bad seeds - Chapter 3
“Look at this!” the young man exclaimed.
Following the direction of his finger, what appeared before us was a stone slab about 3 meters by 5 meters square. It looked like it was made of hard granite, and half of the slab was still buried in gravel, its thickness unknown.
The bright incandescent light here is enough for us to discern the mysterious, totem-like patterns carved on the stone slabs.
"Are these their totems?" someone asked.
Professor Wu did not answer; he was completely absorbed in pondering the stone slab. He squatted down and gently stroked the rare treasure, his expression gradually becoming solemn and somewhat strange.
When everyone crouched down in a circle to examine the stone slab closely, even I, a layman, began to notice something strange about it.
The carvings on the stone slab are quite deep, remaining clear despite over eight thousand years of wind and sand. The wall carvings possess an admirable level of craftsmanship. Their style differs greatly from the rough and rugged style I imagined ancient murals to be; instead, they present a minimalist style that utilizes regular geometric lines as much as possible. They are quite similar to the patterns found on pottery shards made from everyday objects, only the craftsmanship is far more refined. It seems that the patterns on the pottery shards were modeled after this stone slab.
Carved in the upper left corner of the stone slab are six figures, or perhaps deities, in various poses. Their faces are all outlined with simple lines and are remarkably similar. I think they are distinguished primarily by different symbols engraved in the lower right corner of each figure; these might be the names of various gods or some other title. As for the oval shape occupying a large portion of the image, with several tentacles extending out, I have absolutely no idea what it is. To me, it looks like a flattened sea urchin with most of its tentacles cut off—I wouldn't be surprised at all if it appeared in a Miró abstract work, but seeing it in an eight-thousand-year-old wall carving is truly astonishing.
The images of the six deities reappeared in the lower left corner of the stone slab. Of course, I couldn't be sure if they were the same six as the ones above, because there were no symbols carved around them. This time they had changed to the same pose, which in modern etiquette would be farewell, and the image of the sea urchin—I'll call it that for now—overlapped with theirs.
The image carved on the right side, which occupies most of the mural, is much easier to understand. I think I see a snake with its mouth open, and a person walks in and stabs its heart with some kind of sharp object. Yes, it is indeed a snake, a huge snake.
What amazed me was the pattern of circles, squares, and triangles in the picture—it's hard to imagine that such regular patterns could be drawn by hand without any tools—if I were to believe that Neolithic people knew geometric drawing, it would be easier to believe that my neighbor's dog knew trigonometric functions.
As I carefully observed the granite slab that exuded a somewhat eerie aura, I tried to weave through the crowd, taking photos of the slab from various angles, including panoramic views and close-ups, especially of the six human figures with strange symbols.
Just as I was engrossed in my work, Professor Wu suddenly snapped out of it, jumped up, and shouted to the young man beside him:
"Take a sample immediately for carbon-14 radioisotope analysis. I need the results right away!"
Then, addressing all the following reporters, he said, "That concludes today's interviews. We still have work to do, and we will hold a press conference once we have any newer or more significant discoveries." — This was a dismissal.
When we emerged from the underground sanctuary, we found that all the lights erected at the excavation site had been turned on at some point, and only a sliver of light remained on the horizon. Although reluctant, at the repeated insistence of the archaeological team, all of us reporters had no choice but to embark on our journey back to Delingha under the cover of darkness.
Chapter Two: The Secret by the Twin Lakes
Back in Delingha, I was finally able to have a decent dinner at my hotel instead of tormenting my stomach with compressed biscuits and boiled water, which allowed me to temporarily put the ancient village ruins out of my mind.
The hotel restaurant was spacious; in fact, every corner was spacious, unlike the stingy offices in Shanghai. Although the decor seemed a bit simple to someone from a big city like myself, my mood quickly lifted. The dishes served were all familiar: fresh lamb, beef, pork, and a variety of fresh vegetables—I was certain they were all fresh, definitely not marinated.
The food had been frozen for a long time. And it was precisely because it was fresh that I found it exceptionally delicious—this dinner was another memorable experience for me since I arrived in Qinghai.
The waiter told me that there are many farms in the suburbs of Delingha, supposedly established in the early days after liberation. Because of its proximity to Lake Kruk, the freshwater supply is abundant, so although Delingha is located in the Gobi Desert, it always has a plentiful supply of agricultural products. I noticed his Mandarin was a bit awkward, and judging from his appearance, he seemed to be Uyghur or Mongolian, or at least from a minority group with some blood ties—I don't know much about ethnic minorities, but before coming here I had been told that this is a place where several ethnic minorities live, and I had been advised to...
You should be mindful of local customs and traditions, but it seems that apart from their underdeveloped economy, they have long since embraced modern lifestyles, and traces of those unique customs have faded considerably.
I learned some interesting geographical details from the waiter: Lake Kruk, adjacent to the ancient village ruins, is not the only lake in the vicinity. Just a few kilometers away lies another lake—Lake Tosu—forming a pair of twin lakes. The important nearby water source, the Bayin River, flows between the twin lakes—Lake Kruk and Lake Tosu—and tributaries flow into both lakes. However, strangely enough, Lake Tosu, which is slightly larger than Lake Kruk, is a saltwater lake.
“You’re not a local, are you? That’s why I’m telling you all this. It’s fine if you want to go to Lake Kruk, but you’d better not go to the Lake Tosun area.”
"Why?"
"Because Mount Baigong by Lake Tosu is not a good place; it will bring you bad luck!" The waiter looked somewhat nervous.
"Is there anything strange about that place?" I asked, looking unconvinced.
The waiter started to sound a bit mysterious: "Mount Baigong is a demon mountain. It is said that there are some strange irons in there, which are demonic creatures."
"……iron?"
It's not surprising that people from small, unsophisticated places sometimes have superstitions that are hard for those of us who have lived in big cities to understand.
However… iron? Ironware from ancient villages…
In that instant, I suddenly became interested in his cryptic attitude.
The next day will be a boring one.
After sending the photos and report back to the newspaper via email, I lay on my hotel bed thinking to myself, having booked my return flight for noon the following day.
I took my laptop out of my bag, connected it to my digital camera, and carefully studied the ironware and the images carved on the mysterious stone slab. Perhaps more than eight thousand years ago, each of the six figures represented a deity with a legend, some thrilling, some deeply moving. However, as time passed, the old legends were lost to history, and new ones are emerging.
For example, the waiter told me about the "demon mountain" in a mysterious way.
I suddenly remembered tomorrow's program.
Like a twin sister to Kruk Lake, it is nestled in the Gobi Desert, yet it is completely different from it. That saltwater lake, and that mysterious Baigong Mountain—didn't someone mention that mountain when the reporter asked questions? Perhaps we should visit it tomorrow.
The next morning, I packed some necessities and set off. After asking the locals, I learned that I still had to reach the vicinity of Lake Kruk first and then walk there, which was quite a long distance for walking.
The journey passed by the Bayin River. October is the dry season, and the Bayin River only has...
A trickle of water.
I arrived at Lake Tosu around lunchtime.
Lake Toson looked wider and more magnificent than Lake Kruk, its vast expanse of blue water reflecting the dazzling sunlight. I scooped up a small handful of water and licked it; it was indeed salty and astringent.
It seems she is truly a beauty to be admired from afar, not to be touched.
After lunch, I set off for Baigong Mountain in Hunan.
Mount Baigong is adjacent to Lake Toson, so close that the foot of the mountain becomes part of the lake shore.
As I got closer, I began to notice something was wrong. If I wasn't mistaken, what encircled the mountain was an iron fence.
The iron fences were at least two people high, and there were guards standing at intervals. Four or five tents were also set up around Baigong Mountain. Many soldiers and some people whose identities could not be determined by their clothing were busy moving between the tents, making it look like a guerrilla command post. I don't know what happened.
After walking halfway around the mountain, I came to what looked like an entrance, where guards were stationed and wouldn't let me through. I asked him what was going on, and he said he didn't know, he was just following orders. I revealed my identity as a journalist, but it was to no avail; it only made him more wary of me. I knew I couldn't get any more information here, so I decided to complete the remaining half of the loop and then return to Delingha the same way.