by Xu, Lei
Fats gave me a sharp look as if he were upset that I interrupted him. He said, “Of course there is more evidence. The most direct evidence is that, according to historical records, the Seven Deceptive Coffins were first invented by some grave robbers. This was because they knew for a fact that many other grave robbers did the same thing they did. They were afraid their own graves would be plundered after their deaths so they created the set of decoy coffins. As far as they were concerned, it wasn’t important how elaborate the traps were because mere danger wasn’t enough to deter the grave robbers. They had to make the robbers so apprehensive about what deadly tricks they might discover that finally they would be unable to begin robbing in the first place. There is only one real coffin out of the seven. If any of the remaining six were opened by mistake, death was almost certain, because all of them had been installed with either concealed crossbows or black magic. It was not until after the Sung dynasty that some capable masterminds gradually discovered the secret of the Seven Deceptive Coffins. Once the hazards were explained, many people thought it would be an ill-starred venture to attempt to find the one coffin that was safe to open, and the expenses involved in doing this were far too high for most.”
Fats was such a sloppy, careless-looking guy that I never guessed he would be so knowledgeable, and I couldn’t help but be impressed by what he’d told me. It did not sound like he had finished, so I asked, “Is there any way to tell which coffin is occupied by its owner?”
Fats patted me on the back, pleased by my change of attitude, and proudly continued. “I see you are a studious fellow, young comrade. Well, then I’ll follow the steps of Brother Confucius—’Have patience in teaching one’s students and don’t care about the exhaustion.’ Okay, listen closely. There is a way to distinguish the real coffin from the other six. But our line of work has its rules. When they came upon the Seven Deceptive Coffins, most grave robbers would kowtow a few times and respectfully make their way out, so they wouldn’t anger our ancestors. But during times of war and chaos, a number of our colleagues had no food and no place to live. Shivering and starving, they had to break their own rules. At that time, there was an expert who found a way to get around the dangers of the six false coffins by using two crowbars to tilt a coffin up from one corner, chiseling a small hole in its bottom, and then fishing inside it with a pothook to see what might become impaled on the point of the hook. That way it was possible to discover what the coffin contained.”
I sighed with relief at the information, thinking I should really write a book about the battle of wits between the grave robbers and the trap designers. Fats drew closer and said in mysterious tones, “But I’m afraid the seven stone coffins here are all fake. In fact, I don’t even think this grave of the Ruler of Dead Soldiers is real.”
He pointed his flashlight toward the spot we had just plunged through to make sure nothing was crawling downward. Then he went on, “Originally I could not entirely understand this stone-tunneled maze, but once we fell into this chamber, I suddenly realized this actually is a tomb of the Western Zhou dynasty.”
Surprised, I asked, “So these aren’t escape routes dug by the workmen who built the tomb?”
Unexpectedly, Panzi cursed from the corner. “I told you already. How could this be an escape tunnel? Have you ever seen anyone digging escape tunnels into a maze? Who would have the time or the inclination?” I was greatly confused, as if some argument was forming in my mind but was still elusive. “How could it be possible that someone would put his own grave on top of someone else’s grave? According to Feng Shui principles, wouldn’t that make that person the last of his clan?”
Fats smiled and said, “You’re a grave robber, so naturally you’re aware of the teachings of Feng Shui, although those of us who rob graves usually pay little attention to them. Except for some basic guidance to be found in Feng Shui, I really don’t see any other use in it. It’s a branch of knowledge bequeathed to us by our ancestors which is now irrelevant to the good young people of our socialist society.” He made a special effort to pat himself on the chest. “Moreover, this whole thing about burying oneself on top of someone else’s tomb also has a name in Feng Shui. It’s something called… hm…it’s called something like Hidden Dragon Point, or something like that—let’s not worry about these superficial names. As long as the numerology is in harmony and the layout is proper, burying oneself on top of another person’s grave is not inauspicious. Therefore, the Ruler’s coffin is without a doubt to be found in this tomb of the Western Zhou dynasty. I absolutely cannot be wrong!”
Panzi burst out laughing, “What? So you—you moron—you think you actually understand Feng Shui?”
Fats became furious. “What do you mean, ‘I think I understand’? If I didn’t understand…how would I know so much?”
Panzi laughed loudly, but his laughter tore at his wounds and he clutched his stomach protectively. He said, “I have no idea where you heard all this nonsense. If you really understand Feng Shui, why can’t you take us out of this maze? I made at least seven or eight turns and still couldn’t find the way.”
My short-term memory was coming back as Panzi spoke. I asked, “By the way, when you guys left me behind and ran away, did you know you nearly scared me to death? Where are Uncle Three and Big Kui?”
Panzi straightened up his body with difficulty and said, “I’m not sure myself. When Poker-face began chasing after Fats here and Uncle Three wouldn’t let me follow them, I knew something bad was up because Poker-face was so upset. You know, I really don’t trust Poker-face. I feel there’s something weird about his motive for accompanying us on this expedition and I wanted to try and find out what that might be, so I followed him.” He frowned and continued in lowered tones, “I ran for a few minutes and suddenly saw something ahead in the tunnel. I took out my lamp, and then whatever it was vanished, gone like a gust of wind. I got a bit nervous, and walked further along—and then I saw tucked in between the cracks of the stone wall something that looked like a human hand, with its four fingers and thumb all the same length.” Fats looked shocked. His mouth moved a little as if he wanted to say something, but he didn’t make a sound.
Panzi continued, “So I went over to check it out. You know my weakness—I can’t control my curiosity, I would even eat shit if I really wanted to know what it tasted like. Now when I think about this, I’m still a bit spooked. I didn’t expect that handlike thing would attack me. It clasped itself around my neck with enormous strength, so much that I almost choked to death. Luckily I still had my army knife with me. On one hand I was kicking my legs around like crazy; on the other I was doing my best to cut that hand off. Then I discovered the wrist of this hand was frighteningly slender—it was only a bit thicker than one of my fingers and I couldn’t understand how the hand could be so strong with only this slight support. I struck at its wrist with my knife and cut open a very long wound. The hand released its grip immediately, and retreated back toward the cracks in the wall.” Panzi rubbed his neck and said, “I thought, Holy fuck, there must be something odd behind this wall. So I checked it by knocking it on the left and kicking it on the right. I had no idea what the hell I pressed, but my whole fucking body just fell!” He tapped the wall. “Then you guys know what happened after that. I fell into a stone chamber like this one, and found a tunnel. Lucky I’m still in good shape. I jumped for a long time and finally got up into it—otherwise I really have no idea how or when I would have run into you.”
“So you’re saying that you don’t know the whereabouts of Uncle Three and the other guys?” I sighed. I turned to Fats and asked him, “Hey you fat fuck, how did you fall into that chamber where the corpse-eaters almost ate Panzi alive? You better tell me the truth. Were you the one who provoked that goddamn rattle monster and had it come running after us?”
Fats responded, “Hell, if you really mean what you’re saying, then you do me a terrible injustice! When I ran from the guy you call Poker-face, an old guy came out of nowhere
and released the monster. Then the man chasing me saw it, said ‘oh shit,’ turned, and ran. I assessed the situation. If I had to fight that monster, I guessed my chances of winning were nonexistent. But I had to keep going; I hadn’t yet finished the task given to me by my team, so I turned and ran too. After I ran for a while, I saw that guy in front of me yelling to stop where I was. I still hadn’t figured out what was going on, but he kicked the wall, and I fell before I knew what was happening to me. And I thought following him was going to save me! Shit, there were so many insects down in that place.” As he spoke, he looked around as if the corpse-eaters were crawling out to bite him again.
Panzi glanced at me and said, “You see, Poker-face seems to know a lot about this tomb. There are plenty of reasons to be suspicious of him.”
I had begun to think that Poker-face was not a bad guy, because whenever he was around, I felt safe, but when Panzi put it this way, I began to realize that all along this quiet bastard seemed to know way too much.
It was as if he could anticipate everything before it happened, and that made me uneasy.
We were silent for some time, and then changed the subject. Fats argued that we couldn’t solve anything by just sitting around, and suggested that we go back into the tunnels to test our luck. Panzi agreed with him, so we decided to rest for a little longer and then go on.
I began to doze off and was half-asleep, when I noticed Fats raising his eyebrows and rolling his eyeballs at me. Damn, I thought sleepily, is this guy some kind of schizophrenic? How else could you explain his putting a crock on his head to scare people in an ancient tomb? He was either extremely daring or extremely nuts. Now that one of us is badly hurt and none of us has a clue of where we are, he’s still crazy enough to make faces at me. If I had enough energy, I’d get up and beat the hell out of him.
But then I saw Panzi was making the same weird expressions as he stared in my direction. What the hell? I thought, Is psychosis contagious?
Both of them were patting their left shoulders, their mouths moving as if they were saying, “Hand, hand!” and sweat was beginning to run down their foreheads. It was so demented that I took a look at my own hand, but there was nothing wrong with it. Did they mean my shoulder? I slowly peered down and there hanging onto my shoulder was a small green hand.
Chapter Seventeen
AN OPENING IN THE CAVE
The fingers and thumb on the hand were all the same length, its wrist was extremely thin, and it looked exactly as Panzi had described—intensely revolting. Fats made a gesture that warned me not to panic but I wasn’t afraid. I’d come across so many horrible things recently that I felt as though someone was playing a stupid prank on me. If anything I was pissed off and wanted to bite that disgusting little hand as hard as I could, but somehow logic and reasoning kept me from doing that.
Using Panzi’s gun, Fats poked at the hand in attempts to jar it from my shoulder. When the gun came close by, the hand grabbed it, coiled around it like a snake, and began to tug it away but Fats refused to let go. Anchoring himself with his big butt, he embarked upon a tug-of-war with that little hand.
I went to help him and he needed it. Although Fats was very strong, even with my assistance he could barely hold his own against this monstrous little thing. Although he was unable to join us in our struggle, Panzi drew back his arm and threw Fats his army knife.
Fats muttered an obscenity as he caught the knife and quickly cut a large chunk of green tissue from the hand, which released its grasp on the gun, flung itself into the darkness, and disappeared, writhing away from us like a snake. As soon as its force was withdrawn, Fats and I fell backward with our legs in the air.
Fats was on his feet in a second. He ran to see where the hand might have gone and found a deep, trenchlike crevice in the stone wall. He tried to squeeze in but the opening was too small for his bulk. Frustrated, he raised his fists and punched at the wall, which to our surprise, crumbled under the force of his bare hands.
“Look,” he cried, “there’s a large tunnel leading to a cave!”
We hurried over as Fats illuminated the place with his flashlight. Indeed, there was another pathway within that opening. The interior was very dark, and we had no idea where this tunnel would lead us. Who would ever suspect there was a tunnel hidden in such a dark spot along the wall? No wonder the corpse-eating bugs could come and go as swiftly as ghosts, I realized.
Panzi touched the opening and said, “Looks like this is a man-made tunnel. Could it have been dug for the corpse-eaters to move through?”
“You’re saying those damn bugs are in here?” Fats was just about to crawl into the tunnel but stopped when he heard Panzi’s next words, “Don’t worry. Earlier when Poker-face was taking care of my wounds for me, I wiped some of his blood onto my own hand. You see,” he pointed to a bloodstained spot on his palm, “You guys use a bit of spit and wipe some of this on your faces. It’s got to have some power.”
I could not help laughing. “You’re such a crook for God’s sake. He saved your life and then you stole his blood!”
Panzi smiled with embarrassment and said, “I don’t know why, but when I saw his blood dripping onto the ground, I had a feeling that it shouldn’t go to waste.”
Fats didn’t understand what we were talking about, and asked, “Why? Is this guy’s blood that powerful?”
We nodded, and told him about what had happened back in the carcass cave.
“I don’t know why this opening was put here,” Panzi told us, “but since we’re lost in this maze of tunnels, I guess it’s our only hope. Why don’t we go in and take a look?”
I stared at the opening. Only one person could go through it at a time, and it gave me the creeps. I did not feel good about going in, but if we didn’t take some sort of action, we were sure to die in this place so I nodded in agreement. Fats took off his belt and tied it to his leg, saying to Panzi, “You hold onto my belt and I’ll lead the way.”
Without saying another word, he crawled into the tunnel. Panzi clutched the belt and was pulled inside. I watched them disappear in the darkness, summoned all my courage, and followed them.
Fats slowly led the way. There were a few narrow spots he almost got stuck in and only made it through by holding his breath. Panzi was not only in pain as he was dragged along, but his face was directly in line with Fats’s ass. “You’d better not fart right now,” he muttered.
Fats was too short of breath to respond, and from his silence, I could tell he was exhausted. The three of us crawled like worms for heaven knows how long. Then Fats suddenly whispered, “I can see light!” He abruptly increased his speed, making Panzi cry “Take it easy!” as the faster pace jostled his wounds. But Fats continued to climb more and more swiftly, which—considering his size—was almost a miracle.
I could see the light myself; it grew brighter as we climbed. I told myself that we just might have lucked out; maybe we’d soon be back above ground.
Fats was already climbing up into the light and the minute he was out, I heard him yell, “Holy shit, where in the hell are we now?”
Chapter Eighteen
TREE OF DEATH
I carefully climbed out of the tunnel and found only a small ledge to stand on. It jutted out from a cliff that looked as though it was hundreds of feet high. Gusts of strong wind blew toward us and I had to cling to the wall of the cliff as I checked out our new surroundings.
Like Fats, I had no idea of where the hell we were now. On the side of the cliff was a gigantic natural cave roughly the size of a soccer field. It had a huge crack in its ceiling where just enough moonlight shone through to make the cavern’s outline visible.
I was standing near the cave wall to the west. There was nothing above or below me to support any climbing activity. I glanced around and discovered that surrounding us were many other cave openings, all closely packed together. It looked like there could be tens of thousands of them, making the area look as if it had been swept a few dozen times by
many different high-caliber machine guns.
The most amazing thing was a gigantic, towering tree in the middle of the cave that was closest to me. It looked about ten stories high, and probably could not be encircled even if ten men stretched their arms around it. Covering it was a huge number of vines as thick as telephone poles, intertwined and crisscrossed, nearly engulfing everything they touched. Their tendrils hung down like weeping willow branches, some of them swinging in midair, some touching the ground. Other vines extended into the openings of the other caves and spread almost everywhere in my field of vision.
As I looked more closely, I could see many objects hanging from the tree’s branches. At first I thought they were fruit, but they were the wrong size and shape for that to be true. Hidden behind a thick, dense layer of vines, they swung as the wind blew.
There was a round stone veranda at the bottom of this cave, leading from a small piece of construction that looked like a worship platform. It stretched all the way to the branches of the mammoth tree, and at the other end I could dimly see another platform. On that had been placed a bed made out of jade, with what looked like a man lying upon it. But it was too far away, and since I could only faintly make out the outlines of what I saw, I dared not reach a conclusion.
Fats was very excited, shouting, “Shit, I’ve looked everywhere! This must be the main chamber of the Western Zhou dynasty tomb. It’s definitely the body of the Ruler of Dead Soldiers lying on top of that jade platform. What a wicked old bastard—a vulture who stole the nest of a dove. He robbed someone’s grave and then used that tomb for himself. On behalf of heaven, I’ll punish him today for his lack of professional ethics. He’ll suffer the fate of any dishonest grave robber!”
Obviously Fats was so upset he was able to overlook his own lack of professional ethics.