Chapter 11: No Thief Leaves Empty-Handed

A few days later, my parents came to bring me back to the county town. Now, I was seventeen years old. Every year on my birthday, I would fall seriously ill, and each time it grew worse. My maternal grandparents had also moved from the countryside to live with us.

Strangely enough, ever since I started school, there was always an inexplicable fondness between me and my female deskmate, yet we repeatedly lost contact due to various coincidences.

Academically, I never excelled, but the little handwritten booklet my grandmother gave me, I could recite by heart flawlessly.

After the college entrance exam, I was utterly stunned. Adding up several subjects, my total score was only 81 points. I knew that getting into university was now hopeless for me.

However, my parents were unwilling to give up and arranged for me to enroll as a transfer student at a vocational college in the city.

This class was a gathering of all sorts of repeat underachievers. The bad kids were all the same—they spent their days dating, smoking, drinking, and playing cards. I quickly became one of them.

As time passed, I made more and more friends, and the money from home was nowhere near enough.

At that point, through a friend’s introduction, I met an elder brother in the underworld.

His surname was Fang, known as Fatty Fang, though ironically he was as skinny as a monkey and always liked to call us kin.

Fatty Fang dealt in secondhand goods, but after spending time with him, I realized he was actually trading antiques.

One day, Brother Zhao brought me to Fatty Fang’s shop to drink again.

My tolerance for alcohol was poor; after a few drinks, I was already tipsy.

Fatty Fang, reeking of liquor, said, “Kin, I see you’ve been a bit short on cash lately.”

I looked up at him. Fatty Fang was quite the smooth talker, and I had been mooching drinks off him frequently.

“Yeah, Brother Fang, the money from home is all spent. For the second half of the month, I have to borrow from friends,” I said with a bitter smile.

“Heh heh, kin, wanting money is easy,” Fatty Fang said mysteriously. “Come with me for a job, you’ll pocket a few thousand bucks.”

Fueled by the alcohol, I didn’t ask what kind of job and just got into Fatty Fang’s dilapidated 2020 car.

As the alcohol’s effect faded and the car stopped, night had fallen.

The owner of the house occasionally spoke with Fatty Fang; they seemed quite familiar.

I looked around carefully, and a wave of familiarity washed over me—it was my childhood maternal grandmother’s home.

The owner was muscular, short in stature, and his face struck me as vaguely familiar.

Just then, a woman poked her head out and called, “Dahu, come help quickly.”

My heart skipped a beat—that guy was my childhood playmate, Dahu.

The woman was Dahu’s wife, plain-looking but with eyes sharp and alluring like a fox.

Suddenly, I recalled a joke Zhao and Fatty Fang made—“That woman’s quite flirtatious. Brother Fang, once you’re done with her, let your brother have a turn.”

“Kin, stop staring. That’s your sister-in-law. Come help us,” Fatty Fang shouted.

Dahu said, “Young brother, you look so green. Do you even know what a woman tastes like?” Being the rough character he was, he was joking with me on our first meeting.

Though my heart churned, I cursed inwardly, “Damn fool, you deserve to be a bastard.”

Soon, the meal was ready. Today, nobody drank.

After dinner, Fatty Fang went to a bag, took out a crowbar and flashlight, and tossed a backpack to me. “Xiao Fang, you take care of this bag. Dahu, take the crowbar. Xiao Zhao, work with Dahu.”

Fatty Fang finished assigning roles and led Dahu out through the backyard, heading up the hill.

This dirt hill was just as it always was. The moonlight lit the fields, and the mountain path was clear, but I saw no sign of my godfather.

My hand unconsciously touched the cloth pouch at my neck—the stone inside.

Touching the stone reminded me of Grandma’s words: if the stone broke, misfortune would befall me, possibly fatal, and I must return home immediately.

I had thought for years that breaking the stone was impossible; it was so hard, who could shatter it?

But there was a secret I had never told anyone: I often had nightmares where I could fly and encountered strange, terrifying things trying to trap me.

Various mountain spirits and demons would come after me in different forms. When I was trapped and overwhelmed, clutching the stone would wake me up. It had become my treasure.

“This is the spot. I heard this mound used to be quite large,” Dahu stopped, pointing at a dirt heap.

I froze, now certain—“Damn it, Fatty Fang is tomb raiding!”

And they were digging up the very mound where that woman had been buried. A dark premonition surged through me—something bad was going to happen!

Fatty Fang switched on his flashlight under the tarp, illuminating the area. Holding a compass, he spun around in place.

“Kin, you’re tall—hold the tarp up higher. Dahu, speed it up. Xiao Zhao, help Dahu,” Fatty Fang coordinated efficiently.

Dahu was strong and powerful; after a few shovels, a large pit had been dug.

“Clang!” One shovel hit stone.

“Brother Fang, we found it!”

“Scrape, scrape, scrape”—Dahu wielded his shovel with great strength, producing the sound of scraping stone. A long stone slab began to emerge.

“It’s a tombstone. Clear it off quickly; I want to see it,” Fatty Fang crouched, gloves on, brushing soil off the stone.

Dahu kept digging, revealing a tombstone broken in two.

“Let the inscribed side face up,” Fatty Fang said excitedly.

Dahu flipped the stone over with effort.

I stepped forward to look. The inscription was blurred and worn in many places.

The visible part read: “Died, forty-two years old, January 22nd, third year of Guangxu. On April 15th of the same year, buried beneath the mountain. The lady was from a prominent family; a descendant of a noble clan; following the ancestors’ teachings, virtuous and flourishing. Returning to the family, nine sons from one mother. Gentle and graceful, mild and harmonious. Fate did not match life—what could be done? The epitaph carved on the tombstone to inform visitors.”

I realized it was a woman’s tomb from the Qing dynasty.

“Grandma’s is a Qing pit,” Fatty Fang said disdainfully.

“Brother Fang, is it still valuable?” Dahu asked in surprise.

“Dig. We came all this way; a thief never leaves empty-handed—that’s the rule,” Fatty Fang said irritably.

I held the crowbar, lifting the tarp. Dahu huffed and dug hard.

Fatty Fang had lost interest and even put away his compass.

Xiao Zhao held a shovel beside Dahu, helping where needed. Soon, Dahu uncovered a pit as deep as a person.

The tomb before us was surrounded by blue bricks. After such a long dig, we finally saw the tomb’s entrance. This tomb seemed quite large.

“Damn, this tomb’s strange,” Fatty Fang muttered, peering inside. “How can it be this big? The tomb entrance even has sealing bricks as a trap. Just who is buried here?”