WOOY Chapter 39

Departure was scheduled for three days later.

The preparations were meticulous, and the team was clearly gearing up for a serious expedition. Liu Qi’s resources ensured smooth logistics, with supply points set up near Bailongdui to keep the vehicles light and efficient. This freed the off-road vehicle from carrying materials.

Chang Dong added more water tanks to the car, installed a heater, and equipped it with a car shower head. As long as he saved water, he could basically solve the problem of bathing.

Fei Tang’s car was not very practical, but fortunately Hami was not far from Liuyuan, so he asked Liu Qi’s people to help return the car and asked for another Jiangling. Except for the driver’s seat, the car was almost emptied and a mattress was installed. A rope hanging ring was installed on the top of the car, and partition curtains could be used to separate the space as needed.

By the third day, the vehicles were ready and Chang Dong took Ye Liuxi to inspect the car.

The curtain was pulled down, and he motioned for her to lie down: “Are you comfortable?”

Ye Liuxi lay there for a while, with the car on her right and the curtain on her left: “Who should sleep on my left?”

“Me.”

She suggested: “We should weld an iron fence between the two of us.”

Chang Dong reached out and pulled her: “Do you want me to buy you an iron cage?”

Ye Liuxi used the force to get up.

They tried the shower. 

The shower head struck out from the car. 

As soon as you pressed the switch, the water started to flow.

“How often can you wash?”

“Once a week, and no more than 10 minutes at a time.”

Ye Liuxi thought about it and didn’t find any fault: it was a luxury to have any water in a place like that.

……

At noon, they had a simple buffet at the hotel restaurant. Fei Tang told the other two to go ahead, saying he would head back to his room for a shower and join them later—he had spent the entire morning crawling under the car, which left him covered in grime.

Chang Dong and Ye Liuxi sat at a four-person table. The restaurant wasn’t crowded, and the tables were spaced out. Occasionally, the sound of utensils clinking echoed pleasantly.

Ye Liuxi finished her meal first and set down her knife and fork with a long sigh.

Chang Dong glanced at her. “What’s wrong?”

“The food feels hard to swallow,” she responded dramatically.

Chang Dong lifted his gaze, scanning the plates and bowls in front of her.

“Liuxi, ‘hard to swallow’ is usually used when someone has something troubling on their mind, making it hard to eat. In your case, you’re just overeating—it’s not the right phrase.”

Ye Liuxi leaned slightly, propping her chin on her hand. “We’re about to be split up, and you’re still as calm as ever.”

Chang Dong countered, “Whether it’s Liu Qi or Ding Liu, we’ve only just started interacting with them. There’s no major conflict yet, and in such a short amount of time, it’s impossible for them to plot some elaborate scheme against us.”

“Ding Liu’s just a young girl who feels slighted because Liu Qi treats us respectfully. She wants to prove herself in front of her godfather, thinking she can achieve anything. If she wants to put on a show, that’s her business—we don’t have to engage.”

As he spoke, Fei Tang arrived, carrying his tray.

Chang Dong watched him sit down and suddenly remembered something. “Did you reach Shen Gun?”

Out of the three, Fei Tang was the only one who actively used QQ. Once Liu Qi provided the number, it was naturally handed over to him to follow up.

Fei Tang’s expression darkened, irritation bubbling up. “I sent friend requests several times—he’s too arrogant and hasn’t accepted any.”

“Maybe it’s an abandoned account?” Chang Dong suggested.

“Not at all!” Fei Tang shook his head vigorously. “One time, when I searched for him, I saw his avatar picture light up.”

He grumbled, “His status is so weird—something like ‘I won’t eat chicken for the sake of liberation.’ Dong ge, is this guy stuck in the old times? We’ve been liberated for ages.”

Chang Dong suggested, “It’s possible the account changed hands. How did you phrase your friend request?”

“I just said I’m a friend of Liu Qi’s.”

Chang Dong paused in thought.

If Shen Gun truly wandered far and wide across the country, seeking out extraordinary events and people as Liu Qi claimed, then over the years, he would have accumulated a treasure trove of unusual experiences and stories. Back then, Liu Qi was merely a snake catcher—not exactly someone remarkable to Shen Gun. It’s quite possible he wouldn’t even remember who Liu Qi was.

Chang Dong spoke up, “Try sending another message. This time, say you discovered a coffin outside Yumen Gate in Bailongdui. Inside were shadow puppet figures wearing Tang dynasty attire—nine of them. Include that folk rhyme. If it doesn’t fit in one message, split it into two… If he doesn’t respond after this, just let it go.”

After ten years, it was hard to say whether someone’s interests might have shifted.

But if Shen Gun was still as he was, with the patience to spend an entire day miming and communicating with elderly folk for the sake of a single tale, then perhaps… he’d reply.

——

The next morning at 10 AM, the two groups met at the entrance of Tianshan Guesthouse.

Ding Liu’s team brought two vehicles: a Jeep Commander[mfn][/mfn], known for its massive build and sharp lines—a favorite for some, second only to the Hummer[mfn][/mfn]—and a more modest vehicle, used simply for navigation and facilitating supply deliveries later on.

When Chang Dong’s car approached, he didn’t stop. Rolling down the window, he waved to signal them to follow, then immediately turned onto the road.

Fei Tang followed close behind, while the two vehicles from Ding Liu’s side were clearly caught off guard, taking a while before finally catching up.

Ye Liuxi glanced at Chang Dong. “You aren’t even stopping to greet them?”

“There’s nothing worth saying; too much talk is exhausting.”

Focused on driving, Chang Dong stared straight ahead, his hat casting shadows around his eyes. Upon closer inspection, faint stubble could be seen emerging along his jaw.

Ye Liuxi remarked, “You should shave.”

Chang Dong touched his chin. “Even if I shave today, it will grow back tomorrow. Men’s facial hair grows faster than their head hair… Does it look off?”

He turned to look at Ye Liuxi.

She shook her head, her gaze instinctively shifting away. Something about it felt oddly intimate—she thought it looked just right, but couldn’t help wondering what it would feel like. Likely slightly prickly, but if it brushed against the neck, it would be downright maddening.[mfn]TLs note: aaaaaaaahhh[/mfn]

Feeling a bit unsettled, she reached up to fix her hair. Her fingers brushed against the warm skin near her ear, prompting her to quickly adjust her hair to cover it.

The car suddenly felt stifling. Ye Liuxi said, “Pull over for a bit—let’s get some air.”

Chang Dong pulled off to the side of the road.

Ye Liuxi got out and fanned herself with her hand.

As soon as the lead car stopped, the rest of the convoy halted as well. This gave the Jeep Commander the chance to speed past, likely frustrated from trailing behind and being unable to overtake earlier.

Fei Tang stuck his head out the car window. “Sister Yexi, why did you stop?”

Ye Liuxi snapped back, “It’s hot!”

“It’s not hot, though…” Fei Tang muttered, puzzled.

Ye Liuxi picked up a stone and pretended to throw it, causing Fei Tang’s head to duck back into the car instantly.

The Jeep Commander pulled up alongside Chang Dong’s vehicle, and Ye Liuxi heard the sound of a car door opening. She turned to look and froze for a moment.

Inside sat a girl, around 17 or 18 years old, with fair skin and simple features. Her eyes were narrow and slightly curved, with elongated corners that made her smile captivating. She wore a white chunky-knit sweater, black jeans, white sneakers, and had an acrylic hair clip shaped like a yellow duck perched on her head. Her appearance was completely out of place amidst the barren road, desolate Gobi mountains, and rugged vehicles.

She addressed Chang Dong, “Dong ge.”

It was Ding Liu.

Chang Dong responded with a simple “Mm.”

“Why didn’t you stop this morning? My godfather even prepared firecrackers. It’s our tradition to set off a string of firecrackers before heading out on a long journey—for good luck.”

“Pressed for time,” Chang Dong replied curtly.

Ding Liu, perceptive enough to notice his indifference, smiled lightly and slowly closed the car door. Ye Liuxi turned her attention to Gao Shen, who visibly relaxed, licking his lips and rubbing his philtrum with the back of his hand.

Chang Dong’s earlier remark about ignoring the drama seemed off—whether on stage or off, the ripples were inevitable. Avoiding involvement wasn’t as easy as he’d hoped.

Ye Liuxi climbed back into the passenger seat, and Chang Dong waited for her to fasten her seatbelt before starting the car.

Suddenly, Fei Tang’s voice crackled through the radio. “Dong ge, stop, stop, stop… Shen Gun has replied!”

——

Shen Gun’s response had actually come through earlier, but due to poor signal along the way and Fei Tang focusing entirely on driving, he hadn’t checked his phone until now. The message was short and cryptic: “Don’t worry about it.”

Fei Tang felt uneasy. “Dong ge, what does ‘don’t worry about it’ even mean?”

Chang Dong suggested, “Ask him why.”

“But I can’t—signal’s bad here,” Fei Tang replied.

“Get in my car. We’ll backtrack to where the signal’s stronger and ask there,” Chang Dong instructed.

The enigmatic response indicated that Shen Gun definitely knew something—otherwise, he wouldn’t have bothered replying with such a warning.

As Chang Dong’s lead car turned around abruptly, Gao Shen grew visibly irritated. Just as his Jeep brushed past Chang Dong’s slowing vehicle to let Fei Tang hop in, Chang Dong rolled down his window.

“Make it easy and wait here. We’ll be back. If you’re worried, follow us—it’s your choice,” he said.

Gao Shen ground his teeth, about to steer after them, when Ding Liu interjected, “They’re just messing with us. We’ll wait here—we’re not the kind to lose our cool.”

With a cigarette in her mouth, she lowered her head and flicked her lighter. The flame licked at the tip of her smoke, igniting it.

In the rearview mirror, Gao Shen hesitated as he saw her take a drag and then cautioned softly, “Liu-er, you should cut back on smoking.”

Ding Liu exhaled slowly, releasing a curl of smoke before responding languidly, “It’s none of your business.”

——

Chang Dong reversed all the way to the area near the Tuwu Copper Mine, where the asphalt road stretched like a black snake through the brown-gray Gobi Desert. In the distance, the rumble of machinery echoed from the mining site, and dust clouds billowed up like small mushroom clouds as the mining operations churned.

The dust was overwhelming, so Chang Dong sealed the car windows tightly. Through the glass, they could see a fine layer of dirt rapidly settling on the hood.

Another message arrived on Fei Tang’s phone: “It’s very dangerous.”

Chang Dong took the phone and quickly sent a reply: “Can we talk over the phone?”

A moment later, a string of numbers came through—a phone number.

Chang Dong immediately dialed and put the call on speaker. He started by mentioning Liu Qi, the snake catcher from over a decade ago in Lop Nur, and then brought up the shadow puppet coffin.

Shen Gun listened silently and then asked, “What proof do you have that this is real?”

Chang Dong froze for a moment before Fei Tang reminded him, “The photos, Dong ge. I’ve got the exterior photos of the shadow puppet coffin on my phone—the ones we shared over Bluetooth.”

Handing the phone back to Fei Tang, Chang Dong told him to send the photos. He himself found two more showing the interior of the coffin and forwarded them as well.

The call remained connected, the sound of the Shen Gun’s breathing fluctuating between light and heavy. After some time, he finally spoke, “Hold on. I need to check my notes… What I’ve written down is more precise.”

Chang Dong exhaled, though it was hard to tell if the news eased or worsened the weight on his mind.

After a long wait, Shen Gun’s voice returned. “I’ve recorded some things, though I always considered them folklore, not factual. But if you’ve actually unearthed the shadow puppet coffin, it’s worth investigating.”

“Other than the stories Liu Qi told you, I do have another account I recorded.”

“It’s said that after Yumen Gate was built, a massive sandstorm raged for three days. The entire sky turned a murky yellow, and visibility dropped to the point where you couldn’t see someone standing just a few meters away. The storm covered a vast area—not just Dunhuang but stretching far east, nearly blanketing the entire Hexi Corridor.”

“During those three days, many locals reported hearing the sounds of carriages, footsteps, wailing cries, and even soldiers shouting commands and cracking whips. People were too afraid to approach, peeking only through cracks in their doors. Even through the haze of sand, all they could discern were groups of people in shackles, heading westward. They speculated these were exiled prisoners being sent to guard the frontier.”

“After three days, the storm cleared. Some soldiers stationed at the border grew curious because, despite the arrival of so many people, their workloads hadn’t lessened at all. They hadn’t seen any additional personnel. Moreover, the deep, chaotic tracks left in the ground indicated the passage of numerous large wagons—something unheard of for transporting exiled prisoners.”

“So, out of curiosity, some followed the footprints and wagon tracks westward, only to discover that all traces abruptly stopped outside Yumen Gate, as if cut cleanly by a blade.”

The story left the air heavy with mystery, the echoes of past sands lingering on. The unfolding puzzle seemed to grow more intricate with each revelation.

“At the time, the frontier soldiers were buzzing with speculation about the events. However, a secret decree was eventually issued, and the topic was gradually silenced.”

“The decree stated: ‘The Emperor’s virtuous deeds—those who question them will face death.’ In the Han dynasty, ‘death’ in this context specifically meant execution by beheading. In other words, whatever happened during those three days was considered a monumental act of virtue by Emperor Wu of Han, and any unwarranted conjecture or criticism was strictly forbidden, punishable by death.”