El beso inolvidable de Ghost Lips

Capítulo 9

When Liu Qu, the King of Guangchuan, heard the news, he thought the coffin was an antique and that there might be treasures inside. So he ordered his men to secretly open the coffin and carry it to his residence by fast horsemen. But, to everyone's surprise, all four men who carried the coffin died that very night.

At the time, Liu Qu didn't think much of it, but a few days later, news began to circulate in the town that people who had unearthed the ancient coffin at the dredging site were dying one after another. Rumors spread in the town that these deaths were all related to the coffin that had been dug up.

Liu Qu remembered that he had touched that coffin, and he immediately felt uneasy. He sent someone that very night to invite the most famous feng shui master in the area to his house. As soon as the feng shui master approached the inner courtyard where the coffin was placed, he suddenly knelt down with a thud, not daring to take a step forward, and was so frightened that he trembled on the spot.

When Liu asked him what had happened, he refused to say, only saying that there was an extremely ominous object in the inner court, the Rakshasa Demon Coffin. Anyone who had come into contact with it would die instantly if their life force was weak, or they would surely die within seven days if their life force was strong. There was no way to break the curse. If you, sir, had come into contact with this coffin, you would also be doomed.

Liu Qu was terrified when he saw this. He ordered his soldiers to take the feng shui master into the inner palace with knives, lock him up with his coffin, and tell him that he must find a way to resolve the situation, or else his head would be cut off.

But when they returned to the inner court the next day, they found the feng shui master lying on the ancient coffin in a very strange posture. He had gone mad and his body was covered with scratches from his own claws.

What happened after that is unknown. Later that year, the Yellow River flooded, drowning many people. The local people said it was because Liu had taken the iron coffin that was meant to suppress the river, which led to a riot. To quell the resentment, Liu had no choice but to sink the coffin back into the river. Only then did the unrest subside.

I closed the file and said, "So, the underwater Zhenhe Tomb might have been built by this man called King Guangchuan? To quell public resentment, and that square stone coffin inside is the so-called 'Rakshasa Demon Coffin'?"

The girl said, "No, look at this."

She picked out one from a pile of photos, and when I looked at it, I saw that the square stone coffin had been opened, revealing a black object inside. It was definitely a section of a bronze artifact, covered with bird-script inscriptions.

"You opened this stone coffin?" I asked in disbelief.

The girl said, "I don't know about this. It was a decision made by a few people in the professor's research group. In archaeology, a lot of information is confidential, and I have no right to know. However, I do know that the decision to open the stone coffin was made after the professor died."

I thought about it and realized that things were not simple. Those old professors might have already known the meaning of the inscription at the bottom of the coffin, which is why they made the decision to open the stone sarcophagus.

What I saw at the time was that the stone coffin had no gaps. They probably used violent means to destroy it, which was a last resort. I don't know what compelling reason they had.

There was only one photograph inside the coffin, and I couldn't make out anything. Thinking about the black shadow seen through the semi-transparent coffin, could this be it? What could it be?

I let out a breath, put down the documents, and the young master said, "Old Xu, come back to Shanxi with us. It'll be easier to look after each other if anything happens. I'm thinking of going back to Donghua Town to find Old Cai and the others. Maybe they know something? It's been a long time since we went to collect things together."

I know that the young master's shop eventually opened, and now I get a lot of my goods from him. He's doing quite well, although he suffered a lot of losses at the beginning, but overall it's a virtuous cycle.

This matter is incomplete and I feel that there is no clear direction to investigate. However, I was quite happy to see the two of them come to see me. I also wanted to go back to Shanxi for a visit, so I nodded, thinking that I would talk about it when I got to Shanxi. I should also go to Nangong for a visit.

That was the end of it. To make a long story short, we boarded the train the next day and headed to Taiyuan.

On the way, I carefully looked at the materials and asked the girl who this Liu Qu, the King of Guangchuan, was. The name sounded very familiar; what was his relationship with Liu Bei from the Three Kingdoms period?

The girl smiled and said that they were relatives. The founding ancestor of the Guangchuan royal family was named Liu Yue, the eleventh son of Emperor Jing, and his mother was Lady Wang. In 155 BC, Liu Yue was enfeoffed as the King of Guangchuan and established his capital in Xindu (present-day Ji County, Hebei Province). He then moved from Chang'an to Hebei Province and founded the Guangchuan royal family, which was part of the Han imperial family.

Chapter Eighteen Death

Liu Qu, the third King of Guangchuan, was a very special person. He was handsome, even more beautiful than a woman, but he was cruel and once sent people to assassinate his teacher's entire family.

Historical records indicate that he frequently dismembered people, mixed the pieces with poison and peach ash, and then boiled them into a paste in a large pot. This heinous atrocity was commonplace in the Guangchuan Prince's Mansion; as many as 14 of his concubines were dismembered by Liu Qu.

This is only what is recorded in history. According to unofficial records, Liu Qu was bloodthirsty because he was fond of evil magic. There was a deep pool under his palace where hungry ghosts were kept. Liu Qu killed people to feed these hungry ghosts.

Another famous story is that King Guangchuan was fond of tomb raiding. He dug up all the ancient tombs in his fiefdom throughout his life, and even those in other places. Legend has it that he was looking for something in the ancient tombs.

Later, because his behavior was too eccentric, he was demoted to a commoner and exiled to Shangyong (now Zhushan County, Hubei). Liu Qu committed suicide during his exile (or was killed by someone else), but his body suddenly disappeared.

I found it strange: "Isn't it said that anyone who touches that coffin will die within seven days? How come Liu is alright?"

Thinking that I also touched that coffin, if I were going to die, I would have died long ago. And at the archaeological site, there must be many more people who have touched coffins. This "Yellow River Chronicle" must be nonsense.

After we arrived in Taiyuan, we first went to Ya Tou's university. Ya Tou was the one who took care of the professor, so she settled us in his house. The professor had a daughter who was abroad. We heard that the professor died and never went back. Ya Tou said this through gritted teeth.

Over the next few days, we went to Nangong to see old friends, chatted, and helped the young master look after his shop for a few days, earning a thousand or two yuan.

The girl went back to school to report for duty. I heard she tried many ways to try and find out more through connections, but to no avail. Not to mention the higher-ups, I did hear that two of the People's Liberation Army soldiers who helped carry the coffin died.

We felt uneasy when we heard the news, but when we went to their squadron to ask, they kept it a secret and we couldn't get any information from them. The young master tried to bribe them, but he almost got taken to the police station.

I realized we weren't making any progress, and this wasn't a solution, so we did some research in the room.

I wrote a note saying that, assuming everything is true, this is how things should have gone.

Several years ago, the coffin used to suppress the river was unearthed during dredging along the Yellow River. Since "several years ago" was more than a thousand years ago, the age of the coffin is impossible to estimate. We also cannot verify who buried it in the Yellow River or what its purpose was.

Then, Liu Qu, the King of Guangchuan, sank the dragon coffin, which was meant to suppress the river, into the Yellow River. Let's assume that, to appease the people's resentment, he built a very grand tomb for the dragon coffin.

For some unknown reason, several years later, a hole appeared in the top of the tomb, perhaps caused by the iron claws of a dredging boat.

A year ago, when Wang Quansheng was cleaning up garbage in the Yellow River, he accidentally put an iron rake into a hole and ended up retrieving bronze artifacts from it.

Six months ago, Wang Quansheng came to Taiyuan, met me, and then sold me the bronze artifacts. (Several days later, he died mysteriously in my room.)

About six months ago, I went to his hometown to look for his family, but to no avail. However, I discovered the hole on the top of the ancient Yellow River tomb. But an accident happened when I entered the hole, and my companion, Shan Jun, died inside.

Four months ago, the professor began the archaeological excavation of the ancient tombs along the Yellow River.

A week ago, the professor died. Two PLA soldiers working on archaeology died.

I patted the paper and said, "There's no pattern in the timing, but assuming those two PLA soldiers had that same expression when they died, then there must be some reason that triggered their deaths, and that reason must be related to that ancient tomb. Actually, what I want to know most right now is—"

"Will it be our turn?" the young master continued. I nodded, and both of us had bitter expressions on our faces.

Speaking of coffins, some of these deceased individuals touched them, while others didn't; speaking of ancient tombs, some of them entered, while others didn't. But what did all of them touch? What did these people have in common?

If we're talking about something everyone has touched, after thinking about it, there really is only one thing: the silt in the Yellow River section. But so many people have touched it. Didn't Old Cai say that many people go swimming there? And it's unavoidable to encounter it while working at the sand factory.

I racked my brains but couldn't come up with a solution. The young master said, "Don't worry, we don't know if it will be our turn anyway. We haven't had anything happen for more than half a year. Maybe this is just a coincidence."

I sighed, thinking that it would be great if it were just a coincidence, but I couldn't fool myself at a time like this.

I spent the next few days thinking about this issue, considering every detail. Before I knew it, I had been in Taiyuan for half a month. At the end of the month, a few people came up and said that the school was going to take the house back, so we had no choice but to help the girl move.

The professor's house had more books than I could have imagined. It took us three days to unpack and move all the big things. By then, the whole house was empty except for a writing desk. The girl said she'd used it for over ten years and didn't want it anymore. I pulled on the desk's drawer, but found it locked.

I figured there might be money or something valuable inside. So I used a wrench to pry it open and yanked the drawer out.

My intention was simply to check if there were any valuables inside so I could organize them and bring them to my daughter. However, after opening the drawer, I found it still full of documents; it seemed that these documents were his most prized possessions.

As I sorted through the papers, I felt a little discouraged. Just then, I noticed a notebook being held down by a large stack of manuscript paper at the very bottom of the drawer.

The notebook contained many documents, and on the cover was written a line: "Reference materials related to the archaeological excavation of the Yellow River ancient coffins (not for reference)."

Below that line of text was the professor's signature and the date, which must have been about a month ago.

I felt a pang of sadness. He wrote these words by hand a month ago, but now he is gone. But this title always seems strange. What does "related references" mean? If they have already been referenced, why not use them as references?

I stood there for a moment before opening the notebook and saw a large stack of manuscript paper and many photos inside.

I glanced through those things. The pictures on them all showed reliefs inside ancient tombs. The documents were all written in traditional Chinese characters. I could tell from the dates on them that the original documents were from before the liberation.

The traditional Chinese characters are written in the opposite way to the modern ones, which I couldn't quite understand, so I only looked at a few pages before planning to put it back. But coincidentally, at that moment, several familiar photos caught my attention.

It was a color photograph, and in the photograph was a dead person, hanging from a beam. When I looked at it, the figure seemed familiar. After thinking for a moment, I realized that the person in the photograph was actually Old Cai!

Is Lao Cai dead?

I gasped and quickly flipped through the photos to look at the annotations on the back.

Cai Minglong died on August 24, 1997, from a sudden death.

So, within a month of us returning, Old Cai died?

I pulled out all the photos attached to that document, and a chill ran down my spine. I saw more than a dozen photos, all of them showing grotesque grins. Old Cai's nephew had also died seven days after Old Cai. There were many others I didn't recognize, but I could tell they were People's Liberation Army soldiers at the ancient tomb excavation site, because they were all carrying archaeological team access passes.

I pulled out a piece of paper, and saw a long list of names, followed by a long list of times of death, and then a big "?" next to it.

When I calculated the time, I found that there was no pattern to the time of death for any of them; it seemed like it could happen at any moment.

I looked down, almost suffocating, and saw his own name, followed by a line of small characters: "According to the inscription, I have calculated my birth date and time, and I will die on this day of this month. My days are numbered."

I gasped, my mind blank. Sure enough! Those old men had deciphered the inscriptions. What information did the inscriptions contain? What was this "birth date calculation chain"? Could these inscriptions reveal the dates of these people's deaths?

I looked down and saw that below the professor's name were other people's names. The one below him was called Lao Bian, and then below that was me. Behind me were the young master and the maid.

The more I thought about it, the more panicked I became. I counted on my fingers and saw that the professor had written my death date on the table. Starting from today, there were only seven days left. The young master and the maid would be almost the day after me. I couldn't help but feel a chill.

I lost all interest in tidying the professor's room. I secretly took this document out, put it in my bag, and then took a taxi to Nangong to discuss it with the young master.

The young master was arguing with a foreigner, trying hard to sell him a fake enamelware piece, spitting as he spoke. I clapped twice to shoo the foreigner away, saying, "GET OUT HERE! I TAKE!"

"IT!" Then he handed him the file directly, saying, "Take a look, what's this!"

The young master startled me. Seeing that the business had fallen through, he was in a bad mood and a little angry. He didn't show it because he saw my serious expression. He reluctantly took the crab, flipped through it, and then threw it aside, saying to me, "I can't understand the characters for crab."

I knew he hadn't really looked at it, so I picked up the document, flipped to the photo, and forced him to look at it. Only then did the young master take a look, and his expression suddenly changed.

"What's going on? Where did you get this?" he asked me.

I told him the truth: "I found it while sorting through the old man's belongings. See what's written on the back."

He sat up straight, carefully examined the documents behind him, his expression growing increasingly grim. Finally, he slammed the documents shut and asked me, "So, you're saying we're all going to be dead in a few days? Do you believe me?"

I didn't know how to answer him for a moment. Saying I believed him felt very hasty, but saying I didn't believe him was unsettling, given the deaths of Wang Quansheng and the professor. Moreover, the notebook definitely belonged to the professor, and the date of his death calculated in it was indeed the day he died. Someone of his status wouldn't write something meaningless in his notebook.

The young master counted on his fingers and said, "Professor, if your calculations are correct, then we arrived a day later than you, and a day has already passed. Does that mean I only have seven days to live?"

I said, "Don't believe it's that fast; it's just a piece of paper. There's no scientific basis for it."

He chuckled, then suddenly said, "Hey, so the person behind the professor is Old Bian. If that rumor is true, then he's definitely going to die today." He burst into laughter, waving his hands, "Impossible, impossible! The professor died of a heart attack. He's so strong, how could he possibly die?"

After saying this, even he himself felt that his tone was a bit strange, and he laughed self-deprecatingly.

Judging from the way he spoke, it seemed he knew Lao Bian, so I asked him what was going on.

The young master blushed and scratched his head, unsure of what to say. I pressed him repeatedly before he finally confessed that after I returned to Shanghai, he had been sneaking into Wang Ruonan's workplace every day, trying to pursue her. In the end, he didn't succeed in winning her over, but he did get to know quite a few people and became quite familiar with Wang Ruonan. Otherwise, they wouldn't have come to Shanghai together to find me.

Old Bian is a technician in their archaeological team, specializing in cleaning and repairing bronze tools and sanding pottery. He is very skilled and a veteran employee. He is responsible for the restoration of many very important national treasures.

I checked my watch; there were still five or six hours before Nangong closed. I said, "How about this? Don't you know him? Why don't we go find that old Bian guy for a drink later, and try to get some information out of him about those inscriptions? We'll stay with him until midnight and see if anything happens to him. If nothing happens, that's great; it means our materialism has won a huge victory. If something does happen, then we'll know exactly what happened."

After saying that, I found it a little funny myself. We were all raised with atheistic education, and the things we were talking about were completely different from our worldview. And we were talking about it so seriously; if others knew, I'd be utterly embarrassed.

To my surprise, the young master agreed to my suggestion. It seems he had the same idea. He said, "Anyway, the whole unit is in chaos right now. The project here won't start until the new leader comes down. He probably doesn't have anything to do today either, so let's catch up with him. He's a pretty interesting guy. I'll introduce you to him."

We bought a few bottles of liquor and some snacks from a roadside shop, and even straightened our clothes. I followed the young master to Wang Ruonan's workplace, but she wasn't there. So we asked a few people and found Lao Bian's dormitory. We knocked on the door.

The person who opened the door was a middle-aged man. I heard the young master greet him and knew that he was Old Bian.

Old Bian was a little surprised to see that it was the young master, because he didn't know me and wasn't familiar with the young master either. However, he was a heavy drinker, and when he saw the liquor in our hands, he couldn't refuse us entry.

We went into the room, spread out newspapers, and took out the wine and meat. We'd been so busy these past few days that we hadn't had time to have a proper meal, so this was a good opportunity to treat ourselves and eat to our hearts' content.

The young master is a public relations expert, very eloquent, and I'm not bad at talking either. We quickly downed several drinks with our snacks and introduced ourselves. I came under the guise of asking him about bronze artifacts, and after a few enthusiastic words and some small talk, Old Bian's nose turned red, his tongue swelled up, and he started talking incessantly.

For people who enjoy drinking, the time it takes to go from not being drunk to being slightly drunk is very short; this is called "getting into the zone."

However, despite being drunk to this extent, while he might seem confused, he was actually more clear-headed than anyone else. Old Bian downed his cup in one gulp, without uttering any witty remarks, and suddenly asked us, "Gentlemen, what brings you here? Just say it straight, don't try to beat around the bush."

Upon hearing this, I realized this man was quite shrewd and not easy to deal with. I glanced at the young master and thought to myself, "You should speak first. Otherwise, if I say we'll wait here and see if you die tonight, you'll probably kick us out."

The young master chuckled, "Old Bian, you really saw through us. We've come here because we actually have something to ask of you."