Vollständiges Metamorphose-Handbuch

Kapitel 10

Old Bian said, "What's so shameful about this? You're a notorious opportunist, stingy with money unless there's something in it for you. Today you've gone to great lengths to come here and treat me to drinks. I know our relationship myself. Unfortunately, I couldn't control this alcoholic and fell into your trap. Don't worry, since I've already eaten your food, if you need any help, just say so. As long as it's not murder or arson, everything else is simple."

Upon hearing this, I thought, "How can you talk like that? It's obvious you know we need something from him, and you're determined to give him a piece of your mind first." However, we really didn't dare to get angry, so we could only nod and smile obsequiously. The young master said, "Are you serious? I didn't realize you were such a straightforward person?"

Old Bian, speaking with a thick Beijing accent, said, "That's right. Go ahead and tell me, then we'll continue drinking."

The young master gave me a wink, and I immediately understood, saying, "Old Bian, actually it's like this. On your project, weren't you in charge of sifting sand for those things? The inscription on the coffin—"

Before I could finish speaking, Old Bian waved his hand and said, "Hey, let's not talk about this anymore. I know what you want to ask. You want me to copy those inscriptions for you? Let me tell you, forget it. It's not that I don't want to give them to you, it's just that I really don't have them. You're not the first people to ask me for them."

The young master asked in surprise, "That's not right. You were definitely the one who did the text-tracing work at the institute, so the firsthand information should be with you. How come it's gone?"

Old Bian said, "It's infuriating to think about. That day, Old Chen called me over, and I had already finished cleaning half of it when Old Chen came over, glanced at it a few times, and then went crazy. Suddenly he told me to leave and wouldn't let me touch it, saying there was sensitive information. You know, I've been doing sand dredging for over twenty years, and this is the first time I've been kicked out halfway through because of sensitive information. It's really... well, I won't speak ill of the dead, but what he did was truly despicable."

I glanced at the young master, surprised. So there was this going on that we didn't know. Thinking back, the old man wanted to call Old Bian out—what was so sensitive about it? The inscription on the coffin must be the key to the whole thing.

The young master, still unconvinced, continued, "I say, you're too naive. Didn't you memorize it yourself?"

Old Bian chuckled and said, "If I could memorize every word I've typed, I'd be a professor. Why would I be doing this thankless job?"

I thought about it and it made sense. Old Bian was clearly not very educated. He was fine with hard work, but if you asked him to learn to read and write, it would be the death of him. His temperament was just like ours. One year, I was buying goods in Taiyuan. I went to learn to type with the young master and a kid named Wang Meng. Wang Meng was last, the young master was second to last, and I was third. People called us the axis of evil.

We chatted about other things for a while. Old Bian became quite talkative after drinking, and we had a great time chatting. We forgot about the whole "whether I'd die or not" thing. When we saw that it was almost time and the wine was gone, the young master said goodbye.

Old Bian saw us out of the room, agreeing to drink again another day. I found it amusing; we'd only met once, and a single drink had made us confidants. What a joke—what a drinking buddy! It was almost midnight. I pulled my coat tighter around myself and said to the young master, "I wasted thirty-four yuan and sixty cents, and got nothing in return. What do you suggest we do?"

The young master frowned and said, "I really can't think of a solution. Let's think about it again. Look at Old Bian, he's perfectly fine—I think this is just superstition and legend. The professor might have gone completely mad from studying this."

I glanced at Old Bian's door behind me, and felt relieved. I patted him on the shoulder and said, "Then we can go back and get a good night's sleep!"

Before I could finish speaking, I suddenly heard Old Bian shout from the room behind me: "What is that?!" followed by the sound of a heavy object falling to the ground.

A sudden thought struck me. I exchanged a glance with the young master and muttered to myself, "Oh no!"

We quickly pushed the door open, but it was already locked. I kicked the door open and rushed in. I saw Old Bian lying on the bed, one hand clutching his chest, the other hand clenched into a fist and stretched out forward, as if he wanted to point at something.

I quickly turned him over, and when I saw his face, my blood almost froze.

Heavens—it's that same expression again, that indescribable, sinister grin!

"Dead?" the young master asked.

I nodded. Someone outside heard the noise and rushed over. When they saw Old Bian's expression, they were terrified. The young master yelled at him to call an ambulance, and he ran out trembling.

I cursed and slammed my fist on the bed, regretting why I hadn't stayed a little longer. If I had stayed just two more minutes, we would have known what had happened.

The young master was also very depressed. He stood there with his hands on his hips, unable to say a word. Two heavy stones suddenly weighed on our hearts, and we thought of ourselves. At this moment, the young master suddenly saw something, walked to Old Bian's body, and tried to pry his hands off.

I asked the young master, "What are you doing?"

He said, "He's holding something in his hand!"

"What is that?" I quickly went over and saw that Old Bian was clutching a small piece of paper in his hand, which was covering his chest. When we unfolded it, we saw that the paper was covered with dense writing and a strange, simple drawing. It was Old Bian's handwriting, but the writing was so messy that it was almost illegible, and the ink was still wet. It must have been written on recently.

So, right after we left, Lao Bian started writing this note?

Why was he in such a hurry to write this? I thought about it and realized that the ink wasn't dry because Old Bian's hands were sweating profusely, and his whole body was already wet.

I found it very strange. I couldn't look at it closely at that moment, and I couldn't understand it anyway. The waiter who opened the door with us had already called the dormitory security. I immediately put the note in my pocket and said to the young master, "When we're giving our statements later, remember to be careful and don't say anything wrong, okay?"

The young master said, "What's the point of giving a confession? We only have a few days left. Giving a confession will waste at least two days. We need to think of something quickly."

I thought about it and agreed. Let's run away. Otherwise, we'll just die in the police station and cause trouble for the country.

I returned to the hotel in a daze, not daring to call my daughter. I didn't know how she would react if I told her about this, and I knew she would be scared half to death if she believed me.

Upon entering his room, Old Xu immediately demanded that I pull out Old Bian's note to see what he was clinging to even on his deathbed.

It was a wine box covered with dense writing. I looked at it for a long time and found that it was all random and meaningless writing. Only the picture looked somewhat familiar.

I stared at it for a while, and then it suddenly dawned on me—damn, isn't the structure of this picture just like the patterns on the square stone sarcophagus? Absolutely right, it left a very deep impression on me when I saw it.

Looking at the patterns on the picture, it was like a revelation to me. When I looked at those patterns, I felt very strange. I never imagined that if these things were rubbed down, they would look like a map.

I exclaimed, "Ah!" and suddenly realized something. Could it be that when Old Bian was sanding the inscriptions, he discovered this phenomenon? Those old professors focused on theoretical things and neglected the most direct pattern.

The pattern on the coffin is a map? This is truly a very rare thing.

I suddenly became quite interested.

Old Bian didn't say anything to anyone, seemingly studying the thing on his own. It seemed the old man had some ambition. I looked up and continued reading the words on the note, and this time I understood it completely.

Chapter Nineteen Stealing

Those are document numbers. It seems Old Bian is quite knowledgeable about research; everything here is a document number used by the archives. I've also checked the archives, so I know the purpose and pattern of these numbers.

I flipped it over and saw many more with the same number, but I noticed one that he had circled several times with a pen. Next to it were written the words: "The key is: Guangchuan King's Tomb?"

When I saw it, I felt strange. Liu Qu, the King of Guangchuan, was eventually demoted to a commoner and committed suicide on the road. How could he have an imperial tomb?

Could the historical records be inaccurate, and what happened after King Guangchuan's death? Could the map hidden in the patterns on the coffin indicate some location? Could it be the tomb of King Guangchuan as described by Lao Bian?

No, this Zhenhe Dragon Coffin dates back to before the Western Han Dynasty, not to the time of the King of Guangchuan. The patterns on it must have nothing to do with the King of Guangchuan. So what exactly does the map on it indicate? Is it related to the Zhenhe Dragon Coffin?

A flood of clues overwhelmed my mind; I felt like my head was about to explode, yet I couldn't make sense of it at all.

Seeing the change in my expression, the young master knew I had figured something out and asked what was going on. I briefly explained what I had thought of to him, and he was also surprised. After thinking for a moment, he said, "Don't worry about it. Thinking won't help. I know where those files he marked are. Let's go take a look. Once we see the contents of those files, we'll roughly know what he's researching."

The archives were pitch black in the middle of the night. I followed the young master with a flashlight and whispered, "Is there really such a rush?"

The young master said, "We only have seven days left to live, can't we hurry up? Stop babbling and get the hell out of here."

I followed the bookcase numbers one by one. I had never been here before, but there were numbers, so it wasn't too difficult to find the books. However, in the dark, I couldn't move as quickly as during the day.

After finally finding the bookshelf, I discovered it was full of file folders. Just looking at them gave me a headache. These were old books from various families. To deserve this treatment, the books must be at least fifty years old.

We searched through the labels one by one, twice, but we still couldn't find that number.

What's going on? It dawned on me that the key file Lao Bian mentioned was numbered HS00456, but HS-457 and HS00454 were also there, only the part we were looking for was missing.

"What's going on? Is Old Bian playing a trick on us?" I asked, puzzled. "Or did someone borrow it?"

It's unlikely that anyone would borrow it. Not only would no one want to borrow this kind of document, but even if someone did, the archives wouldn't approve it easily.

The young master looked at the bookshelf, touched the dust on it, turned his head to look around, and suddenly his expression changed. He then gestured for me to be quiet.

I didn't know what was going on, and blurted out, "What are you doing?"

He covered my mouth, pointed to the dust on the bookshelf, and then pointed to the gap between the two bookshelves.

I turned my head and suddenly shivered. In the darkness between two bookshelves in the distance, there stood a black shadow, motionless.

Could it be that Old Bian's ghost is still haunted and has found its way here? I thought to myself, and suddenly felt a chill run down my spine.

Seeing me break out in a cold sweat, the young master whispered in my ear, "Don't be afraid, they might be in the same line of work as us."

He then gestured to me, signaling me to flank him.

I swallowed hard, muttering to myself, and we both turned off our flashlights at the same time, plunging the library into complete darkness, with only the moonlight shining in through the window providing any light.

We held our breath and slowly approached, almost crawling on the ground. Soon I was close to the gap, and I could even hear the dark figure breathing heavily.

Suddenly I felt emboldened. If you can breathe, you're not a ghost. If you're a human, why would I be afraid of you? I wouldn't be afraid of one, or even two or three.

We pressed ourselves against both sides of the cabinet, the young master on the left and me on the right. The man was hiding in the gap, unable to see us. The moonlight shone perfectly on the young master's face, and he mouthed to me, "One—two—three!"

We suddenly sprang to attention, shone our flashlights into the crack, and immediately heard a scream. The person inside was so startled that they fell to the ground.

I rushed over, intending to twist his hands behind his back, but upon closer inspection, damn it, that bright, kind-looking face belonged to a woman. Then I looked again, and holy crap, it was Shen Ruonan! She was huddled up in a ball, trembling with fear.

I was so surprised I could hardly speak: "Girl!"

When Ruonan heard our voices, her eyes widened, and she was clearly taken aback. However, since she couldn't see us, she couldn't be sure immediately.

"Who are you?" she asked.

I shone my flashlight on myself to make sure it was me, and asked, "What are you doing here in the middle of the night?"

When Ruonan saw it was me, she became playful and smiled, saying, "So what are you doing here again?"

I recounted to her what had just happened at Lao Bian's place, along with our speculations, and also mentioned the death list we found in the professor's drawer.

After listening, Wang Ruonan said, "Is this the document you're looking for?" She then pulled an envelope from behind her back. I looked at it and, sure enough, it was the HS00456 we were looking for. I asked curiously, "How did you get this? What do you need it for?"

She said, "I don't understand what happened either. I didn't come here to get the documents. This document was borrowed for the professor a month ago. After the incident, I didn't return it, and it's now overdue. I found it while organizing the documents today. I have the key, so I came to return it. When I came in, I found someone inside. I thought it was a thief, so I was scared and hid."

I exclaimed "Ah!" The professor had also borrowed the document; it seemed the contents were indeed crucial. What exactly was written inside?

The young master asked, "Have you seen anything inside?"

Wang Ruonan shook her head, saying that if she had read all of the professor's materials, she would at least be an associate professor herself.

I was anxious about what was inside, so I said, "This isn't the place to talk. Let's go out and see for ourselves."

Just then, a flashlight beam flashed outside the door, followed by footsteps. I knew something was wrong; the guards downstairs had heard the noise and were coming up to investigate. I quickly whistled, and the three of us, holding each other, climbed out the window. By the time the guards reached the door, we had already scaled the wall of the archives.

By then, there were no more buses to the hotel. The road wasn't long or far, but it would definitely be dawn by the time we walked back. I was eager to check on the things in my hands, so I dragged them to a dumpling restaurant and we sat down.

We were the first group of customers. It was still very early, and we finished all the dumplings the dumpling shop made. The proprietress was puzzled as to why we were getting up so early just to eat dumplings.

After the dumplings were cooked, there was still some time before we finished. We sat in the private room, opened the folder, and emptied its contents.

Upon seeing the cover of the item inside, I knew it was an ancient county chronicle novel written in the form of notes. Flipping through it, I noticed the pages were yellowed and loose, suggesting it was from the late Qing Dynasty. I thought to myself, "Wow, this thing is quite valuable." I wondered if there would be any problems stealing it, but this thing had been sitting there for at least several decades, so those people wouldn't have only just discovered it was missing now.

Flipping through a few pages, I immediately noticed a folded mark on one of them. Opening it, I saw it was classical Chinese. There was only one sentence, underlined, and the handwriting looked recent. There were annotations in pen beside it; the notes appeared to be those of a professor.

Of all of us, the young master was definitely clueless. After glancing at it a few times without understanding, and not wanting to show it in front of the young girl, he said to me, "Old Xu, let me test you. Translate this."

I don't understand it either. We deal in antiques, this isn't our expertise, so I asked the girl, "Why don't you translate it? Let's see how well you've learned."

The girl knew our trick, snorted, and looked down at the document, but her expression changed after only a few glances.

The young master and I really couldn't understand it, so we kept pestering her to tell us quickly, asking if it was about the coffin in the Yellow River and whether it was related to what we were experiencing now. She said, "That coffin...it's not a simple matter. I'll translate it for you from the beginning, and you can figure it out yourselves."

There are few historical records about Liu Qu, the King of Guangchuan, because the power of the kings at that time was extremely great, and even the emperor could not control them. Historical records were basically controlled by the kings. Whatever happened in a year, apart from the good things that could be reported, most of them were deceitful. Therefore, there are very few historical records about the kings, or rather, very few that can be used as a reference.

The life of Liu Qu, the King of Guangchuan, was quite extraordinary, resulting in numerous folk tales about him, especially those concerning his tomb raiding exploits. He even wrote a book called "Fangtu Jishu," which includes accounts of his tomb raiding experiences.

Liu Qu was quite skilled at tomb raiding. He himself was just an observer and did not participate in the digging. All the excavation work was handled by a trusted team of his. However, finding ancient tombs was Liu Qu's forte. It was hard to imagine where a king would get his knowledge of tomb raiding.

According to the records in this county annals, legend has it that one year, Liu had a dream in which he saw a strange picture. It was very peculiar, with lines that resembled patterns, and it seemed to be a map. When he woke up, he traced the picture and showed it to his concubines and ministers, but no one could understand it or know whether the picture was actually a map.

Liu used his power to recruit renowned scholars from all over the country to decipher the map, but despite the many people he recruited, they all offered conflicting opinions and came up with no results.

Coincidentally, one of Liu Qu's concubines saw the map by chance and remarked that the place depicted on the map resembled her hometown. She pointed out that the bend in the map was the Yellow River and the pattern resembled the mountains of her hometown. Liu Qu was overjoyed upon hearing this, realizing that the map was indeed a divine guidance. So, that very night, he led his men on a journey to the concubine's hometown.

Although Liu Qu said that, people found it strange. Some said that it was actually a map of an ancient tomb, while others said that it was a map of the dragon vein of the Liu family, and that he went there to choose a place for his own mausoleum.

Liu Qu was gone for three months without a word. When he returned, he looked as if he had aged ten years. When others asked him what had happened, he wouldn't say. However, after that, Liu Qu's personality changed drastically, and he became taciturn.