2005, somewhere in the Xinu Mountains of Western Yunnan Province.
The wilderness was silent. Mountain winds swept over the peaks, sending green waves rolling through ten thousand slopes. Layer upon layer of vegetation formed an enormous maze, and Jiang Ruochu felt like something tiny and insignificant inside it. Even the van she was riding in seemed like a toy. The dense forest was so deep a green it was almost black, like a vast open mouth waiting to swallow them whole. The mountain road was rough and jarring. Many of the narrow paths were steep, twisting, and completely without guardrails, and she kept imagining herself being jolted out the window and flung into that immense unknown beneath the trees.
“Professor Jiang, we’re here,” the driver said.
By the time they arrived, evening had already fallen. The mountain wind cut through her clothes with an icy chill. Jiang Ruochu got out of the van and found herself facing a strange sight.
The archaeological site had been enclosed by temporary fencing, with only one gap left for entry and exit. At the entrance stood an iron sign bearing four large characters: MILITARY CONTROL ZONE. Two armed soldiers stood guard at the opening, straight as spears. Without authorization, no one could pass their checkpoint.
Jiang Ruochu frowned in confusion.
She was a professor in the archaeology department at South China University. Two days ago, she had received an official assignment from above, sending her to Western Yunnan to participate in a secret project.
She had already heard about this place. Some time ago, the news had reported that farmers in Mojiang Village, Gasa Town, Yuxi City, Western Yunnan Province, had accidentally discovered a waterlogged ancient coffin in a river. The Archaeological Research Center under the Western Yunnan Yuxi Cultural Relics Bureau had immediately dispatched experts to the site. Following the stream upstream, they had eventually found an ancient tomb deep in the primeval forest of the Xinu Mountains.
The excavation had proceeded at full speed. Several similar ancient coffins had been unearthed intact, and the team had soon announced, with barely restrained excitement, that the coffins could be traced back to before the Qin and Han dynasties. It was, without question, a discovery that could shock the world.
But now, this archaeological site seemed to have been taken over by the military. Soldiers were patrolling everywhere. Jiang Ruochu saw no sign of the archaeological team. The person who came to receive her was a tall, handsome man.
“Professor Jiang.” He extended a hand toward her. “I’m Jiang Ran, a professor from the Special Biology Research Institute of Capital University. I’m also the person in charge of this site.”
“The Special Biology Research Institute?” Jiang Ruochu asked, puzzled. “Forgive me, but I’m not very familiar with Capital University. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of that institute. What exactly do you study?”
“Our institute keeps a rather low profile.” He smiled helplessly. “Our research focuses on anomalous organisms that do not conform to natural law. This site contains remains of certain anomalous organisms, so this archaeological project has now been handed over to us.”
Anomalous organisms?
Jiang Ruochu had never heard that term before.
She asked, “Do you have archaeological survey qualifications?”
“Of course. We’ve already received permission from the Western Yunnan Archaeological Research Center.”
Jiang Ran did not elaborate. He stepped aside and said, “Time is limited, so I won’t waste words. Please follow me.”
Jiang Ruochu followed him straight to the place where the ancient coffins had been unearthed.
A test pit had already been dug into the ground. Inside, Jiang Ruochu saw many skulls and bones piled on top of one another. The remaining excavation squares were still being worked on. The tomb door had been moved up to the surface, and several bare-chested soldiers were clearing sand and soil out of it.
A nauseating stench hung over the site. Everyone was wearing masks.
According to Jiang Ran, the greatest discovery this time was eight ancient coffins. They had now been placed side by side inside a tent.
Jiang Ruochu saw that every coffin had been painted with vivid cinnabar. Oxidation had dulled the color considerably, and the paint had begun to flake away, but even so, she could still tell how brilliant the original color must have been.
It was the first time Jiang Ruochu had ever seen red coffins. A faint, strange feeling stirred in her heart. That blood-like cinnabar gave the coffins an indescribably sinister quality.
“Professor Jiang,” Jiang Ran said with an apologetic expression, “I believe you’ve already signed the confidentiality agreement. You may only move within the areas we designate and study the materials we give you. Please don’t ask about anything else.”
“All right. I understand.” Jiang Ruochu shrugged. “I’m only reminding you from the perspective of an archaeologist. Your excavation methods are extremely unprofessional. I saw many people stepping directly on the excavation piles. That can easily damage artifacts buried underneath. For work like this, I suggest letting professional archaeologists guide the process. Otherwise, the precious cultural relics here will suffer severe damage. You people do biological research, so perhaps you don’t understand archaeology very well.”
“I understand your concerns,” Jiang Ran said. “I’ll invite experts to provide guidance for our work.”
Then he began introducing the artifacts.
“According to the archaeological team’s description of the tomb site, Coffins One through Seven were arranged in a ring around Coffin Eight, forming a circle. These eight ancient coffins are extremely unusual. The style of the lacquer paintings, their mode of expression, and their symbolic patterns do not match the painting traditions of any dynasty we know.”
Jiang Ran pointed out the lacquer paintings on the coffins for her.
The colors had already oxidized and peeled, but fortunately, the archaeological team had preserved photographs of the coffins from the moment they were first unearthed. From those pictures, their original colors could still be seen in all their brilliant intensity.
The paintings depicted many bare-chested men kneeling reverently before a pitch-black mass. No one knew what the black thing was. It floated in midair like a cloud of gas, looking faintly eerie.
What made one’s hair stand on end was that many headless corpses stood around those bare-chested men.
At first, Jiang Ruochu guessed they might be something like trophies or specimens, perhaps captives taken by an ancient tribe. But then she noticed that each of the headless bodies was dressed in splendid clothing, and some still held weapons in their hands.
They were clearly living beings.
The lacquer paintings on Coffins One through Six all showed scenes of worship, though each one differed slightly. The people of the tribe worshipped continuously for six days. On the seventh day, the scene depicted on Coffin Seven changed. The people no longer worshipped. Instead, they knelt in a circle.
One of the headless corpses selected a young man from among the crowd and had him step forward. Then it took something from the pitch-black mass and placed it into a large cauldron to boil.
The originally empty cauldron produced a great quantity of thick black liquid. The headless corpse carried the liquid out and made the young man drink it. After the young man finished drinking, he cut off his own head and threw it into the pitch-black mass, becoming one of the headless corpses.
Seeing that she had more or less finished looking, Jiang Ran said, “Professor Jiang, I believe you’ve already noticed the key issue. I’d like to hear your opinion. What do you think these headless people were?”
“The kneeling believers are dressed in rags, while these headless figures are dressed very splendidly and carry weapons. That means they held a higher class status than the believers and possessed power within the tribe. They were very likely figures similar to shamans, priests, or divine officials. Religious imagery is always symbolic. They couldn’t have actually looked like this, of course. After all, human beings can’t live without heads.”
Jiang Ruochu rubbed her chin, thinking.
Then her gaze fell into the coffin, and her words froze in her throat.
Because she discovered that inside Coffins One through Seven lay the headless corpses depicted in the paintings.
The corpses were wrapped in cloth that had already rotted soft and limp. The place where the head should have been was empty and starkly visible.
Jiang Ran smiled faintly.
“You may stay at the camp. You’ll be allowed to study all the first-hand material we’ve obtained. I’ll have to trouble you with deciphering the symbols on the lacquer paintings. Now I’ll take you to see Coffin Eight. This coffin is somewhat different from the others.”
Jiang Ran led her to another tent.
Jiang Ruochu was shocked to discover that Coffin Eight was several times larger than Coffins One through Seven. The first seven coffins were of normal size, but this ancient coffin was a full six feet high, ten feet long, and three feet wide. A ladder had been set up beside it so they could look inside.
Jiang Ruochu climbed the ladder and looked down into the coffin. A wave of nausea rose in her throat.
This coffin contained many bodies. All of them were twisted and tangled together. Even through her mask, Jiang Ruochu could smell the heavy stench.
The torsos of the corpses were fused together, making it possible to distinguish only the limbs that protruded from the mass. Their hands and feet were coated with something like cream. One hand was wearing an object that looked like a black ring.
At first glance, it seemed as if these people had twisted their bodies into one enormous vine, while their hands and feet resembled branches or roots extending from it.
Jiang Ruochu did not want to look at it for even one moment longer.
After all, this was her first time coming to such a strange archaeological camp, and her first time seeing such a sickening scene.
“How many bodies are in here?” Jiang Ruochu asked.
“Thirty-eight.”
“I’m still very curious.” Jiang Ruochu looked at Jiang Ran with a frown. “Why did you take over this archaeological site? The artifacts unearthed here may be strange, but they’re still things for archaeologists and historians to study. They shouldn’t have much to do with biology, should they?”
“Please believe me, Professor Jiang.” Jiang Ran smiled in a way that was not quite a smile. “The world is more complicated than you imagine. You people can’t deal with the things dug up here.”
Deal with.
Jiang Ruochu silently repeated the phrase, and an odd feeling rose in her heart.
Normal people usually said “study artifacts” or “appreciate artifacts.” How could one use “deal with” when speaking of cultural relics?
The way Jiang Ran spoke made it sound as if these dead things might come back to life and become the so-called “organisms” they were researching.
Jiang Ran brought Jiang Ruochu to her own tent, told her when dinner would be served, and reminded her that there were some ferocious animals in the mountains, so she should not wander around without reason.
“The trip must have been exhausting after all that jolting. Rest early.”
After saying that, he left.
Every so often, someone delivered materials to her. Most were photographs, along with some daily reports and records. Dinner at the site was served late. After eating, Jiang Ruochu could not sleep, so she stayed up reading through the materials.
It was obvious that these people had already been here for some time. Jiang Ran appeared in many of the photographs. He was tall and handsome, extremely conspicuous in any crowd.
Jiang Ruochu could not help looking at him a few more times, especially in the pictures where he was working bare-chested. That eight-pack was hard to look away from.
But as she looked, Jiang Ruochu slowly furrowed her brow.
She discovered that in the photographs, Jiang Ran used his left hand to clean the unearthed bowls and plates, and he wore his watch on his right wrist. He was clearly left-handed.
But the Jiang Ran she had met was right-handed.
Deep into the quiet night, as she thought about those bright red coffins, an uncomfortable feeling lodged in her chest like a fishbone. She could not sleep. In the end, she got up, left the tent, and decided to walk around.
Outside, she discovered that the camp was extremely quiet.
So quiet it was frightening.
Hesitating, she lifted the flap of one tent and unexpectedly found it empty. She opened a second one. Still no one.
The people in the camp had vanished as if they had evaporated from the world.
Fear rose in her. She looked around. The surrounding mountain forest was dark and dense, as though something strange were hidden inside it.
She walked through the camp and found that every tent was dark except for the one containing the giant coffin. That tent alone still had a light on.
The light flickered on and off, like a signal luring her over.
Forcing herself to stay calm, she walked toward it.
When she entered the tent, there was still no one inside.
She heard a beeping sound coming from the coffin, steady and rhythmic.
Suspicious, she climbed the wooden ladder and looked down into the coffin.
The sound was coming from the black ring on one arm. She found a pair of pliers, stretched down with effort, and managed to clamp the black ring and lift it up.
Only then did she discover that the black ring was actually a digital watch. The alarm set on it had gone off, producing the beeping sound.
But how could an ancient corpse be wearing a modern digital watch?
She stared at the watch and suddenly felt a chill run over her scalp.
She remembered.
This digital watch was the same one Jiang Ran had been wearing in the photographs.
She took out her phone and made a call.
“Hello, Old Jin? Back when the Western Yunnan Cultural Relics Bureau sent that archaeological team to Taisui Village, how many people were on the team in total?”
The man on the other end gave her the answer.
“Thirteen. Why?”
Thirteen.
The number did not match the bodies in the coffin. Jiang Ruochu let out a slight breath of relief.
“How many soldiers were stationed at the archaeological site?” Jiang Ruochu asked again.
“I can’t tell you that.”
Jiang Ruochu’s tone turned grave.
“Old Jin, believe me. I won’t say anything carelessly. There’s something I need to verify, and it’s extremely important to me.”
The man on the other end was troubled. He hesitated for a long while before finally saying, “The confidentiality level of this project is extremely high. If I tell you their information, I’ll be disciplined... Forget it. They’re a platoon drawn from Unit 607 of the Western Yunnan Military Region. Thirty-two people in total. What exactly happened? Explain clearly.”
A coldness shot up from the soles of Jiang Ruochu’s feet to the top of her head like an icy snake.
Thirty-eight headless corpses in the giant coffin.
Add the seven headless corpses in the coffins outside.
Exactly forty-five.
The missing archaeological team and the research institute personnel stationed in Western Yunnan also added up to exactly forty-five people.
Jiang Ruochu said, word by word, “I’m in serious trouble. Everyone in the camp is dead. Send someone to pick me up immediately. Hurry.”
The alarm stopped.
The watch lay in her hand, cold to the touch. She hid it in her pocket, picked up her flashlight, and walked out.
The camp was empty, a dark, oppressive expanse. Panic gripped Jiang Ruochu’s heart.
All the soldiers were dead. Then what had she seen during the day?
Ghosts?
Could these things appear during the day, then disappear at night?
Organisms?
What exactly were the organisms Jiang Ran had spoken of?
She felt that she could no longer stay in the tent. She packed her bag and entered the jungle on foot. She planned to hide in the woods for the night and wait for Old Jin’s rescue.
She found a large tree, climbed up, and slept with her backpack as a pillow.
When she woke, she discovered with horror that she had returned to the tent.
She pulled open the tent flap. Everyone had come back. The archaeological site was bustling again, just as lively as it had been when she first arrived, as though their bizarre disappearance the night before had never happened at all.
Jiang Ran came as usual to deliver materials. Jiang Ruochu tested him openly and indirectly, wanting to know whether they had been the ones who brought her back.
“What?” Jiang Ran asked. “You went out last night? Professor Jiang, didn’t I tell you? There are wild beasts outside. You mustn’t wander around.”
He spoke words of concern, but his eyes revealed a mocking expression.
Jiang Ruochu felt cold inside.
She was certain that the “Jiang Ran” in front of her had a problem.
That night, Jiang Ruochu did not sleep. Once again, she left the tent to investigate.
The camp was empty again.
She slipped into the jungle and went even farther this time. Surely, she thought, they would not be able to find her now.
But after taking a brief nap and waking again, she was back in the tent.
Fear began to overwhelm her.
Could it be that she would never be able to leave this camp?
She kept trying.
This time, she forced herself not to sleep and walked until dawn. When she finally could not endure it anymore and fell asleep, she opened her eyes to find herself back in the camp once more.
The look in Jiang Ran’s eyes became more and more mocking.
She suspected that whenever she fled, they were following right behind her.
On the fourth and fifth days, she made two more useless attempts.
She discovered that no matter how far she walked, no matter which direction she chose, as long as she slept, she would return to the tent.
Old Jin still had not come.
Starting from the second day, her phone had no signal. She believed Jiang Ran had discovered that she had called the outside world for help and had blocked the signal in the entire area.
On the sixth day, she stopped trying to escape.
This time, she secretly followed behind the soldiers and trailed them into the jungle. They marched silently through the forest. After walking for half the night, they arrived outside a mountain village.
Jiang Ruochu lay in the grass and observed them. She watched as they entered the village one after another.
The village was brightly lit. Many people were holding torches, though she had no idea what they were doing.
Jiang Ruochu felt that the village was deeply strange. The people there looked strange as well.
She did not dare go inside. Quietly, she turned back.
At dawn, Ruochu pretended to be sick and did not leave her tent.
They were making breakfast. Jiang Ruochu smelled the aroma, and her stomach suddenly became terribly hungry. She desperately wanted to go out and eat.
She forced herself to endure it and refused to take even one step out of the tent.
Jiang Ran lifted the curtain and came in, carrying a bowl of soup.
“Drink it while it’s hot. You’ll recover faster.”
The soup smelled incredibly sweet and fragrant, making one’s appetite surge.
Jiang Ruochu was just about to drink it when the watch alarm suddenly went beep, beep, beep.
She quickly reached into her pocket and pressed the alarm off.
When she looked up at Jiang Ran, he did not seem to have noticed anything wrong. He only urged her, “Drink it.”
She nodded and lifted the bowl again.
Only then did she discover that the sweet, fragrant soup had turned into a bowl of thick black liquid, giving off a foul, pungent stench.
She immediately remembered the lacquer paintings on the cinnabar coffins.
The young man had drunk the medicine boiled from the vine, cut off his own head, and become one of the headless priests.
Coffins One through Seven.
Seven days in total.
She suddenly realized that today was the seventh day.
“Drink,” Jiang Ran said. “Why aren’t you drinking?”
He stared straight at her. His eyes were black and hollow.
Too black.
Like the eyes of a lifeless corpse.
Outside, the sounds of people working and talking suddenly disappeared. Blurred shadows were closing in around her tent, one after another.
“It’s too hot,” she said with difficulty. “I’ll let it cool a little before drinking.”
Jiang Ran said all right and waited beside her.
He kept waiting until the medicine had cooled so completely it could not possibly cool any further.
“It’s cold now. You should drink it.”
Jiang Ruochu slowly lifted the bowl, pretending she could not hold it steady, and spilled the medicine.
She wanted to say she was sorry.
Jiang Ran brought over another bowl of cold medicine and said, “There’s plenty more in the pot. It’s all cold now. Drink.”
Jiang Ruochu could feel those things surrounding her tent.
She did not dare raise her head, afraid that the terror in her eyes would betray the secret in her heart.
There was no way.
There was truly no way.
Why hadn’t Old Jin come yet?
She stared fixedly at the thick, black, foul-smelling liquid. Then she closed her eyes and slowly drank it all.