Chapter 75: Qinling Divine Tree: Three-W

The group was silent for a long moment before Boss Wang said, "This matter is related to my ancestors. To be honest, I'm not Han. My ancestors were from the Manchu Bordered Yellow Banner. Back then, the Eight Banners had a special unit called the Iron-Headed Brave Cavalry, no more than three thousand men, directly under the Military Secretariat. Do you know what that unit did?"

Uncle Tai chuckled, "I've heard a bit about that. I don't know what the Iron-Headed Brave Cavalry did, but in the end they were absorbed by Zeng Titu to fight the Red Hair bandits. I heard it from my uncle. Could it be that your ancestor was really one of the Iron-Headed Brave Cavalry?"

Boss Wang smiled back, "You guessed right. My ancestor was not only in the Iron-Headed Brave Cavalry, but he held a high rank—a general. Their unit had a very unique duty. They weren't for marching to war or building bridges and roads. Instead, they collected rare treasures and antiques from the people for the emperors. Every year they had to submit a certain number of treasures. But think about it—the things in this world worthy of an emperor's notice were getting rarer and rarer. Treasures became harder to find each year. When they couldn't find anything among the living, they finally turned to the dead."

The young voice exclaimed, "Ah! From what you're saying, could it be that these Iron-Headed Brave Cavalry also did the same business as us—tomb raiding?"

"Exactly, exactly. But although they were official tomb raiders, they were different from the ancient Touch of Gold Captains. The Touch of Gold Captains raided tombs to fund the army, so they cleaned everything out, leaving nothing behind. But the Iron-Headed Brave Cavalry didn't fight wars, nor was there turmoil. It wasn't worth offering all the treasures from a single tomb. So they discovered many good tombs but didn't touch them. Instead, they recorded them, and when needed, they would find those ancient tombs again based on the records. The ledger recording the locations of these tombs was called the *Hemu Collection*. I have half of that book—it's a family heirloom. The tomb we're about to raid is the most detailed one recorded in it." Boss Wang said proudly. "My ancestor also said that this tomb is extraordinary and should not be touched unless absolutely necessary. That shows how good the treasures inside are. This time, I'm only bringing it out because we've cooperated for so long."

When Old Itch and I heard this, we sighed deeply. Old Itch lowered his voice and asked me, "Do—do you think this Wang is telling the truth? Can such a good thing really exist in this world?"

I shook my head and replied, "I can't say for sure. But look how confidently he speaks—it's probably true. It seems we have a chance this time. Even if we just pick up the scraps they leave behind, we can still fill our bellies halfway."

Old Itch got excited immediately. "Then—then we really made the right call following them. But—but this group is so energetic. We can still keep up today, but in a few days, we might not even know where they've shaken us off."

Because he was nervous, his stutter became particularly bad. A few words came out especially loud. I thought, "Oh no," and quickly covered his mouth, telling him not to get excited. At the same time, I pricked up my ears to hear their reaction. But it was too late—they suddenly went silent. They had clearly sensed something unusual nearby.

Old Itch and I held our breath, trying not to make a sound, our hearts pounding like drums. But they probably couldn't be sure anyone was nearby. For a moment, neither side made a sound. The stalemate lasted several minutes. Finally, Old Tai couldn't take it anymore and whispered, "Pockmarked Er (the young one), there seems to be a noise behind us. Go see what it is."

After hearing that, I heard two clear sounds of pistol slides being racked. Instantly, I broke out in a cold sweat. It looked like they were indeed hardened bandits. This time, Old Itch was going to get us killed. The last few times I'd escaped death right under the noses of zombies, it was mainly because zombies have no thoughts. Living people are different. If we ran now, I was eighty percent sure we could get away. But then following them later would be a problem. If we didn't run, I really wasn't confident we could hide right under their noses.

Just as I was hesitating, a chaotic noise came from far away. I looked toward the sound and saw a row of four or five flashlights converging on our position. It was the mountain patrol. Then I heard Uncle Tai quietly shout, "There are claw-footed grandsons (cops). Scram!" A few people hurriedly stamped out the fire, shouldered their gear, and ran deep into the forest.

Old Itch had been scared half to death a moment ago, but now seeing them run, he got anxious and asked me, "Wh—what now? Chase or not?"

I cautiously poked my head out and saw that none of them had turned on their flashlights. The forest was pitch black, and there was no sign of them. I cursed under my breath. Old Itch couldn't accept it and grabbed me, wanting to chase after them. I said, "No way. Look how dark it is. If we follow like this, we might end up ahead of them instead. Let's rest first and follow their footprints tomorrow. They probably won't go far and will have to stop and rest."

Old Itch was anxious. "F—footprints on the ground? If we don't chase now, we'll lose them."

I said, "If we lose them, we lose them. Better to lose them than to lose our lives."

By then, the mountain patrol was very close. If we didn't leave, we'd definitely be caught. I told the chattering Old Itch to shut up and dragged him deep into the forest in the opposite direction. We hid behind a bush and didn't come out until the patrol had left. By then, I was dead tired. Old Itch and I squeezed together against a tree and managed to get through the night.

The next day, we woke up early. Our heads were covered in bird droppings—so smelly I wanted to throw up. Old Itch didn't care. He wiped his head with his hand a few times and immediately clamored to find that group. I couldn't stand it. There was no way I was running around the forest covered in bird shit, so I sacrificed half a bottle of water to rinse off.

I followed Old Itch as he hurried back to where we were last night, hoping there'd be some clues on the ground. But after circling several times, we couldn't even find the remains of last night's campfire. Old Itch was really annoyed with me and kept nagging in my ear: "See—see, I told you to follow them last night. Now look—the boiled duck has flown away."

I was furious. "Damn it, so many complaints. Look, there's only one mountain path here. Where could they go? We'll just keep moving forward. I don't believe we won't find them."

We hurried along the mountain path for a whole morning until the stone steps ended, but still no sign of them. Ahead was a small trail beaten by people's feet, winding through the forest's deepest parts. I felt a shiver—this meant even the patrol wouldn't go there. This was truly entering the deep, old forest.

We took military knives from our backpacks and hung them at our waists. Each of us broke off a thick tree branch. The Qinling Mountains are full of wild animals—big ones like tigers and bears, smaller ones like wolves and wild boars. If we were unlucky enough to run into one or two, Old Itch and I would be enough for several meals.

Old Itch asked me what we'd do if we couldn't find them today. I thought for a moment. According to the information I'd looked up before coming, there were temporary shelters built by herb gatherers in the mountains, with cooking utensils, firewood, and dried meat. If we could find one, we could rest well tonight and then make plans. Our current location, though far from the tourist area, was still a long way from the true depths of the Qinling. I believed there should be some villages ahead. Only after passing those villages might we find ancient tombs that hadn't been looted.

When I told Old Itch my plan, his face turned green. "We have to go—go deeper? Look around—there's not even a ghost. Maybe we should first search nearby. With luck, we might find one or two missed tombs."

I mocked him, "Where did all that ambition from when we first arrived go? Damn it, you're all talk. Look, there's still a path under our feet. Where there's a path, it's not dangerous. Our goal is to get where there's no path. Understand?"

"Fine, you—you're the expert. I'll do whatever you say. Let's get going." Old Itch couldn't be bothered to argue. Swatting the roadside bushes with his branch, he took the lead. We hadn't gone far when we saw a shabby temple. In front and behind it, some middle-aged women who looked like locals were doing something. I went over and put on my most sincere expression, asking them, "Sisters, I'm a tourist from out of town. Could you tell me how much further to the next village?" A woman in a red coat said, "You mean our village? What do you want in our broke village, coming all this way?"

I saw that these women were pretty wary, so I made something up: "I'm looking for someone. I came through your village two years ago. An old man hosted me. I came back to see him. But I haven't been here in two years, so I've forgotten the way." The middle-aged woman glared at me and scolded, "Pah! With your thieving look, who knows what you're up to? I've seen plenty of your kind—if you're not tomb raiding, you're poaching. You think you can fool me? You're not ready yet."

I was stunned by her scolding, not knowing how to reply. Old Itch shoved me aside, slapped a hundred-yuan bill in front of her, and said, "So—so much nonsense. Take us there, and this hu—hundred yuan is yours. Damn it, if you say one more word, I'll cut you."

I thought the woman would blow up, so I stepped back, ready to bolt. But when she saw the money, she immediately smiled and took it, instantly transforming into a friendly country aunt. "Don't be mad, don't be mad. I was just kidding. Look north. Follow this path straight until you see a fork. Take the left path, cross a stream, and you'll be at our village."

Old Itch grinned and asked again, "Did—did five people just pass through? An old man and a few younger ones?"

The middle-aged woman became wary and asked, "You're not cops, are you? What's going on? What did those five people do wrong?"

Old Yang glanced at me and gave me a wink, so I put on an act and said, "What makes you think we're cops?"

The middle-aged woman thought she had guessed correctly and immediately became nervous, hurriedly saying, "Comrade cops, how could I not guess? You've had seven or eight groups of people come through this month, all staying in our village. I saw those five people who just passed by – they didn't seem like good sorts. That old man is a familiar face; he stays in our village for four or five months every year. I've suspected them for a long time. What? Did they actually commit a crime?"

When I heard this, I felt relieved. Those five people must have entered this village too. They would need supplies before going into the mountains; they couldn't just pass through without staying. So I said to the auntie, "Don't meddle. Don't tell this to anyone, understand? You'll find out in due time."

The middle-aged auntie said, "Does this count as providing a lead? Will you write me a letter of commendation or something?"

Old Yang and I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Old Yang shoved me forward, saying, "Don't—don't worry. When we get back, I—I'll definitely record your merit."

The middle-aged woman wanted to keep nagging, but we ignored her and quickly ran north.

When we reached the fork, I was about to take the left path when Old Yang suddenly grabbed me and said, "N—no, that's not right. We shouldn't take this one. We—we should go the m—middle way."

I was puzzled. "Why? Didn't that woman just say to go left?"

Old Yang looked at me and asked, "Do you really n—not know, or are you pretending? That woman is suspicious."

I was stunned. I really hadn't noticed anything wrong with her. I quickly asked him what he meant. He pointed at me contemptuously and said, "Actually, it's not your fault for not knowing. I—I heard this from some big shots in prison. In these mountain areas, there are mountain girls who wait at crossroads to point out directions for people. They trick anyone who looks wealthy. Look at the l—left path – if you go that way, there won't be any village; it just goes straight up the m—mountain. Th—there's definitely a trap there. There might even be people lying in ambush waiting for us to fall into it."

I was half-convinced. I thought to myself, this is a tourist area; how could something like this from before Liberation still happen? If they wanted to rob or kill, they'd have to go deeper into the mountains. I told this concern to Old Yang. He immediately cursed, "You—you say you've been in the underworld with your third uncle, but you can't e—even figure out this simple principle. Tourists are all—all outside. Anyone who can make it here isn't a good person. Look at the two of us. This is what they call 'dog-eat-dog.'"

I thought that made sense, so I followed him toward the middle path.

We pushed through thorns and brambles until dusk. The further I walked, the more uneasy I felt. The grass on the side of the road was way too overgrown, not like a path that was often trodden. I hurriedly pulled Old Yang and said anxiously, "Wait, this path is definitely wrong. If we keep going, we'll lose the trail. We should turn back while it's still not dark."

Old Yang turned around and looked at me silently, then said, "Let's go a little further. It's too late to turn back now."

I noticed his expression was strange, and a peculiar feeling rose in my heart. I looked back and suddenly saw that the path we had come from was already buried under thick grass and shrubs. If I didn't lower my head, I couldn't find any trace of it. If we didn't go back now, by the time it got dark, we'd likely get lost in this forest. But what Old Yang said was also true – even if we turned back now, we might not have enough time to make it back to the fork, let alone to the village. It seemed we had no choice but to spend the night here.

We walked about another hour with the setting sun at our backs. The sky was gradually darkening when we suddenly spotted a wooden shed used by herb gatherers ahead. Old Yang pushed the door open and went inside, then turned back to me and said, "Come look, there's even a stove here. We can have a hot meal tonight."

I followed him in and found that it was a two-story shed connected by a ladder. Upstairs was a loft. There was no furniture inside, but there were a few large wooden planks laid out. In the center of the room was a pit filled with charcoal ash, presumably used for heating. We set down our gear, gathered some firewood haphazardly outside, and quickly started a fire to warm ourselves. Then we took out some dry rations from our packs and roasted them directly over the fire to eat. By the time we finished eating, it was pitch black outside. The calls of wild animals came from all around – whether wolves or something else, we couldn't tell.

Old Yang lit a cigarette and smiled bitterly toward the window. "Looks like each of us will only get half a night's sleep tonight. Someone has to watch the fire and keep it burning, otherwise those 'friends' outside might come in."

I didn't say anything. I was exhausted from the day's trek. Thinking that I might have to endure this for several weeks in a row, I couldn't help feeling a bit of regret for having agreed to come with him. He went on chattering for a while, saying how thrilling it was when he came here three years ago. The more I listened, the sleepier I got. I said to him, "You've been jabbering like an opera singer for ages. I can't listen anymore. I'm going to take a nap. Wake me up in the middle of the night for my shift." As soon as I said that, he protested loudly, saying that once I fell asleep, even a cannon shot wouldn't wake me. But I was already too groggy to understand what he was saying. In no time, I drifted off to dreamland.

I didn't sleep very soundly. Old Yang had a lazy nature and probably couldn't resist falling asleep himself. I tossed and turned until the latter part of the night, then woke up on my own. When I opened my eyes, the fire in the pit was still burning, but Old Yang was not in the room. I cursed inwardly, stood up, and was about to go out to pee. I had just turned around when I suddenly saw, in the gap between the floorboards of the loft, a single eye staring blankly at me.