if you don't die of thirst, starvation, or sunburn, you'll eventually die of exhaustion, but I've always thought these people are just rich and idle, living well but insisting on suffering in the desert, they'll surely be crying and begging to go back in two or three days, so the route doesn't matter, just give me the money when you get back.

I said to Shirley Yang: "Miss Yang, although I am the team leader, I have no qualifications to participate in deciding the marching route, you have confirmed the route and goal, I am responsible for leading the group to the place, in other words, yours is the boss's work, ours is the laborer's work."

As soon as I said that, I also felt a bit regretful, as the saying goes, taking someone's money to eliminate their misfortune, people paid me to hire me, I naturally ought to fulfill my duty, so I told them, regarding the route matter, we must wait until we reach Xinjiang, find a local guide born and raised there, solicit his opinion, then decide, saying now is a bit premature, finding a guide is my responsibility.

Everyone discussed some more details, then went to rest, after this conversation on the train, I vaguely felt that these people were very determined, not necessarily doomed to turn back after just a few days in the desert.

In Xi'an, we met the remaining members of our archaeological team, all students brought by Professor Chen, the simple-looking Sa Dapeng, the tall Chu Jian, and also a female team member Ye Yixin.

Adding the previous five people, a total of eight people arrived in Xinjiang, I contacted my former comrade-in-arms Liu Gang from the army, he is a descendant of the 359th Division that entered Xinjiang, born and raised in Xinjiang, but he is not very familiar with the locals either, wanting to find a familiar local Uyghur guide for desert geography is not easy, finally through Liu Gang's friends, we found an old man who raises livestock.

The old man's name is "Aishehaiti-Aimaiti", but this name of his is no longer called by anyone, people all call him "Anliman", meaning the living map in the desert.

Anliman old man held his pipe, shaking his head non-stop: "No no, now it's the windy season, entering the desert, Lord Hu the old man, that is to invite blame down upon."

We softened him up with persistence, I let Professor Chen show the documents, I told him we are cadres dispatched by the state to work, local comrades must cooperate, Anliman if you don't want to be our guide, we will find the police, confiscate your camels and donkeys, let you do no business.

Shirley Yang also told him, as long as you come to be our guide, all your livestock, I will buy them at double the price, when we return from the desert, these livestock will still be yours, the money will also be yours.

Anliman old man had no choice but to agree, but he proposed a requirement: "Cars shouldn't be driven, Lord Hu doesn't like machines, camels should be brought in abundance, Lord Hu likes camels."

On this point, I and Anliman old man agreed, camels in the desert are much more useful than cars, camels have the beautiful name of "ship of the desert", not only are they animals with transport ability, they have many skills left from ancient ancestors, can avoid desert storms, quicksand and other natural threats, can also go forward under the scorching sun without eating or drinking, their broad and fat soles have a large force area, will not easily sink into the sand, old and experienced camels will lead their owners to find water sources in the vast desert, at night, alert camels can also serve as sentinels, warning the owner when wolf packs or wild beasts sneak attack in the dark.

Anliman old man selected twenty-peak camels, on the day of departure, he loaded all our equipment and supplies onto the camels' backs, also brought a large amount of bean cakes and salt, Pangzi helped him move things while asking: "Old sir, will we just eat bean cakes and salt in the desert? Isn't this the more you eat the thirstier you get?"

Anliman old man laughed loudly: "Oh my Wulianjiang (stalwart friend), this, you can eat if you want, but Lord Hu thinks these should still be left for the camels to eat."

Anliman old man told us everyone, now the season is the most dangerous time in the desert, from Bositeng Lake to the ruins of Xiye City, this previous stretch has desert and Gobi beach, fortunately the ancient Kongque River channel is connected, still not hard to recognize, but wanting to go deeper, whether we can find the Zidu Anhe River depends on Lord Hu's will.

Our nine-person team, rather than saying it's an archaeological team, it's more like an ancient camel caravan, the amount of food carried is about enough to last less than a month, clean water is sufficient for over ten days, at several oases and underground dark rivers along the way, we can still replenish drinking water. Also there are several large leather bags of yogurt soup, when thirsty in the desert to the point of unbearable, drinking a mouthful can quench thirst, equivalent to ten mouthfuls of clean water. Plus the expedition team's various equipment, making each peak camel's load very heavy, when marching, personnel can only use two legs, walk half the way, ride camels for half the way.

The first leg of the journey is from Bositeng Lake southwestward, along the Kongque River westward for a stretch, until finding the ancient channel heading south, Bositeng can be translated as "standing", the origin of this name is because there are three lake-heart mountains standing in the lake. Ancient times also called this lake Fish Sea, China's largest inland freshwater inflow and outflow lake, the Kongque River originates here, flows into the depths of Taklamakan Dry, when we passed by the lakeside, gazing out, the vast and deep blue lake water made people dizzy, unintentionally, producing an illusion as if we had already reached the end of heaven and earth.

Sea of Sand Demon Nest 4

After setting out, the first two days, Professor Chen's three students were extremely enthusiastic, they are all young, this is their first time entering the desert in life, they felt both fresh and fun, a moment they learned Anliman old man's whistle commands for directing camels, a moment they chased each other playing and singing.

I also felt eager to try, wished to join them in the frolic, but as the team leader of the archaeological team, I still had to be a bit stern, thinking of that, I straightened my body riding on the camel's back, trying to make my image as firm and wise as possible.

According to the old man Anliman, this initial leg of the journey is basically not desert; this section of the ancient Kongque River channel existed before the river changed course, some parts of the riverbed are not completely dried up, the surrounding sand is also very shallow, with scattered small lakes and ponds everywhere, occasionally a small flock of red-headed gulls and red-billed diving ducks swimming on the water surface, and along the bends of the Kongque River, there are small patches of oases growing with sand dates, poplars, and some shrubs.

After passing this river bend, it counts as truly entering the desert, the Kongque River changed course to the southeast, toward that side are Loulan, Lop Nur, Danya, we are heading southwest, entering the "Black Desert", Anliman old man said the Black Desert was produced by Lord Hu (God, Allah) punishing greedy infidels, the desert buries countless cities and treasures, but no one can take them out of the Black Desert, even if you only take one gold coin, you will lose your way in the Black Desert, be buried by wind and sand from afar, never to come out again.

This is a desert with great mobility of quicksand, strong winds blow the dunes, the terrain changes day by day, there are no features, the ancient river channels have long disappeared, thanks to Anliman, those buried halfway by yellow sand, only showing half a roof of ancient castles, houses, towers, blown by the wind into a slant, forming a thirty-degree angle with the ground, the poplars, the few small saxaul (plant name) in the desert, all cannot escape Anliman old man's eyes, these things connected together form a line, telling us that the ancient Kongque River channel once passed through here, at the end of this vanished ancient river channel, that is the legendary Jingjue Ancient City abandoned by Lord Hu.

The deepest impression left on us in the desert is those thousand-year-old poplars, if not seen with one's own eyes, who would believe there are trees in the desert, each tree is like a vigorous flying dragon, all branches stretch slantingly toward the east, as if this dragon is running in the desert, in such a harsh environment, having lived for over a thousand years, long since died, the trunks blown by wind and sand are almost flat on the ground, but it still hasn't fallen down.

The first ray of morning sunlight rose from the eastern horizon, dyeing the clouds on the horizon red, the vast desert's undulating sand dunes were covered with a layer of rosy light, the withered poplars and ripple-like yellow sand were all dyed gold-red, the heavy colors formed a magnificent scroll between heaven and earth.

To avoid the midday sun, everyone marched all night, walking until weary, seeing this scenery, everyone couldn't help but feel refreshed, Shirley Yang exclaimed: "The desert is too beautiful, God, look at that poplar, it's simply a golden divine dragon in the desert." She took out her camera, pressed the shutter repeatedly, hoping to preserve this beautiful scenery.

While everyone was intoxicated by the beautiful scenery, I noticed Anliman old man staring blankly at the eastern sunrise, a faint unease appeared on his face, I walked over and asked him: "Old sir, what's wrong? Is the weather going to change?" Because in the inland, I also heard the saying that morning clouds don't go out, evening clouds travel ten thousand miles, morning fiery clouds are not a good omen.

Anliman old man nodded, after a while he spoke: "Yes, the clouds in the sky are bleeding, Lord Hu is probably angry, this desert, it's going to start blowing again."

I laughed: "I just surnamed Hu, is Lord Hu also surnamed Hu? Our Lao Hu family people have good tempers, we never like to get angry."

Anliman old man was so angry his goat beard all blew up: "How can Lord Hu be surnamed Hu? You saying this, Lord Hu is going to get angry. Tonight the Black Desert will have a huge huge wind, we won't rest during the day, hurry forward."

This is already the fifth day since our departure, the third day since entering the Black Desert, ahead are the ruins of Xiye Ancient City, we originally planned to arrive tomorrow, but Anliman old sweat said this storm will be huge, even sand walls can't block it, if we don't reach the Xiye Ancient City ruins, we will all be buried alive in the desert.

Hearing him say that, I knew this wasn't a joke, we still have half a day's journey to the ruins of Xiye Ancient City, if something happens on the road delaying us, that would be troublesome, moreover we've walked all night, everyone is exhausted, whether those few old weak female scholars can persist is still uncertain.

I jumped onto the camel's back to call everyone to hurry, but saw Anliman old man slowly getting down from the camel, taking out a blanket, unhurriedly spreading it on the yellow sand, kneeling on it, eyes slightly closed, expression devout, arms opened stretching toward the sky, then covering his face, loudly chanting: "Allah hu ah ma."

This was him praying to Allah, his daily morning routine, seeing him so calm and composed, I thought his saying there would be a big storm tonight wasn't that serious, so I relaxed and went to watch the desert scenery with Pangzi, Shirley Yang and others.

Who would have thought after Anliman finished praying, he suddenly became like a different person, his body seemed wound up like a spring, in two or three rolls he rolled up the blanket, sprang up onto the camel like a spring, blew a long whistle: "Oh you you you you……run fast fast, run late and you'll be buried in the black sand purgatory." He spurred the camel under him and took off running.

I loudly cursed: "This damn dead old man." In such an urgent situation, he just had leisure to pray slowly, now he's running this fast, I then called everyone to move out.

The camels also felt the danger signal coming from the sky, like they went mad, swinging their four big hooves, they galloped madly in the desert, usually sitting on camels walking feels fun, but once they start running, they jolt terribly, we clung tightly to the camel backs, afraid that if we couldn't hold on we'd fall off.

The camel caravan galloped in the vast desert, the raised yellow sand rolled up a yellow giant dragon, everyone put on their goggles, used headscarves to cover nose and mouth, I looked left and right, increasingly feeling something was wrong, the camels had lost control, staring with eyes, panting heavily, following Anliman old man's big camel, running like a whirlwind, it seems the situation is even more urgent and dangerous than I anticipated.

What I feared most was someone being thrown off by the camels, wanting to shout for Anliman ahead to slow down, but I simply didn't have time to open my mouth, also couldn't open my mouth, opening my mouth would just fill it with a mouthful of sand.

I could only keep looking left and right, counting the people on the camel humps, running until noon, although the camels were healthy and good at walking, they were also drenched in sweat from exhaustion, we had to slow down, fortunately no one fell behind.

Anliman had everyone hurry to eat some dry food at this time, drink more water, don't worry about drinking water dry, beneath the ruins of Xiye City, we can find the underground water channel of the ancient Kongque River, clean water there will be replenished, eat and drink full, let the camels rest their feet a bit, good thing we're already not far, but we still have to immediately keep running, otherwise we won't make it in time.

Everyone took out steamed buns and dried meat, ate them haphazardly, I and Pangzi worried about these intellectuals, asked them one by one if they had any problems.

Although Professor Chen is not young, being jolted by the camels he couldn't catch his breath, couldn't say a sentence, the youngest female student Ye Yixin vomited several mouthfuls, they two only drank some water, couldn't eat anything.

Most critical is Ha Aiguo, his severe myopia glasses fell off, he couldn't see anything clearly, anxious and turning in circles, fortunately graduate student Sa Dapeng is also myopic, he has a spare pair of myopic glasses, their prescriptions are similar, solved Ha Aiguo's urgent need.

Shirley Yang and the other tall student Chu Jian were fine, especially Shirley Yang, perhaps due to inheriting her adventure-loving father's traits, or perhaps related to her growing up in the United States, she has a strong adventurous spirit, excellent physical condition, after a night without sleep, running in the desert for most of the day, she shows no fatigue, still energetic, busy helping Anliman old man secure the supplies on the camels' backs.

A gentle breeze blew over the sand dunes, rolling up strands of fine sand, in the distance the horizon gradually turned into a patch of dark yellow, Anliman old man shouted: "The signal wind is coming, don't rest anymore, may Allah bless us, so many of us, hurry and escape for our lives."

The archaeological team members dragged their exhausted bodies, climbed back onto the camels, at this point they no longer cared about camel strength, shouted to drive the camels to run.

Just moments ago the sky was still clear, as if in an instant it darkened, the wind came too fast, the fine sand blown into the air increased more and more, the surroundings were enveloped in sky-covering sand dust, visibility also decreased more and more, in the chaos I again secretly counted the team members, plus me, a total of eight people, who fell behind?

Sea of Sand Demon Nest 5

The wind blew stronger and stronger, the wild sand raged, everywhere was a patch of dark yellow, I couldn't see who fell behind, but the camel caravan had just descended the sand dune for about a hundred ten meters, now going back to look for people is still possible.

I first thought of that American Miss Yang, if she were gone, our money would be wasted, but then I immediately dismissed this thought, that idea was a bit selfish, although Americans' lives are precious, Chinese lives are not exchanged for salt grains, we cannot let anyone fall behind.

Beside me is Pangzi, also the only person I can recognize, I wanted to speak to him, but the wind and sand were fierce, I couldn't open my mouth, I rode on the camel and gestured with hand signals to him, signaling him to intercept the running Anliman old man ahead.

Just this delay, the twenty-peak large camels ran another several tens of meters, I didn't have time to confirm whether Pangzi understood my meaning, I flipped over from the galloping camel-back and fell down.

The camel tracks in the desert had been blurred by wind and sand, and would soon disappear. I ran against the wind in the direction I had come from, feeling as light as a sheet of paper, each step involuntary, as if I might be swept away by the gale at any moment. Besides the wind's howl, I heard nothing.

After stumbling nearly two hundred meters, I finally found a person lying on the sand dune where we had just rested. Half of the person's body was buried in sand, and I couldn't tell if they were dead or alive. I rushed over and pulled them out of the yellow sand.

It turned out to be Professor Chen. His condition had not been good earlier; perhaps during the frantic escape on camelback, he had been thrown off in the hurry. Professor Chen was still alive, but so frightened he could not speak. Seeing me approach, he became so agitated that he fainted.

Although the wind and sand were fierce now, I knew this was only the prelude to the great desert storm—the true violent gale could arrive at any moment, and there was no time to delay. I hoisted him onto my back, turned around, and saw that the string of footprints I had just made was still discernible. May heaven bless us—Pangzi must stop that cowardly old An Luman.

I wanted to carry Professor Chen down the dune, but the wind behind us was too strong; I took one step and lost my footing, and we tumbled down the slope together. In the yellow wind and sand, someone helped me up—Pangzi had understood my intent, stabbed the camel's buttocks with his knife, caught up to An Luman ahead, and knocked him off the camel's hump. Seeing the lead camel stop, the rest of the herd halted as well, except the one with the wounded hindquarters, which went mad and dashed forward, vanishing instantly into the vast wind and sand.

Fortunately, they hadn't run too far, or we would never have found them again. At this moment, no one could speak; we could only use hand signals—if you understood, you understood; if not, just follow along. Everyone prepared to remount the camels and flee.

But the camels seemed terrified and refused to run, no matter how An Luman the old man whipped them; they would not obey, standing in a line, heads buried in the sand.

Along our journey we had seen many camel skeletons, and at death they all retained this posture, as if criminals accepting punishment. An Luman said these camels had been frightened by Hu Da's black wind sand; they knew the black wind sand was coming imminently, and running would be useless, so they simply knelt on the ground to await death.

This situation suddenly arose, leaving us helpless—were we to wait until buried alive by yellow sand? That would be unpleasant. Just as we were at a loss, Shirley Yang tugged my arm and pointed westward, signaling us to look that way.

In the swirling wind and sand, a huge white shadow came running toward us, already quite close, but the wind noise was so loud that no one heard it. I instinctively took down the sporting rifle from the camel's back—this small-caliber sporting rifle was prepared for dealing with wolf packs. Everyone ignored the wind and sand, focusing all attention on that white mass—what exactly was it? It did not look like a person.

The white shadow moved like a devil, arriving beside us in an instant. It was a camel twice the size of an ordinary one, with a single hump on its back, its entire body snow-white, standing out starkly against the yellow sand.

"Wild camel!" Several people who recognized this type of camel exclaimed in their hearts simultaneously.

Besides size, the ordinary camel and the wild camel differ most in that domesticated camels have two humps, while wild camels have only one.

Through my windshield, I seemed to see the old man An Luman's eyes glowing with a light of joy from having escaped death. An Luman excitedly waved his arms, praising the true god Allah. The camels kneeling in the sand also seemed to respond to some summons, lifting their buried heads.

Though I did not know what was happening, I intuitively understood their actions—we still had a chance to survive. Following this snow-white wild camel would do; it was an animal of this desert and should know where to escape Hu Da's black wind sand. I immediately signaled the others to climb onto the camels and follow the white camel ahead.

The camels lowered their heads, running until they were almost foaming at the mouth, exerting all remaining strength to keep close to the white camel ahead. We crossed a vast expanse of sand dunes, where the desert terrain suddenly rose. The white camel's silhouette flashed—it leapt once and vanished.

I thought to myself, "Not good"—it had disappeared without a trace, and we were in trouble. Looking around, the darkness grew, and I could no longer distinguish sky from earth. In another one or two minutes, the life-devouring black sandstorm would arrive.

Before we could figure out what was happening, the camels beneath us turned en masse, detouring around this towering sand dune. Looking left and right, I saw that the dune actually had a segment of ruined city wall, and below it stood a large rammed-earth fortress. This was a small ancient city ruin.

Most buildings were buried halfway in yellow sand, some houses had collapsed, but only that sturdy city wall rose high, wind-blown and sun-baked for who knows how many years, now the same color as the desert. From afar, it looked like a large sand dune; unless one approached from the side, one would never discover this ancient fortress.

The snow-white wild camel had originally run in here to take refuge, but the city's broken walls and ruins blocked the view, so we could not see where it had gone.

The city wall was like a high sand barrier. Whether it could resist this rare great sandstorm, as An Luman the old man put it: "It all depends on Hu Da's will." In any case, in this situation, having a place to hide was already a blessing from heaven.

Having survived this calamity, the archaeological team members all had sallow faces—whether from fright or from being covered in dust, one could not tell. They dismounted from the camels, An Luman directed the camels to lie down by the wall, then led everyone in descending one by one from the broken roof of a large house.

Although the ancient city had walls to block wind and sand, some sections of the walls were broken, and over these many years, large amounts of sand had still been blown into the city. In the damaged houses, fine sand covered the ground to a depth of over two meters.

The large house where we took refuge might have been similar to a government office or town hall—comparatively tall. Even so, we still had to stoop; raising our heads slightly would cause us to hit the beams above.

Ye Yixin and Hao Aiguo, whose physiques were not strong, lay down upon entering and took out their water flasks to drink. The others helped bring Professor Chen inside; his consciousness had returned, though his legs were weak. Pangzi let out a long breath: "We've managed to save our lives."

After An Luman entered the house, he immediately knelt on the ground: "The black sandstorm from Hell has risen—thank Hu Da, thank him for sending the auspicious white camel to save us from this nightmare of disaster." An Luman the old man said the single-humped white camel was the most miraculous spirit of the desert; Genghis Khan, the Western Xia king Li Yuanhao, and others all had white camels, though those were double-humped—rare, but not miraculous.

If there were even one person in our team whom Hu Da disliked, we would not have seen the white camel. It seems we are devout believers favored by the True Lord; from now on we must treat each other like real brothers—break a bone, the tendon remains connected. An Luman patted his chest and guaranteed: "If danger arises again, I will never again glance at everyone and flee alone."

I silently cursed: "He damn it, you old fool, you never took us seriously before—I said if anything happened, you'd run faster than a rabbit, damn your mother."

As we spoke, the great sandstorm outside had already arrived—winds howled furiously, shaking heaven and earth. Even in the ancient city ruins, we could not help but feel alarmed—what if the wind and sand buried the house's exit? We might suffocate alive. So I assigned Sa Dapeng, Pangzi, and Chu Jian to take turns watching the holes in the roof, ready to inform everyone immediately if anything happened. But everyone knew full well: if the storm shifted the dunes and swallowed the front wall, even if we escaped, we would merely be buried alive from another direction.

Sand wormwood grew thickly at the base of the outer wall—a kind of dry grass. I reached out, pulled some casually, took out solid fuel, lit a small pile, and gave everyone warmth.

The pitch-black hut was illuminated by the firelight. Ye Yixin suddenly jumped up, her head striking the beam; she nearly fainted from the blow. Countless fine sand particles fell from the beam onto those below, none of whom wore wind goggles, so their eyes were easily irritated.

Everyone rubbed their eyes while asking Ye Yixin what was wrong—what nerve had she struck?

My eyes also filled with sand; I could see nothing, and in my ears I only heard Ye Yixin's trembling voice call out: "There's a corpse lying in the right-hand corner of the wall!"

Sand Sea Demon Nest 6

"A corpse?" Hao Aiguo asked, rubbing his eyes: "You little Ye, why are you making such a fuss? As archaeologists, are we still afraid of corpses?"

Ye Yixin's eyes were also full of sand; she covered her head where she had struck the beam and apologized: "Sorry, Professor Hao—I……I just didn't expect there to be a dead person in this house; I wasn't mentally prepared……Sorry, sorry."

I had heard of a secret remedy: if your eyes are irritated, spit immediately and it will clear. This trick had always worked for me before, so I quickly spat a large mouthful of saliva; the irritated feeling lessened at once, tears flowed, but I could already open my eyes.

Upon opening my eyes, I was startled—I had just spat that saliva, and it had landed squarely on Shirley Yang's head. She is a cleanliness-loving person; even while trekking day and night through the desert, she maintains good hygiene. Her eyes were irritated by sand, and she was constantly rubbing them; in the confusion, she hadn't noticed someone had spat on her head.

I could only pretend nothing had happened. I hastily took out my flashlight from the portable geology pack and shone it toward the wall—surely there was a human skeleton. The desert climate is extremely dry; one cannot tell how long it has been dead. Only a white skeleton remained, half-buried in wind-blown yellow sand, the rest still exposed. Coldly regarding it, it was indeed frightening—no wonder Ye Yixin had jumped so high.

By now the others had also opened their eyes, taken out their water flasks, and were rinsing the eyes of those severely irritated. I told everyone not to worry—it was nothing, just a human skeleton, unknown how many years it had been dead. After we ate something and rested a bit, we would dig a grave and bury it.

Besides An Luman the old man, the archaeological team members were all accustomed to handling ancient corpses, and none were afraid—only somewhat puzzled as to how this person had died here. In the desert, corpses rarely rot; most are naturally wind-dried into mummies. Yet this skeleton had not a trace of flesh or skin—perhaps it had been eaten clean by sand wolves.

An Luman thought this was not strange—hadn't that white camel come here to escape the great sandstorm? We were fortunate to have followed it and escaped disaster. This desert differs from the semi-desert, semi-Goblin Loulan ruins with their Yardang wonders; people venturing into this western black desert dare only follow the ancient riverbed of the Peacock River, not daring to deviate in the slightest. By ourselves, we could never have found this fortress's ruins. But desert animals are different—this abandoned city must be a refuge granted by Hu Da to desert animals. We didn't see it, but behind those broken houses and walls, there might be many sand wolves, yellow sheep, sand leopards…… At this moment, a great sandstorm rages overhead; the ground-dwelling animals are terrified, each thinking only of itself. After the storm passes, perhaps we will find wolves and yellow sheep hiding together in a house—then the wolves would bare their fangs, and the yellow sheep would raise their horns.

Hearing that these ruined houses sheltered many refugee wild animals, Ye Yixin and a few timid ones felt nervous. An Luman also worried about the camels hiding behind the broken city wall; he wanted to brave the sandstorm to go out and tether the camels. Seeing that this great sandstorm would not stop soon, and not knowing how long we would have to stay in this large house, I had Pangzi and Chu Jian accompany him, also bringing in food, fuel, and sleeping bags.

The three of them put on wind goggles, wrapped their heads with scarves over mouth, nose, and ears, and scrambled out through the hole in the roof. After the time it takes to smoke two cigarettes, they returned, covered in sand. Pangzi pulled off his scarf and goggles, sat down heavily, and said: "Damn, this wind is blowing—if it weren't for the three of us holding onto each other, we'd have been blown into the sky. But that old man didn't deceive us—when we passed a broken wall, there were six or seven yellow sheep hiding behind it. When the wind dies down a bit, I'll take my gun and shoot two for fresh meat—we've been eating jerky these days and are sick of it."

Upon hearing this, An Luman declared his firm opposition: "No, no—if you fire that gun, the sound will scare all the wild animals hiding in the city into fleeing, and they'll be buried alive in the devil's black sandstorm. We and those animals are alike—we are here only by Hu Da's grace; you cannot do this."

Pangzi said: "Alright, alright, hurry up and stop—I was just saying that, why did you make me say all this? Can I just go on eating jerky?" After speaking, he took out jerky and canned white alcohol from his pack and distributed them to everyone for eating and drinking.

After fleeing for dear life across the great desert for more than half a day, now trapped by the sandstorm in the ruins of this nameless ancient city, aside from Pangzi and An Luman the old man, the others had no appetite. I was concerned about Professor Chen, being elderly and lacking medical care in the desert—better not have any mishap. I took the wineskin filled with white alcohol, walked to Professor Chen's side, and urged him to take two sips to relieve fatigue.

Shirley Yang and Hao Aiguo helped Professor Chen sit up. The students, aside from Chu Jian taking his turn at watch by the roof hole, also gathered around the professor, concerned.

Professor Chen seemed to have recovered; after sipping the wine, he smiled bitterly: "Think back to when I worked in the wild, later imprisoned in a cattle shed for over three years, then sent to a labor reform farm to blast mountains and quarry stone—I've suffered every kind of punishment, yet I endured them all. Now I'm old, no longer useful—sigh. Today I owe much to Hu Lao Di—without you, my old bones would surely have been buried alive by the sandstorm."

I comforted him with a few words, saying I couldn't just take Yang Xiaojie's American dollars for nothing—these were my duties. If you feel unwell, old sir, we should return as soon as possible; there's still time. After passing Xiye Ancient City, we would be in the heart of the black desert, where the environment is far harsher—by then, regret would come too late.

Professor Chen shook his head, insisting on pressing on. The team need not worry—such a rare great sandstorm occurs once a century, not constantly. Since we have survived it, great misfortune will not kill us; we must have future blessings.

I was about to advise him further when Shirley Yang pulled me aside and whispered: "Mr. Hu, I used to think you were too young to be the leader of this archaeological team, and I worried you lacked sufficient ability and experience. Today I finally know—this team captain must be you and no one else. There is still something I need your help with: we have witnessed nature's power, the team's morale has suffered a setback, and I hope you can cheer everyone up, lift their spirits."

This was indeed a difficult matter, but since the boss has spoken, I can only comply. Everyone gathered around to eat, and I said: "Um……comrades, our current atmosphere is a bit gloomy. Marching and singing is a fine tradition of our army—shall we sing a song together?"

Everyone looked at me, I looked at them, all somewhat bewildered, thinking: When did we become soldiers? What does our army's fine tradition have to do with us ordinary people? At this critical moment, in this situation, singing? For a moment, no one reacted.

I thought, "Oh no, I've been foolish again"—how did I bring out that army routine? I quickly corrected myself: "No, no, that's not it—let's just chat. I'll report to you all a small incident from my time fighting at the front."

When everyone heard I was going to tell a story, they became interested, gathered closer, and while eating, they listened to me say: "Once, our unit received an arduous task: to forcibly seize Hill 306. The hilltop had several Vietnamese fire positions, their placement excellent, mutually supporting and forming dead angles—our artillery could not destroy them directly, only allowing infantry to assault. The company I commanded was the Sixth Company; we attacked three times, all failed, losing seven men, with over ten more wounded. Our company was a famed heroic company in the division—never had we fought such a pathetic battle. The soldiers were extremely demoralized, unable to summon spirit, and I was growing anxious—when suddenly the regiment commander called, berating me head-on: 'Is your company any good? If not, step aside, yield the title of heroic company, and let another company take the position.' I hung up, thought it unacceptable, and came up with a plan. I told the soldiers: 'Just now, the Central Military Commission called me, saying Deng Xiaoya knows of our Sixth Company's deeds on the front—old sir said the Sixth Company is truly splendid, and will surely take the position.' Hearing this, the soldiers exclaimed: 'What? Deng Xiaoya even knows our company? Then we cannot let him lose face!' Instantly energized, they charged forward and took the position."

The archaeological team members hearing this felt somewhat stirred, and many asked for details about my frontline combat.

I told everyone: "Comrades, the point of my story is that no obstacle can stop us—our greatest enemy is ourselves. As long as we conquer our own fear, overcome our own weaknesses, we will surely achieve final victory."

Under my encouragement, the previous oppressive, gloomy atmosphere finally eased considerably. Although the outside sandstorm raged fiercely, these people were no longer as tense as before.

After eating, it was Sa Dapeng's turn to take over watch from Chu Jian. I and Pangzi went to clear the bones of the unfortunate person in the wall corner—we simply placed them there. The people inside were not entirely comfortable either; before sleeping, it would be better to bury this skeleton.

Now with such terrible weather, it's impossible to bury anything outside, so we can just dig open the sand right here. After digging a few times, the engineer's shovel hit a stone. I felt something strange—this room is very high, and the yellow sand blown in over hundreds or thousands of years has piled up higher and higher. This sand is at least two or three meters thick, so how come we hit stone after just a few digs?

I brushed away the sand to look, and the stone was dark and black. I dug a few more times on both sides, but there was no more stone. Hao Aiguo and the others saw it and came over to help. We all dug together, going over half a meter deep. In the fine yellow sand, a black stone statue's head actually appeared.

Sand Sea Demon Nest 7

We only dug out its head. This statue is completely carved from black stone, with no other colors on it.

Its size is about as big as two ordinary human heads put together. The eyes are olive-shaped and long, appearing disproportionately large among the facial features, taking up too much of the proportion. There is no crown on the head, only a simple hairpin. The expression is very peaceful, with no obvious joy or anger. It resembles both a deity statue offered in temples and the stone figures found on the spirit ways of large tombs. However, judging by the statue's position in this large room, it is more likely to be the former.

I lit a kerosene lamp to shine light on them. Professor Chen looked at it and said to Hao Aiguo: "Take a look at this stone statue—have we seen something like this before?"

Hao Aiguo put on his nearsighted glasses and examined it closely: "Ah, it really is. A thousand-coffin grave was unearthed in Xinjiang, and that tomb also had stone figures exactly like this one. The eyes are very protruding, unlike ordinary people. This should be called a 'giant pupil stone statue.'"

In the Tian Shan of Xinjiang, the Altay region, the Hetian River basin, and various places on the Mongolian grasslands, such giant pupil stone statues have been discovered. The origin of these statues can no longer be verified. Scholars once suggested they might be deities worshipped by the Mongols. According to historical records, Kublai Khan had a secret palace in the western deserts called the 'Fragrant Palace,' and the earliest statues of these stone figures were enshrined inside it.

But later, after some years passed, with the discovery of even older ancient tombs and relics, more giant pupil stone figures were found, which overturned that hypothesis. Then some said they were left behind by the ancient Turks, but in the end, there was no definitive conclusion. It has become one of the many unsolved mysteries in archaeological history.

Several students in the archaeological team had never seen a giant pupil stone statue before. They took out their pens and wrote and drew in their notebooks, discussing how to clear away the sand below to see the statue's full body. Hao Aiguo gave them some related knowledge, saying everyone was tired today and should rest first. Tomorrow, after the sandstorm stops, we'll clean the sand in this big room and see what we can find.

I changed my digging spot, opened the yellow sand, and buried the remains of the unfortunate person. He had no clothes and nothing that could prove his identity or origin—not even a simple tombstone could be made for him. Alas, if only he had stayed at home peacefully, why come to the desert to suffer? Let him rest here.

I looked at my watch—it was already evening. The black sandstorm outside had not stopped; in fact, it was growing stronger and might blow all night.

Except for Sapeng on watch, everyone else rubbed their feet with fine sand and crawled into their sleeping bags to rest. This is what Anliman taught us: in the desert, water is gold, so we wash our feet only with fine sand. I found Sapeng on watch at the broken hole in the roof and told him to go sleep for a while—I would take over his watch.

I sat in the corner, holding my military rifle close to my chest, just in case a wild beast suddenly leapt in and hurt someone. While smoking and listening to the wind outside, I thought about how Professor Chen and the others still had to go deeper into the desert, which really gave me a headache. Who knows what dangerous traps lie hidden in the depths of that black desert?

The desert is like this: on the surface, it looks very calm. When there's no wind, the whole earth seems covered in yellow silk satin. But beneath this calm surface lie quicksand that has swallowed countless people and animals, ever-shifting wind and sand, and various desert plants and animals—all factors threatening the safety of the expedition team. One misstep could bring disaster. Today we encountered a great sandstorm, yet no team member was injured or killed—this can absolutely be called a miracle.

I kept thinking, puffing on cigarette after cigarette, not knowing how long had passed. Outside, the sky had turned completely black, and the wind was still as loud as ever—like countless demons wailing and howling. Sometimes sand would fall through the hole in the roof. If this wind doesn't stop, I'm afraid the broken city wall ahead will be swallowed by the sand.

Then I noticed Shirley Yang had woken up. Seeing me sitting in the corner on watch, she walked over, clearly wanting to talk. Usually, I rarely speak with her, mainly because she and Pangzi don't get along—they always look at each other unpleasantly. So aside from necessary communication, we don't talk much. If she complained about us docking her pay, that would be enough for us to endure.

Out of politeness, I greeted her. Shirley Yang walked over and said: "Mr. Hu, you should go rest for a while—I'll take your watch for two hours."

I said no need—I'll call Pangzi to take over my post later. I told her to continue resting, but she sat down opposite me and started chatting with me in a desultory way.

There's something I've always wanted to ask her: why insist on finding that ancient city? Maybe it's long gone—no one has seen it in years. Her father and those explorers might not even have died in that ancient city. In the desert, any danger could be encountered. Trying to find the bodies of lost wanderers is truly extremely difficult. Moreover, this black desert still holds many unsolved mysteries. I once read some tabloids saying three explorers came here to explore, then disappeared. Much later, their bodies were found at the desert's edge. All three died of dehydration, yet strangely, their canteens were still half-filled with drinkable water. Such cases are countless. Human understanding of the desert is too little. The desert has many plant and animal species, some possibly undiscovered. We'll just do our best to look—if we can't find it, we shouldn't blame ourselves too much.

Shirley Yang nodded: "Mr. Hu, what you say makes sense, but I firmly believe my father found the Jingjue Ancient City. Since he disappeared in the desert, I've dreamed many times of a pitch-black great cave, with a huge coffin hanging at the mouth, covered in Ghost Cave script and wrapped in many large iron chains, with a huge thing lying on top of the coffin—but I can't see what it is. Each time I try hard to see clearly what exactly is on that coffin, but at that moment, my dream wakes up. For over half a year now, I've dreamed of the same scene almost every night. I believe this is a dream sent by my father—that coffin must belong to the Jingjue Queen."

I thought: How can Americans also be so superstitious, believing in dream messages? But seeing her solemn expression, I didn't dare contradict her. I just comforted her a few words, changed the topic, and asked her what the Jingjue Kingdom actually was.

Shirley Yang said: "My father and Professor Chen have been close friends for many years. When they were young, they were classmates, both obsessed with Western Regions ancient culture. In 1948, my father went to the United States with his family. After the Cultural Revolution, he returned to China. While in the U. S., he once bought a batch of artifacts—all from the early nineteenth century, precious objects unearthed by European explorers in the Xinjiang desert. Those explorers had once found an ancient city ruin near the Niya Oasis. According to verification, the ruins and artifacts are from the Han Dynasty. Based on some clues, it is very likely the ruin of the strongest of the Thirty-Six Kingdoms of the Western Regions, Jingjue. My father and Professor Chen, after years of research, concluded that the Niya ruin is merely a subordinate city of Jingjue, and the true main city of Jingjue should be downstream of the Zidu Dark River, north of Niya. My father hoped to find the ruins of Jingjue Ancient City in his lifetime, so he organized this expedition into the desert. He has always been deeply attracted by the Ghost Cave culture of Jingjue. As for this once-glorious ancient city, existing records are few. Jingjue was the leader of the alliance of small states in the Western Regions. Those small states were actually just various-sized cities naturally formed along trade routes, each small city claiming to be a state. Among them, Jingjue was the strongest. The Jingjue people mainly belonged to the Ghost Cave tribe, mixed with other ethnic minorities. After the last queen of Jingjue died, the city vanished into the desert—whether destroyed by natural disaster or war, no one knows. It's as if this country never existed. But on the eve of World War II, a British explorer led an expedition into the Taklamakan Desert to explore. Only he walked out alive, though his mind was completely intact. However, several photos in his camera and his diary proved the existence of Jingjue Ancient City."

Later, others tried to follow this clue to search, but then World War II broke out. Only in the past three or four years have expedition teams had the chance to enter the desert to search for treasure and ruins.

Shirley Yang took out a small package for me to see. I received it and opened it—inside was a yellowed black-and-white old photo and a thin diary filled with English. The photo is very blurry, but faintly one can still make out that it shows a city in the desert, with a tower standing in the middle. Details are almost impossible to see clearly.

I asked Shirley Yang if this was……, and she said: "Yes, this is what my father brought back from Britain—the diary and photos of Walter Mr., the explorer who once personally visited Jingjue Ancient City. This also gives us some clues, though the diary only says they reached the lower reaches of the Zidu Dark River, saw a vast ancient city, and prepared to enter it for exploration in the morning. After that, there's nothing—no one knows what they encountered in the ruins. In the end, only one mentally deranged person survived."

As we chatted, I unintentionally noticed that in the corner of the room lit by the kerosene lamp, the giant pupil stone statue whose head we had dug out—its eyes seemed to have moved. I haven't slept in two days and two nights—could I be seeing things?