Chapter 318: Accident

The mountain fire ended up fizzling out. According to Agui, it seemed to be caused by the hot weather, but exactly how it started was still unknown. Anyway, there are mountain fires every summer here, but this was the first time one had come so close to the village. Luckily, it only burned down some abandoned houses, so there wasn't much damage.

I cursed inwardly. My loss was huge—this way, all the clues Brother Chu had given us were lost. The only option now was to force Brother Chu to talk after we got out, which certainly wouldn't be easy, and it would inevitably involve coercion, something I wasn't too comfortable with. But it wasn't completely hopeless, so I wasn't extremely depressed—as long as Brother Chu hadn't been burned up.

I discussed it with Fatty. It seemed we wouldn't be staying here much longer. After we found the old guide, unless there was a special reason, we might have to go back to Changsha, since staying here was pointless. The so-called grave robbing at Yangjiao Mountain would have to wait for another time.

Fatty was also helpless. Though a bit reluctant, we hadn't brought any tools this time, so going to Yangjiao Mountain wasn't very realistic. But he still insisted on going into the mountains for a look before heading back, so we finally decided to discuss it later.

After that, I kept feeling uneasy, always thinking something would go wrong with the old guide business. I prepared for the worst, so that if it really happened, I'd feel a bit better.

Unexpectedly, the old guide matter went very smoothly. When Agui came back, he told us he had already arranged it. The next day we could go to the old hunter's house to find him. The old man had a bit of a strange temper. Agui told the old hunter that we were from the government, which might make the old man more cooperative. He just told us not to blow our cover.

Fatty clearly wasn't cut out to be a government official. After discussing it, we told him not to go. He said he would go to the fertilizer store and try to get some sulfuric acid, to see if he could dissolve that "iron gourd" and find out what was inside. Then he'd sift through the burned ruins—maybe he could dig up something.

I thought splitting up was fine, but I still warned him repeatedly: after getting the sulfuric acid, don't do anything rash. Wait until we're all together to examine it—that "iron gourd" was still somewhat dangerous. Fatty agreed readily, saying he wasn't a kid.

After we settled the plan, we went to sleep. The night passed without a word, each harboring their own thoughts. When day broke, we split up: Poker-face and I followed Agui to find the old hunter, while Fatty headed straight for the fertilizer store.

I thought nothing would go wrong, but unexpectedly, when we got there, the old man stood us up. They said he had gone into the mountains last night and still hadn't returned.

Hunters roam all over the mountains when hunting, so there's no way to track them. I thought to myself, what's going on? How could he suddenly go into the mountains after we had an appointment? Could my prediction have come true? The old man's son was a bit embarrassed and said the old man had become senile. About two years ago, he started acting odd, occasionally going into the mountains without saying a word, and no one knew what he was doing. He wouldn't listen to anyone; he'd just go whenever he felt like it, regardless of how important the next day's plans were. Look, his hunting rifle was still hanging on the wall, so he definitely wasn't hunting. He'd probably be back after a while.

I thought there was no choice but to wait. I had just sat down in his house when another person came in through the door and asked, "Is Old Man Pan Ma here?"

Old Man Pan Ma was what the old guide was called around here. It seemed we weren't the only ones looking for him. What startled me was that this person spoke with a thick Beijing accent.

We looked outside and saw a short, stocky middle-aged man walk in. The moment I saw his face, I felt something was off. He was fat-faced and big-eared, but neatly dressed. His skin was tanned dark, but there was no sign that he did manual labor.

Old Man Pan Ma's son immediately went to greet him. Agui said to me, "This is Old Man Pan Ma's distant nephew. I hear he's quite wealthy."

I heard his accent—pure Beijing dialect. I thought to myself, this distant relative is really distant. The middle-aged man seemed very familiar with the place; without any hesitation, he walked straight into the courtyard. He handed a cigarette to the old man's son. Then he noticed me, looked puzzled, and exclaimed, "Oh, you have guests?"

The old man's son said in heavily accented Mandarin, "Yes, they're also here to see my dad. These two are from the government—"

The middle-aged man didn't seem interested in that and immediately interrupted him, asking, "Where's the old man?"

The old man's son looked embarrassed and explained his father's unknown whereabouts again. The middle-aged man clicked his tongue and nodded, "What does the old man mean by this? Gone again, always making me lose face. How am I supposed to explain to my boss?" He then looked at us with a displeased expression and said, "You little bastard, don't tell me you think we're paying too little and found another customer, trying to cheat me?"

The old man's son quickly said no, no, that we really were here for the old man, people from the government.

The middle-aged man looked at us again, half doubtful. He walked up to us and said, "Which department are you from? I know everyone in this town. How come I've never seen you before?"

That was a bit rude. I looked up at him, but decided not to lose my temper, and said, "We're from the province. We're here to interview the old man."

"From the province?" He looked at us suspiciously, but seeing that we really did look like government employees, he muttered something and turned to the old man's son. "Alright, then you persuade your dad again. My boss's offer isn't low. Keeping that thing—you can't bring it when you're born or take it when you die. What's the use, right? Don't be stubborn. Selling it is definitely a good deal. Take the money and let the old man enjoy a few years of comfort."

His son nodded repeatedly.

The middle-aged man added, "You have guests, so it's not good for me to hang around. I'll take off." Then he smiled and said, "When the deal's done, I'll take you out to enjoy yourselves. Put in some effort. Come find me for a drink tonight. I'm off now."

With that, he left the courtyard without looking back, bustling away. I watched, baffled, and asked his son who that was and what he wanted. Once the man was far off, the old man's son let out a sigh of relief and said that guy was a distant relative of theirs, claiming to be the old man's nephew, actually his cousin. The guy was a thug who had been drifting in Beijing for years; they had long stopped associating with him. Recently, this guy had hooked up with some boss and came to Guangxi to collect antiques, asking him everywhere to introduce people. The guy was overly familiar and very fake, but they didn't dare offend him.

I asked, "Judging by what he said, he's taken a fancy to something in your family and wants to buy it. Could it be that your family has some heirloom treasure?"