The Complete Collection of Yellow River Ghost Coffins

Chapter 5

"Go!" I said, "This is called sharpening your axe before chopping wood, or keeping your fists ready and your songs flowing, you know? We scrap collectors also need to constantly study our work, otherwise our eyesight will decline. The more genuine things you see, the less likely fakes will catch your eye."

The young master said, "Stop looking. Things have come to this point. Do you have any plans?"

I knew he was afraid I wouldn't be able to find Wang Quansheng's house and would have to go back. So he said that we had spent a lot of time coming down this time, and it would be unfair to go back empty-handed. He said we should definitely go down there and see if we could collect anything.

The young master was relieved. I told him that tomorrow we would first go to the Huangsha construction site and follow those three researchers to try and find Wang Quansheng's address. If we couldn't find it, we would go down to the lower levels. There weren't many places like this before the Qin and Han dynasties, but there were definitely quite a few during the Yuan, Ming, and Qing dynasties.

The young master nodded and said he would listen to me. We chatted for a while, and then I taught him some basic knowledge about buying antiques.

I figured that after this trip, I would really have to go to seek refuge. I wouldn't see the young master for at least two or three years. If he really wanted to open an antique shop, with his limited skills, he would lose so much money that even his grandmother wouldn't recognize him. So I told him everything I knew.

Actually, I don't have much experience collecting things in rural towns. Counting the first time I came when I first started out and the time I came with my father-in-law a few years ago, this is only the third time. It's just that the young master doesn't know.

However, collecting antiques is actually the same as collecting junk. You can't treat antiques as antiques; you have to treat them as junk. As for techniques, there are really only one or two, which have already been exposed. It's just that antique collectors have a habit of "buying in bulk." That is, I actually buy something worthless, and then say that I don't have any spare money, so I buy the whole thing. The owner says, "I'll give you change." I'm sorry, no need. I'll just... find something random to put in, so don't bother with the change.

This "pairing" might be a broken porcelain bowl for feeding dogs, an old wooden box, or an earthenware jar for pickling cabbage. Actually, that's what we want, but if we just go and buy it, people will definitely be suspicious. They'll think, "You're willing to pay such a high price for this piece of junk? It must be a treasure."

Farmers are honest but not stupid. If they hold onto their possessions and refuse to sell, you can't reason with them. Once, I met a young woman who took a liking to a traditional Chinese eight-immortal table. She talked for a long time, but then I let slip a sentence, and she grabbed it and refused to sell. I said, "Fine, I was wrong. How much would you sell it for?" She insisted on a million dollars, not a penny less. I almost fainted from anger. I chuckled and said, "A million dollars? Go sell it to aliens!"

I went back later, and the table was still there, with a tag on it that said one million. That family became holdouts.

Secondly, there's the "buy-all" method. This involves going to someone's house and buying all the junk they can find, regardless of the excuse. Among these junk items is the item you want. I once saw someone use a particularly underhanded tactic. He saw a bowl, a Hongwu underglaze red, and knew that buying just one would raise suspicion. But buying the whole set seemed odd – why buy used bowls? So he bought over a dozen bowls and went to the house to sell them for a penny each. The woman in the house, seeing it was only a penny, thought it was free and bought them all, replacing everything in her house. The man then said, "You don't need your old bowls anymore. I'll take them out and throw them away." The woman thought he was a real Good Samaritan. Little did she know that her precious possession had already been swapped for something else.

So there's not much theory involved; it all comes down to your own reaction. As my father-in-law would say, it's about how much "bad water" you have. If the young master wanted to learn this from me, he'd really have a lot to learn.

We chatted for a while, and it was almost midnight. We were both tired from the journey, so we both got sleepy and went to rest.

The next morning, Lao Cai came to wake us up. We didn't have much luggage to begin with, so we carried it all on our backs and set off with him.

Huangsha Factory is not on the edge of town, but near the mountains, in a place called Longtan, which is a small village. Old Cai said that the mountain road is a bit far, and you need to take a tractor and then walk.

For us city dwellers, the concept of going into the mountains was completely foreign to me. So when the tractor had been driving for four hours without stopping, I asked Lao Cai if the sand factory in Donghua Mountain was that far away. He told me that the straight-line distance wasn't actually that far, but there were mountains in between, and a long stretch of mountain road. It was good to have a tractor to ride in, but once we got into the mountains, we had to walk.

Only then did I realize that going into the mountains was not as easy as taking a leisurely stroll.

"Most of these ghost stories happen in remote, sparsely populated areas because listeners can't easily verify them. Many mountain valleys and caves are said to be haunted, which is also a natural way for people to deal with the unknown," the old professor explained to us solemnly, seemingly having done his research.

There weren't many trees along the way, just hills after hill. After driving for more than an hour, the tractor ran out of road and we arrived at a small village. We got off the tractor, bought a meal from a family, ate quickly, and then started walking into the mountains.

Normally, I would have been drowsy by now during a march like this, but the wind was strong and the old professor was very interesting. He talked about many interesting things, so I didn't feel sleepy at all. On the contrary, I was full of energy and extremely excited.

During the conversation, I learned that the old professor's surname was Li, and he was quite influential; I heard he was some kind of representative from the province, and the two students he brought were his two most favored students. The woman was also related to him by blood; she was probably his niece or something.

Their main purpose in coming down was to collect some folk tales and historical anecdotes from Shanxi and compile them into a book. The old professor was very meticulous and insisted on hearing them with his own ears. He believed that these things were intangible antiques, far more valuable than those tangible ones.

I actually agree with what he said. Although I also enjoy collecting antiques, I think it's abnormal to spend tens of thousands of yuan to buy these things. When you buy a ceramic plate, you're actually depriving it of its practical value as a ceramic plate, and its other value is actually a very vague thing that's hard to figure out.

The old professor and I hit it off immediately; we felt like we'd known each other for ages.

After entering the mountains, due to the high altitude, the trees gradually became denser, starting to resemble a primeval deciduous forest in the north. Old Cai and his nephew led the way. His nephew worked at the sand factory and was quite familiar with the area, so he followed along. The two of them walked at a leisurely pace, occasionally coming back to remind us to watch out for loose rocks and thorns.

We traveled along the valley, through thorny thickets, and often heard footsteps from other areas. Old Cai said they were the sounds of wild animals, which made us quite apprehensive. I couldn't help but miss the flat, undulating hilly terrain we had come from.

We walked for another two hours without resting for a moment. As it was getting dark, I arrived at the legendary Huangsha Factory. I saw a row of dilapidated tile-roofed houses, which were where the workers rested when the Huangsha factory was in operation.

On one side of the tiled house was the Yellow River. I never imagined I would see the Yellow River like this. In my memory, the Yellow River of my childhood, even during the dry season, was very lovely. We could play in the sand and catch fish in it. But in the sand factory in front of me, I saw that the river channel, which was several kilometers long and wide, had been dried and cracked by the sun into yellow silt. It looked very scary.

In the riverbed, the dredging boats had created uneven gullies. Old Cai, who was leading the way, led us up a ridge along the Yellow River. Through the setting sun, he pointed to a blurry black outline in the distance, "It's in this area!"

Looking into the distance, I saw a large, irregularly shaped, dry lake about three or four hundred meters away from us, with a strange shape.

Such a large, dry lake is unlikely to have been created by localized dredging operations, but rather looks like it was formed by something falling from the sky—to put it simply, it resembles a small meteorite crater. It looks quite bizarre.

I watched as the old professor climbed to the ridge, looked around at the surrounding mountains against the wind, his expression changed slightly, and he suddenly asked Old Cai, "Young man, do you have any legends about the 'Yellow River Dragon King' around here?"

Old Cai exclaimed, clearly puzzled as to why he had suddenly brought this up. After a moment's thought, he said, "There are quite a few legends, but if you ask me now, I can't recall them. You'd have to ask the old men in the village. Back when we were young, during the Cultural Revolution, we spent all our time reciting Mao's Selected Works."

The old professor gave an "oh" and didn't ask any more questions, but his gaze as he looked at the Yellow River channel seemed to carry a hint of imperceptible solemnity.

The two students and the young master wanted to go to the lake right now, but Old Cai said no, there are many mud bubbles in there, and if they fall in, they won't be able to find them. Besides, it's already late, and the locals have a rule that they are not allowed to go into the Yellow River at night, for fear of being dragged away by water ghosts. Let's do it tomorrow.

We originally planned to stay in the workers' houses down below, but when we went there, we found that they were all locked up tightly and sealed with tape. At that time, the tape was of utmost importance, and we didn't dare to tear it off. So we went back to the ridge on one side, lit a campfire, and prepared to spend the night there.

Because we were on a mountain ridge with many rocks and few trees, and the evening wind was strong, we all wrapped ourselves in blankets and gathered around the campfire, eating dry rations and drinking baijiu. Since we were close to the Yellow River, Lao Cai and his nephew didn't talk much. It was just the old professor, the young master, and I who kept chatting to ward off the chill.

The young master had drunk too much and didn't know what was going on. He was patting his bottom and looking around, seemingly searching for something. I asked him what he was doing.

He said, "Old Cai, the coarse rice cakes you prepared for me are no good. Who the hell kneaded the dough? I feel unwell after eating them, I need to find a place to relieve myself."

I said, "You're always causing trouble. There are wild animals all around, and it's pitch black. If you get carried off, where will we find you? You should just settle things here."

The young master said, "I have no objection, but can you stand the smell?"

Old Cai said to me, "It's alright. This is a mountaintop, and it's right by the Yellow River. Wild animals generally don't come here. Just make sure they don't go into the woods. Turn on your flashlight, and call us if you hear any noise. There aren't any large wild animals in the mountains right now, just be careful of snakes."

The young master let out a sigh, pulled up his pants, and walked towards a pile of hay. A moment later, we could hear him churning violently. I hadn't eaten much, and hearing that made me even less inclined to eat, so I simply stopped. The old professor joked, "With that commotion, even a tiger would be scared away. We can rest assured."

I chuckled to myself, but after only two laughs, I suddenly heard the young master call out softly, "Old Xu! Come and take a look."

Everyone was startled. They had just said there were no wild animals, so why were they making noises? Several people grabbed bricks and rushed over.

The young master wasn't far from us. We caught up in a few steps and saw him hiding behind a bush, pulling up his pants. When he saw us coming, he told us to squat down and pointed to the Yellow River in front of us.

We covered our noses and came up behind him. Looking ahead, we saw that in the pitch-black Yellow River, many eerie green lights had appeared at some point.

Chapter Nine Stone Platform

"A water ghost?" Old Cai was so frightened he almost jumped up, his whole body trembling.

I was also puzzled, looking at the flickering green lights in front of me, wondering if ghosts really existed. But upon closer inspection, I realized it wasn't a water ghost, and said to him, "It's not a water ghost, it's phosphorescence."

"Phosphorus? Aren't phosphorescent lights only found in mass graves?" the young master asked.

I said, "It's the same at the bottom of the river. After the Yellow River dried up, many fish were trapped in the river. Later, when the river dried up, these fish died. Year after year, several layers of rotten things accumulated in the mud. When it reached a certain point, phosphorescent light would float out."

"Won't these things be washed away by the flood the following year?" a student asked me.

"Those in the Broken Water Lake probably won't," I said. Actually, I was just making it up. I didn't know how these phosphorescent lights were produced, but I just didn't want to show my ignorance in front of these young people.

Old Cai said, "Master Xu, that doesn't seem right. I understand what you're saying, but phosphorescence only appears when the temperature is high. Look, the weather is still a bit cool now, so it's unlikely there will be phosphorescence."

I couldn't explain that, so I just stammered, "Maybe it's hotter down there."

The group was skeptical, but the green light floating below was indeed phosphorescence. After a few glances, they all knew this. In the darkness, this cold light had a strange beauty. Nowadays, it is very difficult to see such things in the city.

We watched for a while and, finding nothing amiss, returned to the campfire to continue our conversation. The young master then said, "Could this stretch of the Yellow River have been a graveyard before, which is why there are phosphorescent lights now? Could the bottom of the Yellow River be full of dead people?"

The old professor thought about it and realized that it was possible, because this area was a sedimentation zone. He had heard that during the Song-Liao War, the Song army suffered a great defeat, and the corpses were thrown into the Yellow River and floated downstream, possibly sinking here.

We chatted for a while longer, and it got late. We took turns on duty, with Lao Cai on the first shift and his nephew on the second. Lao Cai said it wasn't necessary for everyone to take turns, since we were guests, so we were excluded. I thought to myself that was best, and I went to sleep peacefully.

They slept soundly until noon the next day. After a few bites of flatbread, they woke up the others who were still sleeping and headed towards the Yellow River channel.

I am no stranger to the Yellow River, but this trip was after more than a decade, and I was quite moved. The wind was strong in the riverbed, and it felt very refreshing. As we walked, we looked at the Yellow River bed that meandered like a python on both sides, and soon we arrived at the largest dry lake.

Several dredging boats were stranded on the shore of the lake, and there was no one on board. The boats were filled with yellow sand.

The entire lake resembles a giant bowl, with a high water level of about three meters. The water is very clear, allowing us to see the silt at the bottom. However, even the clearest water in the Yellow River has its limits, especially in the deepest part of the lake's center, where it is pitch black, and we cannot see clearly what lies beneath.

The place that Lao Cai mentioned, where the four people who came to see the water ghost said there was "something at the bottom of the lake," must be right here.

We pushed a small boat down from the shore, and Old Cai's nephew rowed us to the center of the lake. Looking down from there, we could see the bottom of the lake and didn't notice anything unusual.

I had expected to see something strange as soon as I arrived, but now I was a little disappointed. I felt like I might have been tricked by Lao Cai. The old professor, however, looked very serious. He squinted his eyes carefully, as if he was looking for something in the water.

We infected him, and we squinted at him. As we watched, I heard the young master grunt.

Everyone looked at him and asked what he meant. He said, "Look, it's pitch black down here, but the blackness doesn't seem to be evenly distributed. The center of this lake seems a bit different from the other places."

The young master has sharp eyes, but I couldn't see it at all, and neither could the others. Finally, the old professor said, "Let someone go down and take a look; the water isn't deep."

I touched the water; it was a bit cold in the morning, and I didn't really want to go in. The male student the professor brought, named Shan Jun, had no choice but to take on the task. He stripped down to his underwear, got used to the water, and then jumped into the lake. The old professor yelled at him from the boat, "Be careful!"

We watched as he swam around the boat once, then plunged into the water with a splash, diving towards the bottom of the lake. We could see his shadow above; he was a very good swimmer, circling like a fish a few times before swimming towards the deepest, darkest part of the lake. He quickly disappeared into the darkness.

We waited, and after about forty seconds, he surfaced and lay on the gunwale. The young master asked how it went.

He nodded excitedly, panting, and cried out in a trembling voice, "There's something there! There's a big hole down there!"

Chapter Ten: The Cave at the Bottom of the Lake

Upon hearing this, the old professor's expression changed, seemingly still not quite believing it. As Shan Jun climbed onto the boat, he asked Lao Cai's nephew, "Does your sand-proof boat have waterproof flashlights? It's too dark down there; without swimming goggles and hand markers, you can't see anything at all."

His nephew said, "Yes, but I don't know if it has electricity; it hasn't been used for a long time."

"Give it to me first," I said, patting him on the shoulder. The kid steered the boat towards the shore, then jumped ashore and ran to get the flashlight. I asked the old professor, "Professor, how come there's a hole down there?"

The professor was also puzzled: "I thought it would be some kind of stone figure or iron horse, but I didn't expect there to be a hole. I didn't see it with my own eyes, so I can't really explain what happened."

Upon hearing that there was a hole at the bottom of the lake, the young master's curiosity was piqued, and he couldn't contain himself any longer. He asked me, "Should we go down and take a look?"

As soon as I saw the old professor, I knew he couldn't swim. I gripped the gunwale firmly with both hands and said to him, "You're too old to go into the water; it's too cold. Let us go down and see for you."

The old professor nodded, and at that moment, his nephew brought over several waterproof flashlights and goggles. We tried several before finding a few that had power. We grabbed our gear, not caring about appearances anymore, took off our clothes, and jumped into the water in our underwear. Then, Shan Jun swam towards the spot where he had just surfaced.

The lake wasn't very big, and neither of us were bad swimmers. I grew up by the Yellow River, so I had no problem with still water like this; I flipped over and reached the bottom in one go. The riverbed was all silt, and I saw lots of stones and trash in it. As we rolled around, we stirred up a cloud of murky mud.

Dan Jun's swimming skills amazed us. He kicked a few times, pointed ahead, and I immediately saw a blurry depression at the deepest part of the lake.

Swimming into the depression, I shone my flashlight into it and sure enough, at the bottom of the depression, there was an irregular hole the size of a truck cab.

I was so surprised I almost swallowed water. I didn't expect the hole to be so big. This is the bottom of the Yellow River. How did this hole form?

We circled the cave twice. Looking at the dark, gloomy entrance, I thought of the monsters described in many novels about deep underwater caves, and a chill ran down my spine. I wondered if there might be some kind of sea monster or ghost inside.

Because the flashlight beam was too dim, we couldn't see clearly what was inside the cave, but we could confirm that it was a funnel-shaped opening, wider at the bottom and narrower at the top. Its depth exceeded our expectations; the flashlight couldn't reach the bottom. The cave must have been formed by a collapse, as the walls were made of rotten wooden beam sections. This cave was a man-made masterpiece. Dan Jun wanted to break off some fragments to take up and show the professor, but they seemed very sturdy. We helped him tug at them a few times and managed to tear off a piece.

He looked at the wooden strip, but couldn't see it clearly, so he made a gesture to us. My breath had run out, and the three of us floated up.

After we came out of the water, I saw that Lao Cai and his nephew also wanted to go into the water, so we gave them the flashlights and climbed back onto the boat.

The professor asked us how it went, and I didn't know how to answer him, so I just blurted out, "The bottom of this hole might be quite large."

The professor asked, "Why do you say that?"

I said, "When you shine a flashlight down, the darkness below is like cotton wool; you can't see anything at all. This means there's no reflection in the space below; only a very large space would have this effect. This is something I learned before."

Dan Jun showed the old professor the wood chips we had broken off. The professor took the wood chips and examined them carefully with a magnifying glass. After looking at them for a while, I noticed his brow furrow.

The young master was very curious and asked, "Well, old man, can you see anything?"

The professor said, "This is willow wood. It's usually used for the beams of pavilions, and some people also use it for sealing the tombs of ancient tombs. You mean the beams below are made of this material?"

We nodded, and he said, "This is interesting. This is the bottom of the Yellow River after it changed course. There's such a big hole down there. It might be some ancient ruins, or maybe a large shipwreck. I can't be sure yet."

Dan Jun said, "We should hurry back to town and report this. It could be a very valuable archaeological discovery. We should ask the province to send an archaeological team down."

The professor said, "No, let's find out first. If it's just a recent relic, we'll make a fool of ourselves."