Atavism

Chapter 1

Archaeologists in Fujian Province recently discovered a tomb in which Sun Wukong and his brothers were buried together on the main peak of Baoshan Mountain, located in the northwest of Shunchang County. The tomb dates back to the late Yuan and early Ming dynasties.

According to the curator of Shunchang County Museum, the joint tomb of Sun Wukong and his brother is located in Shuangsheng Temple behind the South Heavenly Gate of Baoshan Mountain, at an altitude of 1305 meters. The left stele has two small characters in regular script, "Baofeng," horizontally inscribed above, and four large characters in regular script, "Qitian Dasheng," vertically inscribed in the middle, with the two small characters "Shenwei" horizontally inscribed below. The right stele has four large characters in regular script, "Tongtian Dasheng," vertically inscribed, with the two small characters "Shenwei" horizontally inscribed below. While Sun Wukong, the "Qitian Dasheng," is a mythological figure familiar to Chinese people both at home and abroad, the "Tongtian Dasheng" does not appear in Wu Cheng'en's Ming Dynasty novel *Journey to the West* and is virtually unknown.

On January 12, 2005, at 10:30 AM, the Lianhe Zaobao quoted an AFP report stating that British researchers were preparing to travel to remote western China in hopes of solving a major archaeological mystery: why the same religious symbol is found at archaeological sites of multiple ancient civilizations around the world.

The Daily Telegraph reported that images of rabbits with three connected ears have appeared in medieval British churches, on Mongolian metalware, and in Chinese Sui Dynasty temples built between the sixth and seventh centuries AD.

The report states that what has puzzled academics is why Buddhism, Christianity, and Islam, which are separated by such vast distances in time and space, would all prominently use this symbol.

In this scene, three rabbits chasing each other along a circle, their ears overlapping, look almost identical.

The report says that a four-person British research team, led by archaeologists, will travel to Dunhuang in Gansu Province, China next month to study the murals there, hoping to find a glimmer of hope to unravel the mystery.

More than a thousand years ago, Dunhuang was an important starting point of the Silk Road. This famous trade route connected China with Central Asia and Iran, and its branches extended to Tibet and South Asia.

Besides goods, religion and ideas also spread to distant places through this route. Researchers believe this is the origin of the "Three Rabbits" mystery.

It is understood that the "Three Rabbits" symbol first appeared on the cloth canopy of the Dunhuang murals. British researchers will conduct a detailed study of it after arriving there.

"If we can figure out why the same thing was equally meaningful to people thousands of miles apart and hundreds of years apart in ancient times, then we can help modern people understand things that are common in different cultures and religions," said archaeologist Greaves, who led the research team.

Qianlong News Network, August 24, 2004, 13:55: I read hundreds of news articles every day, some related to me, but most unrelated. These two news articles originally had nothing to do with me, but now they are connected. I can list the news articles for everyone to see, but the stories they involve will be told little by little.

Those who have read my previous journal entries must be starting to speculate about what's going to happen, but I guarantee you'll never guess.

In late May 2005, I visited the Temple of Heaven in Beijing over the weekend, returning empty-handed and quite dejected. At that time, I was grappling with a profound mystery that defied all my efforts to unravel. Even the elites representing the dark side of humanity were just as baffled as I was, only able to await the final message from the distant horizon. Those who have read my journal, "The Code of God," will know what I'm talking about.

Such a bad mood affected my work performance to some extent. That noon, while I was eating my lunchbox at the table, a hand picked up the movable wooden figure on the computer monitor, twisted it into a strange shape, and put it back. As a result, it lost its balance and fell headfirst. Luckily, I grabbed it with my left hand and it didn't fall into the plastic lunchbox.

"Are you playing the Ten Cruelest Tortures of the Qing Dynasty?" I straightened the wooden dummy's arms and legs and put them back, then looked up at Zong'er, who, despite not having a mustache, always liked to touch his upper lip. He was my department head.

"You've been listless these past few days, but you reacted quite quickly just now." Zong'er produced a freshly washed steel spoon and tapped it against the wooden figure's head. This married man's lifestyle was vastly different from ours; at least his wife cooked lunch for him at home every day and brought it to him, saving him a couple hundred yuan a month on food expenses and allowing him to wash dishes twenty or thirty more times.

"Do you and my wooden dummy have some kind of grudge?"

"Sure enough, he speaks weakly." Zong Er enthusiastically gave the wooden man four slaps on the head from all sides. The little guy swayed precariously, and I caught him.

"Go on vacation, go heal your heartbreak." Zong Er finally put away the mischievous steel spoon and walked away.

"Huh, are you that good?" I asked, glaring at him, ignoring his inappropriate choice of words.

"You worked six days during the May Day holiday, so I'll give you four days off. The reporting work is tight and the tasks are heavy lately, so don't worry about the remaining two days." Zong Er waved a steel spoon and walked towards his seat with a good view by the window, his wails echoing as he hit two more people on the head along the way.

"Oh, I see..." I touched my forehead, relieved. When did Zong'er's steel spoon start working against everyone's foreheads?

I booked a five-day, four-night tour of Fujian through a hostel, planning to relax in the deep mountains and forests. This is a new route, mainly exploring the Yiyang Yuanyangxi Nature Reserve. Most people going to Fujian head to Wuyishan, but this route is less crowded and quieter. The first night is in Shunchang, the second and third nights are in the reserve, the fourth night is in Fuzhou, and then I'll return to Shanghai.

I requested four days off from the 13th to the 16th, but I left on Saturday the 11th. Journalists don't have weekends off; they're on call even when they're not working. So, normally, I should ask for leave to leave Shanghai over the weekend, but Zong was already two days short of my leave, so he had no choice but to grant me the leave by using my two-day weekend.

The new tour group was small, only twelve people, so the travel agency didn't make much money; it was currently in the market development phase. We arrived in Fuzhou before noon, where the tour guide picked up the group, and everyone scrambled onto a minibus that looked new on the outside but was old on the inside. As I adjusted the air conditioning vents, I started to feel annoyed; the air conditioning was clearly inadequate.

Our tour guide was a petite young woman who seemed to bounce around even when she was standing still. She told a slightly risqué joke as soon as we boarded the bus, and then led us to pay our respects to our driver, Master Niu. As is customary, everyone applauded this dark-skinned, skinny young man who would keep us safe for the next few days.

Like all tour group drivers, Master Niu remained cool and silent, having already overtaken more than a hundred vehicles by the time he left the city. Horsepower and air conditioning seemed inversely proportional; everyone started wiping away sweat.

The tour guide, noticing our slightly off expressions, quickly tried to cheer us up: "Don't let Mr. Niu's speed fool you; his driving skills are top-notch, and he's never had an accident. Just think of it as a free ride on a roller coaster!" She then clapped her hands.

The people in the car glared at the girl, and only a few clapped along.

"Whoosh!" The minibus weaved through the gap between two trucks. Master Niu responded to our encouragement. Very much in his style.

It's over 200 kilometers to Shunchang. At this rate, it won't take more than two hours to get there.

What happened next made me suspect that this girl with short braids wasn't mature enough, or that she and Master Niu were a perfect prank duo in the tour guide world. She took it upon herself to give the twelve of us in the group catchy nicknames.

It's really catchy.

For example, Wukong—this is me.

She herself is called Tang Sanzang, so besides Wukong, there are also Bajie and Sha Wujing. The rest of the people weren't so lucky. One of them, whom I thought was a fat woman on a hiking trip to lose weight, was called the White Bone Demon, which made me see Tang Sanzang's mischievous nature even more clearly.

The White Bone Demon glared resentfully at Tang Sanzang, who was basking in the glow of his newfound enjoyment of nicknames, then surprisingly rolled his eyes at me as well. What does this have to do with me? Even though I am Sun Wukong.

"When you're out having fun, you have to let loose," the tour guide said casually. She then ordered us to call her Tang Sanzang or Master: "Our first stop is the hometown of the Monkey King, Sun Wukong, so such a name is most appropriate."

She also arranged the rooms, and apart from the fact that it was just the two of them traveling, the allocation of the other people was quite orderly.

The guy I shared a room with was tall and thin, about 188 cm, and his name was Liu Er (Six Ears). His full name was Liu Er Macaque King. My master said we were a good match living together.

Liu Er is an extremely outgoing person. He reached over from the back seat and patted me hard on the shoulder: "You don't snore at night, do you?"

I stretched my shoulders. Was it really necessary to use so much force?

"If you don't snore, what should I call you?"

"Six ears".

I turned around and saw his grinning face. I couldn't help but smile wryly: "You're really playing along. My name is Na Duo."

"That's quite a rare surname. My name is You Hong, You as in swimming and Hong as in macroscopic." You Hong pulled back from his leaning back in his chair: "But I think the name Liu Er is pretty cool, as long as you don't bring out the last three characters."

"Oh..." I drawled, "Then I'll call you Six Ears."

At this point, Tang Sanzang started inviting us to play a "butt game." This is an old, tired game in the tourism industry, with no originality whatsoever. Each member of the group would say an adjective, and after they finished, the tour guide would say, "Add the adjective according to this format." For example, if the adjective was "red," it would become "My butt is red."

I'm sure I wasn't the only one who knew what tricks Tang Seng was going to pull, but everyone wanted to divert attention from Master Niu's amazing driving skills, so we were quite cooperative with her.

When it was my turn, I certainly couldn't say "red-faced," because I am Sun Wukong.

So I thought about it and decided to say "majestic and imposing".

Sun Wukong's buttocks are incredibly imposing!

After a few games and a string of bawdy jokes, we arrived in Shunchang. I checked my watch; it had been a little over two hours. Tang Sanzang's energetic performance and the minibus's swerving left and right created a wonderful chemistry, and everyone was in a pretty high spirits. We finished lunch around 2 PM, which showed everyone had enjoyed their meal. Master Niu set off again for Gao Laozhuang and Bi Ma Wen Horse Ranch, while Master Tang started rambling on about the connection between Shunchang and Sun Wukong. Listening, I compared my recollection with the news and realized Master Tang's artistic embellishment was quite impressive.

"Damn, this is too unbelievable." Liu Er plopped down next to me as soon as he finished eating and got on the bus, crossing his legs. But the seats on the minibus are cramped, and even watching him cross his legs made me feel uncomfortable.

"It's not entirely fabricated; there was such news. It was reported by Xinhua News Agency at the beginning of the year, and later it was reported by newspapers in various places."

"Really? I didn't see it."

"Working in this line of work, you see a lot of messy news." I chuckled.

"Yo yo yo!" Six Ears exclaimed. The man with the potbelly in front of him pressed down on the plastic lever to adjust the seat, and after a few tries, he wondered why the backrest had only moved back half an inch. Meanwhile, Six Ears' right knee, which was resting on the back of the chair, was being pressed down so hard by the backrest that it was almost unbearable.

Liu Er quickly put his leg down: "Take it easy, Pigsy."

When his nickname "Pork Belly" was so blatantly used, he could only chuckle.

"You're a reporter? What newspaper?"

I took a business card out of my bag and gave it to him.

Liu Er took the business card, but then pulled out a contact book: "Please leave my phone number and address here, the business card is easy to lose."

After exchanging phone numbers and addresses, Liu Er looked me over again: "Morning Star? I read it often. Sorry, I'm unemployed and don't have a business card. You're saying there's really such a news story? And there really is a Wukong?" He squinted and scanned me: "Wukong was born in Shunchang, huh?"

"Be careful not to squint like a stylist." I was annoyed by Six-Eye's gaze, so I changed the subject: "You can't believe everything you read in the newspapers. I think this is just hype. With this kind of hype, won't Shunchang's tourism industry take off?"

Six-Eyed raised his left index finger and shook it back and forth: "How can a journalist say that news is unreliable? You're ruining your own reputation."

Gao Laozhuang and Bi Ma Wen Horse Ranch are not far apart, connected by a mountain road; they are actually two villages. The first one we arrived at was Ma Liao Keng, a village called "Xian Chang" (Immortal Ranch). Legend has it that this was the place where Sun Wukong, when he was Bi Ma Wen, stored horse feed and grazed his celestial horses. He had a few "celestial horses" dressed in red and green, but there was no spacious area for them to gallop; you could only sit on them and have your picture taken for ten yuan.

Gao Laozhuang is not its original name; it's called Tulong Village. To this day, 80% of the residents still share the surname Gao. There used to be a Gao family ancestral hall, but it was destroyed during the Cultural Revolution, and only the foundation remains. Both villages have histories of over two hundred years.

When we visited Gao Lao Zhuang, everyone kept calling him "Pigsy" (a character from Journey to the West), which made Pi Jiu Dou (a nickname for a man with a large belly) a bit embarrassed. His belly seemed to shrink by two sizes at one point, which I thought was the result of him trying to inhale and contract his stomach. Later, he gave up on the nickname and returned to his original size. These nicknames certainly made the people involved extremely depressed, but they quickly made us, who were strangers to each other, feel familiar with each other.

Although Liu Er had pretended to lecture me in the car, he was actually quite interested in the behind-the-scenes stories of the news. Now, he shamelessly flattered me, trying to get me to reveal some inside information. The city's propaganda department's directives were issued almost daily, and I randomly picked a few low-risk ones to tell him. The guy started yelling and pestering me more and more.

After a few words, Liu Er told me about his situation. He majored in geology, but after graduating, he worked in a mine for a year but didn't want to go back to mining, so he planned to go to the United States to continue his career. He's been traveling around lately, and his visa went smoothly; he'll be leaving in a few months.

During dinner, Liu Er forced me to drink three or four glasses of beer. I almost never drink alcohol, and my alcohol tolerance is extremely low. Liu Er used all his tricks, reasoning with me and appealing to my emotions. If I were a complete stranger, I would refuse to drink, and even if I were a close friend, I could swallow my pride and refuse. But it was this kind of half-acquaintance who treated me like an older brother.

When I woke up the next day, Liu Er was staring at a piece of paper. I leaned over and looked at the four pictures on it, and my face turned green.

"Who drew this for you?"

"You, you forgot about last night?" Liu Er didn't even look up: "This is even more amazing than the Sunflower Manual. If you can figure out this code, you can become a god."

This "divine code" incident has left me feeling incredibly frustrated. I came out to relax, but after a few beers, I lost control and passed it all to this guy. If ordinary people found out about this, wouldn't it cause a huge mess?

I tossed my hair and said, "You little rascal, didn't you sleep all night? You believe any story you make up. I'm going to brush my teeth and wash my face. You can continue reading by yourself."

Six-Eared's bloodshot eyes immediately glared at me, but then darted around a few times before he laughed, "I don't believe you can make up such a convincing story when you're drunk. Besides, I went to an internet cafe last night and found all the news about Mahabalipuram. And that help request you posted on that website. When I get back to Shanghai in a couple of days, I'll ask the doorman at Gengdu Garden if he still remembers him. What was his name again? Oh right, Zhang Ming."

My face immediately fell. They even knew that: "What did I say last night?"

Liu Er immediately perked up and began to talk about Mahabalipuram.

He was still talking to me after I washed my face and brushed my teeth.

"Go away, I need to pee."

Liu Er slipped to the bathroom door and said, "That night, it was dark and windy. You and the extraordinary Wei Hou boarded a speedboat and rode the waves..."

When we went out of the room to have breakfast in the dining room on the first floor, Liu Er kept talking to me. It looked like Princess Iron Fan and Bull Demon King, who were also going to eat in the corridor ahead, were about to greet us.

It seems I'm pretty accurate even if I didn't say it perfectly. I wrinkled my nose and let out a deep breath, saying, "Stop, stop, stop. You don't need to say anything more. If others hear you, they'll think you're out of your mind."

Liu Er reached out and put his arm around my shoulder: "It's not that I can't not tell you. Last night you said that Shui Sheng wasn't actually human. Tell me Shui Sheng's story again tonight, and maybe I'll forget what happened last night."

I grunted and pushed that sour face away: "How old are you anyway? I'm not your mother, and I don't tell you stories every night before bed. If you like listening to stories so much, I'll tell you the story of a girl who lived in a cabin in the forest with seven men tonight." With that, I quickly went downstairs.

Liu Er chuckled and followed me around like a puppy.

After breakfast, the car headed towards Baoshan Mountain, northwest of the county town. The Gao Laozhuang horse farm from yesterday was also on this mountain, accessible via a different mountain path. I knew today's destination, even without Tang Seng saying it, was the Twin Saints' Tomb at the South Heavenly Gate atop Baoshan Mountain.

This area wasn't originally a tourist area. After Shunchang decided to develop Baoshan Nantianmen tourism, they built a road down the mountain, but cars still couldn't drive all the way to the top, not even the most skilled driver, Niu.

So Tang Sanzang, holding a small flag and singing a little tune, led us to climb the mountain.

There were two other groups ahead of us, both small in number. The road wound its way uphill.

We stopped some distance from the summit, where the tourists from the first two groups were scattered in twos and threes, some standing and some squatting. Tang Seng told us to wait a moment while he ran up to check on the situation. He returned shortly after and told us we had to wait; the county officials had blocked the road, and the Shuangsheng Temple was temporarily closed.

Everyone was speculating that this display meant a high-ranking official had come to visit, and it must be quite prestigious. The question was, why would any bigwig be interested in this newly developed tourist spot?

Forty minutes passed, and the sunlight grew increasingly intense. Not only us, the demons and monsters from "Journey to the West," but also the tourists from the first two groups, went from quiet murmurs to constant complaints.

I tugged at the hem of my T-shirt, wiped the fine sweat from my brow, and started walking forward. I wanted to see which leader had so much free time.

Not far ahead, a plastic frame blocked the way on the mountain path, with two people standing next to it.

A middle-aged man saw me approaching and reached out to stop me: "Are you a tourist? You can't go now, wait a little longer."

"Wait some more? When will that be? The sun's already high in the sky, it'll get even hotter later." I took my press pass out of my purse and handed it over.

"I'm a reporter from the Shanghai Morning Star. When will we be able to get in...?"