Go into the mountains

My name is Cao Nuon Song. Unexpectedly, the first time I set foot on the ground, I encountered such a situation. Second Master said that this venture is too perilous, and we might not be able to get out of it.

Closing my notebook, I rubbed my forehead. Just two days ago, I was soaking in a hot bath, watching the NBA finals. Now, I find myself trapped in this dark and cold tomb. Damn it, I truly regret getting involved in this murky affair with Old He.

Two days ago, I noticed that Old He, who had long retired from active business, was organizing equipment. Upon inquiring, I learned that Second Master had taken a group into the mountains due to a new discovery that urgently required this batch of equipment.

Honestly, having worked in the auction house for so long, I've been involved in various dealings, but I have never ventured underground. Old He, being Second Master's longtime associate, couldn't resist my persistent pleading. Reluctantly, he agreed to take me along this time, but he insisted that I stay above ground. I quickly nodded in agreement, thinking, "You won't be able to tie me down later."

We set off that evening. Old He arranged travel outfits for each of us, emphasizing the importance of not being detained by the patrol even before reaching our destination. Second Master and his group were engaged in underground transactions, and my encounters with him were limited. I only knew that he knew my father, and after my parents' incident, he became my guardian – more in financial support to my boarding school than genuine guardianship. It wasn't until recent years, after graduating from college, that I secured a job at an auction house through his connections. In my impression, Second Master was a stubborn and aloof old man, and I wasn't particularly fond of him.

The four of us boarded a long-distance bus from Liuliqiao. Old He had arranged a few sleeper seats. As the bus entered the serene expressway, watching the neon lights flash outside the window, I found myself unable to sleep. Old He, too, remained awake, patting my shoulder and saying, "Rest early; we still have a long mountain road to travel after we get off."

I smirked and asked, "Second Master hasn't been underground for years. Did the government stop his retirement pension?"

Old He tapped my head and, with a mixture of annoyance and amusement, said, "Don't speak ambiguously. Second Master didn't tell you about your parents for your own good. In recent years, he has privately used all his connections to investigate that matter. It seems that his current venture is related to his investigation."

Old He took out a pack of cigarettes as he spoke, probably realizing we were on the bus, he put it back. He turned to me, his expression somewhat serious, "Young Cao, Second Master doesn't let me tell you, including keeping you away from this line of work. All for your protection. The waters here are too deep; don't blame him. Do you know why we call him Second Master?"

That night, Old He spoke in fragments for hours, until he fell asleep. It was only then that I seemed to piece together some image of Second Master from his words.

Throughout history, those who venture underground are mostly fathers, sons, and brothers, all fearing that valuable items brought up from below will attract greed from those above, leading to sealing the entrance and keeping the wealth for themselves.

In his youth, Second Master was bold and meticulous. With agile skills, he participated in many significant ventures. Accompanying him was a childhood friend from the same village. Once, the two discovered a Han tomb, but unfortunately, someone had already entered the chamber. Using his rich experience, Second Master judged that the scale of this tomb was much larger than it appeared, suspecting that what had been stolen was just a decoy.

Following the old tradition, Second Master, with his skill, descended into the pit, while his childhood friend kept watch above. Before long, there was movement in the rope Second Master had taken down. The friend pulled it up, revealing two transparent dragon-phoenix ornaments. These rare treasures were undoubtedly priceless at the time. However, in an unexpected turn, the friend, blinded by greed, heartlessly sealed the entrance with stones, filling the gaps with soil, effectively closing it off.

Never did anyone anticipate that a week later, Second Master appeared at the bedside of his friend. At that time, Second Master was ragged and noticeably thinner. The friend, waking up in the middle of the night, was scared to kneel on the ground, continuously kowtowing. Second Master, with a hoarse voice, spoke, "Brother, you had your reasons for doing this. Once a person dies, they can't come back to life. Take whatever you find in the tomb, but we have to be accountable as living beings. We can't control how others perceive us, but you must respect yourself." Saying this, Second Master took out a piece of jade from his pocket and placed it at the bedside, telling him that money is good, but not worth sacrificing a brother.

From then on, that childhood friend disappeared from the world. Later, people learned that the friend's mother had contracted uremia, needing a kidney transplant. Only then did he see the worth in money. Many in the community praised Second Master for his righteous and generous actions, comparing him to the ancient hero Guan Yu. Second Master's reputation soared, and people struggled to fathom how he emerged alone from a tomb buried over ten meters underground.

Following the G5 bus southward, gazing at the night outside the window, my mind replayed the stories Old He shared about Second Master. I dozed off at some point.

Waking up, spending another day on the bus is not worth detailing. On the third day, around 4 AM, we disembarked near a county close to Kunming. Our group consisted of four individuals – besides me and Old He, there was another assistant, and the fourth was Old He's son, Xiao He. Xiao He was reticent, while the assistant was jovial. He went to arrange transportation while we waited at a nearby steamed bun shop. Old He bought a few buns, but I had no appetite and shook my head, declining. After entering Yunnan, the roads became winding, making even the gallbladder sway. In such conditions, the only option was to grimace and smoke.

After over twenty minutes, the assistant brought two off-road vehicles. One carried equipment, and he bit into a bun while following it. The three of us sat in another vehicle, heading towards the Wumeng Mountains on the Yunnan-Guizhou border.

The Wumeng Mountains are one of the main mountain ranges on the Yunnan-Guizhou Plateau in southwestern China. The section we were headed to was in the Guizhou region, traversing from Yunnan to the east. We delved deep into the old mountains, where hills rose and fell. We bypassed two small hills, crossed deep gorges, and stopped in front of a village in the mountains just before evening.

There were people in the village to receive us, apparently left behind by Second Master's group, specifically waiting for this batch of equipment. Old He didn't even spare a glance for me after getting off; he went straight to the person, leading him

 to the rear of the car to load the equipment. After a while, he walked over with a not-so-good expression, saying, "We need to hurry. We'll enter the mountains tomorrow morning. There's plenty of water here, and the villagers say there might be heavy rain these days. We need to get ahead of it, or even experienced hunters won't be able to guide us out in this vast forest."

The darkness arrived early here, and there was no signal in the mountains. Everyone was tired from the journey, so we hastily had a meal and lay down.

A night passed without much talk. Early in the morning, Old He lifted us up, we packed our belongings, and prepared to set off. Only in the morning did I notice that those left in the village were not just one person but three. According to Old He, these individuals were specifically stationed outside, just in case something happened to those who entered the mountains – a contingency support. Apart from the four of us, there was a local guide and the young man from last night.

The guide was a somewhat lame old hunter, lean yet spirited. He carried a double-barreled shotgun on his back and held a machete, leading the way ahead. We walked in the middle, followed by the smiling assistant and Xiao He guiding a mule, as the car couldn't enter the mountains, and our equipment had to be carried by these two animals.

The old hunter was not much of a talker. The assistant whispered to me on the side, "Originally, this old man didn't plan to bring us in. I don't know what Second Master said to him, but the old man reluctantly agreed."

"Why?" I asked.

The assistant shrugged, replying, "The Dong people here worship mountain gods. They think our entry will disturb the mountain god's peace. Moreover, the place Second Master pointed to locally is quite notorious, it's an evil family cave."

Seeing my puzzled look, the assistant explained, "This 'evil family cave' is in the Dong language, probably meaning something unlucky. Locals believe that the cave is unclean. There's a story from a few years ago – a Dong woman came out to herd sheep, a few sheep ran into the cave and she entered after them. By evening, she hadn't come out. The villagers went looking and found her hanging dead in the forest on the mountain. The whole village was scared, saying that she was possessed by the demons in the cave. The story got scarier over time, turning the area into a forbidden land."

The assistant spoke casually, but I didn't quite believe it. These things were likely local rumors passed on with exaggerated elements. Just as I was thinking this, I suddenly felt a bit dizzy. Huh? Could it be because I didn't sleep well last night? At this moment, Old He, who was walking ahead, asked with confusion, "Why is it foggy?"

Looking around, indeed, there was a faint mist drifting. Turning back, I could still vaguely see the road we had walked. It wasn't that fog appeared; rather, we walked into the mist. The temperature in the mountains was low, and with surrounding hills blocking the valley, the air was difficult to circulate. In such circumstances, the air would mostly move up and down, and when the mist rose to a certain height, it would be blocked and pushed back to the ground. We should be entering a low-lying area.

The old hunter leading the way turned to look at me, using stiff Chinese to say, "The kid is right. Stick close to me. Once you lose sight, you won't be able to get out."

Old He asked everyone to wait for a moment. He took out a bundle of rope from his bag and had each person thread it through the climbing hook pre-hung on the climbing suit. This way, everyone was connected, preventing anyone from getting lost.

I tapped the assistant in front of me, quietly asking, "Who is this old hunter?"

The assistant shook his head, telling me that he was arranged by Second Master. At this time of year, only this old man had the ability to enter the mountains.

I nodded, feeling that we were really beginning a downward spiral. I could clearly feel the terrain descending.

The forest became unusually quiet. I couldn't hear any bird calls. The surroundings became even blurrier, and at about two to three meters, people were nearly invisible. I looked back and could vaguely see Xiao He and the silhouette of the mule beside him. With each step, the path felt deeper and shallower. Walking on an unknown road in such an environment made one feel a bit stifled, especially in this situation where speaking up felt risky, as if intentionally avoiding someone, afraid they might hear.

After about three hours of walking on such a mountainous path, when I was starting to feel a bit tired, a sudden exclamation came from behind.