Chapter Thirteen: The Tomb Robbers from the South

“What are you laughing at?” Rat immediately craned his neck.

“It’s true that this place is called ‘All Beings Worship the Mother,’ but do you know which branch of geomancy that comes from? Do you know what it actually means?”

“I… of course I do.” Rat stammered, clearly unable to answer.

“Weren’t those things you just said what you overheard Master Yuan talking about last time on the road?” As Peanut said this, Rat was even more at a loss for words. “Let me tell you, ‘All Beings Worship the Mother’ is a term from Heavenly Net geomancy. Heavenly Net is a major school of feng shui, but burial sites and tombs aren’t included in its system. It’s about the grand layout of mountains and rivers, and ‘All Beings Worship the Mother’ is actually the smallest configuration within Heavenly Net geomancy. Places like these are best suited for building temples and worshiping ancestral goddesses—it has nothing at all to do with Kṣitigarbha.”

“But isn’t the Western Han royal tomb right up there? How do you explain that? You can’t tell me the geomancers back then weren’t as sharp as you, right?” Rat glared at Peanut, unconvinced.

“It is rather strange,” Peanut mused, looking up at the mountain above. Suddenly, he turned the question back to Rat: “In your opinion, what do you make of the scale of that royal tomb?”

“It’s definitely a king’s tomb! I’ve been through at least twenty royal tombs, and I’ve never seen one that big. The front passage alone is several hundred meters. I even calculated it—counting the series of connected side chambers where Six and I got lost, I’d say the entire mountain has been hollowed out.” Rat’s expression was a bit exaggerated, but he didn’t seem to be boasting.

“Building a tomb in a place like this isn’t exactly bad, but it doesn’t fit any of the geomantic landforms. For ordinary people it wouldn’t matter, but for a Western Han prince, it’s very odd.”

“Odd or not, I don’t know. But Rat, when are we heading up the mountain? I already saw a few mountain paths ahead,” I pressed him, eager to move on.

“Those paths are for ordinary people. They’ll get us where we want to go, but we’d have to rappel down from the summit. If we hurry, we can get there by tomorrow night,” Rat retorted, clearly mocking me.

“So how much longer are we going to circle around at the foot of the mountain?” Old Tan asked as well.

“Almost there—just another ten miles or so up ahead, there’s a path that leads straight to the ridge.” Rat’s expression carried a sly grin as he spoke, and I had the feeling he was hiding something from us.

I only learned later that Peanut had brought up the mountain’s geomancy with Rat partly because he genuinely had doubts, and partly to give Old Tan and me a breather.

After a brief rest, we trudged on through the darkness for another three hours, circling from one side of the mountain to the other. The sound of rushing water came from ahead, and we all went over to fetch water and wash our faces.

“All right, get ready to head up the mountain,” Rat stood up and pointed toward the shadowy forest ahead.

I was just about to stand up when Peanut said, “No, we rest now.”

“Huh, another rest?” Rat shot Peanut a hostile look. None of us understood why he wanted to stop here.

Before I could speak, Peanut patted me on the shoulder. “You’re exhausted, like a puddle of mud. If you keep going after leaving the tomb, you’ll die anyway. We’re taking four hours now to rest, eat, and sleep.”

I really didn’t want to rest, but there was no fooling my body—I was worn out, and Old Tan and I had never been through such an ordeal. Especially Old Tan, who was so tired he didn’t even want to talk. So, as Peanut instructed, we got out our food, filled our bellies, sprayed ourselves liberally with mosquito repellent, and then Old Tan and I leaned against our backpacks, resting on the rocks by the [***].

Rat was down by the river, tossing stones, while Peanut wasn’t watching him. Instead, he took out the three metal bricks and seemed lost in thought.

I closed my eyes for a while, but sleep wouldn’t come. Lighting a cigarette, I walked over and sat down in front of Peanut.

“Want one?” I offered him a cigarette. At first, he shook his head, then suddenly took it. The way he smoked told me he’d probably never done it before.

“Are you really my father’s friend?” I wanted to get some things straight.

Peanut imitated my way of exhaling smoke, then answered with a smile, “At least a few years ago, we did have dealings.”

“Then why were you sleeping in my family’s cellar, inside a coffin? Did my dad lock you in there?”

Peanut’s answer was rather odd.

“Some things can’t be locked up. Maybe I was just too tired.” The more he spoke, the more he smiled.

“Can you not talk in riddles? Just tell me directly, won’t you?” I realized chatting with him seemed easy at first, but a few words in and it became suffocating.

“I’m a troublesome person. You’d better not ask me anything, or you’ll find yourself in trouble too.”

Good grief! Was this guy addicted to reading brainless romance novels or something? After a few words, I almost gave up trying to talk to him. But I gritted my teeth and asked one more question.

“Peanut, what’s your actual name?”

Peanut grinned. “You can call me Master Hua.”

“Pfft, I might as well call you Andy Lau.” With that, I stood up, dusted myself off, and went to find Rat for a chat.

“My name is Chen Zixiang,” Peanut suddenly murmured as I turned to leave.

“Chen Zixiang…” I thought, “Nice name. But you’d better stick with Peanut.”

We both laughed. I tossed him the rest of the cigarettes and lighter, then went over to Rat and started chatting. Ever since we were kids, teachers told us, “Language is the key to the soul.” But the first thing out of that damn Rat’s mouth overturned all my teachers’ wisdom.

“Come to chat with me, huh? Tsk, tsk. Don’t bother, Young Master Yuan. We’re not the same kind of people. I’ve already told you what I know; don’t try to get anything more out of me.”

I snorted. “I just want to know—in your tomb-robbing trade, what kind of figure was my father?”

“Your dad? Now, there’s a story.” Rat sat down and begged a cigarette from me. I handed him another pack from my pocket. “Young Master Yuan, generous as ever, just like your old man… Let me tell you, your father was one of the biggest names in our business. Do you know his nickname?”

I gestured for him to continue.

“The Star-Picker.” Rat shook his head in admiration. “Your father’s hands were something else. No matter what was inside a coffin, he could get his hands on it in the blink of an eye—fast and steady.”

I was a little puzzled. “Isn’t it all the same, whether you’re quick or slow at taking things out of a coffin?”

“You don’t understand. No matter how big or rich a tomb is, the items in the coffin are always the most valuable. But those were the things most precious to the tomb’s owner—how could they let anyone take them easily? The inexperienced think that prying open the lid is all it takes, but most die at that very last step. Opening the coffin is the hardest part of tomb-robbing—sometimes, life or death is decided in just a few seconds. Your father was the best at it. Guys like me, top in the South, can’t even compare.”

Listening to him, I wondered if my ragged old man was really that formidable. Still, I couldn’t help feeling a bit proud. Rat went on about my father’s legendary exploits, slapping his thigh and practically drooling with envy.

He mentioned the North and South, so I asked how exactly these things were divided.

“It’s just a way of saying things. In the end, a thief is a thief. But yes, there are differences. The Yangtze is the dividing line. Northern tomb robbers are experts in geomancy and divination—they can spot a tomb’s location with their eyes, no question. But they’re not skilled underground. They claim to follow the rules, but really, it’s because they don’t have the ability to take out much funerary treasure. We southerners are different. As long as we find the tomb, we can strip it bare in one go, leave it cleaner than a polished plate.”

Rat looked so pleased with himself, I thought he was basically calling himself a scoundrel.

He continued, “Why are we so good? Because the South is full of talent! I make my living with my voice, but there are those who rely on their hands, eyes, nose, ears—every part of the body, we have experts for it in the South. As for Bashu, like your father’s crowd, they’re different. They have a bit of both North and South, but neither set of rules truly applies to them. They’re their own school—few in number, but with complex clan ties. Tomb robbing here is all about family. Get caught, and the whole clan goes down.”

It was all well and good until that last line—I nearly jumped up to punch him.

We talked a lot more, and I learned all sorts of strange things about the tomb-robbing world. Tilting my head back, I noticed dawn breaking on the horizon.

Peanut woke Old Tan with a tap to the forehead. We all had a big breakfast, then followed Rat up the mountain.

The path Rat took us on could hardly be called a path. The slope was over fifty degrees, and we had to cling to wild grass with one hand and use our feet to step onto stones jutting from the cliff face—it was no different from rock climbing, except with no safety ropes.

That damn Rat scampered ahead like a wild monkey, sometimes kicking down loose stones that hit me on the head—God knows if he was doing it on purpose. Ahead of me, Peanut deliberately slowed down, sometimes stopping to give Old Tan and me a hand. I’d climbed before in Beijing, but now, with over ten kilograms of gear on my back and bugs biting at my arms, I was exhausted and irritable.

“Rat, are you kidding me? We—huff—have to keep climbing like this?” Old Tan shouted, stopping for breath.

I was thinking the same thing and couldn’t help but curse, “Are you trying to ditch us?”

Rat leaned against a rock, laughing, “Look at you two—if you can’t keep up, just let me and Master Hua go!”

I cursed him silently—he really was trying to leave us behind.

We finally reached the big boulder where Rat was waiting. Peanut squinted at Rat, “We’re about sixty or seventy meters above the base now. What do you think the odds are of surviving a fall from here?”

Rat just grinned. “Master Hua, don’t mess with me. I’m not making things hard for you, but this is the only way up.”

As he spoke, Rat pointed to a clump of grass more than a person’s height ahead. “See over there? There are steps behind that grass.”

I peered closer. It looked like nothing but rock wall behind the grass—how could there be steps?

“Steps?” Peanut looked at Rat, puzzled.