Chapter 73: Qinling Divine Tree: Six-Angled Bell

I leaned in for a look, and my eyes were immediately glued to it. I grabbed his ear and yanked him over to examine it closely. On seeing it, I couldn't help but suck in a breath of cold air. The earring was square, only the size of a pinky tip; anyone else might have thought it was a cheap trinket bought for a buck a pair from a street stall, but I recognized at once that this was actually a six-eared bell.

Apart from being slightly smaller, it was identical in form and color to the ones I'd seen in the corpse cave and the underwater tomb.

He winced as I twisted his ear and snapped angrily, "You—you—you're drunk as hell, you know I—I hate it when people pull my ear, if you—you do it again I'll lose it!"

By then I was mostly sobered up, and I asked him, "Did this thing come out of that tomb too?"

He slapped my hand away, rubbing his reddened ear, and said, "Where else would it come from? This is all I—I've got left from the haul! Take a look for me, and when you get a chance, sell it off! I need the cash to get by!"

I hurriedly asked him to tell me more. Seeing my interest, he put on a mysterious air and said, "I—I pried this off that stiff. My cousin said the tomb belonged to a general from early Qing. This thing was hanging—hanging from his ear. I figured it was decent and pocketed it. What, does this—this thing have some history?"

Since he asked, I didn't hold back and told him about what happened at the Lu King's Palace and the underwater tomb. As he listened, his face went pale and then green, stunned by my story. After a long while, he sighed, "Holy crap, I thought my three years in prison were enough to brag about for life, but compared to you, that's nothing. What you did would get you the death penalty if you were caught. 'Three years apart, look at you with new eyes,' as they say."

I was basking in his praise and pointed at his ear, "But it's strange—this kind of bell is creepy as hell. If it makes a sound, it can mess with your mind. How come you're wearing it on your ear and nothing's happened?"

"How should I know? Who am I supposed to ask? Maybe it's just a similar-looking item. Let me take it off so you can have a look!" With that, he removed the earring.

I held the earring up to the light, sniffed it, and immediately understood. "No wonder—it's been filled with rosin. The bell can't ring anymore. You got lucky, kid. If it hadn't been filled, you'd have gone crazy by now! But—since this is an earring, there should be a pair. Where's the other one?"

"The other one's with my cousin!" He put the earring back on and said, "If you're really interested, I've got four or five more coffins in that tomb that haven't been opened. It's a family burial, buried pretty deep. We could go back and take a look—might find something similar."

I thought about it and decided against it. For one, a Qing dynasty tomb wouldn't fetch much money; for two, the underground chamber was solid; for three, I was already scared of tomb raiding and didn't dare go down again. I shook my head, "I don't have that kind of luck. Both times, I barely made it out alive. I'd advise you to drop the idea too. These days, it's better to live a safe life!"

Old Yang grunted and said, "That's—that's not how you put it. You've got family backing you up, so you can do whatever you want. I've already wasted three years. Look, I haven't even gotten the hang of using a cell phone yet. My old mom's counting on me to buy her an apartment. I can't—can't make an honest living if I don't use my head! I've already decided—I'll stay in Hangzhou for a while, then head to Qinling. I've got to dig up at least a hundred grand. This time, I'll be smarter. Once I get—get some stuff, you help me sell it off."

I said, "You damn fool, you spent three years in the joint and learned nothing. I'm telling you, if you get caught again, it's a second offense—they'll throw the book at you. If you're not careful, you might end up shot."

Old Yang waved his hand, indicating he didn't want to talk about it anymore. Seeing how determined yet resigned his expression was, I asked, "Is something wrong at home? Don't treat me like an outsider. If you're in a financial bind, I'll help as much as I can!"

Old Yang gave a bitter laugh, "Forget it, I know how much you've got. You could scrape together a hundred grand, maybe eighty, but anything more and you'd be screwed!"

Hearing that, I knew something was indeed going on at home. But the guy was too proud to talk about it. I figured since his father died young and his mother was in poor health, maybe something had happened to her. So I asked, "How's your mom doing? She hasn't seen you in three years. Now that you're out, she must be overjoyed, right?"

As soon as I said that, I saw Old Yang's eyes redden. He choked up, "Don't mention my mom. Every time I do, it breaks my heart. Drink, drink!"

I had originally sworn never to go tomb raiding again, but the look in his eyes told me I was right—something had happened at home, involving his mother, and he needed a lot of money. Old Yang had no real skills except guts. Even if I didn't go with him, he'd go alone. And he didn't know the market or what was valuable—it was way too dangerous. If he ended up back in jail, I'd never forgive myself. So I said, "Alright, alright. Let's partner up one more time, hit a big tomb, and settle it all in one go. Tell me honestly—how much do you need?"

He held up four fingers. "Four hundred thousand?"

"Add another zero!"

"Four million?" I gaped. "Holy crap, even if you tore that general's tomb apart, you wouldn't get four million. I swear, for that price, you'd need at least a Han dynasty tomb." Hearing that I was willing to help, Old Yang was overjoyed and nodded eagerly. "I know what you're saying, but Han tombs aren't that easy to find. I don't believe you can find one!"

I wasn't confident myself, but I said, "Hard to find or not, we've got to try. There's no easy money in this business. But let me make this clear first—once we're down there, you do everything I say. You even have to ask permission before you fart. Got it?"

The guy was already too excited to listen. His mind was already in Qinling. He poured me more wine and buttered me up, "Of course, of course. You, Old Wu, are a legend—even your farts smell like roses. If we can dig up four million, you'll be my savior. I'll do anything you say—even be your horse or your ox!"

Riding the buzz from the booze, we sealed the deal. Then we shot the breeze about women, talked nonsense until late, and finally passed out under the table.

For the next few weeks, I stayed home resting. I found some college buddies who were into networking and tried to track down who had posted that photo online. After wasting a lot of time, all we found was that the IP came from Jilin—nothing else. Before leaving, that friend said he'd find a real expert to look into it. I didn't have much hope, so I just let it be for now.

Old Yang came by a few more times asking what we should prepare. Based on my past two experiences, I wrote him a list and told him to get everything ready. I especially emphasized, "This is a life-and-death deal—don't skimp. Buy the best and most expensive stuff. If you bring me cheap knockoffs, we're all dead."

After giving my instructions, I flew to Jinan and went to Hero Mountain to find Old Hai. I showed him Fatty's fish-eye stone. Old Hai was so thrilled he couldn't close his mouth. He laughed, "My friend, I sell antiques. You should take this to a jewelry store and have them appraise it."

I said, "But this fish-eye stone is an antique too."

He chuckled, "I know. Stuff you bring out is always high quality. If this bead were set in a hairpin or embroidered on clothes, it would be a treasure. But just this alone—how can I judge? People won't really believe it's an antique if I just show it. How about this? I'll get you a jade hairpin, and we'll set the bead in it. See if it sells. I'll give you a deposit first, and you leave the item with me. Whoever knows its worth will pay a good price."

I figured there was no better option, so I agreed. I gave him my cell number, took a deposit of two hundred fifty thousand, and slunk back to Hangzhou.

On the long-distance sleeper bus heading to Xi'an, Old Yang and I had two beds side by side. We cracked sunflower seeds and chatted.

Originally, I planned to fly straight to Xi'an, but I didn't have Third Uncle's pull. A big bag of contraband got stuck at the security checkpoint, so I had to switch to a bus—and only a private long-haul bus would do.

The bus kept hopping on and off the highway, winding through mountain valleys, boring as hell. I shot the breeze with Old Yang, pointing out where there might be a Han tomb and where there might be a Tang imperial tomb, getting him so excited he nearly wanted to hop off and dig midway.

Old Yang asked if I wanted to check the tomb we raided three years ago to see if anything was left. Maybe we could find a clue. I said, "If you can still find that tomb, I'll go with you."

Old Yang gave me a sly grin and said he'd already left a marker. I laughed, "Three years in those deep mountains—what kind of marker could last three years?"

He burst out laughing, "Just you wait. My marker will last not just three years, but thirty years."

I didn't know what trick he was pulling, so I ignored him. Drowsy and dizzy, I fell asleep.

After arriving in Xi'an, we found a small hostel and stayed overnight. We ate the local sour-cabbage fried rice and hibiscus soup, and browsed the night market until past midnight. Old Yang, still craving the fried rice, insisted on hitting a night stall. So we sat down at a random street stall, ordered two bottles of beer, and ate and drank. Since no one around could understand our southern dialect, we chatted openly about the next day's tomb-raiding plans. As we talked, an old man nearby said, "You two, looking to dig up some local goods?"