Chapter 299: Waiting

From a distance, looking at the figure on that throne, it wasn't very clear—was it the corpse of the Queen Mother of the West? I've experienced things like this a lot; the place felt thick with evil energy, so I immediately told everyone to prepare the black donkey hooves.

Fatty said, "Can't be the Queen Mother of the West. If she died, she'd either be buried or lying in a coffin—there's no reason for her to be sitting. I think it's probably a stone figure."

Wenjin said, "It absolutely cannot be a stone figure. They don't use human figurines here; we haven't seen a single one the whole way. This place is so secret, it's the Queen Mother of the West's holy ground. This figure here must be extremely significant. We need to be very careful."

Fatty said, "Too bad Panzi's gun is wrecked. Otherwise, at this distance, I'd blow its head off with one shot, and we'd know right away if it's a person or a ghost."

I thought to myself, if it's a ghost you can't kill it either, and if it's a person you'd be a murderer.

But no matter what, we had to go over there, because that spot was the only place we could get close to the meteorite. We gathered everyone together and began wading through the water toward the stone steps.

There definitely wouldn't be any traps here, because there were no conditions for building them. The stone steps were crudely chiseled out, and the bronze lamp stands that might have been used for lighting on both sides were now completely rusted into decorations. Fatty tried to pack one into his backpack, but it crumbled at a touch. Slowly stepping onto the stone steps and out of the water, I felt my body as heavy as if it were filled with lead. After resting for a moment, we clutched the black donkey hooves and carefully hunched our way up to the altar platform. With more people, we felt braver, and without much hesitation, the beams of our miner's lamps converged on that figure. Sure enough, we saw a person sitting on the throne.

Getting closer, we saw that it was a female corpse sitting upright on the throne.

This female corpse wore an extremely elaborate crown; if not for the hair bun, it would have been impossible to tell male from female. She was dressed in a golden-thread silk robe studded with jade pieces. The entire corpse sat upright and still, lifelike.

The corpse's face was bluish. Looking closely, we realized that it was the effect of a layer of cyan glue, similar to lime, covering the dead face and then carefully sculpted. Not a single bit of skin was exposed on the corpse, so there was no way to tell how well the body inside the clothes was preserved. Seen like this, it looked like a clay Bodhisattva in a temple, appearing incomparably eerie under the miner's lamps.

Behind the female corpse stood two guards in Western Regions armor. These two corpses were clearly not as well preserved as the female corpse—the lime on their faces had peeled off, revealing the completely decayed skeletons underneath. Because their armor was black, made of the same material as the jade burial suits, we hadn't noticed them earlier.

All three ancient corpses were either standing or sitting bolt upright, evidently having undergone special treatment.

"Could this be the Queen Mother of the West?" Fatty asked quietly.

I nodded. "Judging by the setup, it's probably her. It seems the ancients really did place her body here after treatment."

Fatty's eyes lit up at the sight of those jade pieces. "Finally, I see something good," he said. "So that old broad had them all on her body. Women are women—even at death, they can't let go of their treasures." As soon as I heard that, I grabbed him before he could move.

Poker-face told us not to get close. He pointed at the pattern carved on the ground around the throne—a large-headed, small-bodied human-faced bird. The pattern formed a circular disk with the throne at its center. He ran his unusually long fingers along the edge of the disk and said, "There are thin gaps; there might be a balance trap. Don't get near her."

We breathed a sigh of relief and then remembered to look up at the ceiling. The surface of the meteorite was practically right above our heads—we could touch it with a jump. Right above us there were several deep holes. When we shone our lights inside, we saw that the openings led straight into the interior of the meteorite, with no bottom visible, and the walls of the holes were very smooth, definitely not man-made.

What was Wang Zanghai looking for in this stuff? If what Wenjin said was true—that he came here to find the secret of immortality—then what did this meteorite have to do with longevity?

I looked up to examine it carefully, and as I looked, I suddenly noticed something strange.

The material of this meteorite—why did it look so much like the jade burial suits? This color, this luster—it seemed to be the same material. I jumped up and touched it, and found that the meteorite was warm and not cool at all. It really did seem to be jade.

Good heavens, I thought. Could this be a piece of "meteorite jade"? There's a gemstone in the world called "meteorite jade"—a special type of meteorite that feels like jade and is therefore treated as a gemstone, extremely precious in ancient times. But this meteorite's color was much darker than ordinary meteorite jade. Could it be a rare meteorite jade with special components? And were the jade burial suits made from this kind of meteorite jade? If that was true, this thing was worth a fortune. Even selling it by weight, we'd be rich.

When I shared my idea, everyone thought it made a lot of sense.

"It seems that the formation of those blood corpses is deeply connected to this meteorite," Wenjin said. "The ancient Queen Mother of the West discovered this power and used the meteorite to make those jade burial suits." I let my thoughts wander and then hit on something: "Do you think the golden-thread jade burial suits that became popular since the Han Dynasty—the ones that legend says can keep a body from decaying for a thousand years—could it be that the legend came from this? In modern archaeology, even the jade of many golden-thread jade burial suits has rotted, so obviously the legend isn't scientific. So where did it come from? In the beginning, maybe those alchemists looked up some ancient texts and found descriptions of jade burial suits preserving bodies for millennia, but they didn't know that the jade used was different from ordinary jade."

"Are you talking about the Warring States silk manuscript?" Fatty said. "You mean the Han Dynasty golden-thread jade burial suits were made imitating the jade burial suits described in the Warring States silk manuscript?"

"That's possible," I nodded. "Then Wang Zanghai discovered this flaw and started searching for the real material used to make those jade burial suits as described in the ancient texts."

Suddenly, things in my mind became clearer. "Damn, if that's really the case, then all those tomb raids by Wang Zanghai were to find this meteorite jade? In the end, he finally discovered where the meteorite jade was and brought people here?"

"No," Wenjin said, not as excited as I was. "If that were the case, since he came here, he should have succeeded. But we didn't see any jade burial suits in the underwater tomb. The jade burial suits probably weren't Wang Zanghai's target."

"Then what was his target?" I asked. I thought my idea was very reasonable.

Wenjin looked at the holes in the meteorite and said to us, "I don't know, but I have a feeling that this target is inside these holes." The tone of Wenjin's words was mysterious; we were all startled for a moment and felt a bit creeped out. We looked up at the holes and wondered what could be inside them.

After looking for a while, she suddenly started pulling rope out of her backpack and said to me, "I'm going in to take a look."

I thought, how could that be? I wanted to stop her, but Poker-face blocked me. I exchanged glances with him and realized what he meant: we had a choice, but Wenjin had no other choice. Nothing we said would make a difference.

I let out a long sigh, feeling a sense of powerlessness. Only when you can't help someone you want to help do you feel how small you are. I always thought that kind of helplessness only existed in TV dramas; I never expected to encounter it in real life. It felt really bad.

Wenjin moved very quickly. She immediately began preparing, asking Poker-face to help her connect the rope, while she used her miner's lamp to examine the holes, choosing one to enter.

I thought about finding someone to take her place, but realized that was unlikely. Although each hole was the size of a tar barrel, the angle of the openings was almost vertical. To enter, you had to use your knees or the soles of your feet to push against the walls as you climbed upward. We men were all too tall; once inside, our legs couldn't bend fully and we could barely exert any force. Fatty was even worse—if the diameter of the hole narrowed, he might get stuck. Only Wenjin, with her petite build, could barely manage.

I was a bit worried, but seeing how agile Wenjin was, I knew this worry was pointless. Wenjin fastened a rope loop around her waist, and Fatty lifted her onto his shoulder. She leaned into the hole, then gave a strong push off Fatty, and she was inside.

I called out, "Be careful." She answered and looked down at me. I noticed a strange expression on her face, an indescribable feeling. Then she smiled at me and began to crawl deeper.

We let out the rope as we watched her slowly ascend into the hole. Her movements were very slow, clearly very strenuous. By the time her miner's lamp light disappeared, a full half hour had passed, and I estimated she had only gone in about fifty meters.

Watching the whole process made my hair stand on end. That feeling of crawling into a grave robbery tunnel—but how deep was this hole? To reach the deepest part, it had to be at least two or three hundred meters. The sensation of crawling into someone's esophagus couldn't be pleasant, especially when you reached the middle and couldn't touch either end.

After looking up at the hole for another ten minutes or so, my neck couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't bear to watch, so I sat down with Uncle San's men to rest, took off my clothes, and rubbed myself with liquor to ward off the cold. The rope kept feeding in every ten meters or so, and Fatty would confirm with Wenjin inside by signaling a few times.

The atmosphere was very tense. None of us spoke. We didn't know what to say. On one hand, the female corpse behind us was terrifying; on the other, we were worried about Wenjin's safety.

After waiting for about an hour, I suddenly heard Fatty let out an "mmph." I immediately stood up and asked what was wrong. He said, "Big Sister hasn't responded."

We crowded around and saw Fatty tugging at the rope. He pulled a few times, and some of the rope came down, but no one pulled it back.

My mind tightened—I thought something might have happened—and I motioned for Fatty to try again.

Fatty pulled again, and the rope still came down. His brow furrowed. "Not good—the rope feels very light, like there's no one tied to the other end."

When Poker-face heard this, his expression changed. He immediately said to Fatty, "Pull her out!"

Fatty exerted force at once, pulling the rope rapidly. I could tell from the strength he used that something was wrong—he didn't need any effort at all. The rope flowed out like water until it reached the vertical section, then it bunched up and fell entirely out of the hole, all over me, tangling me up inside it.

I freed myself, grabbed the end, and saw no sign of cutting—the rope had been untied by her. We looked at each other, and suddenly I had a terrible feeling. Shit—did Wenjin untie the rope herself? Poker-face's face was grim. He pressed down on Fatty's shoulder, used his back for leverage, and with a leap dove into the hole, moving so fast there was no stopping him. Fatty yelled, "Rope! Take the rope!" But he ignored it, disappearing upward into the hole within seconds.

I knew he couldn't go without the rope, so I immediately called out to Fatty, "Bend down." Fatty snapped angrily, "Damn it, you all treat me like a groom!"

I ignored him, climbed unsteadily up his body, and he gave me a boost. I kicked hard and scrambled up too, but I didn't have enough strength. Holding my breath, I tried to brace myself against the hole's walls to pull my legs up, but after a few seconds I slid back down, landing right on Fatty. I tried again—same result. I suddenly realized my physique couldn't make it in.

I stood up, rubbing where I'd landed hard, and looked up to see Poker-face struggling to advance inside the hole. He was too tall—his knees couldn't get any purchase, so he had to move in small steps, which was very draining. I suddenly had an illusion: what if this meteorite was alive, and these holes were traps for feeding? Poker-face was walking right into a trap.

But then I realized that was impossible. When I thought further, my mind was already in chaos, unable to process anything. I just stood there, watching Poker-face climb up. I don't know how long passed before he too completely disappeared into the depths of the hole.

I couldn't sit down anymore. I kept standing at the entrance, looking up, hoping to see the light from their flashlights returning, and that both of them would come back safely.

Time passed minute by minute. I waited in agony, from anxiety to calm, from calm to numbness, from numbness to a complete blank in my mind.

Ten hours later, nothing had happened. Poker-face hadn't come back, Wenjin hadn't come back, and there was no sound from the hole. Those two people seemed to have been taken to another world by those holes.