Chapter 24: The Plan

Looking back at that scene now, I feel a slight flush on my weathered face. Indeed, times have changed; burning incense, kowtowing, and swearing brotherhood are no longer in vogue.

Yet, back then, I was genuinely stirred. It was a profound shift in a man’s state of mind. Three men, fearing nothing in heaven or on earth, began to concoct our grand design with unbridled ambition. The warnings of Yao Yumen and the misgivings of Chief Wang were cast into the wind. Our singular thought was to pull off something massive—to breach that stone gate and see what truly lay within.

Later, Boss Sun sold half of the unearthed bronzeware. Chief Wang kept the rest, including the bronze dou vessel inscribed with the four characters "Jie Hou Dai Zi." When the day came to divide the money, our group gathered—though, of course, Chief Wang was unaware of our secret plan.

It was the first time I had ever seen that much money. It was packed in large plastic bags, stacked in neat bundles of ten thousand. We were using the fourth series of the renminbi back then—those blue hundred-yuan notes featuring the four heads. Each bundle was wrapped in white paper.

"Old Third, this is yours."
"Boss, this is yours."
"Little Red, this is for you and your boys. You’ve worked hard this trip."

"One-Mole" stroked the plastic bag and chuckled, "Thanks, Chief."

Chief Wang nodded. He watched as he pushed a plastic bag toward me. "Yunfeng, you’re new to the trade, but you’ve put in plenty of effort. This is yours. Don’t think it’s too little."

I stared at the bulging plastic bag and swallowed hard. "Ch-Chief, how much is this?"

"One hundred and thirty thousand," he said calmly.

My hands shook even more. I had never seen so much money before, nor had I ever imagined I would.

"Chief, I still owe you fifty thousand." I reached to open the bag to take the money out.

"No, no," he waved me off. "You can’t give away money from your first job to someone else. It’s bad luck. Keep it for now; we’ll talk about that fifty thousand later."

I nodded without a word and accepted it. This was the first pot of gold in my life. The earnings from this single haul were equivalent to three or four years of income from my aunt’s farmhouse restaurant!

Cats have their paths, and mice have their tunnels. I, Xiang Yunfeng, had hit the big time!

As for my second brother’s share, Chief Wang said he would keep it in custody for a year. If he hadn't returned by then, the money would go to Boss Sun.

I was curious about who had bought our goods, so I asked the Boss later. He said the buyer was very mysterious—a "Hong Kong runner." That was what we called them back then: middlemen who ran errands for the real buyers. They never dealt with us directly; everything went through the runner. This was because the laws in Hong Kong were different from the mainland. Bronze artifacts could be legally auctioned there, which is why the headquarters of Christie’s and Sotheby’s were located in Hong Kong at the time. That place was the largest dumping ground for looted cultural relics in the country—bar none.

The first generation of people in China to get rich from antiquities were all well-entrenched in Hong Kong, including several figures you often see on television today. I knew many of them. It isn’t that I’m trying to disparage them; it’s just that no one who built their fortune this way had clean hands.

After the money was divided, Chief Wang prepared to leave Shunde. He asked where we intended to go. Harboring our own schemes, we naturally didn't tell the truth.

Boss Sun spoke up, "Chief, Old Third, Yunfeng, and I have discussed it. We’re planning to go to Dongguan to have some fun for five or six months. We’ll wait for your instructions for the next job when the time comes."

"Oh? The three of you are going to Dongguan together?" The Chief glanced at us, looking slightly surprised.

"Yes, that’s right. Look, Chief, Yunfeng is grown up now but still doesn't know a thing about the world. We’re taking him to broaden his horizons."

Though the Boss was lying to the Chief, his words were not entirely false. The escort industry was in a stage of explosive growth at the time. In 1999, the Beijing Changqing Tai Restaurant Group was established; many people don't know that the female boss’s base of operations was in Dongguan, and that Beijing Changqing later became the notorious "Heaven on Earth" club. At the time, the highest standards of service in the country were found in Dongguan and Beijing, which was why Boss Sun intentionally chose to say we were going to Dongguan.

The Chief believed him. He returned to Beijing the next day, telling us to have a good time and wait for his word if another job came up. As for us, we stayed in Shunde to carry out our plan. We changed our lodging but didn't go anywhere else.

On Feie Mountain, there were over twenty mu of paddy fields near the tomb. The Boss, acting as an outside investor, spent less than twenty days buying them all up. Money certainly makes things easier. After purchasing the fields, we hired people to put up a fence. Our base of operations was at the foot of Feie Mountain, where there used to be a few single-story houses—long since demolished to make way for the greenery of Shunfeng Park.

That evening, "One-Mole" bought three young calves. He had specifically sought out this breed, called Charolais—the fastest-growing cattle, which would also be incredibly strong once they matured.

We calculated that with high-quality feed, a young Charolais calf could reach adulthood in five months. It would take about four months for them to be strong enough to help us pull the seal stone. One-Mole brought back cold-weather tents and supplies. That same night, we used ropes to lower the calves down. Even as calves, they weighed over a hundred pounds, and the real problem was that they were uncooperative, kicking and headbutting us. It took a lot of effort, and we were drenched in sweat by the time we finished.

The opening was just large enough; any bigger and it wouldn't have worked, but it was a perfect fit.

In the history of grave robbing, I doubt there’s ever been anything like it—raising live cattle inside a tomb. It was an absolutely insane method; I still don’t know what was going through the Third Brother’s mind back then.

We set up tents below, drove a stake into the ground, and tethered the cows. For those few months, those three calves were our ancestors. We practically begged them to eat their feed, feeding them eight times a day if we could, making sure they were well-fed. The palace was damp and humid, and Boss Sun would crawl out of his tent every night to check if the calves were alright.

I only went down occasionally; most of the time, I would secretly lower water, food, and feed down with ropes at night, covering the entrance with sod afterward. During the day, I usually slept in the bungalow. I had a small pair of binoculars and would often use them to keep watch, checking if our fence had fallen. Sometimes, when One-Mole had free time to cover for me, I would go out to find Li Jing.

Two months later, Li Jing started her senior year of high school.

I bought three pounds of sponge cake and went to find her as usual, but when I arrived at her house, I found her sitting on her bed, hugging her knees, looking wretched.

"Xiaojing... what’s wrong? I brought you some sponge cake."

Li Jing’s pretty face was deathly pale. She bit her lip hard, staring at me with a piercing gaze. Suddenly, she threw a pillow at me.

"Xiang Yunfeng! Why did you lie to me!"
"Wang Qiang told me everything! You aren't a student at the No. 1 High School at all! You’re not even from Shunde!"
"You liar! You liar!" she screamed, her eyes red.

I stepped back, my hand trembling, and the sponge cake fell to the floor, rolling across the ground.