Chapter 92

The villagers who came to inform the militia platoon leader said an old cadre in the archaeological team had died. Shirley Yang and I heard this, and our minds went "buzz." That old cadre was probably none other than Professor Sun, whom we were looking for; if he were dead, we would be in serious trouble. Why didn't he die earlier or later, but precisely at this critical juncture?

Listening to the villager continue reporting to the militia platoon leader, it turned out the archaeological team had only sent two people, and the villagers had used a basket to lower them into the hole of the coffin shop to see what was down there. Over an hour had passed, yet there was no response to their calls. The village head worried they might have met with an accident, so he wanted to send a few brave villagers down to look for them. But everyone was terrified, recalling the legends of the coffin shop, and in a panic, no one dared to go down to their death, saying the hole most likely led to the underworld, and once you went down, you couldn't come back up.

Only the militia platoon leader, this sturdy man, had gone down once before, so the village head had no choice but to send someone to fetch him back to help.

The militia platoon leader's previous descent into the earthen cave had been a forced act of bravery. Recalling that cold, dark cave, even standing in the sunlight now made his whole body shudder three times. Seeing the village head send people to find him, he thought they might be planning to send him down again. At this thought, the militia platoon leader's calves cramped, and he inwardly groaned about his hard fate, wanting to turn and leave, but he couldn't move his legs no matter what.

Shirley Yang saw this as an opportunity and gave me a meaningful look, which I understood. Since Professor Sun's life or death was unknown in the earthen cave, we must see him alive or dead, so we had to risk going down to rescue him. In this remote countryside, waiting for others to come save him would surely mean Professor Sun would not survive.

So I firmly gripped the militia platoon leader's hand and said: "Comrade Platoon Leader, it turns out the hero who first went down the earth passage was you. Such conduct is not that of ordinary people. Being able to shake your hand is truly an honor."

Although the militia platoon leader was a rough man, he was very vain; otherwise, he wouldn't have staged that militia martial law farce. Hearing me speak this way, he felt greatly pleased.

I seized the moment and continued: "I know that kind of earthen cave—no matter how iron-clad a hero you are, given enough time, you cannot resist the cave's chilling vapors. Since you've already gone down once to explore the cave, and our archaeological team's Professor Sun, that balding stubborn old man, is an old acquaintance, why not you lead us there, and I'll take your place? Of course, my doing this is first to save my old friend, and second to deeply study your heroic deeds. Not only do I personally want to learn from you, but I also want to call on the entire nation to carry out a vigorous movement to learn from you. So hurry and take us to the coffin shop in the village."

The militia platoon leader hesitated: "Brother, you see... it's not that I won't let you into the village, but the organization has given orders to the militiamen that today no idle people are allowed to enter."

Hearing this, I felt anger rise in my chest, smoke seemed to come from my five viscera. It seemed this bastard still preferred softness over hardness, taking money and sweet words yet still refusing entry. Well, then I wouldn't be polite with you. I grabbed the stick in the militia platoon leader's hand, straightened my face, and said: "Do you see that lady behind me? She is a U. S. special envoy. Frankly, we are from the Sino-American Cooperative Organization. If you delay our important business again, she will report to our country's foreign ministry, and the organization will remove your position as platoon leader. I say you, you big or small national cadre, how can you fail to see the difference in rank? Haven't you noticed she's impatient? This is only because she's giving me face; if I didn't respect you as a tough man, I wouldn't say these things to you. Will you let us pass or not?"

The militia platoon leader listened, dazed and confused, not fully understanding what I meant, but hearing that one could find an official to have the organization deal with him, his heart immediately went soft, and he immediately agreed to take us into the village.

I gave two coins to Old Liu's grandson, told him to buy candy, and instructed him not to play around on his way home before sending him back.

Shirley Yang and I dared not delay; we hurriedly followed the militia platoon leader into Shibei Dian Village behind the hill. Turning over the hill, the view suddenly opened up—originally, Shibei Dian Village lay in a small basin surrounded by hills. Here, nature had been generous; the geographical environment was excellent, warm in winter and cool in summer. During the dry season, such small basins, due to atmospheric pressure, would not lack rain; when the Yellow River flooded, the dense hills all around formed a natural barrier. Moreover, the population of Shibei Dian Village was truly not small—no less than five or six hundred households. Looking down from the hillside, the village appeared quite neat and orderly.

Not far ahead, we saw a huge stone stele standing on a hillside. When I had seen the wordless stele on Mount Tai before, it had already seemed very large, but this stele at the village entrance of Shibei Dian was not much smaller than Mount Tai's wordless stele. The inscriptions on the stele had long since vanished; from afar, it looked like a protruding large stone slab. At its base stood a headless giant stone beast, which, from its appearance, bore some resemblance to the bixi that carries steles, yet it was also not quite that.

Shirley Yang and I rushed into the village to rescue Professor Sun. Along the way, seeing this stele was unusual, we couldn't help but glance at it a few more times, yet we still couldn't discern its origin. She asked me: "This doesn't look like a tombstone. Do you see any signs of ancient tombs around here?"

As I walked, I scanned the surroundings. The environment here was not bad, the climate pleasant, suitable for living. But all around were scattered hills, lacking pattern, not aligning with geomantic principles, not resembling a place for ancient tombs. Even if there were, they wouldn't be the mausoleums of nobles and officials. Listening to the militia platoon leader say that in the earthen cave beneath the village coffin shop, the yin qi was oppressive, the first layer had blue brick flooring, a stone bed in the middle, and further down there was yet another cave—what kind of place could this be?

No matter what, our only hope now rested on Professor Sun. His life or death unknown in the earthen cave, no matter whether below lay a dragon pool or tiger's den, I must find a way to bring him up. Shirley Yang and I then quickened our pace forward.

The militia platoon leader led the way to the front of a coffin shop at the eastern end of the village. This place not only sold coffins but also incense, paper money, and paper horses. An old signboard hung above the door, and many villagers gathered outside to watch the spectacle. In front of the hall, three or five stout militiamen stood guard, preventing people from entering. Actually, even if allowed in, no one dared to go now; everyone harbored suspicions and fears, discussing wildly. Some said the hole probably led to the Dragon Palace beneath the Yellow River, and if this caused a disturbance, the Yellow River Dragon King would soon flood the surrounding thousand li when angered. Others said the hole connected to the underworld, and if not sealed by nightfall, hungry ghosts and wandering spirits would crawl out to harm people. Even a village elementary school teacher said more wickedly: "You lot, you donkey-riding fools who understand nothing but superstitious nonsense—down there it's icy cold, certainly leading to Antarctica. In a moment, the glacial meltwater at one end of the Earth will pour back, drowning you superstitious donkey-riders."

The village's several big and small heads were frantically turning in circles—the two archaeological staff sent by the province had gone down the hole and then had no movement; the basket pulled up was empty, and again no one dared to go down to explore. If superiors came to assign blame, it would truly be hard to escape.

The village head and others were paying no attention when they saw the militia platoon leader return. This platoon leader was famous village-wide for his bravery; since the villagers dared not go down the hole, they could only have him lead the way again.

The militia platoon leader, without waiting for the village head's order, brought me and Shirley Yang forward, saying these two were from the Sino-American Cooperative Organization, also part of the archaeological team, and knew the two archaeological workers whose life or death was unknown below.

The village head hurriedly embraced me tightly: "My comrade, we have longed for you like awaiting stars and the moon, and finally the organization's people have arrived." Then he poured out a litany of difficulties they faced—not that the village committee didn't want to save people, but the villagers had been frightened by the coffin shop legend. Originally there had been a platoon of militiamen, but since 1979, the roster had never been full; at most seven or eight rag-tag fellows, none having received regular training. Faced with this sudden situation, they didn't know how to respond. Since comrades had been sent from above, the militiamen would now all be under your command.

I understood the village head's meaning—he was pushing all responsibility onto me, and I no longer had time to argue with him about it. I entered the house and glanced at the earth pit—the floor tiles in the coffin shop hall had been pried open in many places, below which a huge gap was revealed, pitch-black, and I couldn't see how deep it went. I had brought nothing with me; relying only on Shirley Yang and myself to go down and rescue someone would be extremely difficult, so we must have help.

So I first had the village head send a quick-footed villager to the county seat to fetch reinforcements—whether public security, armed police, or medical personnel, the sooner they came, the better. However, once the functional departments of this rural county seat started operating, they required layer upon layer of requests and approvals, efficiency extremely low, so we couldn't fully count on them arriving in time.

I knew Professor Sun and the others had been down there for a while; if there were danger, they were likely already dead. All we could do was pray to the ancestral master for protection, hoping they were merely trapped below, giving us a slim chance if we went down to rescue. But haste makes waste; this time we couldn't act rashly again, and moreover, these militiamen were a rabble, so we must prepare in advance; otherwise, any mishap would cause big trouble.

Then I had the militia platoon leader gather all the militiamen—including himself, there were eight people total—each holding a fire stick and red-tasseled spear, standing in a horizontal line. I stood in front and said to them: "Comrades, we have two comrades who met with misfortune below. I now want to lead you to rescue them. Everyone, listen to my command, don't have too many reservations. This below is certainly not the underworld; it might be some kind of ancient relic. I ask you to go save people, and it won't be unpaid labor—each of you will receive one hundred yuan for labor, and after bringing the people up, each will get another hundred. How about it? Do you have the resolve? Dare you go?"

The militiamen at first were listless, unwilling to take risks, but the village head had spoken, so they couldn't not listen; some even planned to fake stomachaches to avoid going. But when they heard later that each would get two hundred yuan in labor fees, their spirits instantly soared—each held their heads high, chests out, their mental outlook completely transformed, and they shouted their agreement in unison.

Seeing the money tactic work, I had everyone bring the few rifles from the village armory, and also had the village head prepare candles and flashlights. The countryside had whistles made from tree bark; I gave one to each person.

Shirley Yang reminded me: "This earth pit has at least two layers or more; Professor Sun and the others might have wanted to check the damage to the lower layer's air from erosion, and encountered something down there. Moreover, below the two layers, who knows how deep it goes; in the underground environment, the chemical and biological effects of salts, moisture, gases, bacteria, etc., when encountering a sudden change in air, can cause great harm to the human body. We should each use a damp towel to cover our mouths and noses, light torches, and if the torch goes out, immediately retreat."

I nodded in agreement and had everyone prepare as she said. I left three militiamen above to specifically handle raising and lowering the basket, and also had the village head lead the village committee members to guard the gate, preventing unrelated people from entering.

Seeing preparations were nearly complete, I was about to go down first when suddenly I heard a commotion outside the door—a blind man had squeezed in during the chaos. This person wore a pair of double-lens blind man's glasses, had a goat beard, held an old book bound with thread in one hand, and gripped a bamboo stick in the other, anxiously asking everyone in the coffin shop: "Who is in charge? Please come out and speak."

I impatiently shouted at the village head: "Didn't we say no idle people allowed inside? How did you let this blind man in? Quickly drive him out, don't delay our important business."

The blind man, hearing the direction of my voice, struck me with his stick: "Boy, rude! You don't even know who I am, otherwise you wouldn't dare speak so wildly. I am here to save your lives..."

The village head also rushed over and said to me: "Hutong Zhi, this is the famous fortune-teller from the county. Last year my wife stepped on a fox fairy and was possessed by evil; thanks to this man's guidance, she preserved her life. You listen to his words—they will surely be correct."

I felt extremely agitated, eager to know Professor Sun's fate, so I lashed out at the blind man: "Go to hell, your grandpa! When we swept away all cow ghosts and snake gods back then, why didn't we get rid of you? Where were you hiding then? Now you pop out pretending to be a big bad wolf—I tell you, get out of my way quickly, don't get in my way."

The blind man curled his lip, let out a cold snort: "In my day, I once cast hexagrams for leaders in Jiangxi; when disaster strikes, there is always a way out. Back then, you didn't even exist, you unfilial little brat. I cannot bear to see these innocent lives ruined by you, completely destroyed here, so I make it clear to you: this earth pit is no ordinary place comparable to others. If I speak of what's inside, I fear it will scare you to death."