Chang Dong’s luggage was minimal—he had only a single carry-on bag, which was even flatter than the one he’d brought when he arrived. As Xiao He saw him off, he couldn’t help but pause and double-check, “Dong哥, take your time around and make sure you don’t leave anything behind.” This remark reminded Chang Dong, who then went back to the backstage and pulled out a shadow puppet theater box. Before the founding of the People’s Republic, smaller traveling shadow puppet troupes carried all their props in just two theater boxes, which, when balanced on a bamboo pole, formed their entire household possessions. Chang Dong said, “I’m a quiet person with few hobbies. This theater box, I’ll keep it. When I have spare time, I can carve puppets and practice threading the strings to pass the time.” Though the box wasn’t particularly valuable, Xiao He was delighted to make a gesture of goodwill. He saw Chang Dong off to the end of the alley, politely adding, “Dong哥, whenever you’d like to come back, just give us a call.” Chang Dong replied, “Thank you.” He walked silently toward the street entrance, one hand holding the bag and the other the theater box—the box Xiao He sighed, feeling as though it was all but hopeless that Changdong would return. —— Changdong had taken a taxi to the northern suburb neighborhood, a midtown village currently undergoing redevelopment. Due to delays in the developer’s funding, construction had stalled repeatedly, leaving half the structures in ruins and half still standing. When the wind blew, dust would rise and choke the air—basically, no one lived there anymore. Relying on his memory, he stopped at one of the larger buildings and produced his key to open the automatic roller door, then pushed it upward with force. Dust cascaded down, settling on him like a fine gray veil, and when sunlight streamed through, the dust danced in the air. A four-wheel-drive vehicle was parked inside the building. Changdong walked over to the car. Beside the rear view mirror, a rose had been inserted—now completely dried out, turning black and brown—when he gently plucked it, crisp fragments scattered into the air. The car had been a gift from Kong Yang several years ago. Since receiving it, Changdong had spent nearly half of its purchase price on modifications. The desert terrain, unlike rural roads, was prone to sinking vehicles, and the salt flats around Luo Bu Po Equipped with rollover bars, the chassis raised, fitted with all-terrain large tires, and outfitted with an electric winch—after a series of modifications, the originally strong and stylish off-road vehicle now appears somewhat bulky and out of place. Kong Yang thought it wasn't quite appealing, while Chang Dong simply replied that functionality was what mattered. There are countless sleek, prestigious Land Rovers and Hummers on the road, capable of attracting women's attention, but to him, the vehicle was meant to be used—capable of saving lives when needed. Its survival was pure luck—during the "black camellia" incident, a major car dealership sponsored the event for advertising purposes, so he couldn't drive his own vehicle. After Kong Yang passed away, Chang Dong sold off his assets and left this car behind, sealing it away, believing perhaps one day it would be needed again. Dust had accumulated on the body. Chang Dong gently brushed it off with his hands, stood quietly in front of the rear cabin, and slowly opened the door. A long-pressed plastic scent rushed forth, and inside, a bundle of thick black PVC body bags wrapped neatly—no need to count, there were eighteen, plus a bag of miscellaneous items, some belonging to Chang Dong shifted the body bag slightly to make room for the shadow puppet theater box. He didn't know whether Fei Tang and the others had managed to watch the video through to the 4 minutes and 12 seconds mark—the moment when he was bleeding profusely from the head being crushed by bricks—when, voice hoarse, he said, "I'll find a way to help them with the body recovery." No family members of the deceased believed him. Rescue units had explained this to them repeatedly: "It's normal that bodies aren't found. Do you know Peng Jiamu? He went missing in the early 1980s. Six major search operations were conducted, including helicopter searches, and even now, over thirty years later, his body has still not been located." After setting down his luggage, Chang Dong sat in the driver's seat. While clearing the glove compartment, he found a piece of expired chocolate—having melted and then solidified over two years of cold and warm seasons, it had lost its shape. He peeled off the wrapper and slowly chewed it. The sweetness was now tinged with a sour, off-putting flavor. From his inner pocket, he pulled out the photograph. Born from yellow clay, Kongyang opened his eyes wide, unable to close them, his wild hair swirling in the wind like outstretched hands calling him forward. —— Upon waking, Fei Tang still felt unusually congested: it was no problem at all to hear people talking behind his back or to do something he was a little ashamed of; but to be caught in the act, face-to-face, that was absolutely humiliating. Thus, his morning irritability was stronger than usual. As he opened the shop door and passed through the groceries section, he failed to notice, knocking over two fresh eggs. The shells shattered, and the egg yolk spilled all over the floor, the whites and yolks blurred into a messy, murky mass—having sat too long without selling, they had gone stale. Fei Tang wanted to scream: in the past two years, the antique business had been sluggish, so he had dedicated half his storefront to groceries, hoping to supplement his income. But now, even that sector was struggling—opening the shop each day meant losing money, and thus, when would he ever become financially secure? Still, the old saying held true: one must have a windfall to become wealthy, and a horse must have night grass to grow fat After brushing up and by the time the sun was high, with no visitors coming in, Fei Tang picked out bread and milk from the shelves for breakfast, sat down to eat while opening his computer and logging into QQ to play a game of Mahjong, hoping to lift his current mood. As soon as he logged in, he received a message from Qi Huai-liang: ——I’ve gone through a few more videos related to Ye Liuxi tonight and found several more. I’ve sent them all to your email—please take a look and let me know if you’d like to share them with your friends. Fei Tang casually opened his email and started watching the videos. Not as patient as Changdong, he kept dragging the progress bar, skimming through them casually, until suddenly he came across a familiar setting. Shaanxi Museum? Nowadays, people dealing in antiques can’t rely solely on flashy talk—they need some real cultural depth. Fei Tang reads a lot, often visits the Shaanxi Museum to refresh his knowledge and impress guests, frequently citing the museum’s preserved painted Tang-style female standing figures as examples: “Look at this painted Tang-style female standing figure—it’s almost identical to the one preserved at the Shaanxi Museum Fei Tang watched the edited video with narrowed eyes: Ye Liuxi walked steadily and without stopping, following the directions, steadily moving toward the Hall of Treasures. She paid no attention to the two vats and one jar at the entrance; she passed by the dazzling jade and gold objects without hesitation. It wasn't until she finally stopped that Fei Tang felt a sudden jolt of surprise. The Faun Amethyst Cup. Amid the bustling crowd in the Hall of Treasures, the guide came and went several times before the Faun Amethyst display, yet Ye Liuxi remained in place, motionless. Fei Tang held her breath completely. When Ye Liuxi finally left, Fei Tang's heart pounded like a drum: for thirty yuan, the entrance fee to the Hall of Treasures, with so many priceless treasures on display—why did she skip the Dance-Horse Carrying the Cup vessel and the Incense-Ball Silver Perfume Bag, and instead focus solely on the Faun Amethyst Cup? There were thoughts bubbling up in his mind, like bubbles forming just before water boils, only needing a little more push... He dialed the phone of his colleague, speaking a bit disoriented: "I'm asking you—what about the woman who came to your place to appraise the jade cup? Was she a man or a woman? And was the item genuine?" The other end replied: "She was a woman. I'll tell you—myself and the master craftsman, with four eyes examining it, we're certain it's authentic—solid, continuous缠丝 jade, carved with natural color accents, with gold caps on the mouth and nostrils..." "Then why didn't they secure it?" The other sounded deeply frustrated: "The兽首 jade cup is so well known! The Shaanxi Museum has it on display. When you first see it, you'd definitely think it's a forgery—wouldn't even consider it genuine. And they simply wouldn't sell it." "Right after she left, I suddenly realized—she kept emphasizing that the兽首 jade cup is a unique national treasure. But it's a wine vessel, after all. Even if it's presented to the emperor—there's the dragon "Did you also see her?" Fei Tang stammered, simply saying he had just been browsing at the Shaanxi Museum and happened to meet her, so he casually asked. After putting down the phone, he felt parched—dry mouth and throat—and told himself: It's impossible. How could this be so coincidental? If there were indeed another one of these jade-encrusted beast-heads still out there, the industry would have already been in a full-blown uproar by now. How could it be his turn to take notice? Fei Tang shook his head, finished off his milk in a few sips, and as he tossed the milk carton into the trash, thought: How much must this be worth? He went online to play mahjong again, but halfway through, he began to drift off—what if it were true? Even if he only managed a small share of it… A genuine smile broke out—dreaming of something like this was truly sweet. He settled deeper into his chair, a bit uncomfortable at the back of his waist. When he reached for it, he found the pure copper turtle shell divination set. Last night, while casting a divination, the reading Great prosperity—jade with a beast's head—doesn't that embody great prosperity? In the quiet depths, so many signs—could it be that heaven itself is guiding the way? Fei Tang's face grew warm and flushed several times over. He picked up the turtle shell, forced down a deep breath. He would go through with it again—no matter what—if the same result came up, even if heaven were playing a trick on him. As the car entered the town of Qi Zhen, it became evident that tourism development had brought significant progress: the roads outside the bus station had been upgraded to match the scale of a medium-sized city, featuring convenience stores, auto parts shops, and fast-food chains like chicken-fried restaurants. However, due to a lack of planning, old and new elements often clashed—sometimes just a turn away, the paved road would abruptly revert to dirt, with stray dogs searching for food by the drainage ditches; when the wind blew, dust would settle on the aging trees near the roadside, already on the verge of death. The small restaurants lining the streets had only a few tables, their colorful plastic curtains stained black from smoke and grease. Changdong simply wouldn’t believe that Ye Liuxi was truly a vendor of watermelons. He went into a fast-food restaurant at the intersection and chose a spot by the window, so he could keep an eye on her. From morning until afternoon, he ordered snacks and drinks several times over, while Ye Liuxi remained steadfastly selling watermelons. Her car was equipped with a board a few inches thick, upon which she placed a straight-handled watermelon knife, about a foot long, with a deep green, olive-shaped handle—its skin thick, requiring even men to exert effort when cutting it. Yet she handled it with ease, slicing the watermelons as effortlessly as cutting tofu. Her good looks certainly helped; her business was far better than that of the nearby stalls. Midday, she bought a boxed lunch from a nearby restaurant, sat on a folding stool, and used a spoon to eat it, while a stray dog approached, tail wagging; she picked up a piece of pork rib from her lunch box and tossed it over. In the afternoon, with fewer people and the temperature gradually dropping, she wore a military green cotton jacket, reading a magazine—those typical roadside, romantic publications, featuring women in revealing attire on the It was fast approaching evening when Changdong was certain he wouldn't notice anything more, so he asked the server to take their bill. The female server at the restaurant had a rather dismissive demeanor, frowning each time she brought him meals. Changdong had initially thought that people from smaller towns simply lacked service awareness, but it wasn't until they actually settled the bill that he realized otherwise. The server received his payment, glanced casually at Ye Liuxi outside the glass window, and, as she walked away, said with disdain, "You've been watching him all day—how impressive is he? Isn't he just some chicken cook?"