WOOY Chapter 4

Chang Dong had very little luggage; everything fit into one carry-on bag, which looked even more deflated than the one he had with him when he first visited the theatre.

The scene was quite pitiful. As Xiao He[mfn]the Little He from the previous chapter[/mfn] saw him off, he couldn’t help but confirm again, “Dong Ge, take another look around to make sure you haven’t forgotten anything.”

Reminded of something, Chang Dong turned back to the backstage area, and brought out a shadow puppet theater box[mfn]photo 1 [/mfn].

Before the Liberation[mfn]refers to the Communists` victory over the Nationalists in 1949[/mfn], those small-scale shadow puppet troupes that roamed the streets had all their props packed into just two theater boxes. The wobbly shoulder pole carrying them was their entire livelihood.

Chang Dong said, “I’m a quiet person with no hobbies, so give me this theater box. I can carve the puppets and practice string-pulling to pass the time.”

The theater box wasn’t worth much, so Xiao He was happy to do him a favor. He accompanied Chang Dong to the alley’s entrance, politely saying, “Dong Ge, if you ever want to come back, just give me a call.”

Chang Dong replied, “Thanks.”

He silently walked away, carrying a bag in one hand and the theater box in the other. The box was heavier than the bag, pulling one shoulder down.

Xiao He sighed, thinking that the chances of Chang Dong coming back were slim.

 

——

Chang Dong took a taxi to Beijiao Community, a part of the city, slated for demolition. Due to the developer’s lack of funds, the demolition had been intermittent, leaving half of the area in ruins and the other half still standing. When the wind blew, all the dust would be picked up from the ground. Almost no one lived there anymore.

Relying on his memory, he stopped in front of a large shop, took out a key, and opened the automatic shutter door with a forceful upward push.

Dust fell over him like a shower and his hair instantly got covered. As the sunlight passed through, the dust danced in the air.

Inside was a parked off-road vehicle.

Chang Dong walked to the car. Stuck beside the exterior rearview mirror was a dried rose, now a dark brown. He touched it, and the brittle petals crumbled into the air.

 

The car was given to Chang Dong by Kong Yang a few years ago. After receiving it, Chang Dong spent on modifications nearly half the car’s price. The Gobi Desert is not like country roads; the desert can easily trap cars, and the large salt crusts in Lop Nor can shred tires like a dog gnawing on a bone.

He installed a roll cage[mfn]photo 2[/mfn], raised the body, replaced the tires with all-terrain ones, and equipped it with an electric winch. After a series of modifications, the originally strong and handsome off-road vehicle became more solid and practical, though a bit less stylish. Kong Yang thought it wasn’t good-looking, but Chang Dong replied that practicality was what mattered.

There were plenty of flashy Land Rovers and Hummers on the road that could attract beautiful women, but for him, a car was for use and survival in emergencies. It was lucky that this car survived—during the “Black Camellia” event, a major car brand sponsored them, and for advertising purposes, they couldn’t use their own car.

After Kong Yang died, Chang Dong sold off his assets, but kept this car, thinking he might need it someday.

The car was covered in dust. Chang Dong brushed it off with his hand and stood in front of the trunk for a while before slowly opening it.

The long-sealed plastic smell hit him in the face. Inside was a bundle of thick black PVC body bags, eighteen in total, and a bag of miscellaneous items, some his and some Kong Yang’s.

Chang Dong moved the body bags aside to make room for the shadow puppet theater box.

He wondered if Fatty Tang and the others had watched the video to the end. At 4 minutes and 12 seconds, when he was bleeding profusely from being hit by a brick, he rasped, “I’ll find a way to collect their bodies.”

None of the families of the deceased believed those words. The search and rescue units had explained it to them many times: “It’s normal not to find the bodies. You know Peng Jiamu, right? He disappeared there in the early 1980s. There were six large-scale search operations, even helicopters were used, and after more than thirty years, his body still hasn’t been found.”

After putting away his luggage, Chang Dong sat in the driver’s seat. While clearing out the glove box, he found an expired chocolate candy. After two years and 8 seasons, it had melted and solidified again and again, slowly losing its shape. He unwrapped the paper and slowly chewed the candy.

The sweetness had turned sour.

He pulled out a photo from the inner pocket of his clothing.

Kong Yang, growing out of the yellow clay, eyes wide open in death, hair tangled in the wind like beckoning hands, calling him over.

——

Waking up, Fatty Tang still felt terribly frustrated: talking badly about someone behind their back, no problem; doing something that weighs on his conscience, no issue; but getting caught red-handed, that was just shameful.

So his morning temper was worse than usual. He opened the shop door and, passing through the grocery area, accidentally knocked over two eggs. The shells broke, and the egg liquid spread all over the floor—they had gone bad from not being sold for too long.

Fatty Tang wanted to curse: The antique business had been tough these past two years. He had converted half of his shop to sell groceries to make ends meet, only to find this business equally bleak. Every day the shop was open, it lost money. At this rate, when would he ever get rich?

As the old saying goes, “A person cannot become wealthy without ill-gotten gains, just as a horse cannot get fat without night feed.” 

After freshening up, with the sun high in the sky and no customers at the door, Fatty Tang took some bread and milk from the shelf for breakfast. He started the computer, preparing to play a couple of rounds of Mahjong on QQ to dispel his gloom.

As soon as he logged in, he received a message from Qi Liuhai.

“—I compared it again last night and found a few more videos related to Ye Liuxi. I’ve sent them to your email. See if you want to forward them to your friend.”

Fei Tang casually clicked into his email and opened the videos.

Lacking Chang Dong’s patience, he dragged the progress bar back and forth, skimming through it until he suddenly saw a familiar storefront.

Shaanxi History Museum?

These days, people dealing in antiques can’t just rely on flowery words; they need some “cultural literacy.” Fatty Tang read diligently and often went to the Shaanxi History Museum to self-educate. When persuading customers, he’d often reference the museum: “Look at this painted pottery figurine; it’s almost identical to the one preserved at the Shaanxi History Museum…”

He knew the museum layout as well as he knew his own store shelves.

Fatty Tang squinted at the edited video: Ye Liuxi walked neither fast nor slow, without stopping, following the signs all the way to the Treasure Gallery.

She ignored the two urns and a pot at the entrance; she directly passed by the glittering jade and gold artifacts…

Finally, she stopped, and Fatty Tang felt a chill run down his spine.

The Animal Head Agate Cup.

In the Treasure Gallery, people came and went. Visitors gathered around the display case of the Animal Head Agate Cup, guides came and went, and several groups passed by, yet Ye Liuxi didn’t move from her spot.

Fatty Tang held his breath.

When Ye Liuxi finally left, Fei Tang’s heart was pounding: with a 30-yuan ticket to the Treasure Gallery and so many priceless artifacts to see, why did she only focus on the cup, ignoring treasures like the Dancing Horse and Lotus Silver Perfume Ball?

 

A thought was bubbling in his mind, it was just about to burst out like boiling water, just a little more…

He dialed his colleague’s number, speaking almost incoherently, “I have to ask, the person who came to authenticate the agate cup, was it a man or a woman? Was the item genuine?”

The other end answered, “A woman. I’m telling you, both the old master and I looked at it; it’s genuine. An entire piece of silk-agate, with exquisite jade carving, gold-capped mouth and nose…”

“So why wasn’t it acquired?”

The person on the other end was also frustrated, “The Animal Head Agate is so famous, it’s in the Shaanxi History Museum. At first glance, you’d definitely think it was a fake and wouldn’t even consider that it could be real , and besides, she wasn’t selling it.”

“When she left, I thought about it and realized something. They always said the Animal Head Agate was a unique item, but it’s a wine vessel. Even if it was for the emperor—like there are dragon robes and phoenix robes, theoretically there should be a pair…”

At this point, his tone became both wary and eager, “Why are you asking? Did you see it too?”

Fei Tang evaded the question, saying he happened to be at the Shaanxi History Museum and saw it, so he casually asked.

After hanging up, his mouth was dry, and he thought to himself: It’s impossible, such a coincidence? If there really was another Head Agate out there, the industry would have already gone into an uproar, so why would it matter to him?

Fei Tang shook his head and drank the milk in a few gulps. As he tossed the milk carton into the trash, he thought: This thing must be worth a lot of money.

He played a round of Mahjong online, daydreaming halfway through: What if it’s real, even if he could get just a tiny share…

He couldn’t help but laugh. Daydreaming was indeed sweet.

He settled back into his chair, feeling something hard against his back. He pulled out a pure copper tortoise shell divination tool.

 

Last night, he cast a divination, and the hexagram said, head west[mfn]reference to the title “West out of Yumen”[/mfn] for great fortune. When he looked west from the door, he saw Chang Dong, who was looking for Ye Liuxi. Maybe the “west” in the hexagram referred to Ye Liuxi? Great fortune—couldn’t that be the Animal Head Agate?

So many signs, could fate be pointing the way?

Fei Tang’s face felt hot. He picked up the tortoise shell, swallowing hard.

He decided to cast the hexagram once more. If the result was the same, even if fate was playing tricks on him, he would play along!

——

It took Chang Dong three days to reach Naqi Town.

The town was situated on the border of Inner Mongolia and Gansu Province, where Mongolian and Han people lived together, almost completely assimilated. From the small town, it was not far to the Tengger or Badain Jaran Desert, and in recent years, many Xixia ancient city ruins had been discovered around the area. This made Naqi a new popular destination on the northwest route. However, the town’s facilities couldn’t keep up with the influx of tourists, making life and transportation inconvenient, chaotic, and messy.

On the way, Chang Dong bought a down jacket. In mid-to-late October, this was a place where you wore cotton in the morning and silk in the afternoon; even under two quilts at night, you’d still shiver, so he couldn’t be careless.

As his car entered Naqi Town, he noticed that the tourism development had brought significant progress to the area: the roads outside the bus station had been developed to the scale of a small city, with all kinds of shops, convenience stores, auto parts stores, and fried chicken fast-food chains.

But since planning was lacking, it was inevitably a mix of old and new: sometimes when you turn around the corner, the concrete road would suddenly turn into a dirt road. Stray dogs scavenged by the ditches, and when the wind blew, the dust settled on the dying trees by the roadside. The small roadside restaurants had only three or five tables each, with colorful plastic curtains darkened by grease hanging at their doors.

Chang Dong found a hotel to stay in and bought a new map of Naqi town. His original plan was to walk around the entire town, but he was lucky and saw Ye Liuxi after just half an hour.

She was by a dirt road at the intersection of the highway, with the trunk of her car open, set up as a stall. Inside were a bunch of rough-skinned Hami melons, now in season as the late-ripening green Hami melons were being sold, a local specialty. The roadside stalls of melons lined up one after another.

Chang Dong couldn’t believe that Ye Liuxi was really a melon seller.

He went into a fast food restaurant at the intersection and chose a seat by the window for better observation.

From morning to afternoon, he ordered several rounds of snacks and drinks, while Ye Liuxi, surprisingly, kept selling melons the entire time.

She had a thick cutting board on her car, with a straight-handled watermelon knife about a foot long. The green-skinned melons were olive-shaped and had thick rinds, which even men found difficult to cut, but she handled them with ease, slicing them as if they were tofu.

Being attractive had its advantages; her business was much better than the nearby stalls.

At noon, she went to a nearby restaurant to buy a boxed meal, sat on a small stool, and ate with a spoon. A stray dog wagged its tail and approached her, and she picked a piece of rib from the meal and threw it to the dog.

In the afternoon, there weren’t many people, and as the temperature dropped, she wrapped herself in an army-green cotton coat and read a magazine, one of those cheap romance magazines with scantily clad women on the cover.

The waitress in the store had a sour look on her face, and each time she served him, she wore a scowl. Chang Dong initially thought it was just poor service awareness typical of a small place, but when he paid the bill, he realized it wasn’t that.

The waitress took his money, glanced sideways at Ye Liuxi through the window, and as she walked away, she sneered, “Been watching her all day, huh? What’s so special? She’s just a hooker.”

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