WOOY Chapter 28

Fei Tang couldn’t quite figure it out, but just knowing he had thought of something that the other two hadn’t made him feel accomplished.

With nothing else to do, Fei Tang wanted to return to the main tent. Chang Dong said, “Why go back? Stay away from Huoya and his crew.”

Fei Tang was eager to hear this, but Chang Dong only said, “Stay away from them,” without explicitly inviting him to join them.

Of course, he could seize the opportunity to stick with Chang Dong, but that would be a compromise. For the long term, being invited back would be more valuable.

“No problem. If they have any other plans, I can gather information while I’m there.”

He got out of the car and left.

Chang Dong asked Ye Liuxi, “Don’t you think Fei Tang has been acting a bit strange these past couple of days?”

Ye Liuxi curled up in the back seat, covering herself with a sleeping bag. She didn’t like getting inside the sleeping bag. She felt like a silkworm wrapped in a cocoon—restrained and unable to move quickly if something happened.

“Who isn’t strange? Aren’t you strange? Why wouldn’t he be a little strange?”

Chang Dong chuckled and turned off the car’s interior lights.

The front seat space was more cramped than the back. His long legs were uncomfortable, and in the darkness, many thoughts flashed through his mind like a lantern: the strangely dressed shadow puppets, Hui Ba bleeding so much, and Ye Liuxi’s words, “Come help move the bodies.”

“Liuxi?”

After a moment’s pause, Ye Liuxi responded, “Are we that close?”

Chang Dong said, “Calling you ‘Ye Liuxi’ means saying three words each time. It’s tiring.”

Ye Liuxi surprisingly found this reason not unreasonable, just as “Chang Dong” was easier to say than “Meng Jingu.”

“What’s up?”

“I have some thoughts I want to share… I don’t think you grew up in a normal social environment.”

Ye Liuxi turned to face his direction, though she couldn’t see him.

The car was silent, their breaths—steady and gentle—intertwined in the unseen space, then returned to stillness.

“I’ve encountered different personalities in the opposite sex throughout my life. Some were quiet and gentle, others bold and fiery, and some even fierce enough to make their husbands cry…”

“But no matter how unique their personalities were, their actions always stayed within a certain framework, never crossing the line.”

“Take that incident in Qizhen, for example. Dealing with the drugged client, stripping him and leaving him to freeze—many of my female friends could do that, even resorting to physical violence. But none would leave the window wide open, as that could lead to the person’s death. Legal awareness is a framework, but you don’t have it, or rather, you do, but you don’t care.”

“You tend to solve problems with violence. In Dunhuang, when I paid you to help me with trouble, you immediately wanted to fight. When Hui Ba hid the truth, you said you’d ‘beat it out of him.’ This isn’t the norm I’m familiar with—remember when Qiao Meina and Huoya had a conflict? They started with a fierce argument and then wanted to call the police. I can’t say it’s the standard procedure, but at least it’s normal.”

“In modern society, there are many ways to solve problems. Physical confrontation is the most direct and has endless consequences, but for you, it’s not even a choice; it’s your first reaction.”

Ye Liuxi listened quietly.

“And tonight, when Hui Ba died suddenly, everyone was terrified, but you nonchalantly said, ‘Move the bodies.’ Even the bravest people can’t remain indifferent to death.”

People who grew up in a normal social environment wouldn’t have her personality, but it couldn’t be said she was disconnected from society either.

…

Chang Dong gradually fell asleep, and as he drifted into a deep slumber, the song still lingered in his mind.

—…one step out and your blood flows dry. You enjoy the golden house that you’ve built for your mistress, and you don’t care that I weep entering the pass…

Should one leave the pass or enter it?

……

——

At the break of dawn, he suddenly opened his eyes.

Outside the car window, everything was remarkably peaceful. There was no wind, and the first light of morning was gradually spreading across the sky, promising a rare, clear day.

Ye Liuxi heard a faint rustling sound—the scrape of a pen on paper.

She struggled to open her eyes and propped herself up with effort. Chang Dong had his head down, sketching in a notebook.

Ye Liuxi lay back down, feeling a bit irritated. “Aren’t you tired? Drawing shadow puppets so early in the morning.”

Every time he was in that position, she couldn’t shake the feeling he was carving shadow puppets or doing something related to them.

Chang Dong handed the notebook to her.

Ye Liuxi sighed. She knew she shouldn’t have said anything—if she had stayed silent, she could have slept a little longer.

Lazily, she took the notebook, opening one eye to look at the drawing. “What is it?”

She vaguely made out a hand-drawn map. The fine lines delineated a territory, with the east marked “Western Han” and a concentric circle marking Chang’an, today’s Xi’an, near the bend of the Yellow River. To the west, it was marked “Western Regions,” and a tall gate stood on the boundary line.

Ye Liuxi murmured, “Haven’t we been to the Yumen Pass ruins? It’s just a mound of loess. Why draw it so seriously?”

Chang Dong leaned over, drawing an arrow from “Western Han” to “Western Regions,” saying, “This is leaving the pass.”

Indeed.

Then he drew a reverse arrow from “Western Regions” to “Western Han.” “This is entering the pass.”

Ye Liuxi glanced at him sideways. “Is there a problem?”

“We’ve all been biased, thinking that since we live inland, leaving the pass means going out, and entering the pass means coming in. But if there were a group of people who had already settled beyond the pass, their concept of leaving and entering the pass would be the opposite of ours.”

Ye Liuxi digested this for a moment, a sudden realization dawning on her.

She sat up and examined the map closely.

Chang Dong said, “In this case, the song isn’t self-contradictory, and it matches the painting on the coffin.”

The song was sung from the perspective of that group, reminiscing about the past depicted in the painting.

For reasons unknown, they were forced to leave Yumen Pass in chains, with no hope of returning east. Over time, they could only make the foreign land their home.

“One step beyond the pass, and your blood flows dry” meant they could no longer leave the pass to return to Han; going back meant death.

“You don’t care that I leave the pass weeping” implied they weren’t from there and didn’t want to enter, but the emperor, focused on his pleasures, didn’t care about their tears.

Thinking this way, Yumen Pass seemed like a prison.

But didn’t Fei Tang say that exiling criminals never meant sending them beyond the border? And under Emperor Wu of Han, the territory was vast. Why would he go out of his way to build a prison beyond Yumen Pass?

——

Hui Ba was gone, and in came Huoya, clearly with a different style: the sun was already high, and there’s still no sign of starting a fire to cook.

Meanwhile, Meng Jingu’s campsite was buzzing with excitement. The weather was perfect for photography, promising some excellent shots. They had even decided on the day’s theme: “The Flourishing Loulan.”

Meng Jingu was urged to consult Chang Dong: “Didn’t you say your friend knows a lot about Bailongdui? Ask him where the best scenic spots are so we can go shoot there.”

Reluctantly, Meng Jingu made his way to Chang Dong. But before he could say anything, there was a sudden outburst from the other side of the campsite.

Curious, Chang Dong thought this might be a good opportunity for Meng Jingu to speak up: “That photographer Lao Qian has a terrible temper. He yells at his assistant all the time, for bad lighting, or for the equipment not being set up correctly. Artists are like that, they are hard to please.”

But today, his temper seemed even worse, with the sound of things being thrown around.

Chang Dong says, “Let’s go take a look.”

He knew Meng Jingu was just a follower, not the decision-maker. It would be a good chance to persuade the other person not to shoot outside the camp.

As they arrived, they saw Qiao Meina desperately holding back Lao Qian, confronting him with her arms spread protectively in front of the photography assistant. The assistant, in his early twenties, short, with an honest and simple look, wore a troubled expression.

Another model and the makeup artist stood to the side, unsure of whose side to take—this situation was unlike the clear-cut argument with Huoya.

Qiao Meina was unyielding: “If you have a problem, take it out on me, not Xiao Feng. I asked him to help.”

Lao Qian roars, “What do you know? You’ve got a face but no brains. Do you know how much that equipment costs?”

Chang Dong found it amusing to see the burly Lao Qian arguing with Qiao Meina, a young woman, and said, “Don’t hold him back. Let go; he won’t dare hit anyone.”

He then turned to Qiao Meina, “What’s going on?”

Qiao Meina’s eyes reddened as she started to explain.

The issue stemmed from the argument she had with Huoya the previous day. Although Ye Liuxi had silenced her, she still felt angry inside. Lao Qian had a bad temper, so before going to bed, she asked Xiao Feng if he had any equipment for night shooting—just in case Huoya caused trouble again, she could capture it as evidence and deal with it later when they left Bailongdui.

Xiao Feng, who was Lao Qian’s assistant for the trip, had plenty of opportunities to handle Lao Qian’s equipment. Wanting to impress Qiao Meina, he agreed to look for something.

After some rummaging, they couldn’t find any night shooting equipment, but they did come across an unusual-looking camera. Xiao Feng, curious and unfamiliar with its operation, played with it for a bit before putting it back.

He thought it was a minor issue, but when Lao Qian checked his equipment in the morning, he exploded.

With Chang Dong’s presence, Lao Qian had toned down his temper a bit, “If it were a regular camera, I’d let it go. I’m not stingy. But this is a high-speed camera, incredibly expensive, capable of capturing bullets passing through walls, understand? I keep it for shooting special effects for big films, and you used it to shoot sand! What if it gets damaged or sand gets into it?”

Xiao Feng was almost in tears, “Mr. Qian, I’m sorry. I just lifted it to try it out and quickly turned it off. I thought it didn’t capture anything… It was only a few seconds.”

Lao Qian sneered, “Do you even know what a high-speed camera is? Even one second of footage can be several minutes of standard video.”

Chang Dong’s interest was piqued, “Mr. Qian, one second can turn into that long?”

Lao Qian, sensing Chang Dong’s change in attitude, felt a bit smug, “That’s why it’s called a high-speed camera. It essentially trades speed for time. In one second, you might not see anything, but the camera has already snapped thousands of frames. When converted, it becomes a long video—capturing every detail, no matter how small.”

“May I take a look?”

Lao Qian was taken aback, “Look at the camera?”

“No, the footage Xiao Feng shot. Could you convert it to standard video and let me see it, please?”

——

Converting the video wasn’t difficult since Lao Qian had all the equipment and software. But Xiao Feng’s haphazard shooting made the resulting footage less than stellar, which Lao Qian couldn’t help but grumble about as he set up the computer screen for Chang Dong.

“He just shot randomly, and the lighting was poor at night. You see, it’s all blurry. With proper technique and lighting, you’d even see individual sand grains flying through the air…”

Indeed, the footage was blurry and of poor quality. Chang Dong could only make out shifts between light and dark, with dark patches slowly merging in the center, forming a dense mass before gradually dispersing to the sides, finally freezing into a blurry black image.

The entire process lasted over 3 minutes. During this time, Meng Jingu and his group came over, glanced at the screen, and quickly lost interest—finding it just a dark, noisy mess, they couldn’t fathom why Chang Dong would sit through it all.

But Chang Dong felt a chill.

If everything happened within a few seconds, it made a lot of sense:

— Fei Tang lying on the ground, thrashing about, seeing nothing, then suddenly being yanked several meters away; — Qiao Meina’s car door inexplicably opening; — The iron pickaxe suddenly flying from a distance and slashing Hui Ba’s throat…

When he and Ye Liuxi discussed it, they often referred to “that thing,” imagining it as an invisible but active hand.

Could this hand be the wind and sand that were everywhere in Bailongdui?