Chapter 76: Qinling Divine Tree: Peeping

Since entering this deep mountain and old forest and arriving at this wooden shack built in some unknown era, I felt something strange in the atmosphere around me, so I slept restlessly, almost in a half-dream state. When I turned over and saw this eye, there was no hazy feeling; instead, I immediately woke up. But by the time I looked back at that gap, the eye was already gone.

I lay on the ground. Although I was some distance from the ceiling and the firelight in the room was dim, I was sure I hadn't seen wrong. Moreover, I noticed that the eye was very large and round, as if it weren't a human eye.

In the dead of night, Old Yang had gone off somewhere, leaving only me alone, stared at by a strange eye. I felt a bit scared, but compared to the ancient tombs, this situation was already much better. I mustered my courage, stood up cautiously, picked up my flashlight, and tiptoed up the wooden ladder to the attic.

The wooden ladder could barely bear my weight. Under my steps, it let out groans as if about to break, forcing me to tense every muscle with each step. Fortunately, the ladder didn't collapse as I had feared.

The windows and door of the wooden shack had large gaps due to rot and deformation. The mountain wind blew in from outside, making the bonfire in the center flicker constantly. The shifting light filtered up through the attic floor, giving the whole attic an eerie, ghostly atmosphere.

I raised my flashlight and swept it around but found nothing unusual. The entire attic was empty, with only some bamboo-woven winnowing baskets and conical hats. There was no place to hide. However, on the left wall of the attic there was a vent window, only about the size of two palms. Outside the vent, something seemed to be hanging.

I walked toward the vent, shining my flashlight to see what was hanging there. As soon as the light hit it, I heard a "squeak," and a yellow blur suddenly darted away.

Startled, I stuck my head out and saw a very plump golden snub-nosed monkey hanging from the eaves not far from the vent. It bared its teeth at me with a fierce expression.

Seeing its eyes, identical to the ones I had seen through the floor crack, I breathed a sigh of relief. So it seemed that this fellow had been hiding in the attic, spying on me.

I didn't want to bother with a monkey, but it seemed startled by me and kept making aggressive gestures at me, letting out piercing screams. I sensed something was wrong and shone the flashlight into its eyes. Blinded by the harsh light, it let out a few shrill cries and then scampered onto the roof.

I smirked maliciously, but felt a strange curiosity. Golden snub-nosed monkeys are first-class protected animals, usually very shy. Why would one come near people? Could it have been attracted by the smell of our dried rations? These monkeys don't act alone; there must be others around. I've heard of monkeys attacking people—a troop can be incredibly fierce. Even if they can't kill you, they'll grab your luggage and food. Messing with monkeys is very unlucky. I needed to be very careful.

I stuck my head out of the vent again to check for other golden monkeys, but saw no trace of any. Instead, I noticed that the view outside was very open. Under the moonlight, I could see the outline of a vast forest, a desolate gray. Treetops swayed in the wind like ocean waves, making rustling sounds.

Just then, I suddenly saw a glimmer of flashlight in the forest, flickering faintly in the darkness.

I recognized that pale light. When I had asked Old Yang to buy equipment, I'd insisted he get the best. He ended up buying mountaineering flashlights costing over two thousand yuan each. Their light is distinctive—pale and penetrating, even capable of melting snow when shone on it.

So I immediately concluded that the owner of that flashlight was Old Yang. A strange feeling suddenly hit me: what was he doing out there so late? I stared for a while, puzzled, then went down from the attic, put on my coat, and crept toward where he was.

From the attic, the flashlight seemed only about thirty meters from the shack, but it was actually much farther. I walked downwind and took a full ten minutes before I heard a sound from upwind—a rhythmic tapping, like someone slowly beating a drum. I crouched low and moved closer, soon seeing a figure working on something ahead.

Slowing down, I continued to approach. About ten meters away, there was a thick bush. I hid behind it and took a closer look. Then I realized the drumming sound was actually the noise of an entrenching tool digging into the ground.

Old Yang was stripped to the waist, digging something in the ground. The flashlight was propped on a tree, acting as a streetlamp.

My feelings were mixed. On one hand, I was very curious—what was he doing sneaking out in the dead of night to dig something up? On the other hand, I felt very upset. By doing this, he was obviously hiding something from me. I had come to help him out of kindness, yet he was keeping secrets. It was really not right.

I watched secretly for a while but saw nothing unusual—he just kept digging. I started to get impatient. Standing here in this cold night, squatting down, my whole body freezing, was really unpleasant. I suddenly thought: if he was just going to dig a hole all night, wouldn't it be stupid of me to suffer with him? Given Old Yang's personality, it wasn't strange for him to dig a hole in the middle of the night. Once, he had even gone to a cemetery at midnight and then ordered takeout pizza for the whole city.

At that moment, I almost rushed out to ask him what he was doing, but I immediately abandoned that idea. Because just as I was about to stand up, I saw a homemade pistol tucked into his belt.

This thing should be a replica of a Soviet pistol. I had listed it on the purchase sheet, but he told me he hadn't been able to buy one. I never thought he would lie to me. Seeing it now, a chill ran through my whole body.

When I first saw Old Yang again, I thought he was still the same carefree guy, so I never guarded against him. Now it seemed his mind was actually very meticulous—truly hiding his depths.

Originally, I was absolutely sure that even if I jumped out and kicked him into the hole, he wouldn't get angry. But after seeing that gun, I hesitated. The current Old Yang seemed impossible to predict using my past experience with him. If I jumped out, he might just shoot me. I didn't move forward; instead, I crouched there quietly, watching what he was digging up.

Old Yang was very alert. After every three digs, he would stop and listen to the surroundings. But since I was downwind, the wind carried all my sounds in another direction, so he never detected me.

He dug for a full half hour. Suddenly, his shovel struck something metallic, making a clear clang.

He stopped digging and bent down. I saw him pull a rod-shaped object out of the pit.

The rod-shaped object was covered in mud; I couldn't tell what it was, but my intuition said it looked like a bone. Old Yang wiped it a little, didn't look at it carefully, but quickly wrapped it in cloth and stuffed it into his bag.

I continued watching to see if he would dig up anything else, but found him beginning to refill the hole.

At that moment, the mountain wind gradually weakened, showing signs of shifting direction. If I stayed hidden any longer, I might be discovered. I quietly stood up and started walking back. Old Yang had achieved his goal and was eager to refill the dirt, so he no longer paid attention to his surroundings. I quickened my pace, successfully returned to the shack, lay down without making a sound, and pretended nothing had happened.

Not long after, Old Yang tiptoed back. Seeing me still sound asleep, he sat down across from me and began adding firewood to the bonfire.

With my eyes closed, my mind churned. Curiosity and disappointment mixed together, making me very uncomfortable. I decided that when it was time to switch shifts, after Old Yang fell asleep, I would leave alone. After all, I had only come here reluctantly to help him. Now that he was keeping things from me, I naturally had no obligation to stay. Whether he lived or died was none of my business.

But Old Yang seemed full of energy, with no intention of switching shifts with me. I squinted, secretly watching him. He was half-lying on the ground, staring blankly, lost in thought.

Then, as if he had made up his mind, he quietly took out the rod-shaped object from his bag and began wiping it with a cloth. Soon, the mud came off, revealing a yellow metallic luster. For a moment, I was very puzzled, because it looked like the mysterious object was just a copper rod.

A confused expression also appeared on Old Yang's face. He turned the rod over and over, looking at it. His expression turned very ugly. Apparently, he only knew that something was buried at that spot; he didn't know exactly what it was.

I noticed he was wearing rubber gloves, as if he was very wary of the rod. My curiosity grew even more. Why wear gloves? Couldn't he touch it directly with his hands? At this point, I had changed my mind. I still planned to leave in the morning, but before I left, I had to find out the origin of this thing.

Thinking this, I pretended to just wake up. I turned over, half-opened my eyes, coughed, and asked him, "Old Yang, what time is it?"

Old Yang was concentrating on studying the rod. My sudden question startled him. Hastily, he hid the thing behind his back, then looked at his watch and said, "It's... it's a little past three."

"Oh," I said, pretending not to notice his flustered movement. I rubbed my nose and sat up, saying, "Well, then it's time for us to switch shifts. You get some sleep."

Old Yang hemmed and hawed as he answered me, his hands behind his back, secretly trying to stuff that copper rod into his backpack. I laughed inwardly, pretended to want to stretch my limbs, stood up, and walked toward him while yawning.

He was startled by my sudden movement, his hands tense; no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get the rod to slide in smoothly. I leisurely swayed over to his side, pretending to want to take something from his bag. When he saw me lean down, he got so nervous that the copper rod slipped from his hand and rolled out, all the way to my feet.

I hadn't expected things to turn out this way, and for a moment I wasn't prepared. I froze for a second, then pretended to look very surprised and asked him, "What's this? Where did this rod come from?" As I spoke, I bent down to pick it up.

Originally I had wanted to take the chance to take a good close look at what that copper rod actually looked like, but unexpectedly, Old Yang's reaction was extraordinarily intense. His face instantly turned deathly pale, and he bellowed, "Don't touch it!"