Chapter 30: Raging Sea: Snake-Browed Copper Fish

The box lid slowly opened by itself, revealing a space no larger than a thumb, lined with white silk. In the center of the silk lay a gilded bronze fish.

This bronze fish was exquisitely crafted; every scale was polished with sharp edges, and coiled sea serpents adorned each eyebrow of the fish, lifelike and vivid.

I examined the fish up and down, feeling a bit puzzled. Gilded antiques are my specialty, but this fish left me clueless. However, the craftsmanship was only mid-to-upper tier, not considered particularly valuable back then. In comparison, the purple-gold box used to hold it was far more precious.

Historically, only under special circumstances would a cheap item be stored in an expensive box—for example, if the fish held some symbolic significance.

But I still couldn't figure out what this thing was used for. A military tally? Impossible—too small, no grandeur at all. A token? Also impossible—no inscriptions, and too easy to counterfeit. Given its shape and size, the only reasonable use would be as a decoration for musical instruments or weapons, yet there were no holes or rope marks anywhere.

Puzzled, I remembered that Third Uncle was also obsessed with such things and decided to consult him. Even if he knew no more than I did, his experience might help him deduce something.

Having made up my mind, I took the bronze fish and knocked on Third Uncle's door. He looked at me suspiciously, then let me in with a puzzled expression.

After sitting down, I didn't waste words. I told him the whole story of how I'd accidentally opened the maze box just now.

After hearing my account and carefully examining the bronze fish in my hand, Third Uncle marveled repeatedly. Seeing an opening, I quickly asked what it was and what it was used for.

Third Uncle said, "You've come to the right person. Fewer than a hundred people in all of China know about this thing, and of those, only about a dozen have actually seen one. It can be called an absolute rarity."

Hearing this, I was overjoyed, thinking I'd struck gold from a pile of cow dung. I never imagined that thing in that broken box could be so valuable. I eagerly asked how much it could sell for.

Third Uncle shook his head and said to me, "Calling this fish a rarity doesn't mean it's monetarily valuable. Its archaeological value is high. This fish is very similar to artifacts unearthed in an archaeological expedition twenty years ago, possibly linked. If handed over to the archaeological team from back then, it could be considered priceless. But if you're hoping to get rich off it, you'd better give up that idea."

I thought, what a waste. We're not archaeologists. What good is archaeological value? I can't exactly hawk it at the Cultural Relics Administration.

I noticed Third Uncle's expression changed, suspecting there might be more to the story. I pressed him about what happened back then. This thing came from Lu King's Palace—was that incident related to Lu King's Palace?

Third Uncle shook his head, unwilling to say. "It's been so many years, I don't want to bring it up again. In short, I can assure you that this fish appearing in Lu King's Palace is just a coincidence. It has nothing to do with King Lu Shang. The records from back then were all burned in a big fire. It's fate."

I was annoyed. I came to ask you something, and if you won't say, fine, but then you drop all these tantalizing hints—now I want to know even more! So I pulled out all the stops, begging and pestering him until he had to tell me.

Third Uncle, irritated by my persistence, finally disclosed a bit: In his early years, he had served as a team leader for an archaeological expedition. He was an expert in field archaeology, specializing in solving bizarre tombs that didn't follow conventional burial customs.

Since humanity recognized death, burial has been a uniquely human cultural activity, as old as human history itself. Tombs from every era contain vast information about the lives of people then, covering clothing, food, shelter, and transportation. The principle of "treating the dead as if they were alive" has been a burial tradition passed down through the ages.

However, not every dynasty uniformly followed their burial customs. Many feudal rulers had very special tombs that completely defied our everyday experience. Their tomb-building techniques were ultimate secrets, learned only by a handful of imperial craftsmen over millennia. What we know today—Qin Shi Huang's mausoleum, for instance—is just one example. Such tombs have considerable records circulating, but no one has ever cracked their structure. Some say Qin Shi Huang's mausoleum is 1,500 meters deep, with the underground palace hidden inside Li Mountain—but those are just guesses. The true structure of the tomb, unless you enter it yourself, even a blueprint won't help you understand. Third Uncle's greatest passion in life was entering these unknown ancient tombs. But historically, not many emperors could afford such grandiose special projects. These tombs were rare; even if some records were found, the tomb's location remained unknown. He rarely had a chance to show his skills.

Not until 1984 did archaeologists discover a rare underwater ancient tomb in the Xisha Islands. Its age and the identity of its owner were both unverifiable. The tomb was accidentally found when grave robbers dynamited a sunken ship. The surrounding seabed was a mess, with over a dozen blast points. The tomb's outer seal was nearly destroyed, and sections of the outer wall had collapsed, yet the grave robbers had never found a way inside.

From the huge stone anchors found around the tomb site, it appeared the tomb was first built on a large ship, then the ship's bottom was breached, sinking the ship-tomb together. This burial method was unprecedented. Given the scale, the owner must have been a very prominent figure. But since entry was impossible, the identity couldn't be confirmed. Tensions with Vietnam were high at the time, so large-scale excavation was out of the question. The archaeological team had to search for hidden entrances elsewhere.

Cleanup continued. After the collapsed outer wall was cleared away, the inner structure revealed the tomb's unique design. Behind the collapsed outer wall, archaeologists found a second waterproof wall sealed with plaster clay. The conclusion that emerged stunned the world: the interior of this tomb was airtight.

That there was air inside the tomb was something no one had anticipated. Even an expert like my grandfather had never seen a water-isolated hollow tomb. All work halted. The team carefully entered the gap between the outer and inner walls, finding a one-foot-wide water inlet in the inner wall, just big enough for a person to crawl through. After going in over a dozen meters without seeing the end, they found a four-cornered lion-head bronze box lying in a corner of the tomb passage. Opened, it contained a silk-wrapped object—a serpent-browed bronze fish. The fish was entirely gilded, with two coiled sea serpents on its brows, finely crafted and lifelike.

When the assembled experts saw it, they knew it was a rare treasure, possibly of great symbolic importance. But why was the box in the tomb passage? Puzzled, the experts proposed two possibilities: either it had accidentally fallen there while transporting burial goods, or a resourceful grave robber had entered the tomb and dropped it on the way out. Given the narrowness of the passage, the latter seemed more likely.

The four-cornered lion-head bronze box also contained many important items, including a piece of white silk that had wrapped the bronze fish. On it was a line of large characters reading "xx Inner Treasury xx," which dated the tomb to the Ming Dynasty. There was also a sheet of Xuan paper folded into a square, but it disintegrated into powder during retrieval—a lamentable loss.

Third Uncle was among the second batch of national experts summoned, tasked with studying how to enter the tomb. But due to the political climate, many constructive proposals could not be openly made, and the research stalled for a long time.

Third Uncle had some knowledge of this "sunken-ship seabed burial" method and understood most of its construction techniques. But he had never seen one of such grand scale that still contained air. Based on the records of those who had entered, he could determine that the four-cornered lion-head bronze box had been left behind by grave robbers, and the passage in the inner wall was key to entering the tomb's interior.

To enter this kind of sunken-ship seabed tomb, one had to breach the tomb wall. But once breached, seawater would rush in, causing unimaginable chain reactions. How had that grave robber resolved this contradiction? Third Uncle was baffled.

During the research, someone suggested digging a tunnel from beneath the tomb (Third Uncle believed this person might be a fellow professional). But even after digging fifteen meters into the seabed, they still hadn't found the bottom bricks. No one could estimate how much deeper they'd have to dig. Core sampling revealed that the seabed soil here was not native Xisha sand, but white plaster clay from near the Fujian official kilns. The entire sealing layer covered over 7,000 square meters. By proportional calculation, reaching the tomb's bottom was impossible with the technology of the time.

After over a month of repeated deliberation, they still couldn't come up with a practical method. With international tensions rising, the archaeological team was forced to withdraw. The tomb was resealed, and all research data and location coordinates were handed over to the government. And so, this matter faded into history.

Later, Third Uncle learned that a few of the experts had secretly kept some data and privately conducted research for a long time. As for the results, he never knew.

Third Uncle said to me: "Back then, over sixty experts examined this bronze fish of yours, and none of them knew what it was used for. Later, after it was forwarded to higher authorities, I heard some progress was made. But we never received any briefings—either the information was withheld, or it was just hearsay. The matter passed without anyone following up. Later, the records were sent to the archives, supposedly locked in the basement. I intended to pull some strings and take a look, but a few years ago a big fire burned everything. If you want to know the mystery behind it, it won't be easy now."

I asked Third Uncle, "You just gave up on such a bizarre tomb? Knowing your temperament, even if you couldn't go openly, I'm sure you couldn't resist making an attempt in secret. I bet you still know more. Don't hold out on me. I promise I won't say a word, even if they cut off my head."

Third Uncle smiled meaningfully and said very firmly, "No, even if I take the things that follow to the grave, I won't say them."