Chapter 74: Qinling Divine Tree: Stalking

We were chatting enthusiastically when his words came out of nowhere, and his accent was so thick we couldn't understand a thing. Old Yang said "Ah?" and asked, "What place is A Da?"

Seeing we didn't understand, the old man switched to Mandarin with a heavy accent and asked us, "I mean, you two want to go somewhere to do business? Are you here to dig up local goods?"

I didn't know what "local goods" meant, and besides, in the South, people are cold—aside from salesmen, few would casually strike up a conversation at a roadside stall. I didn't know how to react for a moment, but luckily Old Yang responded quickly. Imitating the old man's accent, he said, "I—I'm here as a tourist, not interested in local specialties. Are—are you selling local goods, old man?"

The old man laughed heartily, waved at us, and went back to his seat. The two of us were baffled, and we heard the old man say softly to his tablemates, "It's nothing, nothing. Two greenhorns, don't know anything, no need to bother with them."

Old Yang's face changed on hearing that. He urged me to leave quickly. We dropped ten yuan and hurried away from the roadside stall. When we reached a corner, I asked Old Yang, "Why are we leaving? We've only had half our drinks?"

Old Yang glanced back furtively and said, "That—that old man is

I laughed and said, "That's not a reason to leave. We'll deal with whatever comes—if soldiers come, we'll block them; if water comes, we'll cover it. In such a public place, what can they possibly do to us?" Old Yang patted me and said I didn't understand. Things in the underworld were beyond explanation. The words we'd just spoken had probably all been overheard. These people were desperadoes; killing someone was like squashing an ant for them. If we didn't leave, the longer the night, the more trouble we'd invite.

I knew he'd listened to those gangster bosses embellish plenty of stories while in prison, so I didn't argue. Nodding, I went back to the guesthouse.

The next day, we set out before seven, each carrying fifteen kilos of equipment and dry rations. The Qin Mountains had many mountain streams, so we didn't need to bring much water, but it was necessary to prepare some medicine for diarrhea. Our city-bred stomachs would definitely not handle the natural mountain spring water.

I had been to the Qin Mountains a few times before, but each time I was just dragged along by a tour guide and never knew the way. So this time I had to follow Old Yang. When he came three years ago, he was also with a tour group, and he'd have to follow the same route this time, or he wouldn't recognize the path.

We took the Xi'an-Baoji expressway and arrived at Changyang Mountain in Baoji, Shaanxi in about three hours. Then we turned toward the source of the Jialing River. The more I looked at the map, the more frustrated I became. Damn it, we were making a huge detour. If I'd known this, I might as well have just signed up for a tour group.

I was used to walking straight roads, but this mountain highway twisted every five seconds and turned every ten. I pressed my head against the seat in front, feeling my guts churn. Old Yang was even worse—he hadn't ridden a car in three years and had been dizzy the whole trip. This time it was even more intense; he was about to throw up bile, saying, "Old, old, getting old and useless. Three—three years ago on this road I could still chat up the girls next to me, but now I can't even keep my eyelids open."

I cursed, "Cut the crap, you bastard. If you'd taken the expressway instead of the winding mountain road, there'd be no point in regretting it now."

Old Yang waved at me, telling me not to talk to him.

Just then, a sudden explosion came from afar, making the car windows buzz. The whole bus stirred. I looked out and saw dust billowing over the opposite mountain. Old Yang jumped, asking, "Wh—what's going on? Earthquake?" A middle-aged man who looked like a local turned back and said, "You two from out of town, don't you know? Someone's blasting a tomb."

I asked, "In broad daylight? Are these tomb robbers that bold?" He grinned, revealing yellow teeth. "That mountain over there is nothing like this one. Don't think it's just the Jialing River between us—we have a winding road here, but over there there's nowhere to walk. Even if you call the police now, it'll take at least a day and night for them to get there. Unless you can grow wings and fly, all you can do is stare helplessly."

I nodded and asked, "Is there no good solution?"

He shook his head. "Even the big shots can't figure it out—how could common folks like us have a good answer? Let it be. But judging from that blast, they might have used too much explosive."

I said "Oh" and turned to look out the window. I saw a vast forest; under the dense canopy, what was happening was impossible to glimpse. This must be one of the countless branches of the Qin Mountains.

The Qin Mountains in Shaanxi are distributed in a wasp-waist shape, with several mountain ranges branching off to the east and west. Ranges and basins alternate, with many deep river valleys. The eight hundred Li of Qinchuan has always been a gathering place for famous cultural relics and historical sites, especially the northern slopes, which contain many imperial mausoleums. The burial sites of other nobles, officials, and wealthy magnates are even more numerous. So this place has always been a swarm for tomb robbers. But I hadn't expected that before even entering the depths of the Qin Mountains, tomb robbers would be brazenly blasting tombs in plain sight. It seemed finding a Han tomb worth robbing wouldn't be so easy.

That local was quite hospitable. He handed me a cigarette and asked, "You two young lads are tourists, right? Where are you headed?"

I said, "We want to go into the Taibai Mountains." He nodded and said, "Without a tour group, you won't get far. The mountains are full of twists and turns—you could easily get lost. How about I guide you for a stretch? I live in a village at the edge of the reserve, just over two hills from here. See, when you go out traveling, finding a guide is necessary."

On hearing this, I figured he was a black-market guide. In these deep mountains, the people were rough—he might lead us into a ravine and rob us. I quickly shook my head and said, "No need, no need. We have our own plans."

He kept nagging for a while, but when he saw we really weren't interested, he turned back to sleep. The bus drove another hour or so until we finally reached the foot of Taibai Mountain. Old Yang and I stumbled off the bus, knowing that in our physical condition, going into the mountains would be suicide. Luckily, there was a small farmhouse inn nearby, so we stayed the night. We didn't even eat dinner; we lay down and slept straight until noon the next day. Old Yang shook me awake and whispered, "Old Wu, hurry—hurry up and look—who's this?"

Sleepy-eyed, he dragged me to the window. Below, in the courtyard outside the building, stood five people. The leader was the old man we had met at the roadside stall in Xi'an. He was drawing something on the ground with a branch. The other four nodded repeatedly, then walked out.

After they walked away, we ran downstairs to the spot where they had just stood. The old man had drawn several square boxes on the ground. Old Yang asked me, "Wha—what did that old geezer draw? Looks like Tetris blocks?" I said, "Tetris blocks? Look carefully—this is a floor plan. See these two rows of stone figures and stone horses? And this is the mound of earth. This line is the central axis of the entire tomb complex. It looks like they're systematically searching for a large tomb."

Old Yang asked, "Can you tell which dynasty?" I cursed, "Do you think I'm a fortune-teller? Go settle the bill quickly. We'll follow them. Where there's a large tomb, there are sure to be accompanying satellite tombs. Even picking up their leftovers would be enough to flaunt."

The two of us hurriedly bought a few baked flatbreads and rushed into the mountains, chasing after them. After running about fifteen minutes, we finally saw the group squatting on the ground to rest. Old Yang pulled me into the bushes, whispering, "Le—let's not get too close. Look at their back pockets—they're bulging. They might have guns. There are still a few tourists around here, but further in there will be fewer people—it won't be easy to hide. If they spot us, we're in—in trouble."

I thought this made sense, so I nodded. I waited until they were far ahead before cautiously following. Luckily, there were many bends, so tailing them wasn't too hard, though our skin took a beating from the sharp weeds and bushes—scratches everywhere, both painful and itchy.

This group had a clear goal; they didn't stop along the way, showing no interest in the Qin Mountains scenery, and they had great stamina. We were almost fainting from trailing them, yet they still walked briskly. Old Yang panted, "Ol—Old Wu, I—I think we should just give—give up. Let them loot theirs, and we'll loot ours. If we keep following, I'll collapse." I scolded, "Damn it, you only did three years in the joint—how can you be this useless? If we stop now, all the suffering we've endured will be for nothing. Grit your teeth and bear it." I said this, but inside I was also tempted to back out. However, this opportunity was too rare. With my shallow skills in dragon-searching and point-acupuncturing, finding an ancient tomb buried six or seven meters deep in the vast mountains wasn't likely. Even if I could, it would take at least ten days to half a month. When I came, I had romantic notions, thinking I'd treat it like a trip. But after arriving, I realized spending ten or more days in these mountains wasn't easy. Just the climate was a bit hard to adjust to.

We gritted our teeth and kept following until midnight, when the group ahead finally stopped. Old Yang immediately collapsed on the ground, saying, "Oh my god, I'm exhausted. If they kept walking, I would have fought—fought them. Ol—Old Wu, did they stop because they've arrived?"

I thought for a moment and said, "No. This place is still too shallow. If there were a tomb here, it would have been looted long ago. They're probably tired and resting. See, they've lit a fire—they'll probably stay here for the night. Let's not waste time either; let's eat and sleep first."

Old Yang sighed and blamed me for my lousy idea. We couldn't start a fire in the middle of the night—if we did, we'd be discovered. Our clothes and shoes were soaked, and there was no way anyone could sleep like that. I regretted it too. Originally we could have roasted the dry provisions before eating, but now we had to chew them cold and hard. But things had come to this point, and there was no turning back. If we couldn't even endure this little hardship, we'd probably run back if we went deeper into the mountains.

Old Yang was depressed for a long time, then suddenly said, "Following—following them so passively is not a solution. It's so dark now. Let's sneak over and listen—listen to what they're saying. If we can pick up some clues, we won't have to follow them so hard."

I thought Old Yang made sense, so I nodded. The two of us stuffed the dry provisions into our mouths in a few bites and then sneaked toward that campfire.

We walked tiptoeing along the way, but the mountain was extremely quiet. We could hear their voices without going too far. Old Yang pulled me and signaled that hiding here was enough; we didn't need to go further. I nodded. We both crouched down, held our breath, and heard them laughing loudly. Unexpectedly, two of them were speaking with heavy Cantonese accents. That was really strange—we had never heard of Cantonese people being into this sort of thing.

A young voice said, "Uncle Tai, can you estimate for us how many more days we have to walk to get there? My legs are almost broken today."

That Uncle Tai said, "I told you to cultivate yourself in daily life, but you only know how to eat, drink, whore, and gamble, wallowing among women. This trip will be hard on you. I tell you, if we take the road, it's still three days; if there's no road, I can't say for sure. If you can't take it, go down the mountain now. Don't hold me back."

Old Yang heard these words and glared at me fiercely, then said softly, "Did you hear that? If we keep following them, we'll be following until the Year of the Monkey and Month of the Horse and not even know it. Lucky I didn't listen to you." I patted Old Yang and signaled him to be quiet and keep listening to what they had to say.

That young man was obviously a bit wary of Uncle Tai, and said, "I've been a bit weak lately, but don't worry. Once this deal is done, we'll never have to come to these mountain gulches again. We'll follow Boss Wang and Boss Li to Hong Kong to see the world and live like upper-class people, right?"

At this point, a person with a Cantonese accent said, "Yeah, yeah, no problem. We agreed, right? You guys get the stuff done, we'll take as many as you have. This deal is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. If we do it well, everyone can retire. Then in the glittering big world of Hong Kong, there will be plenty of places to spend money lavishly. A little hardship like this is still worth it."

That Uncle Tai then said, "Boss Wang, don't speak so confidently. Whether that tomb is in that place is based solely on what you say. Come to think of it, we've been cooperating for many years, and I still don't know where you get this information. If you have no taboos, just tell us brothers."

Boss Wang replied, "Ah, I say, Old Tai, you have too many suspicions. If you really want to know, I can tell you, but I'm afraid you still won't believe it."

Old Yang and I were both shocked at the same time.