WOOY Chapter 27

Huoya was so scared that he fell to the ground, using his hands and feet to scramble back. Another gust of wind blew, and Hui Ba’s body finally collapsed.

After a moment of dead silence, everyone panicked. Some were shivering like they had a fever, while others suddenly broke down and ran for their lives. Huoya finally reacted, shouting, “Don’t run, come back! We need to stick together!”

Despite his yelling, two people still ran off.

Chang Dong felt a chill in his bones. It was the first time in his life he had seen someone die right in front of him. The Camellia incident, although tragic, was ultimately a natural disaster where they lost consciousness instantly and didn’t see the bloodshed.

He felt a bit nauseous and instinctively stepped back. He heard Ye Liuxi speaking to Huoya and the others, “You, and you, come and move the bodies.”

Huoya hesitated but followed her instructions.

Ye Liuxi asked Chang Dong for the powerful flashlight and went to examine the iron pickaxe that had flown over. The pickaxe’s crescent-shaped blade was sharp and shiny from frequent use. It made sense; if it could pierce salty crust, it could indeed sever a throat in seconds.

But the strange part was that the pickaxe wasn’t a throwing knife. Given Hui Ba’s bent position, who could throw an iron pickaxe from several meters away and accurately cut his throat?

Was it the thing that dragged Fei Tang in the middle of the night? It seemed to not want the coffin opened. Where did it go now? Did it strike once and retreat, or was it lurking, ready to attack again?

Ye Liuxi stood up, momentarily dazed until Chang Dong called her over to look at the paintings on the coffin.

This painting was much more complete than the photo Fei Tang had taken. It depicted a long procession, most people were in shackles, with soldiers on horseback fiercely waving whips, seemingly frustrated at the slow progress.

Everyone was heading towards a tall gate.

“Is this Yumen Pass?”

Chang Dong’s attention wasn’t entirely on the painting. He couldn’t help but ask Ye Liuxi, “Aren’t you bothered by death at all?”

“What’s the use of being bothered? He’s already dead.”

Chang Dong said, “That’s not what I mean… Your reaction suggests you’ve seen death more than once.”

Maybe, but right now, she was more interested in the painting on the coffin. “Is this painting… of the Yumen Pass?”

Chang Dong said, “It’s very likely. The song just now mentioned a golden house,’ which is a reference to Emperor Wu of Han. Yumen Pass itself was established during Emperor Wu’s time when he opened up the Western Regions and set up the four counties of Hexi. Fei Tang also said this painting is in the style of Han Dynasty portrait bricks—it seems to depict the exile of a group of criminals during the Han Dynasty.”

Chang Dong couldn’t say more specifically, “We could ask Fei Tang. He knows a lot about the history related to antiques.”

Ye Liuxi tapped the coffin lid with her fingers. The wood was quite solid, unlike a melon where you could tell the inside by tapping the skin.

She pondered for a moment, “I’ve hummed that song before. I should be able to open this coffin lid.”

Chang Dong instinctively glanced at Hui Ba’s body, now lying next to the other two corpses. Moments ago, their auras were distinct, but now they were all the the same when laid down on the ground.

Ye Liuxi seemed to read his thoughts, “Don’t worry. I didn’t die hanging in a rope loop. If I do die, it will be in a special way—having my throat cut by an iron pickaxe isn’t something I can accept.”

She stood up and grabbed the edge of the coffin lid with one hand.

The wind picked up again, and the scorpion at the corner of her eye seemed to come alive in her disheveled hair. Chang Dong’s heart pounded, feeling she shouldn’t be in danger, yet fearing something might happen.

Ye Liuxi, on the other hand, was unconcerned. “Chang Dong, guess what’s inside this coffin. Is it gold and silver treasures, Kong Yang’s body, or when I open it… another me lying inside? I prefer the last one; it would be thrilling.”

She exerted force and lifted the coffin lid with one hand.

The first thought that flashed through her mind was: Great, I can open the coffin.

The second thought was: Hui Ba died for nothing.

 

——

Chang Dong didn’t expect that inside the coffin, there would be stacked shadow puppets.

Shadow puppets wearing real clothes, shoes, and hats.

Calling them shadow puppets wasn’t entirely accurate. To facilitate the manipulation of the strings, shadow puppets were generally not very large, usually around 30 centimeters. The largest he’s seen were the cowhide dolls from Qinghai, and even those were less than a meter tall.

But these shadow puppets were almost as tall as humans, with faces in the Shaanxi Donglu shadow puppet style. Their faces were different, but their bodies and limbs were roughly made, with only a basic outline. Their joints had attachments that allowed for movement, though there were no rods for manipulating the strings at the back.

Chang Dong examined the contents, finding nine figures, all male, dressed in robes with hats or head wraps and black boots. However, because the bodies were thin “sheets,” and the clothes were normal-sized, they fit in very oddly.

Ye Liuxi shuddered, furrowing her brows, “What is this? A clothes tomb?”

Chang Dong shook his head, “I’ve never heard of a clothes tomb containing shadow puppets, and with nine of them stacked… Besides, this doesn’t really look like a coffin.”

If it weren’t for the shape and size being so similar to a coffin, he would have thought it was a shadow puppet theater box.

The wind died down, and the eerie humming gradually faded. Huoya, summoning his courage, glanced inside the coffin. After all this work and losing lives, he couldn’t walk away without seeing.

He was sorely disappointed.

He stammered, “Should we go back? What if something else happens…”

This reminded Chang Dong that the coffin was too heavy to move, and they didn’t have enough manpower to put it back. Besides, he didn’t want to mess with these eerie shadow puppets dressed in clothes. He asked Ye Liuxi to shine the flashlight for him while he took out his phone to take pictures of the inside and outside of the coffin and the shadow puppets.

After taking the photos, Chang Dong closed the coffin lid.

Huoya sighed with relief and scolded the remaining men, “Why are you still standing there? Want to die?”

The others, now without a leader, shivered and started to follow him. Chang Dong sternly shouted, “Stand still!”

He pointed at Hui Ba’s and the others’ bodies, “Are we just leaving the bodies here?”

Huoya hesitated, looking at his men’s faces, realizing his words weren’t convincing enough, “It’s not that we don’t care. We don’t have enough people now. Asking the guys to carry dead bodies back in the middle of the night, who has the guts? The ones on guard don’t know what’s happened. We need to go back and discuss, then come back tomorrow to take care of it.”

Someone immediately agreed, “Yes, yes, let’s bring the truck in tomorrow to take care of it.”

Chang Dong sneered, “And what about the missing people? You lost two men; what’s your plan?”

“We’ll look for them at dawn. The paths in Bailongdui are like a maze, and it’s pitch dark. The men aren’t familiar with the route, so I can’t force them.”

Chang Dong walked up to Huoya, placing his hand on his shoulder and seemingly casually said, “I hope you’ll follow through.”

Huoya shook off his hand, gritting his teeth, “Let’s go!”

Chang Dong watched him leave with a cold gaze. Ye Liuxi came over, “Is it necessary to be so kind? You want to take care of the dead and the missing? They are their own brothers and don’t seem to care.”

Chang Dong replied, “Talking doesn’t cost anything.”

He turned to look at the three bodies lying side by side and then picked up a burlap sack from the ground, spreading it over their heads.

Before the photo of Ye Liuxi and Kong Yang appeared, he always thought the “Camellia” was a natural disaster. The bodies of Kong Yang and the others were buried deep in the yellow sand, but you never knew when a sandstorm might uncover them, leaving them exposed in the wilderness.

He hoped that if someone passed by then, even if they found it troublesome to collect the bodies, they would at least give the deceased some dignity, just as he was doing now.

——

The campsite was still peaceful with no incidents. Huoya and his men returned first, not immediately mentioning Hui Ba’s accident. They just said the project was extensive and needed night work, so they came back to rest and would return in the morning for shift change.

Chang Dong called Fei Tang over.

Fei Tang felt something was off and asked quietly, “Dong ge, did something happen?”

Chang Dong looked at him, “Why do you ask?”

“Huoya and the others who came back have the same look I did last night, their eyes are wandering, and they often shiver.”

Chang Dong said, “Yes, something happened. Half of those who didn’t return are dead, and the other half are missing.”

Fei Tang felt a chill, freezing on the spot. Chang Dong didn’t wait for him, and after a moment, Fei Tang jogged to catch up, his legs shaking as he sat down in the car.

Ye Liuxi was flipping through pictures on her phone, and seeing Fei Tang, she handed him the phone, “Can you tell us what you see?”

Fei Tang nodded, trying to steady himself, and opened the first photo, “This is in the style of Han Dynasty portrait bricks. Such paintings are often seen in tombs, related to rituals…”

After flipping through a few pictures and seeing the shadow puppets inside the coffin, Chang Dong asked, “Are the clothes these figures are wearing from the Han Dynasty as well?”

Fei Tang examined them closely and confirmed, “No, they’re from the Tang Dynasty.”

Ye Liuxi was puzzled, “Wait, let me get this straight. You’re saying that in a modern uninhabited area among Yadan formations, I found a coffin box painted in Han Dynasty style, and the shadow puppets inside are dressed in Tang Dynasty clothing?”

Eager to prove himself, Fei Tang said, “Sister Yexi, I’m not mistaken. I’m from Xi’an, and they call me Fei Tang—look, this robe with a round collar and narrow sleeves, just below the knees is convenient for walking. It’s influenced by Hu clothing. And this one, worn with a turned-down collar, was a Tang Dynasty fashion. And this hat is a top hat, and this one is wrapped in a headscarf… The dynasty is definitely right.”

Ye Liuxi looked at Chang Dong, “I thought the song was about the Han Dynasty. Is it actually about the Tang Dynasty?”

Something didn’t add up. Did the Tang Dynasty popularize Han Dynasty style paintings?

Fei Tang didn’t understand, “What song?”

Chang Dong hesitated for a moment but then decided to roughly explain the situation: hiding the truth and making people think everything was fine was tantamount to complicity.

Fei Tang’s heart was about to jump out of his chest. He pinched the flesh on his side, forcing himself to stay calm: he couldn’t afford to be scared. He needed to make them see he was useful and valuable.

He kept thinking about the song, and suddenly, a thought flashed through his mind.

“Sister Yexi, this song is a bit strange.”

Ye Liuxi looked at him, “What’s strange about it?”

“If the criminals were exiled beyond Yumen Pass, it doesn’t fit historical facts. During Emperor Wu of Han’s time, Yumen Pass led to the Western Regions, which the emperor knew nothing about, hence sending Zhang Qian as an envoy.”

“Exiling criminals was meant to send them to the border for hard labor, to be recalled if needed. How could they be sent out of the pass? The area beyond the pass was inhabited at the time. 

Ye Liuxi nodded, “You have a point. Go on.”

Encouraged, Fei Tang continued, “‘One step out the pass and your blood flows dry.’ This makes sense; the Han Dynasty considered the area beyond Yumen Pass dangerous, a death sentence. But then it says,’ You don’t care that I enter the pass weeping,’ implying the person didn’t want to enter the pass either…”

Listening to Fei Tang, Chang Dong also realized:

— Yumen Pass, Ghost Gate Pass, one step beyond the pass, and your blood flows dry. You enjoy your hidden beauty, not caring about my weeping as I enter the pass.

This song, at first listen, flows smoothly, but upon closer inspection, it’s self-contradictory: leaving the pass means certain death, and entering the pass brings tears like rain. The words “you don’t care” are filled with indignation, indicating these are not tears of emotion.

Not wanting to leave the pass, nor wanting to enter the pass, what exactly was the hatred for? Was it aimed at the heavens?

 

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TLs note: I think this makes as little sense as the tv show lol