The Complete Collection of Yellow River Ghost Coffins

Chapter 1

Yellow River Ghost Coffin 1, River-Suppressing Seal

Introduction

This is a bizarre and unbelievable story.

The story originates from a strange tale about the Yellow River.

Many people my age who live along the Yellow River have heard numerous anecdotes and stories about it from the elders. Most of us experience the power, unpredictability, and mystery of this mother river through these tales, which instills in us a sense of awe for it even in our youth.

But this strange story is different from other narrative legends.

I first heard this strange story thirteen years ago in the summer. The person telling the story was my late grandmother. After listening to it, I asked her if the story was true or false. She smiled and said something to me, but unfortunately, I don't remember it.

The incident occurred during a drought year before liberation.

In the middle and lower reaches of the Yellow River, there is an inconspicuous little village with little farmland and local specialties. The entire village makes a living by trading Yellow River sand.

Most of the villagers have been doing this kind of work for generations. The workers use sand buckets to dredge the yellow sand and mud from the bottom of the Yellow River, then filter out the finer sand particles and sell them to other places. This way, they can make money on the one hand, and on the other hand, they can dredge the Yellow River and reduce the risk of the Yellow River breaching its banks during the flood season.

Like the salt and carbon gangs, those who resell yellow sand, once they reached a certain scale, also formed their own interest groups. These villages that resell yellow sand were called yellow sand factories at that time.

Every year, there is a period of low water in the Yellow River, during which sections of the river dry up, exposing the riverbed in many places. This is the best time to dredge sand, and also the busiest time for sand quarries.

All rivers that stop flowing exhibit this phenomenon: a large river with an uneven riverbed, after the flow stops, the water level drops, forming many small lakes and ponds. At this point, the river has not actually completely stopped flowing; water is still seeping downstream beneath the sand layer, but the small lakes above remain stagnant.

The section of the Yellow River managed by this sand factory is like this: the Yellow River channel is very wide there, and after the water is cut off, a large dry lake will appear in the middle of the river. This lake has never dried up for thousands of years, and the water can be maintained until the next Yellow River flood season. Legend has it that a feng shui master said that this lake is the eye of the Yellow River, so the locals call this lake "Yellow River Eye".

For thousands of years, the "Eye of the Yellow River" has never dried up. No matter how severe the drought or how severe the upstream flow interruption, the "Eye of the Yellow River" remains crystal clear. Therefore, this sand-producing area has never lacked water. The elders say that there is a dragon at the bottom of the lake, which is why the water never dries up. The villagers have never had the habit of storing water.

However, one summer, a strange little boy wearing a green cotton-padded jacket suddenly appeared in the village, shouting everywhere that the Yellow River was about to dry up and that everyone should save water. At the time, no one believed him, but they found it strange because they had never seen this little boy before and did not know whose child he was.

Later, the child disappeared. Everyone thought that the adults had probably taken him back, and the matter was dropped. Nobody took it to heart.

A few months later, many people heard a loud "bang" coming from the direction of the Yellow River's eye on a clear day. When they ran to look, they saw that the Yellow River's eye, which had always been very clear, was now murky. When an old man heard this, he said that something bad had happened and the dragon in the Yellow River's eye had flown away.

Sure enough, when the Yellow River dried up the following year, the Yellow River eye, which had never dried up in thousands of years, gradually became bottomless.

The villagers were terrified, not knowing what they had done wrong. They consulted several feng shui masters, but none of them could explain what was wrong. They watched helplessly as the eye of the Yellow River gradually turned into a dry land.

The "Eye of the Yellow River" has never dried up, and no one has ever seen what the riverbed looks like. So, in the days when the Eye of the Yellow River was about to dry up, the elderly were terrified and burned incense and offered sacrifices on the banks of the Eye of the Yellow River, hoping that the dragon would return. But many more young people came to watch the spectacle and see if there were really any traces of the dragon living on the riverbed.

There are naturally no dragons at the bottom of the Yellow River, but strangely, after the water dried up, a stone platform about half a person's height and half buried in the sand appeared in the silt at the bottom of the river.

The stone platform is about the size of a basketball court. If you are brave enough to run down to the bottom of the river, you will find that it is constructed of some unknown material and seems to be a single piece without any gaps. It is covered with strange patterns that resemble birds.

The most peculiar thing is that the stone appears translucent like mutton fat in the sunlight. Through this transparency, they can see a black shadow inside. The part of the stone is warm to the touch, but the part through which the shadow is visible is icy cold, as if the black shadow can absorb heat.

People living in the middle and lower reaches of the Yellow River know that things are often dug up in the Yellow River. There are many strange legends in various places. During the Republic of China era, it was said that crystal coffins containing dead people were dug up in Henan and Gansu, which was very strange. However, no one had ever heard of such a large semi-transparent stone platform being dug up.

Local elders are superstitious and say that this thing is a dragon coffin. The black shadow inside the stone platform is the corpse of a dead dragon. However, the shadow is too blurry to tell what it is. Many people say it looks like a person, while others say that the shadow is not a person, but a big fish.

Those were years of social unrest, and strange things were happening everywhere. The village leaders discussed it and decided that this matter couldn't be spread, so they found a few brave people to bury the stone platform with silt. But strangely, the stone platform couldn't be buried properly. The river sand that was turned up one day would disappear the next day, and the stone platform was still only half-buried.

The strangest thing is that a few sharp-eyed people noticed that the shadow in the stone platform was changing every day. At first, it seemed to be an oval shape, but later it even started to grow hands and feet.

In the past, when such things happened, the village would look for a feng shui master. But the village was very poor back then, and good feng shui masters charged high prices. Most of the others were just swindlers. They couldn't find anyone for a while, so they found the oldest man in the village. This old man was over ninety years old. It was said that he used to be a tomb raider and had some feng shui skills. The old man was carried to the stone platform.

The old man was emaciated, like a skeleton. His contemporaries and those of his generation were all dead. He hardly moved, spending his days sitting in front of his house, living a life of waiting to die. So no one knew his origins.

The old man's eyesight was poor; it was said that he had been exposed to the stench of corpses while tomb raiding in the past, so most of the time he couldn't open his eyes.

But as soon as they brought him to the stone platform, everyone saw that the old man's eyes suddenly widened, and before anyone else could speak, he sat up straight, as if he had a premonition of something.

The village chief then said, "Old man, you've seen and learned so much, can you tell me what's going on here? Is this a sign of good fortune or misfortune?"

The old man nodded and was helped down to his feet. However, the first thing he looked at was not the stone platform, but the surrounding mountains.

After looking around, his expression became very strange. He muttered to himself, "How could this be?" Then he looked at the stone platform, but after just one glance, he immediately looked away and shouted that it was too bright.

Many people were there looking at the stone platform. No one felt that any light was coming out of the platform. Only the old man said it was too bright and he shielded his eyes with his hand. The others felt a chill because of him.

The village chief then got a pair of round sunglasses for the old man, and only then was the old man able to open his eyes. He walked around the stone platform, constantly shielding his eyes with his hand, as if the light was still very strong.

After reading it, his expression became even stranger, and he said again, "How could it be here?"

The village chief asked, "What exactly is this?"

The old man waved his hand, telling him not to ask. He then shakily took out a strange abacus from his pocket. While other people's abacuses were square, his was round. After turning it a few times, his face darkened. He turned his head and suddenly said something to the village chief.

He said, "Put me on this stone platform."

The group found it strange, but seeing the old man's pale face, no one dared to ask. So they had the young men carry the old man onto the stone platform.

After the old man climbed onto the stone platform, he sat cross-legged there and stopped talking, seemingly closing his eyes to rest.

They sat there for almost a whole day, with a group of people waiting and watching. As they waited, some people got impatient and started to leave. The sky gradually darkened, and by evening, most of the onlookers had left.

Seeing that he didn't know how long he would be sitting there, the village chief left a few workers to watch over the place and went home himself. At that time, warlords were fighting each other, and one village was under your jurisdiction today, while another village was under his jurisdiction tomorrow. So being a village chief was very busy. When he got home, he was busy until very late and didn't go to the sand factory again.

Unexpectedly, before dawn the next day, the workers who had stayed behind ran to the village chief's house and woke him up. When the village chief asked what was wrong, the workers said, "The old man is gone!"

Upon further inquiry, it was learned that after everyone left, the old man remained seated on the stone platform without moving. The young men gambled and drank nearby. Later, when it got completely dark and there were no lights in the Yellow River, they couldn't see anything and fell asleep against the yellow sand. When they woke up, it was already dawn. They got up and looked around, only to find the stone platform empty, with no trace of the old man.

Upon hearing this, the village chief immediately led several men back to the Yellow River's eye. Sure enough, the old man was gone. At first, they thought he had gone home, so they sent people to look for him. After searching the whole area, they couldn't find him. Just then, a few sharp-eyed men shouted, "He's inside!"

Upon closer inspection, everyone discovered that a gaunt, black shadow had somehow appeared inside the translucent stone platform! The two shadows were embracing each other, creating an eerie scene!

The villagers were terrified and dared not approach the stone platform again.

Later, a warlord nearby learned of this and sent a troop of soldiers to dig out the stone platform. Unexpectedly, after digging only a few times, water suddenly began to gush out from under the platform. The water was icy cold, and the onlookers scrambled to escape and fled to the bank of the Yellow River's eye. Soon, the gushing water filled the entire eye of the Yellow River, and the stone platform and the black shadow inside disappeared into the depths of this dry lake.

That night, many villagers dreamt of the old man gesturing to them, as if saying "sixty-one, sixty-one." But at the time, no one knew what "sixty-one" meant. All they knew was that from then on, the old man never appeared in the village again, as if he had truly gone into the stone platform.

The stone platform was definitely a single piece, without even a crack. How did the old man get in? What was the other shadow inside the stone platform? What was the stone platform used for? Why did it appear at the bottom of the Yellow River? No one could answer any of these questions.

Soon, sixty-one years have passed...

Chapter One: The Beginning of the Story

My childhood by the Yellow River didn't last long. I returned to the city with my father, who had gone back to his hometown. My grandmother's story gradually faded from my memory as my new life unfolded, eventually disappearing completely. My life, too, became like that of many protagonists in novels—typical but unremarkable.

After growing up, I tried many jobs and eventually became an ordinary antique dealer. In Shanghai, I made a living by buying and appraising antiques for some private entrepreneurs. My life was simple, but I was quite comfortable.

My university major and assigned job were in electrical engineering, which involves designing the national power grid and power plants—completely unrelated to my current profession. The reason I entered the so-called niche antique trade is because of my ex-wife.

My ex-wife is of mixed Tibetan and Han descent, and my father-in-law is Tibetan. My wife received both kinds of education from a young age and has a very good talent for languages. After she grew up, she worked as a Tibetan translator in a government agency. My father-in-law is an antique dealer and has a lot of knowledge about antiques. I flattered him all the time and gradually became interested in these things as well.

Once people come into contact with antiques, it's hard not to be attracted by their high value, high risk, and high return. So, in my spare time, I also started doing some small business related to antiques.

However, things didn't go as planned. In the second year of our marriage, my ex-wife went on a survey of the China-Mongolia border with a leadership team. We were separated for three years. I waited for her for three years, but she never came back. I heard that she had gotten together with a leader on her side. Two years ago, she sent me a divorce notice and I haven't heard from her since.

Later, my workplace underwent restructuring. For several months, I was absent from work and drinking due to relationship problems, neglecting everything. As a result, I was demoted and sent to the grassroots level.

I thought about it and realized that all my apprentices were there. If I went down there to be managed by them, would I be able to live comfortably? So I simply went into business. Business was tough back then, and I lost a lot of money. In the end, I figured it was better to stick to what I knew and went into the antiques business.

My skill in appraising antiques is something I inherited from my ancestors, and my father-in-law taught me a little bit, which is barely enough. Before the liberation, my family was a well-known Shanxi merchant family that ran a brokerage business. However, during the "Great Revolution," several of my elders were persecuted very badly. My father was disheartened and didn't want me to continue in this line of work, so he sent me to university. But in the end, I still couldn't escape this fate.

So sometimes, you really have to respect fate.

The whole thing started in July 1997 at the Taiyuan Nangong Antique Market.

At that time, Nangong had already grown to a large scale, with crowds of people and hundreds of stalls, filling the field of vision with a dazzling array of porcelain, bronzes and woodenware.

The weather was so hot it was suffocating, and I was squeezing through the crowd all by myself, feeling really uncomfortable.

At that time, I had been in Shanxi for more than a month. I wandered around Nangong every day, but for some reason, things were not going well. I didn't see anything that caught my eye. Watching all the antique enthusiasts picking and choosing among the piles of fakes and haggling over prices made me very upset.

My business is called antique plates. The plate shop is located in Shanghai, and I spend two months every year in Shanxi. Sometimes I go to the countryside to collect antiques, and sometimes I just tinker around in this market, making a living by relying on my limited expertise.

Shanxi is a land of cultural brilliance in China. While Shaanxi is known for its underground cultural relics, Shanxi is known for its above-ground cultural relics. In the past, the owners of money shops in Shanxi were so wealthy that they could rival the wealth of a country. A large number of antiques from all over the country gathered in Shanxi, making it the center of the antique trade. After the ten-year catastrophe, most of the antiques were scattered among the people, so many people from all over the country came to Shanxi to hunt for treasures.

The term "antique plate" refers to the sale of antiques between two locations, profiting from the price difference. Theoretically, antiques themselves have no practical value; their value is determined by the buyer's personal preference, which is why this profession is profitable. The price of antiques in Shanxi and Shanghai can differ by more than tenfold.

That time, I came here mainly to help a customer from Shanghai pick out some bronzes. In recent years, the trend of collecting bronzes has been very popular, almost surpassing that of traditional porcelain. However, after several trips, I basically didn't see anything that might be genuine, not even any fakes that caught my eye. Later, I squeezed into a group of stall owners I used to work with, offered them a few cigarettes, and chatted for a while. That's when I learned what was going on. Apparently, there had been a crackdown on tomb raiding in Changsha for over a month. Those tomb raiders with good stuff couldn't smuggle it out, and the supply was gone. How much could they possibly get from the local people? Naturally, the area was in a state of desolation.

As I thought about it, a sense of despair crept into my heart. I doubted the market would recover anytime soon, and I might have to return to Shanghai empty-handed this time.

It's a pity that this deal of mine, which was quite profitable, has gone down the drain. It's really disheartening. But the loss is the least of my worries; my reputation has been ruined, and it will be difficult for me to rebuild this business in the future.

Wandering around the market, I didn't really look at anything. Before I knew it, the sun was already setting in the west. In another thirty minutes... Once it gets dark, even if there are good things, I won't dare to look at them, because evening is when eyesight is at its worst. At this time, all kinds of fakes come out, too many and too chaotic. The fake bronzes are extremely realistic, and if you're not careful, you might be fooled.

I sighed to myself, it looked like another day wasted. This was really upsetting. The more I thought about it, the more depressed I became. I couldn't stand it anymore, so I lit a cigarette, muttered a curse to myself, and headed towards the guesthouse.

If I had decided to take a few more glances or sit down and rest, what happened next might have been completely unrelated to me. But that's how fate works; what's meant to happen to me, happens to happen to me.

The guesthouse I stayed at was right next to Nangong, about a hundred meters away. It was an unlicensed establishment where all sorts of people gathered. Fortunately, it was cheap and could last for a while.

Although the room was only a little over five square meters, I had it all to myself, and it had a private bathroom. There was no need to queue for the shower or toilet, which was practically a presidential suite in this guesthouse. Right now, I was covered in sweat and really missed that private bathroom that was so cramped it was almost too big for two people.

I had only walked a few steps when someone suddenly poked me with their finger from behind. I thought it was a thief, so I quickly covered my pocket and turned around. It was a skinny old man, probably in his fifties or sixties, with a head of white hair, wearing a plain blue work uniform, holding a bag in his hand, and looking at me with pleading eyes. He looked like a man with a hard life.

This old man didn't look like a city dweller. Was he asking me for directions? I looked at him strangely and asked, "What do you want?"

The old man first glanced around furtively, then whispered to me, "Trying to get beaten up like this?"

Upon hearing this, I thought to myself, "What do you mean by 'tables and chairs'? You're the one who's waiting to get beaten up? You're the one who's waiting to get beaten up!" I replied, "I don't want tables and chairs either."

The old man paused, seemingly not understanding me, and then said, "You're just waiting to be beaten, aren't you?"

I was in a bad mood and got a little angry, so I said to him, "I don't want to be hit. If you want to be hit, just go find someone and kick them. I guarantee you won't have to wait!"

The old man scratched his head, which startled me with my expression. He glanced at me a few times and then slowly walked away.

"He's crazy," I cursed inwardly, and continued walking towards the guesthouse. When I reached the entrance of the South Palace, I looked back and saw that the old man hadn't followed me; I wondered where he had gone.

I was puzzled. The language he spoke wasn't from Shanxi, nor did it sound like it came from any of the surrounding provinces. What did he do for a living? Was he a beggar?

If he were a beggar, this old man would be considered clever. People who find treasures are in a good mood and will naturally give alms to beggars. But this old man was unlucky; he ran into me, who was in a bad mood.

I returned to my usual room at the guesthouse, took a shower to wash away the sweat, and then went to the restaurant downstairs for dinner. The restaurant owner was from my hometown, surnamed Li, and named Shao Ye. Because he was the young master of the restaurant, we all called him Shao Ye.

I've always eaten at his place whenever I come to Taiyuan. He's a big fan of antiques and has a particular interest in them. Every time I come, he'll chat with me about antiques and occasionally bring out some so-called treasures for me to look at. So as soon as I sit down, I see him walking up to me with two bottles of beer between his legs, and I know he's here again.

I looked up and sure enough, it was him, crunching on peanuts, two bottles of beer in one hand and a plate of honey-glazed char siu duck in the other. He sat down opposite me and asked, "Hey buddy, how was your day?"

I took the beer and sighed. What kind of gains? Nothing at all. If this keeps going on, my business will have to close down sooner or later. Then I'll just set up a stall here and sell counterfeit goods.

The young master laughed and said, "That's what you found out yourself. You know, your Shanghai customer isn't some kind of expert. You could have just picked out a cheap replica for a hundred or eighty yuan or found a few damaged items, gone to Xicheng to find some craftsmen to 'renovate' them, making the big ones smaller and the small ones longer, and that would have been fine. Why make things difficult for yourself? I don't believe your Shanghai customer has such a good eye."

I shook my head, smiled but did not answer. Everyone could think of the young master's method, but the antique plate business is not like a street stall where you can kill one person after another. To survive in this business, you have to make people feel at ease. Otherwise, who will buy goods from you? If you can fool someone once, there will always be a chance to be exposed in the future, and then you will not be able to establish yourself in this business.

Seeing that I didn't speak, the young master knew I disagreed with his opinion and said, "Hey, don't laugh, I'm telling you the truth. Look at this world, businesses close down sooner or later, so why not make a quick buck before they close? It's better than starving to death. You know how difficult it is to run a restaurant these days; many of the people I knew early on have already changed careers."

I hear this kind of talk from the young master almost every day. He sighed and waved his hand, saying, "Stop talking nonsense, you're not in this business. What right do you have to offer your opinions? I have my own principles."

The young master chuckled and said, "Principles? People who deal in antiques have principles? Sigh, it's a good thing you're poor, there's nothing I can do about it."

It's normal for the young master to ridicule me. They say gold is king in times of chaos, and antiques are king in times of prosperity. These days, anyone who deals in antiques, even the worst, can make a fortune. But me? My clothes are decent, but I have no spare cash. I spend it all on food and money, and my health isn't great either. This situation is indeed related to my principles. In Shanxi, no street vendor is stupid. If it's good stuff, it won't be cheap. I don't sell fakes, and I occasionally get ripped off, so I don't keep any money.