Luckily, the professor and his assistant were eventually able to move aside the debris and climb out. When they got back to the surface, they saw the two soldiers standing guard, and when we didn’t show up after a while, they came looking for us.
As far as he could tell, the tunnels dated back to the Qin dynasty. There were others in the area, from expeditions led by the first emperor’s alchemists. There wasn’t much archaeological significance to them, apart from the stone tablets, which would be valuable to scholars.
“What about the red-jade animals found inside the stone box?” I asked. “And that strange dunking tank. Do they date back to the Qin dynasty as well?” Professor Qiu shook his head. “The stone box and that underground chamber, including the chains and container, all came much later. While I was in Gulan, I heard that people around here would go missing every few years, but I didn’t put two and two together. I’m no detective, but I’ve formed a theory about what might have happened here. It’s not a national secret, so I’m happy to share it with you.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Julie and I listened intently as Professor Qiu told us his theory.
“Before the Dian kingdom of Yunnan fell to the Western Han, there was already a great deal of unrest within the province, and in fact part of it had seceded. This community lived in the Congshan Hills, cut off from the rest of the world, until they were gradually erased from history, appearing only in a few obscure records.
“This tribe that left the ancient Dian kingdom naturally formed their own distinctive way of life. One of their unusual customs was to drown captives in underwater tanks and leave them there as fish food. These fish gained a great deal of strength from feasting daily on human flesh. The tribe believed this strength passed on to them when they subsequently killed the fish for their fish soup. The skeletons, meanwhile, were removed from the tank on the night of a full moon and ceremonially burned as an offering to the six jade beasts.
“Impossible to say how someone from Stone Tablet Village had got hold of this device, but by spreading rumors about the underground cave, they managed to create such dread that none of the villagers would go anywhere near it. Whoever this person was, they kept the secret until now. Was it the coffin maker? Was it someone else? That will have to wait for the police investigation.”
Such was Professor Qiu’s theory. Unfortunately, he finished speaking just as we were about to tuck into some braised fish, and I had to put down my chopsticks. “You’re like the Asian Sherlock Holmes,” I said, feeling a little nauseated.
“It’s because I’ve seen a tank like that before, when I was in Yunnan,” Professor Qiu said, clearly in a better mood this time around than at our last encounter. “It’s originally from Southeast Asia—though I never expected this barbaric practice to still be going on now. And do you remember me saying Professor Chen once saved my life? That also happened in Yunnan.”
“Hmm. Actually, Professor Chen is the reason Julie and I came to find you. What happened in Yunnan?” I asked. Professor Qiu sighed. “It’s a story I’m ashamed of, but as it’s been so many years, I might as well tell you. Professor Chen and I were sent to Yunnan for reeducation—a form of punishment that was meant to correct our thinking. Chen is more than ten years older than me, and I think he felt he needed to take care of me. I wasn’t as well behaved as I should have been, and I got involved with a local widow. I don’t think I need to tell you what a problem that would have been, given the strict morality of the time.”
The professor continued. “I couldn’t stand the pressure and criticism, and I was ready to hang myself. I was standing with my head through the noose, when Chen rushed in just then and cut me down. If he hadn’t been there, I wouldn’t be alive now.”
I knew this was our opportunity. The professor was in an expansive mood, reminiscing about the past. I jumped in to say that Professor Chen’s illness had gotten much worse, and Julie brought out the enlarged photograph of the strange writing on the dragon bone. We put it in front of the professor and said we were begging him, for the sake of his old friend Chen, to break his silence and tell us what this meant.
Right away, his face went pale. He hesitated for a while, chewing on his lower lip, before he finally said, “May I take this away and study it? Any information I share with you must be kept confidential. When we’re all back in Gulan, the two of you come see me in my hotel.”
Worried that he might change his mind, I said we’d hang on to the photo for now, then fixed a time to see him in Gulan the next day.
Right after dinner, Julie and I set off for Gulan. We’d barely left the village when we were stopped by the blind fortune-teller, who was trying once again to sell me his map. I’d almost forgotten about him. As for his map, I knew it was just a regular feng shui map that wouldn’t be of much use. Everything on it was already in my books. Besides, the real thing would have had some value as an ancient artifact, but you could tell at a glance this was a cheap fake.
“Why don’t you try your luck with someone who doesn’t know any better?” I suggested.
“I want this to go to someone who truly understands it,” he insisted.
“Anyone who truly understands it will know you have a counterfeit copy. Maybe you should just keep it for yourself.”
Seeing that I was on to him, he put the map away and started begging us to bring him to Beijing, where he might be able to make some money telling fortunes.
He seemed so pathetic that I started to feel sorry for him. After some discussion, Julie and I decided that we could definitely help him and would bring him back with us and find him somewhere to live near Pan Market. Gold Tooth could look after him, and with that glib tongue of his, he might even be good for business. I warned him not to tell any more of his crazy fortunes, though, in case he got us accused of spreading public disorder.
He nodded hastily. “That makes sense. I’ll hold my tongue. When we get to the capital, I’ll know how to behave.”
And so we brought him along to the Gulan hotel with us.
The next afternoon saw us waiting anxiously for Professor Qiu’s return. Leaving the fortune-teller in his room, we met the professor at his hotel reception lounge.
He once again made us promise to keep any information he revealed to ourselves. “About the dragon bone—I didn’t want to say this yesterday, because I was still concerned about giving away the secret,” he said, “but I spent all night thinking about my friend Old Chen, and I think I have to speak up.”
“I don’t understand,” I said. “What are you so scared of? This is from thousands of years ago—what’s there to keep secret?”
“It’s not that it has to be kept secret; it’s that the world might not be ready for this. The documents I have are highly classified. These strange dragon bone texts speak of incidents that would shock most people, things that are found nowhere in the historical record. We broke the code some time ago, but it’s been so many years, I don’t know if I can fully explain what it says. It’s complicated—there are a lot of gaps in these manuscripts, and that creates the possibility of a deviation from the original. Getting a single word wrong might change the meaning entirely—”
“You told us all this professional stuff before,” I interrupted, “and I still don’t understand what it has to do with us. We just want to know about the northern pearl. Could you just look at Julie’s photograph and tell us if that’s mentioned anywhere?”
Professor Qiu took the enlargement and stared at it for quite a while. “I’m telling you this for Old Chen’s sake. You were asking about the northern pearl. That’s a subject I know quite a bit about. It was probably some sort of symbolic item used in rituals, and it resembles the human eye. The first recorded instances of its existence come from the Western Zhou. As for the original manufacturer, and what material it was made of, we still don’t have that information. This text you’re showing me is
similar to others I’ve seen. I don’t dare say this refers to the northern pearl, but I can state with confidence that this symbol, the one that looks a little like an eye, a little like a whirlpool, is the ancient word for ‘phoenix.’ What you see here is a description from the Western Zhou of the phoenix calling out over the mountains.”
My mind filled with questions. “Phoenix? But that’s just an animal that the ancients made up. Are you telling me they actually exist?”
“That’s hard to say. These dragon bone texts were heavily encrypted to keep the knowledge from regular folk and generally contained national secrets—so I believe them absolutely. Though, you’re right, phoenixes don’t actually exist. So this could be a double code—a secret within a secret.”
“So you think the word ‘phoenix’ is code for something else?” Julie asked.
“Not quite.” Professor Qiu smiled. “In the past, the phoenix stood for good fortune, and over the centuries, various religions have co-opted that meaning. So that’s one possible reading, though we don’t know for sure what the symbolism was in this particular set of dragon bones. I’m just hypothesizing based on other manuscripts I’ve seen, and also from the context of this piece.”
I nodded. “That fits, because the northern pearl was also known by another name: phoenix gall. I don’t know where this name comes from, or what this sort of jade, shaped like an eye, has to do with the mythical creature. Professor, are there any references in this picture to an ancient tomb, or any other clues about the place?”
“None. I’m not keeping anything from you. I’ll roughly translate the whole thing, and you’ll see it just describes the phoenix crying out over the mountains, nothing else.”
Julie and I looked at each other, feeling like we’d been plunged back into the fog. We’d been so sure that this photograph would tell us something about where to find the northern pearl, but this was completely unhelpful. I got the professor to write out his translation anyway, and sure enough, there was no mention of its location. I read it several times to make sure I hadn’t missed anything, but it seemed the trail was broken again.
Starting the search would be like finding a needle at the bottom of the ocean. I gritted my teeth in frustration, and a vein started throbbing in my head. Next to me, Julie was trembling a little, tears pooling in her eyes.
Seeing how despondent we were, Professor Qiu pulled out a photograph of his own and placed it on the table. “Don’t despair. I took this picture yesterday. Look—if you were to go into the old forests of Yunnan, you might find something there.”
The photo was of the six blood-red jade beasts, all of them strange, not quite like lions and tigers, some feathered, some one-eyed, all ferocious. They were striped with quicksilver, and although the handiwork was exquisite, you couldn’t look at them without getting chills.
When I thought these had been in the possession of the coffin maker, I shuddered all over. “Professor, this box came from Stone Tablet Village. It’s the stone box that was found beneath the coffin maker’s workshop, right?”
“Yes. I thought you might find it useful, so I had my assistant take a photo. Look closely and see if you can spot the clue.”
Julie had turned away from the hideous creatures, but hearing this, she immediately picked up the image and stared at it closely. “Professor, the beast with the single eye…an eye so big, so out of all proportion…it looks like the northern pearl.”
“That’s exactly what I thought,” said the professor. “So you see, there’s still hope.”
We were thrilled for a moment, but then hesitated. The ancient Dian kingdom of Yunnan was all the way across the country from southern Xinjiang, so what did it have to do with the northern pearl? Unless, of course, this elusive artifact had been there all these years, hidden away in the tomb of some Dian monarch.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
According to legend, there was a black-magic cult in the ancient Dian kingdom. They were eventually driven into exile and chose to live deep in the mountains. Their leader was called King Xian—one of the many self-proclaimed monarchs in China’s history. The six red-jade beasts were used in their rituals, representing north, south, east, west, heaven, and earth. King Xian would take a hallucinatory drug, putting himself in a trance state, and the jade animals would be placed on separate altars to create a magnetic field, forming a satanic totem that could penetrate directly into his consciousness.
The jade pieces used by King Xian would have been several times larger than the ones we found. These miniature versions were likely used by a witch doctor in his realm. As for how they fell into the hands of the coffin maker and how he came to master this branch of magic, we had no way of knowing. Perhaps he was a grave robber and had found them buried somewhere. Perhaps he was a descendant of the witch doctor who’d once owned them.
Professor Qiu’s theory made a lot of sense and gave us a glimmer of hope. But when we asked where King Xian’s tomb was likely to be, he had no idea. The king’s devotion to the dark arts meant it would be remote and well hidden, so our chances of finding it after so many years were slim.
In any case, Professor Qiu advised us not to go tomb robbing. There were many other things we could do, he said—science was so advanced these days, perhaps there was a technological solution? We shouldn’t be too fixated on the northern pearl. We shouldn’t rely too much on the beliefs of ancient times. Back then, people didn’t have a complete understanding of the natural world, and many of their beliefs were conjured out of thin air. Thunderstorms and snow were seen as magical occurrences. He promised to let us know if he came across any other clues.
I thanked him. “You don’t need to worry—we’re not going to break into his grave,” I told him. “Besides, even if we wanted to, how would we find it?”
He nodded. “That’s all right, then. I hate grave robbers more than anyone else in the world. Although it’s true that archaeologists and grave robbers both seek out artifacts, the latter tend to cause damage. The country and the people must—”
I stood to go. I didn’t want to hear the professor ramble on. Julie and I thanked him and returned to our hotel.
Our plan was to head back to Xi’an after lunch and then to Beijing. Julie seemed preoccupied about something, and she didn’t eat much. The blind fortune-teller was silent for a change. And I kept staring at the photograph of those six jade animals.
Every lead we’d followed had turned into a dead end. Our only option now was to head to Yunnan in search of King Xian’s tomb. If we were lucky, we’d get our hands on the phoenix gall itself. If not, hopefully we’d at least come away with another clue or two.
But what hope did we have of finding it? All we knew was that it was in Yunnan, probably in the Lancang River delta. But the Lancang is a long river—it continues down into Southeast Asia, where it becomes the Mekong—and we could hardly go along it mile by mile, tearing up the soil.
“Aren’t you always bragging about what a feng shui expert you are?” said Julie. “So we’ll go to the river, you’ll look up at the stars, and you’ll tell us where it is. Yes?”
I smiled bitterly. “If only it were so simple. I can be certain on flat land, but Yunnan is covered in hills, and in addition to the Lancang, two other rivers slice across it. There are mountain ranges running right through it, crisscrossing the land. It’s far too complex to get any kind of feng shui reading.”
“You actually sound despairing, for once,” said Julie.
“I’m not despairing, just uncertain. I have confidence, though—that never leaves me. Let’s go back to Beijing, talk to the others, and maybe search for more clues farther afield.”
The blind man suddenly piped up. “If the two of you are planning a reverse dip in Yunnan, let me advise you now to give up. It was in Yunnan that I came to grief, trying to break into King Xian’s tomb. The traps were deadlier than any I’ve ever seen. I lef
t behind six of my companions, dead, along with my sight. I’m shivering to think of it now.”
His words were like a thunderclap. “What did you say?” I said. “You found King Xian’s tomb in Yunnan? If you tell a single lie, you can forget about coming to Beijing.”
“How could I lie about a thing like that? I reverse dipped the Dian king’s tomb on Li Family Mountain, but I got there too late, and all the artifacts were gone. All I found in the burial chamber was a thighbone and half a map of the ancient Dian kingdom carved into human skin. I hate to leave empty-handed, so I helped myself to the map. Back in Suzhou, I got a restoration expert to clean it with acetic acid. After sixteen washes, it was finally clear enough to read. And it marked the way to King Xian’s tomb.”
Julie looked disbelieving. “King Xian led his followers into the hills, far from Dian kingdom,” she said. “They were cut off from their former home. How could this map have ended up in the Dian king’s grave? You’d better not be bluffing us.”
“King Xian made sure he’d be buried in a place with good feng shui, but one that couldn’t be reverse dipped. Every leader’s greatest fear is having their eternal rest disturbed. After he died, though, one of his followers wanted to return to Dian kingdom, so he offered the secret of the location to the Dian king, insisting that he could choose his new leader an equally good place. This was recorded on human skin. But in the end, the Dian king’s tomb wasn’t nearly as well hidden, which is how I got my hands on this map.”
The blind man pulled something from a pocket and unfolded it: the map. It had been restored but was still fairly blurry. We could only just make out the outlines of mountains and rivers.
“I carry this around with me, though I wouldn’t normally show it to anyone. I hope you believe me now. And I have a warning—you see the bit marked Insect Valley, with a blank patch there? Strange things lurk in that area. If you tried to go in there, you’d almost certainly not get out.”
The Dragon Ridge Tombs Page 22
