Chapter 345: Yao Family Compound

The Miao and Yao have never coexisted peacefully with the Han. They live separately and guard their privacy and bloodlines closely, especially the Southern Yao, who have historically been at the epicenter of ethnic conflicts. In ancient times there was the San Miao Rebellion; before the Liberation there were also the Hakka village conflicts—over a well or a ditch, Han and Yao, Han and Miao, even Yao village against Yao village would fight with shocking brutality, to the point of directly giving rise to the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom. It can be said that the suspicion and estrangement between ethnic groups at that time were as irreconcilable as fire and water.

So mixed Yao-Han residence was completely impossible. Even if some Yao were willing to accept Han people settling in the village, those Han would have to live in Yao houses. No Yao king would ever allow a Han person to build such an ostentatious tall tower-house in a Yao village.

I couldn't understand it at all. It was like finding a watermelon in a sorghum field! Slowly sinking, I quietly looked at this ancient building and discovered something even stranger: this Han-style building was completely enclosed by the surrounding stilt houses, and the tiles on the roof were exactly the same color. It seemed to have been deliberately hidden by the stilt houses. From the outside, you'd never notice there was such an ancient building inside.

Looking at the scale of this Han building, it was very strange. It formed a square shape with a courtyard in the middle, surrounded by three-story structures. The foundation and outer walls were all built from dressed stone. Anyone trained in architecture could see at a glance that this was the style of wealthy southern households during the Ming and Qing dynasties, typically family compounds built by prominent local clans, several courtyards deep, with gardens and more buildings in the back. The enormous stone blocks were to defend against bandits and mounted outlaws. This extremely sturdy construction could protect the self-sufficient lives of hundreds of people within the deep compound.

In other words, this ancient building should have been the front face of a large, deep mansion. Its gates would have faced the high wall outside the main street, enclosing the entire residence, with main gates, side gates, and screen walls. Some gates were for servants, others might have opened onto street-facing shops. After entering the main gate, complex corridors led to the inner courtyards. The most typical example is the Huqingyu Tang in Hangzhou.

Yet here there was only this single building, as if the rear part had been cut off cleanly, leaving only the head of the entire ancient compound.

I slowly swam a circle around the building. That was indeed the case. Behind it was a bluestone-paved street, surrounded by Yao stilt houses, with no sign of any other Han-style architecture. It was utterly unbelievable.

I had seen similar situations before. After the Liberation, some large residences were divided among the poor, with dozens of families living in one building. The passages to the rear courtyards were blocked off, turning what was originally one compound into many independent units. But the situation here was clearly different.

I've read so many books and especially have a deep memory of classical Chinese architecture. Countless concepts flashed through my mind, but I could not find any explanation I could accept. An outsider might think I'm making a big deal out of nothing, but for me, it was like a fishbone stuck in my throat. Who the hell built this building? Why build it like this?

The blue-green light had come from inside this Han-style ancient building. It suddenly went out just as I arrived. Could it be that some "person" in the house detected an uninvited guest? Or perhaps it was telling me that this was my destination? I even thought: this is a Han-style village, so the ghosts inside should be Han as well. Perhaps they might show mercy on me for being of the same ethnicity.

In any case, I had to enter this ancient building and find out. The immense curiosity even made me less afraid.

Floating above the courtyard, below was like a huge, pitch-black well mouth. I turned my dive light to maximum brightness and shone it down. I saw neither any light-emitting objects nor any debris.

I stopped giving myself time for panic and imagination. Forcing myself to calm down, I flipped over, head down, kicked my fins, and dove into the courtyard.

As the space contracted, the light became brighter. I quickly adjusted the brightness so my eyes could adapt. By the time I finished, I had already descended into the courtyard.

The feeling changed instantly. The white particles floating around were all stirred up by the water currents from my descent. Below there were indeed stone tables and chairs covered with sediment. I shone the light around. At the four corners of the courtyard were large pillars, and on each side in the middle were two more—twelve in total. Inside was a corridor of wood and stone, and beyond that were rooms with carved window lattices, all decayed and collapsed, covered in white, looking extremely dilapidated.

The wooden doors and windows had fallen off and rotted, but miraculously, the structural framework of the building was still relatively intact. Perhaps they had used very high-quality timber.

I rotated the light. There were doors on all four sides: the front door led to the main hall, the rear door to the inner courtyard, and the side doors to the side chambers. Couplets hung on the pillars by the doors. The wood of the couplets wasn't as good as the pillars—they were warped and covered with fungus-like wood flowers. On two doors, the couplets had partially fallen off and rotted on the ground. Only the couplet on the rear door of the main hall was relatively well-preserved.

I kicked my fins and wiped away the deposits on the couplet at the back of the main hall. It read:

"Having carved victory on Mount Yanran and sung triumph, still recall Qufu and softly recite poetry." This was a very common couplet, but I could read its meaning: it indicated that the owner of the building had military merit. The owner was a soldier? And given the scale, probably an officer.

The back door of the main hall had collapsed into a pile of mud. A window frame had several large cracks; touching it caused sections to crumble into powder, swirling in the water like smoke, as if about to vanish. I shone my flashlight through the cracks. Inside was an utter mess of collapsed beams and indescribable debris, showing that the interior was severely damaged.

I could faintly see a central partition wall—a wall standing in the middle of the room. In Feng Shui, when qi enters from the front door, it must not be allowed to exit directly through the back door. A wall should be placed in the middle to block it, called "rao liang" (winding beam), so that the qi doesn't flow too quickly and lingers more inside the room. Another theory is that this changes the back opening from north-south to east-west orientation, which is more favorable for wealth position.

This actually made sense. If someone was plotting something, they couldn't hide easily, but a partition wall gave them some maneuvering space. Even if bandits broke in, they'd have a little time to hide.

I cautiously swam inside. The reason I entered the main hall first was that the couplet had reminded me of something: in wealthy households in Guangxi and Guangdong, the main hall usually had plaques and an ancestral tablet loft. Those plaques would necessarily relate to the owner's identity, so I decided to check there first for clues.

Entering inside, I was stunned at first glance.

Shining the light around, I saw that the interior of the front building had completely rotted. The wooden floor had collapsed entirely. Looking up, there was no ceiling—I could see straight to the highest roof. The only things not rotted were stone components and a few massive, thick wooden beams. A large amount of debris had fallen to the bottom, total ruin. The interior space of the whole building was like an old building demolished down to its skeleton on the roadside, or a huge, crude scaffolding.

Hovering, I swept my light toward the top of the partition wall. Most of it had rotted away. Above, I could only see one plaque, also severely decayed. I swam up and carefully wiped off the deposits. The colors had entirely faded, leaving only earthen-colored raised outlines. I could vaguely make out four characters: "Fan Tian Zi Bao".

I couldn't understand what it meant, but the signature made my eyelids twitch: "Building Master Zhang's residence". Followed by a date and seal.

Such plaques could be gifts from others. If not gifted, and the owner was a great scholar or a refined person, he might write it himself. Here in this Yao village, it was unlikely that a Yao person would know how to write Chinese, much less in such beautiful calligraphy. This was very fine "slender gold" script. Having been doing rubbings for so many years, I could tell the calligraphic skill was profound. This "Building Master Zhang" was very likely the owner of the ancient building.

"Building Master Zhang..." I muttered to myself. "The Zhang family?"

Zhang Qiling. Zhang. Zhang. Zhang. Zhang. Was it a coincidence? My mind recalled everything that had happened before. The many clues found here all seemed to have a faint connection to Poker-face. Could it really be related to him?

Interesting! Extraordinary people do extraordinary things. Could this strange ancient building be Poker-face's old residence? Was this Building Master Zhang his ancestor? Thinking about it, it was quite possible.

This Building Master Zhang was able to build such a large mansion in the mountains, evidently with deep pockets. He could also write calligraphy and his couplets were extremely pretentiously refined. At first glance, he seemed the type to compare himself to great scholarly merchants like Hu Xueyan. But why would such a family build such a strange building in a remote Yao village? Was he persecuted and came into hiding, or did he have some other motive? I suddenly felt a little excited. I felt sure that many stories had happened inside this ancient building. If it really was connected to Poker-face, then this trip was worth it! But there was nothing else to see. The main hall should have displayed many calligraphic works, but they were all surely decayed now. If only there were more texts. It seemed I would have to go

Glanced at the oxygen gauge—half remaining, need to hurry. I planned to retreat to the courtyard first and then figure out which room would be most suitable.

Just as I was about to kick my fins, a sudden chill hit the back of my head as a cold, green glow flared up behind me.