Chapter Eighteen: Be Careful of What’s Above Your Head

Peanut told me that in ancient times, the tombs of the dead were divided: the mausoleum was outside and the grave within; the mausoleum above and the grave below. Sometimes, the mausoleum could be right before your eyes, while the grave lay a thousand miles away—such arrangements were entirely possible. The form of the mausoleum was exceedingly complex, especially for emperors and dignitaries of old, who cared passionately about its structure and appearance. The mausoleum was a place for worship and sacrifice; the more illustrious the family, the grander the mausoleum.

“What we see here—the watchtower—is a mausoleum. Unlike ordinary towers, its entrance is flanked by large metal vessels for rituals. Yet the specifications of this mausoleum are far too high; not something a prince of the Western Han should enjoy,” Peanut stopped searching. “During the Western Han, the relationship between the emperor and the princes was fraught; all princes were suppressed. Such a colossal project for a mausoleum could easily invite disaster.”

I nodded, recalling the story of Zhu Fu Yan I’d once studied. He helped Emperor Wu of Han squeeze several feudal lords, and ended up dead because of it. “So this mausoleum isn’t for a prince—could it be for an emperor?”

“This tomb is very strange. We’ll only know for sure when we go inside.”

Thinking about entering, I sighed. “We’re right in front of it, but can’t reach it. I wonder how my father is doing now.”

“We’ll make it across,” Peanut said with certainty. “Another group came in, didn’t they? We haven’t seen them, so they must have already crossed. There must be a way.”

“Mm,” I nodded, about to resume searching, when something felt amiss. I turned—Old Tan had vanished.

“Old Tan!” I called, but only my own echo returned to me. Where had he gone? He’d been mumbling behind me just moments ago… Could it be…

A sudden sense of foreboding welled up. I grabbed my flashlight and shone it into the moat, thinking he’d maybe fallen in. But the water’s surface was tranquil, showing no sign of anything having plunged in.

“What now?” I turned to Peanut, who squinted, scanning the surroundings warily.

At that moment, something dropped onto the plaza with a sharp “crack.” Immediately, a faint, intermittent light began to flicker in the dark ahead. At first, I was bewildered, but soon realized what the flashing was.

When we bought flashlights, we’d chosen this particular German model for its unique feature: in the wild, if the flashlight fell or was damaged, it would activate a backup system that emitted flashes for three to five days—good enough for signaling rescue. The shopkeeper had demonstrated it for us. So, seeing the flashes, I understood at once.

I rushed forward. Sure enough, it was Old Tan’s flashlight. It had been shattered, with only the tail’s signal light blinking. To break this military-grade flashlight so badly, unless the user smashed it deliberately, it must have fallen from a great height.

Instinctively, I looked up. Peanut was silent, gazing upward, placing his index finger to his lips to signal me to keep quiet. Then he began adjusting the front of his own flashlight, focusing the beam to narrow its radius and increase its range.

The circle of light on the ground reached its maximum intensity. Peanut raised the flashlight high. Instantly, a half-meter diameter of the darkness above us was illuminated. About thirty meters overhead, two legs flailed within the beam. No need to look closely—I knew it was Old Tan.

“Old Tan!” I cried out reflexively, not knowing what was happening.

Peanut tried to stop me, but it was too late. My voice echoed across the plaza, and Old Tan’s suspended body suddenly moved. Peanut followed him with the beam, and we realized something was wrong.

Old Tan’s legs were kicking in midair. He was some distance from the ceiling of the chamber. Yet he was slowly moving in a straight line toward the tower across the moat, as if something were dragging him.

The darkness all around was thick with mist; the flashlight’s beam barely reached its limit, unable to reveal more.

“Peanut, throw stones, like before! Old Tan must be caught by something!” I shouted in panic.

“No. We don’t know what’s up there yet. Even if I hit something, he’ll fall and die,” Peanut replied calmly, his eyes tracking Old Tan’s movements.

“What do we do, then? We can’t just watch him get dragged away!” Sweat poured down my brow; I had no idea what to do. What unsettled me most was that Old Tan, hanging thirty meters above, made not a sound. Why wasn’t he shouting? He should be screaming.

Peanut’s eyes narrowed; if not for the severity etched on his face, I would have thought he was about to fall asleep. Overhead, Old Tan’s legs slowed, like a man hanging himself, his struggles weakening before death. I suddenly couldn’t bear to look anymore. Old Tan had come along partly out of curiosity, partly to help me. If it weren’t for me—when he saw the rat drop dead outside, he would have bolted. Now, I’d led him into this dead-end, with no sign of my father’s shadow, and my friend’s life on the line?

Seeing Old Tan’s legs grow still, despair crept into my heart. Then Peanut suddenly turned, glanced behind, then at the tower across the moat. He dropped his backpack, grabbed his flashlight, and dashed toward the edge of the plaza.

Was he running away? No, I shook my head and dropped my own pack, quickly following.

Peanut stopped before a giant stone pillar, then looked again toward the tower.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“No time to explain.” He bit the flashlight between his teeth, and, like a monkey, leapt onto the pillar and climbed swiftly upwards.

The base of the pillar was perfectly round; I doubted even a real monkey could scale it. Yet Peanut seemed to fly, clambering up in seconds to perch atop the carved face at its summit. I was dumbstruck, still unclear what he intended.

He stood as high as Old Tan, but separated by more than a hundred meters. What good would that do? Was he about to strip off his jacket and reveal he was Superman?

I watched as Peanut stood steadily atop the pillar, despite the height and darkness. Then his hands began probing the shadows in front of him, searching for something. Suddenly, his hand paused in the darkness, almost level with the pillar’s top, as if he’d grabbed something. I heard him say, “Just as I thought.”

“What did you catch?” I shouted.

Peanut didn’t respond, but his next action nearly scared me to death.

He pressed both hands into the darkness before the pillar, slowly lifted his feet from its surface, and, with his whole body, hung suspended in midair.

I reached out from below, ready to catch him, but Peanut didn’t fall. He hung upside down, as if gripping a rope, his hands and feet entwined around something.

No—there really was a rope or something similar up there, or he’d have dropped. I didn’t understand what it was, but seeing Peanut’s direction, I realized he meant to crawl across to Old Tan from above.

At first, his movements were cautious, but within seconds, his speed increased dramatically. I watched his flashlight beam slide ahead with him. Sure enough, he was heading for Old Tan.

After half a minute’s pursuit, Peanut was less than ten meters from Old Tan. Old Tan’s situation was dire; I hoped Peanut could save him quickly.

Then Peanut slowed, raised his flashlight, and shone it on Old Tan. The light brightened, and I gasped, unable to react, unsure what I was seeing.

The beam revealed a pitch-black shadow, at whose base was a mass of dark gray matter. Initially, I couldn’t see Old Tan’s head, and feared it was gone, but then realized it was buried in that gray mass. At that moment, he looked like some lifeless factory part hanging from a crane, inching forward without life.

“Peanut, quick! Save him!” I screamed, tearing my throat.

In a blink, Peanut suddenly lunged at Old Tan’s body, and the shadow controlling Old Tan shuddered. Peanut, suspended in midair, grabbed Old Tan’s thigh, but his flashlight slipped and fell. Darkness engulfed the space above. Frantically, I raised my own flashlight, but it revealed nothing. I realized my beam wasn’t focused enough, so I twisted it urgently.

As I struggled with the flashlight, a woman’s sob suddenly sounded overhead. The cry was wretched, as if a bride in the dead of night weeping atop her husband’s grave. Ignoring the chills on my scalp, I saw the light circle shrink to its limit and raised it sharply.

But when I looked back to the spot, it was pitch-black—nothing there. The crying faded toward the tower, and I stood in confusion, swinging my flashlight wildly.