Chapter 43: Losing One’s Pants

“What are you standing there dazed for?”

Seeing that I hadn’t responded for quite some time, the fat guy walked over holding a water bottle.

At that moment, my face had gone pale. Staring at the pattern on the ground, my mind raced, desperately trying to find any connection between the two.

Noticing my odd behavior, the fat guy stopped asking questions and instead took the envelope from my hand to examine it himself.

After a few glances, he also noticed the issue with the pattern. “Damn, it’s the same.” He shot me a sharp look. “What’s written inside, anyway?”

I was busy sorting through all the information I had gathered so far and had no time to answer him.

So, the fat guy went ahead and opened the letter on his own.

Ten minutes later, he finished reading. “Your family’s business is seriously complicated. How did it even get to this point? Something about a ship?”

After mentally reviewing all the details, I realized I couldn’t possibly uncover the whole truth.

The reason was simple: I had no solid lead to follow.

Though many pieces lay before me, they were scattered fragments. Take the pattern for example—it appeared here and also on that letter. It seemed like a clue, but how to find the connection between the two? I had no idea where to start.

Lately, I had learned a lot, and the most useful thing was the fat guy’s practical nature.

So, instead of digging deeper into abstract thoughts, I began to consider what I should actually do if I wanted to get to the bottom of this.

As I pondered, I felt there was a way.

First, I could be certain that my father, or rather our Yuan family, was a direct participant in all this. Therefore, the first person who could answer my questions was my father.

Then, only one name remained in my mind.

Peanut.

I had a feeling Peanut had appeared for one extremely important reason. And the task he needed to complete involved many issues: the Map of Four Directions, our Yuan family, the eldest daughter, Da Luo Feng Shui, the Three Days Concealment...

He might not be able to answer all my doubts, but as long as I understood what he was trying to do, the entire scheme would start to take shape in front of me.

The more I discovered, the more convinced I became that that sly old fox, my father, would never tell me the whole truth.

Not that he would necessarily lie outright, but what he told me would surely be peripheral matters.

So, my conclusion was simple—no matter how persistent, even risking everything, I had to follow Peanut’s trail. Only with him could I uncover the truth.

“Let’s go.” I grabbed the letter from the fat guy’s hand and stood up.

“What the hell are you doing?” The fat guy still held the photo from the envelope.

“Find a way out of here. We’re going to find Peanut and the others.”

“We definitely need to find a way out, but give me a moment to catch my breath first.” He held the photo high, scrutinizing it seriously, motioning for me to bring the flashlight closer.

I thought about it and agreed—besides the fact he had lost a lot of blood, I was exhausted too.

“So, how long do you think we’ll have to rest in this hellhole?”

“Why rush?” The fat guy glanced back at me and continued examining the photo. “This is far from breaking my record. Let me figure out this photo first.”

I was stunned.

“What do you mean, figure it out?”

After a moment, he lowered the photo from above his head and said, “If I’m not mistaken, this photo has been specially treated. That’s why it looks like this.”

“I thought you’d have some insight. Isn’t that obvious? It’s already developed like this—how else can it be treated?”

“Don’t speak so bluntly if you don’t understand.”

He placed the photo in front of me. “Feel the white areas carefully. See if there’s anything unusual.”

I looked at him puzzled, unsure of what he was up to, but did as he said, touching the photo carefully.

After a while, I noticed that besides some dampness, my fingers felt a texture like a phone’s frosted case—grainy.

This was strange. Normally, a developed photo should feel the same as an undeveloped one, so why did this photo feel as if something was attached to it?

Hearing this, the fat guy immediately said, “Exactly. There’s a layer of something coating the photo.”

“What?” I took the photo back, examining it carefully. “Do you know what’s on it?”

The fat guy wore a confident expression. “This technique is barely known nowadays, but back in the late Qing dynasty, many palace eunuchs used it to trade antiques with foreigners.”

At the end of the Qing dynasty, the nation was in decline and many rules had broken down. Foreigners plundered Chinese antiquities on a grand scale; tomb robbers roamed across the country; the trade in antiques, both open and secret, was endless.

Within the imperial palace, many people looked out for themselves. Some powerful eunuchs would steal precious items from the palace and sell them to the foreigners.

But since this was a death-worthy crime, the eunuchs had to be extremely cautious.

Before trading, they would photograph or have someone sketch the items with the cameras available at the time. They would then give the pictures or drawings to the foreigners, who would mark the items they wanted and indicate their price before returning the photos.

After several exchanges, the deal for the stolen antiques would be finalized.

For safety, the eunuchs would soak the photos or drawings in a secret palace concoction. Once dried, the image would vanish, leaving what looked like a blank sheet of paper.

Only those who knew the secret could restore the images with a special treatment.

“I don’t know what that concoction was made of, but I once heard from an old hand how to remove those things.”

Hearing the fat guy’s words, I was thrilled. I hadn’t gleaned much from the letter, but the photo was a direct clue.

“So how do we do it? We don’t have any chemicals here.”

“No need.” The fat guy said, “Both you and I already have what it takes to remove that secret coating.”

“Huh?” I was confused.

Without further explanation, the fat guy placed the photo on the ground and began to pull down his briefs right in front of me.

I thought to myself, this guy’s crazy. Last time too—why does he always whip it out at critical moments?

Just as I was thinking that, he urinated on the photo. Only then did I realize he meant urine was the key.

P.S.:

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