The Dragon Ridge Tombs

by Tianxia Bachang

  Although we’d survived this expedition, the strange marks cast a pall over our victory. I made up my mind to visit a doctor as soon as we got back to town. Even though I didn’t feel unwell, it was unsettling to have something like a tattoo appear out of nowhere on my body.

  The wind roared through the gully, making us shiver as it hit our naked bodies. Carrying the fragrant jade, we made a dash for Fish Bone Temple. Luckily, everything was still safely tucked away behind the Dragon King altar. We pulled on clothes and gulped down some water, then gobbled the rest of our food. We’d made it! Now we could return to Beijing with an object worth a fair bit of money.

  Gold Tooth stroked the fragrant jade, crooning a song about being rich. I wished I could share his joy, but whenever I thought about the red mark on my back, my enthusiasm dampened again.

  Seeing I was down in the dumps, Gold Tooth said, “Tianyi, don’t let the mark worry you. It doesn’t look like it goes very deep. Maybe a doctor can get rid of it with medicine.”

  “This isn’t a skin disease,” Kai pointed out. “What’s the use of seeing a doctor? Might as well light a fire and burn it off ourselves.”

  I sighed. “Forget it. You’re right, it doesn’t matter. Let’s have a rest, and we can deal with everything else tomorrow.”

  Gold Tooth raised his flask to us, then gulped down the rest of the liquor. “After all that, I really feel like I’ve learned to treasure my life all over again. Whatever happens next, I’m going to make sure I enjoy it.”

  The sky was dark by the time we finished eating. We made our way down the hill to the village near Coiled Snake Hill, where we found another night’s shelter, then headed for Gulan the next day. We’d planned to get back across the Yellow River but were told that after two days of heavy rain, the water was raging so dangerously that there would be no boats till the day after, at the earliest.

  We discussed the possibility of finding another crossing, then decided we might as well spend a couple of days in Gulan, resting up after our adventures. Besides, maybe we’d find some good antiques in the village—it was worth scouting around.

  And so we went back to the same inn we’d stayed at before, only to find it was full—lots of people were hanging around, waiting for the ferry to be operational again. Gulan was a small town without many accommodations to choose from, and so we ended up in the only place we could find, a hostel dormitory. There were eight beds in our room, and two were already claimed. We didn’t dare leave the fragrant jade in a locker, so we wrapped it well and took turns keeping an eye on it. When we went out, it came with us.

  That night, Kai and Gold Tooth stayed in the room with our loot while I went off to use the bathhouse at the inn. There I bumped into Mr. Liu. After some small talk, I asked if there was a doctor in town who was good with skin ailments. Mr. Liu said yes, there was one with superb skills who’d be able to restore anyone to health. There was no one better at treating psoriasis. Then he asked solicitously if I was all right.

  I’d been on my way to take a bath, so I wasn’t wearing much. I loosened my shirt and showed Mr. Liu my upper back, saying there was some kind of growth there I wanted looked at. He peered, then gasped in fright. “What on earth is that?” he said. “That’s not a skin disease; that’s some sort of bruise. It looks like a word, I vaguely remember that I’ve seen before.”

  “Hang on, there’s a word on my back? You can see a word?”

  “Some thirty years ago, while they were building an elementary school nearby, they uncovered some strange animal bones. Of course, everyone took some as souvenirs. Later on, archaeologists came along and asked everyone to hand over any bones they’d collected. They stayed at this inn. I saw them studying the bones—and this word was carved into them, more than once.”

  I no longer felt like having a bath. Instead, I dragged Mr. Liu to a quiet corner of the dining hall, sat him down, and asked him to tell me more. The kitchen was closed by then, so he had nothing better to do and was happy to tell me the whole long story.

  It turned out that the archaeologists had come by less than three years ago. The local authorities had shut down the inn for them so they wouldn’t be disturbed in their work. Mr. Liu, who’d already been working in the kitchen back then, was an inveterate busybody and would hover near the archaeologists, helping them with their work when he could. They’d seen him bustling in the kitchen, and he seemed enthusiastic, so they shut one eye and let him watch, as long as he didn’t steal anything or make a mess.

  Their haul consisted of a huge amount of turtle shell pieces and various animal bones. Every fragment had words and symbols carved on them, though much of it was too badly damaged to read and required a great deal of reconstruction.

  Among all the damaged items was a giant turtle shell in almost perfect condition. The archaeologists washed it with a light acid solution, and Mr. Liu saw the markings on it come clear. The symbol that appeared most often was shaped like an eyeball.

  He asked one of the archaeologists what the distinctive eyeball shape represented. The worker laughed. “It’s not an eyeball; it’s an ancient form of writing. It’s—”

  The archaeologist was interrupted by the expedition leader, an academic named Professor Qiu, who cautioned that these were national secrets and should not be discussed with anyone. Mr. Liu didn’t ask anything else, though his curiosity grew the more he thought about it. These objects were thousands of years old, so why would they still need to be kept secret? Was Professor Qiu just being a bully? In any case, he knew when he wasn’t welcome, and he stayed away after that.

  Ever since the giant turtle shell showed up, though, strange things started happening. There were a couple of small fires at the inn that left everyone unsettled. A few days after the incident with Professor Qiu, the archaeologists decided they’d gotten everything they needed and should get out of this fire-prone place. They packed everything up in wooden crates, which filled an entire truck. The crates were supposed to be airfreighted to Beijing, but the plane crashed on the way, and everything—including the giant turtle shell—was burned to ashes. Of the fifteen archaeologists who’d joined the expedition, only Professor Qiu survived. He had left his notebook at the inn, and in rushing back to get it, he’d managed to miss the plane. Professor Qiu was still in Gulan when he heard the news of the plane crash. He fell to the ground and couldn’t be revived. Mr. Liu and the other inn workers took him to the hospital, where they brought him around. From then on, whenever Professor Qiu’s work brought him near Gulan, he’d stop by to visit Mr. Liu, though no matter how many times Liu asked, the professor refused to tell him what it said on the turtle shell. All he would let slip was that the symbols represented great evil, and it was best not to know anything about them. He sighed several times after that, then muttered something about wishing he’d never set eyes on those wretched words.

  “And didn’t I look at that red mark on your back,” Mr. Liu concluded, “and right away think of those horrible words? Truly, they’re exactly the same. This isn’t a sickness. What on earth have you been up to?”

  “Mr. Liu, are you absolutely sure you don’t know what it means?”

  “My boy, all I know is that it’s some ancient writing. I swear, I haven’t the faintest idea what it actually stands for. But there’s someone who does know. You’re in luck—this Professor Qiu I was telling you about, he comes back to Gulan for a few days every year, and he’s in town right now. He just checked in to the room just overhead!”

  I grasped Mr. Liu’s hand. “Then for the love of Buddha, you have to help me. Bring me to see Professor Qiu.” Mr. Liu thumped his chest. “You can count on me. But this Qiu fellow is closemouthed. Whether he tells you anything, well, that depends on how persuasive you are. Maybe the mark on your back is special enough that he’ll confide in you.”

  I asked Mr. Liu to wait for me while I ran a quick errand. First I rushed back to the d
orm to tell Kai and Gold Tooth what I’d learned. We decided that Kai would stay put guarding the fragrant jade and Gold Tooth would come with me. After so many years of being a merchant, he was much better at getting information out of people than I was.

  We quickly changed into more respectable clothes, then went back to Mr. Liu. I thought of something. “We shouldn’t go up empty-handed, but it’s too late to buy snacks.”

  “Professor Qiu won’t mind if it’s me who brings you up,” said Mr. Liu. “But, ah, aren’t you two in the antiques trade? Best not mention that to him. He’s bad-tempered, and he hates people in your line of work.”

  Gold Tooth and I agreed not to mention it. We’d make up some tale about being in Gulan on business and finding the strange symbol on my back. Once we got our story straight, Mr. Liu led us to the second floor and knocked on Professor Qiu’s door. After we explained why we were there, Professor Qiu ushered us in.

  He was around sixty, a scrawny, stick-dry man. His skin was dark, his back slightly hunched, no doubt the result of long years excavating archaeological sites. His face was covered in wrinkles, and he’d lost all his hair except a wispy outer ring. Despite his age, his eyes blazed with vigor. He didn’t wear glasses, and apart from his funny hairstyle, he looked exactly like a village farmer who’d spent his life toiling in the fields.

  Although he and Professor Chen had the same job title, they were completely different. Professor Chen was the very model of a scholar, the sort who sat in an office and acted all civilized. This guy was the practical sort, it seemed.

  When Professor Qiu heard my story and saw the mark, he kept exclaiming how odd it was. I asked what on earth was on my back and if my life was in danger.

  “Yes, this is indeed a symbol of the artifacts we uncovered a couple of years back,” he replied. “The most complete turtle shell had one thousand one hundred and twelve words inscribed on it, resembling the classical Chinese script, but not the same. And this symbol, which looks like an eyeball, appeared seven times.”

  “Can you tell us what it means?” I asked. Professor Qiu shook his head. “The mark on your back only looks like the ancient symbol—it can’t possibly be connected. Two years ago, when the plane my colleagues were on crashed, everything we dug up was destroyed. There are plenty of coincidences in the natural world. Some species of beans, for instance, look exactly like human heads. You wouldn’t think those beans had anything to do with actual human heads, now would you?”

  Gold Tooth and I cajoled and pleaded, tossing out every bit of flattery we could think of, asking over and over what it said on that giant turtle shell. If he could just tell us the details, we’d be the judge of whether or not they were connected.

  But Professor Qiu stubbornly refused to reveal any more. Finally, he snapped, “The two of you can stop pretending. You stink of dirt. I’ve been in this business long enough to know exactly what you’ve been up to. Only three people smell so strongly of soil: farmers, grave robbers, and antique thieves. And frankly, you don’t look like farmers to me. So I’m not particularly disposed to help you. I don’t know where you saw this symbol, but somehow making it look like a mark on your body and thinking you could fool me that way—I’d advise you not to think you’ll get away with that. I only have two more things to say to you. First, you two shouldn’t cause any more trouble—these ancient words are a national secret, and no ordinary person has the right to know about them. Second, and let this count as a friendly warning, you are absolutely not to think about these words anymore. They’re a celestial secret too, which no mortal should know about. Anyone who gets too close to these words will find disaster befalling them.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  With those words, Professor Qiu stood and started pushing us toward the door. I thought how weird this old coot was, all smiles when he welcomed us in, then suddenly turning on us. Somehow he’d realized who we really were and changed his tune. But this was important—maybe a matter of life or death. Not just mine and Kai’s, but Professor Chen and Julie might be in danger too.

  “Professor Qiu, please,” I said. “Won’t you let me say one more thing? I don’t know how you sniffed out the scent of dirt on us, but I swear, my gold-toothed friend and I aren’t who you think we are. We’re not grave robbers. For a while, I was recruited to lead a team of archaeologists into the Taklimakan Desert. I worked for Chen Jiuren of Beijing, also known as Professor Chen. Perhaps you know him?”

  The professor paused at Chen Jiuren’s name. “Old Chen? You’re telling me that you were on an expedition with him?”

  I hastily nodded. “That’s right. I imagine you must be the twin pillars of the archaeological world. In these circles, whenever your names are mentioned, everyone looks up with respect.”

  Professor Qiu’s face softened, and he waved me into silence. “No need to flatter me. I know very well who I am. All right, if you know Old Chen, you can stay. Send the other two away.”

  Gold Tooth and Mr. Liu obediently left, and Professor Qiu shut the door tight behind them. He asked me a few questions about Professor Chen, and I quickly related the story of our expedition to Xinjiang, where we found the ruins of Jingjue City. Professor Qiu sighed. “I’ve known Old Chen for a long time. I’d heard he had a bit of trouble in the desert. He should count himself lucky he didn’t end up buried in the sand. I wanted to visit him in Beijing, but then I heard he’d gone to America for medical treatment. Who knows if I’ll ever see him again. He did me a great kindness once. Seeing as you know him well, I’ll share what I can with you.”

  These were the words I’d been waiting for. “I suspect the mark on my back is the result of our having been to Jingjue City,” I blurted out. “The ghost-hole tribe there worshiped the eye, and I think we may have gotten cursed. Then I heard that this was no eyeball, but rather a word, and I wanted to ask you what it meant, if only so I can be psychologically prepared for what’s going to happen to me. I’ve escaped death countless times, so it’s not my personal safety I’m concerned about, but to see poor Professor Chen in such a state—I won’t lie to you, it’s the old man I’m worried for.”

  Professor Qiu sat down in a chair. “It’s not that I don’t want to tell you the truth. I simply can’t. Knowing these things won’t do you any good at all. But I can say with certainty that this mark on your back isn’t a curse, and it won’t affect your health. You don’t need to be anxious on that score.”

  I was growing increasingly frustrated. This was as good as not saying anything at all! At least it was nice to know that I wasn’t cursed, but the more Professor Qiu refused to tell me anything specific, the more I wanted to know. Did the ancient writing still have meaning for us today? Surely it must, for it to appear on my body.

  I kept prodding Professor Qiu, until he was forced to divulge a little more.

  The professor had spent most of his career researching the ancient languages found around the Yellow River. He was an acknowledged master in this field, adept at decoding and translating these languages. When written words first appeared, it ended the period of barbarism, when humanity was able to keep records only by tying knots on a string. Language was able to hold a huge amount of information—in fact, unlike modern Chinese with its four tones, the ancient form of the language had eight, thus conveying unimaginably more. The other four tones became restricted to the elite, effectively a secret language for recording weighty matters the commoners knew nothing about.

  Many of the records carved into the turtle shells were in this ancient language. People say the will of heaven needs no words, but that’s an incorrect assumption. The will of heaven is just another language, though if you didn’t understand it, you could be staring right at it and not know. Professor Qiu had made it his life’s work to delve into these words no one else in the world could understand. He hadn’t progressed very far—every step of the way had been torturous, and despite all the effort he’d put in, there
hadn’t been much in the way of results.

  Then, over thirty years ago, his team excavated a Tang dynasty tomb that had been robbed many times. There were seven or eight entrances blasted into it, and the body had been badly damaged. The whole burial chamber looked ready to collapse, and most of the grave goods had been stolen. What was left was all but decomposed.

  Various bits of evidence pointed to this being the tomb of Li Chunfeng, the famous imperial astronomer and yin-yang mathematician from the Tang dynasty. This period was a high point in Chinese civilization for technology, culture, finance, and many other fields, so the grave of a prominent scientist was expected to hold important materials for research. Unfortunately, it had all been destroyed. The archaeologists felt this loss keenly.

  Still, they had to continue clearing out the place. When they reached the rotting coffin, they got a surprise: a secret compartment at the head of the coffin! This was unprecedented—even the most experienced expert had never seen such a thing. They opened it gingerly and found a leather pouch that contained something wrapped in oilcloth: a flawless white-jade box. Gold and silver bands wrapped around the box, and spirit beasts were carved into its surface. Its lock and clasp were made of pure gold.

  Because of its unusual hiding place, this treasure had survived wave after wave of tomb robbers.

  Anyone who knew antiques could tell at a glance that this was a great imperial treasure, possibly even a gift from the emperor himself to Li Chunfeng, who must have regarded it as supremely important, given its resting place. The artifact was brought back to base camp right away.

  Inside the jade box were many important objects, including a piece of dragon bone (a nickname for turtle shell, because the dried bits of shell became bleached as bone) carved full of celestial writing. There was also a small slab of pure gold with animal heads at all four corners, words cramming its surface, some recognizable, some not.