Chapter Seventy-Six: Emerging from the Tomb

Lately, things have been so busy that Old Bei has no choice but to rise at five in the morning. That way, he can carve out two or three extra hours to write. The best hours of his day—dawn and dusk—he reserves for his beloved novel. What a delight.

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I was so frightened my legs had gone weak, but fortunately, Fatty grabbed me, and I followed him out almost without thinking. After we reached the back of the stone rack, Fatty snatched up the bundle on the ground filled with burial goods. Whether from terror or exhaustion, he was breathing heavily all the way; I’d never seen him so disheveled.

As for me... aside from fear and fatigue, I remained unscathed.

As we neared the stone screen, I glanced up without thinking. In the chilling darkness, those pale shadows appeared again, keeping a strange distance from me, watching coldly like specters.

Just as we dashed out through the stone door, Qin Feng and Second Fool rushed up to take my father. They all clustered at the entrance, weapons in hand, clearly ready to storm inside. When they saw the three of us emerge, my uncle’s face finally relaxed, his wrinkles easing a bit.

At that moment, I had no energy for anything else; I intended to hand the wooden box to my uncle. But for reasons unknown, a thought flashed through my mind, and instead, I quietly passed the box to Fatty.

Fatty, ever shrewd, noticed my action. Though he couldn’t guess my intent, he hid the box without a word.

I turned and said, “We need to get my father to the hospital, quickly.”

Everyone there was an old hand; even without my urging, none would have hesitated. Second Fool hoisted my father onto his back and, ignoring everyone behind, rushed straight for the cliff’s edge.

It was then I saw that each end of the cliff had a stone cave. What chilled me most was that the entrance to each cave was partly over the cliff—one-fifth lay on the cliff, four-fifths outside. The section on the cliff was too narrow for anyone to stand firm. Though it looked just a step away, actually entering the cave was tough; you’d have to leap three or five meters in one go.

Second Fool, wiry and agile, managed it with ease, even carrying my father. Qin Feng, bare-chested and holding a miner’s lamp, followed without difficulty. The rest of the crew, hoisting their gear, moved swiftly as well. Watching their nimble movements, a sense of unease crept into my heart.

Perhaps everyone was worried about my father, so for a moment, no one paid me any mind. I’d thought my uncle would wait for me, but he simply kicked off, leaping across the cliff with a speed even greater than the crew’s.

In less than half a minute, the noisy cliff was suddenly empty save for Fatty and me.

“Well, looks like you’re not exactly the princess of the manor,” Fatty said, grinning as he hefted his bundle of burial goods.

I was rather frustrated. Not only could I not jump across to the cave entrance, but even if I made it, there might be a fork inside—how would we know which way to go?

Just as I was thinking this, a head poked out from the cave entrance. To my surprise, it was Little Tiger, whom Peanut had rescued earlier in the spider cocoon chamber.

“Come on, I’ll catch you!” Little Tiger called.

“You’re going to catch me? I weigh seventy kilos,” I said, eyeing his skinny arms with little confidence.

Suddenly, Fatty kicked me from behind and slung his heavy pack over my shoulder. Then, he crouched in front of me like a giant toad.

“What are you playing at?” I demanded.

Across the way, Little Tiger laughed. “He’s about to play Pigsy carrying his bride.”

I understood at once, but still doubted Fatty. “You sure you can do it?”

Fatty seemed speechless. “Before you question others, maybe you should take a look at yourself. What a wimp...”

There was no helping it; who could blame me for being so useless? I climbed onto Fatty’s back, and he took a few steps back before sprinting forward. With me and the heavy pack on his back, he leapt high—his bulk was not for nothing. I’d trained in athletics, and seeing the height of his jump, I was confident.

But who would have thought, Fatty jumped so high that though he landed squarely in the stone cave, my head scraped against the cave’s ceiling. Everything went black; I remember cursing Fatty, then lost consciousness.

While unconscious, I dreamed.

In the dream, I became a tiny infant, sitting in a bamboo crib. Beside me was a chubby baby, half again my size, with Fatty’s face atop his infant body.

“Fatty, why do you look like this?” I cried, startled.

The chubby baby laughed heartily. As I wondered, he grabbed a rattle-drum and started banging it on my head, chanting gleefully, “You little egg, you little egg...”

Damn it, I was about to get angry, but realized I felt no pain. My mind was foggy; I hadn’t realized I was dreaming. Seeing Fatty so delighted, I let him be.

Glancing around, I found the crib was set in a rural living room, the kind found in country homes. Facing me was the main hall’s door, open to the outside, where an old man with graying hair sat with his back to me, puffing on a long pipe.

I’d never seen him before, so I called out loudly. He seemed to hear me, but did not turn around; he just shouted sideways, “Wet the bed again.”

No sooner had he spoken than a woman’s voice came from a door behind me, “Coming, coming…”

The old man’s accent seemed northeastern, but the woman’s was more southern. As I pondered this, I heard the woman singing as she approached.

“Crossing the Peach Blossom Ferry three miles… Passing the Apricot Flower Village six miles… Through the Seven Treasures Pavilion… In front of the Mulberry Orchard nine miles. Behold, how lush the mulberry grove, families numbering in the dozens…”

My heart skipped a beat. I suddenly remembered—this was the same opera song I’d heard twice before in my dreams. Thinking of this, I turned to look for the singing woman.

But when I turned, Fatty’s big smiling face was right before my eyes, still banging the rattle-drum on my head.

“You little egg, you little egg…”

Amid Fatty’s repeated laughter, I slowly opened my eyes. At once, a sharp pain stabbed them; as I adjusted, I realized it was sunlight. A wave of midsummer heat pressed in from all sides. Then, Fatty’s voice rang out.

“Wake up, something’s happened!”

I rubbed my eyes, gradually acclimating to my surroundings. Suddenly, I realized I was no longer in the ancient tomb. Looking around, I saw I was lying beside a little stream at the foot of the mountain.

“We’re out? We’re out… ha, ha…” I was so excited I wanted to shout, but my mind and body felt disconnected, and in the end, I merely sat there in a daze, smiling awkwardly as if on the verge of tears.

Fatty splashed me with water; the coolness brought me back to my senses.

I saw Fatty was filthy, even dirtier than he’d been in the tomb. I was about to speak, but he covered my mouth.

“Don’t make a sound. Look over there,” he whispered, gesturing behind me.

Puzzled, I turned my head and saw my uncle and the others, their backs to me. Second Fool was still carrying my father, standing at the front of the group.

“What are they doing? Why aren’t they rushing my father to the hospital?” I asked anxiously.

“There’s a roadblock—the same group that went to the tomb looking for your father,” Fatty said.

I looked ahead and saw a dozen or so people, all in short sleeves with backpacks, smiling as they blocked the path. At their head was a sinister-looking old man, about sixty, fiddling with two iron balls in his hand.