Chapter 29: Seven Stars: Purple Gold Box

I was groggy, not knowing what was happening outside. I wanted to ask Third Uncle, but I found him dozing off on a stool next to me, sleeping even deeper than I was. I ran out of the clinic and saw the villagers—some pulling carts, others riding mules—all rushing toward the mountains. A young mountain boy was shouting as he ran: "Not good, not good! A wildfire's started up on the mountain!"

I was shocked, thinking to myself: Could that fire we set just now have burned the forest? I recalled that when we burned that hole, we really hadn't taken any precautions nearby. If that fire had spread and set the forest ablaze, it would have been truly unforgivable.

I felt a bit panicked. Once a wildfire gets big, it's not a matter of one or two people dying. We city folk had zero awareness of forest fire prevention. This time we had really screwed up.

I ran in and hurriedly woke Third Uncle. The two of us grabbed two urine-collecting bedpans from the hospital—since we couldn't find anything else, that would have to do—and followed the main group into the mountains. Just then, Fatty came riding by on a donkey cart, holding up a washbasin and shouting: "We're in trouble! Get on! Hurry and help put out the fire!" We both jumped on, and the donkey cart wobbled out of the village entrance. In the distance, a huge plume of black smoke rose from the mountain. It looked like a big fire. Third Uncle looked stunned and said softly: "Judging by the direction, it really is the fire we set."

I quickly covered his mouth. Ahead, a village cadre-looking man was running back, yelling: "Call the army quick! The mountain ahead has collapsed!"

Hearing that, I knew the cave might have collapsed from the fire. I worried that if the corpse beetles came rushing out, we'd be in big trouble. We whipped the donkey and sped over to the pile of earth left by the mudslide. Fatty was ruthless—he had whipped the donkey's rump so hard it was swollen.

Those villagers had apparently been trained in forest fire prevention. Some of them were clearing a path in the woods, while others began fetching water with washbasins and carrying it in. Seeing all these pots and pans, I knew it would take at least two hours to go back and forth to the fire. It was like trying to put out a distant fire with a cup of water—no use at all. I shouted: "Folks, stop fetching water! This little bit of water won't put out the fire. Don't make meaningless sacrifices. Wait for the army to come!"

They stared at me like I was crazy. An older man said: "Young man, this water is for drinking. If you have no water in the fire zone, you'll dry up and die quickly. We need to cut a firebreak on the side. When the fire reaches that point and there's nothing left to burn, it'll go out on its own. If you don't understand, don't meddle." He then glanced at the bedpans in our hands and shook his head.

I blushed bright red under their gaze. I thought to myself: I've really lost face this time. I'll never dare to spout off random opinions again. I lowered my head and hurried into the forest with the main group. The trees along the path had all been cut down, making it much faster. About an hour later, we could already feel the temperature rising noticeably. Ahead, the sky was filled with black smoke.

The villagers all took out masks, dipped them in water, and put them on. I looked at Fatty—there wasn't much cloth left on his clothes anyway. He seemed to have made up his mind. He took out that gold-inlaid silk manuscript, dipped it in water, and tied it over his face. Then he grabbed a shovel and started digging a firebreak ditch, imitating the villagers.

Wildfires spread extremely fast and are highly destructive. Large wildfires require aircraft to control them. By "control," I mean letting them burn themselves out—it's impossible to extinguish them like a city fire. It takes more than twenty years for a tree to grow to maturity, but a wildfire can burn it all away in ten minutes. The destruction is immense. Moreover, wildfires cover a vast area. If you only fight the fire at one point, it will quickly circle around behind you from the edge you can't see. By the time you realize it, you're already inside the fire zone, and all you can do is wait to die.

I remembered an American movie about a group of firefighters surrounded by fire, with no way to call for help, facing the last moments of their lives. Of course, that kind of situation couldn't happen to us. The fire area wasn't that big yet, and we were digging the firebreak quickly.

We worked there until around 2 PM. Helicopters from the forest patrol appeared in the sky. Soon, many troops assembled in the forest and took over our tools. I was especially worried that someone might die because of this fire. Luckily, when we finally counted heads, only a few people had minor injuries.

We returned to the village almost on the verge of collapse. I was starving. I asked a kid to get me two baked cakes. I wolfed them down in two bites—I'd never tasted anything so delicious. Tears came to my eyes. The village party secretary-looking guy even praised us, saying it was rare to see city folks with such high awareness.

I thought to myself: Please don't praise me. The more you praise, the guiltier I feel. If you knew I was the arsonist, you'd strangle me for sure.

The nurse changed Panzi's bandages and cleaned his wounds. His breathing had noticeably eased, but he was still unconscious. The doctor told me not to worry—for now, he was out of danger. Later, if there were any injured patients, they'd transfer Panzi to a big city hospital along with them. Hearing that, I felt a little relieved.

Third Uncle and I went back to the guesthouse and took a good bath. I didn't realize until I was completely undressed: from head to toe, there was hardly a single spot that wasn't bruised or scraped. When I was fleeing, I didn't feel it, but now they were all reminding me. When I came out of the bathroom, I could barely move my legs.

I went back to bed and fell asleep instantly. That sleep was truly deep. I slept all the way until noon the next day. When I woke up, I saw Fatty and Third Uncle lying on their beds, snoring like thunder. I went downstairs for breakfast and asked the waitress. The fire was out. By its scale, it was only a small wildfire, and the army had already withdrawn. Hearing that made me feel a bit more at ease. I inquired at the clinic and found out that Panzi had been transferred to the Qianfoshan Hospital in Jinan. I thanked them, feeling that I couldn't stay here long, so I prepared to head back.

I won't bore you with the details. A few days later, we returned to Jinan. Third Uncle and I first went to the hospital where Panzi was being kept, and handled the admission procedures. He still wasn't out of danger and remained unconscious. Third Uncle and I decided to stay here for a few days. As soon as Fatty came out of the mountains, he hurriedly parted ways with us, leaving only a phone number for future contact. He handed the gold-inlaid silk manuscript over to my Third Uncle for disposal. That day, I called the hospital—Panzi still hadn't woken up. I sighed. Just then, Third Uncle walked in with a gloomy face and cursed: "Damn it! I've been set up!"

I was very surprised. I thought he'd been cheated in the antique market, so I said: "Third Uncle, with your experience, if you were fooled, that means the imitation was really good. You could probably pass it off again no problem." Third Uncle pulled out that gold-inlaid silk manuscript and said: "Pass it off? Pass off my ass! I'm not talking about an antique. I'm talking about this thing!"

I nearly fell out of bed. "What?! Impossible!"

Third Uncle said: "It's absolutely true. I sent this thing for testing. The gold content is too high—the purity is impossible for that era to have refined. This is an almost perfect forgery!"

I couldn't believe it. Third Uncle sighed: "I've been suspicious for a while. That young man could clearly have defeated the blood corpse, so why did he spend the whole time running away at first, only getting rid of it at the end? He must have wanted to shake us off and do something on his own."

I exclaimed: "Are you saying that during the time he got separated from us, he had already gone to that cave, opened King Lu Shang's coffin, and put this fake gold-inlaid silk manuscript inside? How is that possible? How could one person do it? Besides, that tree hollow was forced open by those chains. If someone had opened it, we definitely would have seen the traces."

Third Uncle said: "Did you check the back of the coffin? He's a grave robber. He probably dug a tunnel behind the tree, directly reaching the back of the coffin, and swapped the gold-inlaid silk manuscript!" After speaking, he sighed again: "Pity that with my decades of experience in the underworld, I didn't see through it. That man is truly unfathomable. I originally thought he was just a descendant of a Faqiu Zhonglang General, but it seems his background is far more complicated than that."

I was very puzzled. "So, were all the things recorded on that manuscript fake?"

Third Uncle nodded angrily: "Those stories were as far-fetched as the Classic of Mountains and Seas. They didn't sound credible to begin with. We only believed them because we were caught up in the mysterious atmosphere of that ancient tomb. Now that I think back, there are too many flaws. And think about it—with your level, why could you only read the two most important paragraphs? The rest were hard to understand. That means he put special effort into those two sections."

My mouth fell open. Third Uncle let out a huge sigh: "It seems only he knows the secret of that Lu King's Palace. Now that tomb has collapsed, there's no way to go back in and check."

At that moment, a flash of inspiration hit me. "Right, right! I almost forgot—it's not completely hopeless. I brought something out of that cave!" I started frantically rummaging through my backpack, praying I hadn't lost it. Luckily, that purple-gold box was still there. I took it out and said: "This is it. I took it from the fox corpse's hand."

Third Uncle looked at it and said: "This is a labyrinth box. Most of the space inside is taken up by the locking mechanism, so there's not much room to store anything. It's very hard to open. Look." He twisted the top lid of the box, and the four corners of the bottom simultaneously unfolded, revealing a rotating dial. There were eight holes on it, each with a number, very much like an old telephone's rotary dial. "This kind of box is the oldest type of combination lock. You need to know the code to open it."

I said: "Wait, that's not right. Look—this is the key I found in the female corpse's mouth. See, this key fits perfectly into this keyhole."

Third Uncle took the key, compared it to the keyhole, and let out an "Oh." "This key isn't for opening the box; it's for locking it. A labyrinth box can be opened with a combination, but it can't be locked with a combination. Once you open this box and want to lock it again, you need this key."

I asked him where I could find an expert on opening this kind of box. Third Uncle thought about it, sighed, and said: "People like that are rare and hard to find. Instead of looking for one, it might be easier to take it to a hardware factory and have them cut the lid off."

I tried for a long time there, but the box didn't move at all. The dial had eight holes, arranged in a numerical sequence. An eight-digit decimal combination meant 10 to the 8th power, from 00000000 to 99999999. Who knows when I'd ever finish trying them all.

Seeing me absorbed in fiddling with the thing, Third Uncle greeted me and went back to his own room.

I thought, had I seen anything with eight digits in the Lu King's Palace? The bronze coffin seemed to have some numbers, but not enough for eight digits. As for an eight-character password, could it be that 02200059? How could that be? That number was stamped on an American's belt buckle. Thinking that, I tentatively dialed 02200059. With a click, I was stunned. The box made a sound like a clockwork spring, and the lid flipped open automatically.