bad seeds

Chapter 1

The news at the beginning is absolutely true; that's all I can honestly say. This world has too many mysteries, and I will unveil them one by one.

A meteorite impact three million years ago planted a seed of evil on Earth, and humanity must prevent its growth. The ancients succeeded at the cost of their lives, but modern humans nearly failed…

Na Duo was once a civil servant, but due to his strong physiological need to sleep in late, he switched jobs to become a journalist. He possesses a rich imagination and is often "tortured" by the many fantastical dreams he experiences while sleeping in. After spending a lot of time in these worlds, he developed the desire to write them down. Subsequently, he published several short stories in *Mengya* magazine, which has featured bestselling authors such as Guo Jingmin. He never expected to achieve anything significant in literature; for him, as long as readers enjoyed it, that was enough.

If simple liking is the "small satisfaction" that Na Duo pursued, then the succession of publishers probably made him fully understand what a greater "satisfaction" is.

Starting last year, three renowned bestselling publishers—Chunfeng Literature and Art Publishing House, Shanghai People's Publishing House, and Nanhai Publishing Company—simultaneously signed contracts with Na Duo and published three distinct series of his works. Chunfeng Literature and Art Publishing House began publishing the "Na Duo's Three Kingdoms Chronicles" series in the latter half of last year. After publishing "The Oath of the Peach Garden" and "Cao Cao's Appearance," they released the third book in the series, "Heroes of the World Gather at Sishui," in March of this year. This is a hilarious and absurd historical novel, first serialized in the magazine "Mengya," which caused a sensation and was widely read by students. The entire series has already sold over 100,000 copies. Nanhai Publishing Company is launching "The Murderer," the first book in Na Duo's "Na Duo's Notes," this month. The book released by Shanghai People's Publishing House in March is the first book in Na Duo's "Constellation Romance Novel Series," titled "When Capricorn Meets Virgo." It is said to be a romance novel that readers can hardly imagine, and the reading experience it brings is even more novel and charming than Wang Wenhua's "Protein Girl."

In short, it's already astonishing enough for a bestselling author to be able to write novels in three different styles, but considering Na Duo's plan to release three series with more than 10 novels this year, one has to admire his talent even more. Perhaps he really can create his own bestselling empire among Chinese people aged 14 to 40.

Chapter One: The Mystery of the Ruins

That afternoon, because I had played games until 4 a.m. the night before, I was still feeling quite unwell, even though I got up at 10 a.m. Fortunately, there weren't any interviews, so I went online at work for a while and then rested my head on the desk. In a reporter's office like this, playing games is perfectly acceptable, and taking a nap is no problem at all. In that respect, it's much more comfortable than a typical company.

When my mind was still hazy and confused, I was woken up by someone tapping me.

"Hey, Nado."

I forced my eyes open, gritting my teeth in frustration. What I hated most was being disturbed while I was sleeping. But what came into view was the old face of Deputy Editor-in-Chief Zhang Ke.

Although it wasn't really a big deal, being woken up by a high-ranking leader while I was sleeping was still a little awkward. I quickly tried to open my eyes wide and put on a smile.

"Teacher Zhang, is there something you need?"

"Excuse me, did I disturb you? I have an interview, could you come over here?" Zhang Ke was quite polite.

I followed Zhang Ke into his office, knowing full well that something was definitely going to happen.

It's a major interview, and Zhang Ke is in charge; he might even have to go out of Shanghai. The head of the news department doesn't have the authority to approve travel expenses yet.

Half an hour later, I came out of Zhang Ke's office, feeling refreshed, and headed straight for the airline ticket office.

The reason for this change in my mental state before and after is that, besides the fact that I naturally tend to be in a good state when I'm doing important interviews, another reason is that this news was not only important, but also strange, very strange.

As I mentioned before, our newspaper's reporting usually doesn't leave Shanghai, because our main distribution area is in Shanghai. News from all over the country is provided by Xinhua News Agency, so there's no need to expend manpower and resources. However, recently, in order to improve our so-called "newspaper prestige," the newspaper has introduced a new regulation: if a very important event occurs in the domestic news field and is of great interest to readers, reporters must be sent to cover it, no matter how far away. This time, the field is archaeology, and the event is the excavation of an ancient village site.

The significance of this archaeological discovery has not only shaken the entire Chinese archaeological community, but it's also reported that many foreign media outlets have been alerted and are sending specialists to the site—Delingha City in Qinghai Province, China. This discovery may very well rewrite the entire history of human civilization during the Neolithic Age. Even the term "Neolithic Age," a term written into archaeological history and familiar to even elementary school students, may need to be redefined.

Because iron tools have been proven to be in use in a Neolithic village. Moreover, this village, located in the Delingha region of Qinghai, likely existed long before the Neolithic period.

The use of iron tools, though those unearthed were very simple—extremely primitive by today's standards—made this group of humans far more advanced than any other human species on Earth at the time. The difference, measured in time, is at least several thousand years. You can imagine the vast difference between humans in 5003 and humans in 2003.

Now, almost every major media outlet across the country has sent reporters there. In Shanghai alone, Oriental TV, Shanghai TV, East Radio, Shanghai Radio, Liberation Daily, Xinmin Evening News, Wenhui Daily, Labor Daily, Morning News, Morning Star, and over a dozen other media outlets have already sent reporters. I'm sure I'll run into many acquaintances on my flight tomorrow.

That night, I went to bed early because my flight was early the next morning. Before falling asleep, I remembered a friend who was born in Qinghai telling me that earthquakes were frequent in her birthplace, causing all the animals to flee from the forests to the plains, making it a good time for hunting. Sometimes, hailstones the size of bowls would fall, and you should never go out during this time, or you would die if you were hit by one... If I had seen the news about Baigong Mountain at that time, I would have remembered that Baigong Mountain is also in the Delingha area.

After a flight of more than two hours, I arrived at Xining Airport at 10:20 a.m. As I expected, I ran into Zhang Lu, a reporter from the Morning News, and a few other reporters from smaller tabloids whom I didn't know very well. However, I was surprised not to see any reporters from the two television stations and the three major newspapers. It seems that they probably took the next flight, which arrived at noon, because this flight was too early.

My destination, Delingha, is still 400 kilometers away.

Xining was more bustling than I had imagined, but I had no time to consider whether the video stores here would keep me from being so idle before I fell asleep, nor did I feel the excitement of setting foot in Qinghai for the first time, a place that seemed so distant and only existed on television channels. Zhang Lu and I, carrying pancakes and maps, traversed the city, needing to buy the fastest train tickets to Delingha.

Time was of the essence. As a journalist, you can't afford to be later than others in sending your report. A report submitted a day later, no matter how well-written, eloquent, or artistically valuable, is worthless. This is the ironclad rule of journalism: time!

An hour later, we boarded a train bound for the heart of the Qaidam Basin, where I would spend about five hours in this green metal contraption.

As the train entered the Gobi Desert, the sunset edged the world with red, making the strangely shaped, orderly hills look like the teeth of some kind of herbivore.

When we arrived in Delingha, it was almost dinnertime, and that's where our disagreement arose. Except for Zhang Lu, the other reporters wanted to enjoy a hearty local meal in Delingha before heading to our destination—the archaeological site of the ancient village beside Lake Kruk. But Zhang Lu and I insisted on going immediately. Neither side felt obligated to agree with the other's position, so we quickly split into two groups.

I know Zhang Lu was in such a hurry for the same reason I was: to write a simple report and send it back today. Now that we're here, as I said before, for journalists, time is everything. Of course, many tabloid reporters with no professional ethics can disregard these things.

We hailed a local taxi, and although the car wasn't in great condition, it was surprisingly a Shanghai-made Santana. Apparently, the Santana has a high chassis, making it less prone to breaking down on bumpy roads.

More than an hour after we finished our hard, dry flatbread, we finally arrived at the archaeological site. Since nobody usually comes here, our driver, a local man in his thirties, even took the wrong route, but he readily agreed to only charge us half the fare. Actually, it didn't bother us; we could get reimbursed later.

Surprisingly, quite a few reporters have already arrived. I glanced around, and most of them were from Beijing media outlets. It seems being close to the central government really makes a difference. Judging by this, they must have already sent their articles back today. I'm glad I made the decision earlier; there's still time to catch up. Otherwise, I'd be embarrassed if the newspapers questioned me tomorrow. I'm secretly worried about the reporters arriving on the next flight. I wonder how they'll explain themselves; they'll probably get a severe scolding from their superiors on the phone.

The archaeological team hadn't expected so many reporters to come. The makeshift tents they'd prepared were quickly running out; only a few remained. The reporters who arrived later had no choice but to return to Delingha, a three- or four-hour round trip, wasting precious time on the road. But I soon realized that in this respect, it made little difference. Since there were no suitable communication tools here, after writing the article and taking the photos, I still had to take the archaeological team's vehicle back to Delingha to go online and send them back to the newspaper. It seemed that a three- or four-hour journey every day was unavoidable.

Reporters, regardless of their background, are not exactly law-abiding citizens. That evening, the archaeological team's camp was bustling with activity, resembling a marketplace. Aside from greeting each other and introducing themselves, the reporters all began preparing their "homework." Even the tent where the team leader worked, though more than half the size of the others, was as crowded as a rush-hour bus. Meanwhile, the area around the excavation site—the "focus" of the news—which remained off-limits until the press conference the following day, was constantly filled with people and flashing camera lenses. The security guards and archaeologists were overwhelmed by reporters trying to sneak in early.

Neither Zhang Lu nor I are particularly adept at scheming, and crowded places are one of my least favorite environments. We simply documented the scene, interviewed a few unimportant archaeologists, gathered some information, and wrote a brief two-hundred-word report. The rest of the time, we just stayed in our tent, diligently preparing the questions we would ask the next day.

The entire camp was restless all night.

The next day.

Given what we witnessed last night, Zhang Lu and I rushed to the reception venue before 4 a.m. to secure seats. By 5 a.m., the venue was already packed. The reception was scheduled for 9 a.m.—sitting cross-legged on the sand for four hours was not a pleasant experience, yet no one moved around freely—everyone was afraid that if they left, their hard-won prime spot would be snatched away by their colleagues. Zhang Lu and I, as a "team," were considered lucky; if one of us needed to use the restroom, someone could watch our seats for us.

A large group of people sat in the roughly 40-square-meter space, waiting for dawn. If it weren't for the expensive professional interview equipment, it would have looked more like a sit-in protest.

No one was as loud as last night; everyone was talking quietly. The closer it got to the start time of the reception, the more tense the atmosphere became. When the temperature was high enough to soak my shirt with sweat, the reception finally began.

The person who released the news and gave the interview was Professor Wu Renjie, the head of the archaeological team—a tanned, unassuming old man. Calling him an "old man" isn't entirely accurate; the information I gathered in my "pre-class assignment" indicated he was only in his early fifties. However, anyone who has been engaged in archaeological work for 30 years will inevitably look older than their actual age.

Some.

"...The soil here is severely eroded, which has brought great difficulties to archaeological excavation. Often, the pits we dig on the first day are buried by sand on the second day. You would never guess that more than 8,000 years ago, this place was a place where fish and grass were plentiful." Old Wu held a fragment of pottery in his hand. I was sitting relatively close to the front, and with the help of my glasses, I could vaguely see the fish patterns painted on the pottery fragment.

"...If you haven't completely forgotten your high school history, you should know that over eight thousand years ago, that should have been the Neolithic Age. But as you know, we've made some amazing discoveries in this tribe that should be in the Neolithic Age, which is why you've all traveled so far to get here—" At this point, his tone became somewhat excited, "We've discovered some iron tools here, suspected of being used as tools at that time..."

The crowd then began its first disturbance.

...