Chapter Twelve: White Bones

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“Big Brother, what is ‘Jiehou Daizi’? Is it some kind of seaweed?”

The eldest Sun didn’t laugh. He looked at me and said, “It’s not seaweed. It’s a person’s name. There’s only a brief mention of him in the records. Unexpectedly, we stumbled upon it by accident. So, what do you think? Shall we move tonight? I see the second and third brothers are already ready.”

Wang Batou’s eyes grew serious as he asked, “No problems at the base, right?”

The eldest Sun nodded. “No, the youngsters under Yikezhi are quite sharp.”

“Boss, let’s hold off on this batch of goods for now, especially that bronze incense burner. If word leaks out from Shunde, we’re likely to attract wolves.”

“Wolves from the south?” The boss’s face darkened.

“I’m afraid it’s not just the southern wolves. Wolves are everywhere now; meat is scarce, and they’re scavenging bones. If our cover isn’t tight, the scent of meat might draw wild wolves.”

“Boss, I’ve decided,” Wang Batou said, holding out his palm. “Five days. Shorten the time to five days. Get everything out. Once we’ve got it, let’s leave Shunde as soon as possible and lay low for a while.”

From the conversation between Wang Batou and the eldest Sun, I could tell they were both tense, as if fearing something.

...

After midnight, on Moth Mountain.

Sun Er squatted smoking, while Sun San counted the sacks.

“Calm and steady, let’s begin.” The voice of the eldest Sun came over the walkie-talkie.

“Yunfeng, how many sacks do you have?”

“Second Brother, I still have four.”

“Hmm, that should be about right.” After saying that, Sun Er stomped out his cigarette butt.

At that moment, eerie bird calls echoed from Moth Mountain. The sound was unsettling in the dead of night.

“Really ominous,” Wang Batou cursed twice, staring at the pitch-black mountain behind us. He said the bird was a death knell bird, not a good omen.

The death knell bird was an owl, referred to in ancient times as the night hawk. It was most often seen near ancient burial grounds, hence the ominous name.

“Pah, damn dead bird,” Sun Er spat several times towards the mountain.

Once the owl fell silent, we began moving.

The tunnel we had dug earlier was well concealed by Yikezhi’s men. The entrance was covered with intact yellow grass mats, supported underneath by four wooden poles. From the outside, it was almost impossible to spot any flaws.

We cleared the items away, strapped on headlamps, and the Sun brothers slid down the tunnel, legs braced. I struggled quite a bit and was the last to descend.

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The murky water in the tomb pit beneath the entrance had mostly drained; it no longer submerged our feet, though the ground was muddy and sticky underfoot.

The burial passage was dark and damp, with a noticeably lower temperature than above.

Adjusting my headlamp, Sun Er said to me, “Batou is right. We need to speed up. Yunfeng, go check the west antechamber we were at yesterday. See if anything was missed in the corners or on the floor. If nothing’s left behind, come help us on the east side.”

After giving these instructions, the Sun brothers and I parted ways temporarily. They headed right toward the east antechamber, and I turned left toward the west antechamber.

With no one beside me and the tomb enveloped in darkness at this late hour, fear crept in.

Holding my headlamp, I silently repeated, “Please don’t be angry, master of the tomb. I only seek a modest gain. Amitabha.”

People light candles; ghosts blow out lamps. I had once asked Batou, “Boss, even if we’re not official tomb raiders, shouldn’t we light a white candle inside the tomb for safety? I heard that if the candle goes out, it means the tomb’s owner is unhappy, and we should leave to avoid ghosts.”

The old boss laughed heartily then. “Yunfeng, you’ve watched too many movies and dramas. A candle going out means the tomb owner is unhappy? Then if it stays lit, does it mean they’re happy? How would a tomb owner be happy to have us digging up their grave? That’s ridiculous.”

“Besides, think about it. Ancient tomb raiders did light white candles in the tombs, but only for light. Otherwise, how would they see in the darkness? Not because they wanted to light candles, but because there was no electricity. No light, no tomb raiding.”

“Now, we have headlamps and flashlights. Why light candles? Some tombs have methane gas from decomposed bodies; an open flame might cause an explosion. Got it, Yunfeng?” Those were Batou’s exact words. At first, it sounded like a joke, but on reflection, it made sense.

After a few minutes with no incidents, I reached the west antechamber.

The floor was bare. I scanned back and forth with my headlamp but found no leftover items. The dozens of bronze artifacts had already been taken.

In the northwest corner of the chamber stood the large water jar covered by a stone slab, lonely and isolated.

“Huh? Second Brother said the big jar’s worthless, but... could there be burial goods inside?”

Thinking this, I decided to take a closer look.

Sure enough, as Second Brother said, it was made of fired clay.

The earliest porcelain appeared in the Eastern Han dynasty, initially primitive celadon. Before that, coarse pottery and bronze were common. This matched the period.

What puzzled me was how such a large jar could have been fired whole.

There were no visible seams or joints on its surface, indicating it was shaped and fired in one piece. What kind of kiln could hold such a large jar? I truly couldn’t figure it out.

The stone slab covering the jar was made of bluestone. I tried pushing it with one hand but couldn’t move it; it was heavy.

Knowing the depth, I used both hands this time.

The stone scraped against the jar, producing harsh grating sounds as I slowly slid the slab aside.

“Why is there such a foul smell?”

Covered by the slab, it hadn’t been noticeable before, but now it was distinct.

I found this Western Zhou tomb strangely eerie. When we first arrived, there was a faint fragrance, but now a stench like rotten boiled eggs in midsummer wafted out.

I adjusted my headlamp and leaned down to peer inside the jar.

At the bottom, I saw a hole less than twenty centimeters wide. Beyond that, there was nothing else.

I could tell the rotten egg smell was coming from the hole.

Shining my headlamp down, I couldn’t see into the darkness beneath the hole.

Feeling curious, I pressed my body against the jar’s edge and reached my right hand into the dark hole at the bottom.

“Huh? What’s this?”

After feeling around for some time, I encountered a solid object—a long, hard thing.

I thought silently, “Could... could it be a gold bar?”

“No, no, gold bars aren’t this light.”

Grasping it firmly, I adjusted my grip and slowly pulled the object out.

It was white.

Lowering my head and shining my lamp on it, I saw it was a human thigh bone!

“Ah!”

Startled, I shouted and dropped the bone.

“Is this... the tomb owner’s skeleton? From Western Zhou, and it hasn’t decomposed to dust yet?”

I overlooked one detail, likely due to the shock.

I hadn’t noticed the bone marrow inside the thigh bone.