A chorus of complaints echoed inside the tent. These people had long relied on generators and electric lights, lacking practical emergency gear. Changdong didn't care for them at all and showed no intention of sharing the camp lantern. Several flashlights darted haphazardly around the tent, while someone vigorously tapped the large iron casing of the generator. After a while, Gray Eight snapped, "Useless—better wait until morning to fix it." Then, holding up his flashlight, he added, "It's still early. Would any of you like to push on through the night? If you don't mind, why not rest here for a while?" Due to the time difference, it was much later than Beijing time when the sun rose here, and the desert and plateau terrain naturally discouraged night travel—especially with such fierce sandstorms blowing outside. Changdong got up, went to the vehicle, and brought in the floor mats and sleeping bags. The tent was set up as a large dormitory-style layout, so the group of about fifteen people simply lay down on the ground—though not particularly refined, men and women still maintained some distinction. He placed the floor mats in a corner, had Ye Liuxi sleep against the tent wall, and slept beside her at a After lying down, the noise gradually subsides—a nightly ritual on the large dormitory bunk beds, always followed by a brief period of late-night chatter. Fatty Tang, like a creature crawling, shifts slowly toward Chang Dong, finally settling into the cozy nook, feeling deeply insecure. Chang Dong turns his head slightly and feels Fatty Tang’s breath nearly blowing across his face, growing impatient and scolding, “Just sleep a little more comfortably.” Fatty Tang remains still, then after a while, speaks softly, “Dong, do you think my sister, Xi, is quite someone special?” “I’m not sure. I’ve actually told you time and again not to bother her.” “I’ve started to think so too,” Fatty Tang replies. People like Gray Ba, who have their own teams, vehicles, and resources, all treat her with courtesy—this quickly dispels Fatty Tang’s original plan to flee with the jade stag pendant and rebrand himself. If someone had stolen half of his Hong Kong, wouldn’t he have given it everything to chase them down and demand justice? Moreover, Ye Liuxi clearly hasn't made a good impression on him—otherwise he wouldn't have said something so blunt as, "Let's throw out the fat Tang." Originally, they thought the uninhabited region meant no people, scarce water, and limited food. Now, with one crisis after another, they're truly at a loss: the path ahead looks uncertain, and whether they can make it out intact is far from guaranteed. True heroes must be willing to bend; adaptability is the mark of a true gentleman. "So, is it still possible for me to make a good impression now?" Tang, who is so pragmatic and focused on practical gains, really does go to great lengths. Changdong replied, "It depends on what you ask for. If you simply ask for safe passage, then just be steady—she won't bother you." As they were speaking, Hui Ba suddenly added, "Oh, by the way—I almost forgot. If there's any noise at night, please just treat it as if nothing happened." Ye Liuxi responded, "How could that be acceptable? What if someone steals something and drives off in the night? Then I'd have to treat it as if nothing had happened too." "Yi Ba was hesitating over what to say when a hoarse voice from the corner broke in: "Something strange happens here, especially on nights with strong wind and sand." Another voice added, chuckling: "It's haunted." That was fresh—never before had someone used the word "haunted" with such casual ease, as if saying "the sun will rise tomorrow" was ordinary. Chang Dong sat up straighter and asked, "What do you mean?" The others responded in a flurry. "When the wind blows, listen—wheezing, sighing, like ghosts weeping." "It's terrifying! That sound—it was right above my head. Everyone had to close their eyes tightly, not to open them. If you did, you'd be finished. Just pretend you didn't hear it." Chang Dong said, "You live among the Yadan formations, haven't they always been like this? Because of the unusual shapes of the terraced platforms, the wind encounters resistance and swirls inside, producing strange sounds—just like playing a flute or a suona." A moment of silence fell. Hui Ba said, "Hmph, you're trying to explain this to them... I know these people well. There are those who came from inland and can't make ends meet, working hard as laborers, and others who are local herders—many of them barely know more than a few characters. The scientific principles simply don't resonate as well as ghost tales do. Sometimes, even when they steal two pieces of meat from someone, they'll blame it on the spirits. Indeed, someone wasn't convinced: "I've seen ghost lights myself at night, and even white glows—suddenly appearing, like a gust of wind?" Chang Dong replied, "This place is different. The soil here is rich in salt, and also contains abundant trace elements like phosphorus and potassium. When the wind is strong, these elements collide and react, producing a steady flickering of white light—this phenomenon is especially common in the Baidongdui area." Ye Liuxi thought he was wasting his efforts and murmured, "Why bother being precise? They simply won't listen anyway." Indeed, they scoffed, showing no courtesy, and the hoarse voice rose once more, coldly: "I don't know what scientific principles you outsiders have, but my ancestors for three generations have lived here in Ga, and they tell it quite differently." Chang Dong smiled: "What do you say?" "The Yadan was originally a city. The people within didn't honor the gods, and thus suffered divine punishment—the city turned into ruins, and its people were buried beneath the rubble. They harbor resentment and weep continuously beneath the ground. When strong winds blow, their weeping reaches up. My father said, close the door, don't look, pull the blanket over your head, and just sleep—then it will pass. If you don't disturb it, it won't bother you either." This account Chang Dong had heard before, often cited in books, belonging to a local folk tradition. He didn't wish to argue further; any more explanation, these people would surely complain: "Who's going to listen to you drone on? Just close your eyes and stay that way, that's all." He tucked himself deeper into the sleeping bag, closed his eyes, and fell asleep. The wind moaning through the city of demons had grown so familiar that it felt almost like hypnosis. —— It wasn’t clear how long it had been since he’d last drifted into deep, comfortable sleep, the warmth of the sleeping bag wrapping him snugly, when he suddenly heard movement beside him. Usually, Chang Dong wasn’t this alert, but during the journey, his nerves were stretched taut—especially when sleeping in unfamiliar surroundings, where a subtle sense of awareness naturally tuned him to any disturbances. With difficulty, he half-opened his eyes and saw Ye Liuxi climbing out of his sleeping bag. Chang Dong mumbled, “What are you doing?” Ye Liuxi jumped slightly, then softly replied, “I’m going to the bathroom.” The sounds of breathing and snoring rose and fell continuously, everyone sleeping so peacefully that Chang Dong almost envied them. “It’s absolutely necessary, isn’t it?” Ye Liuxi thought it was obvious: “Otherwise, why would I get up?” Chang Dong sighed, rubbed his eyes, and sat up in the sleeping bag. I can't recall exactly when this happened—probably right after the founding of the People's Republic. There was an expedition team entering the desert, and one female member said she wanted to go to the bathroom one evening and then never returned. She was simply missing—neither seen nor found. Later, people speculated that she might have encountered a sand sink, removed her pants and sat down, only to be sucked into the hole. This incident apparently influenced the team's established custom: anyone wishing to go to the bathroom at night must go in pairs, especially female members, who must never go alone. Ye Liuxi, of course, was unaware of this rule. When he also got up, she found it hard to understand: "What are you getting up for?" "I'm coming with you," he said. Ye Liuxi pressed on his shoulder: "No, I'm going to the bathroom—what do you want to do, follow me?" It sounded absurd—how could she even get out if he went along? "I'll stand a little way away..." "That won't work either—you go back to bed." "Then, can I at least go to the bathroom too?" "No," she pressed firmly, pressing hard on his shoulders until they ached, "I need to—." Suddenly, she stopped speaking, her gaze fixed on the tent behind Changdong, her expression troubled. Changdong turned to look. Outside that tent, a glow had emerged—soft, ethereal green, like flickering phosphorescence, drifting in clusters, undisturbed even by the strong wind and sand. The tent fabric gradually brightened, as if old movie screenlight. Amidst the various, heavy or labored breaths, Ye Liuxi's voice came softly, almost a whisper, "What... what is this? Is it ghostly fire?" Phosphorescent lights—commonly known as ghost fire—were not unusual, especially in areas with human bones, since bone contains phosphorus, a chemical transformation. In rural areas in the past, such lights were often seen on dry summer nights. But the question remained: why were they all gathered specifically outside one tent? Ye Liuxi suddenly drew in a sharp breath. Chang Dong also noticed: on the empty canvas, a column of camel silhouettes emerged, stretching diagonally upward toward the tent roof. It wasn't exactly a silhouette. Chang Dong was so familiar with them—the heavy camels themselves were merely dark outlines—but the people riding on their backs were clearly figures made of leather. From the translucency of the leather, it appeared to be young yellow cowhide, repeatedly washed and rubbed smooth, with excellent pressing and finishing work, so that it adhered seamlessly to the canvas, with no gaps or air seams. The figures were rendered in meticulous, richly colored brushwork, using a blend of cowhide glue and mineral-based pigments, giving the colors a vibrant, full-bodied quality. The heads and limbs were stitched and fastened, making them remarkably flexible. When the leader suddenly turned his head—should there be a thread-handler behind, it was clearly a technique of flicking the wrist to lift the thread—the eyes seemed to be fixed on Chang Dong, and the eyeball within the socket swiveled smoothly. Then, the entire canvas went dark, a transition that lasted no more than five seconds, front to back. Chang Dong froze, his mind roaring with noise. Was it shadow puppetry? Yes—typical Shaanxi Donglu shadow puppetry, with smaller figures and emphasis on intricate carving. Yet, not quite—this also made sense. There were no faint, almost translucent lines of rods visible on the curtain, indicating no one was operating the strings—how could a shadow puppet move on its own and even turn its eyes toward him? After a while, he heard Ye Liuxi’s voice: “Yes… is it perhaps my eyes playing tricks? Did you also see it, too?” Chang Dong lowered his head, his chin brushing against her hair. He wasn’t sure when she had moved close—perhaps it was him who had drifted toward her. Fear naturally makes people seek closeness. He remained silent for a long time, finally exhaling a heavy, labored breath. Then he heard her heartbeat, and his own, both growing increasingly irregular—both of them reacting with delay, as if everything had vanished, only realizing how afraid they were. He murmured, “I saw it.” Suddenly, the tent’s curtain was gently flapped by the wind, and both of them turned toward the entrance at To withstand strong winds, tent doors are often made of heavy materials, typically thick felt, and weighted down at the base. Yet even so, when the wind blows too strongly, the corners of the door can still be lifted. Someone sleeping near the door grew impatient, hummed a few times, then turned over again. Chang Dong asked, "Would you like to go out for a while?" —— Just close the door, don't open your eyes, pull the blanket over your head, and sleep through it. Ye Liuxi replied, "…Then I'll wait a bit." She reached for her knife from the side of her sleeping bag. Chang Dong knew her feet were currently unstable and needed support, so he half-carried, half-supported her, carefully navigating around the people scattered across the ground—most of whom were still sound asleep, though sometimes those who were overly alert and attentive proved to be less pleasant. —— He lifted the door curtain and stepped out. Perhaps because the Yadan terraces were so dark, the night sky outside seemed slightly diffused in its whiteness. The wind had lessened compared to earlier. Chang Dong shone his flashlight around the tent, and found no footprints. Ye Liuxi shivered, feeling a bit uneasy, and looked back at the dark, imposing tent. Suddenly, she thought it was the safest place—after all, there were more people there. She said to Chang Dong, "Let's go back." Chang Dong nodded, and helped her take a few steps backward. Then he remembered something: "Do you still want to use the restroom?" She had completely forgotten about it, and now, as he mentioned it, a sense of pressure returned to her abdomen. Turning to look at the grotesque Yadan formations, Ye Liuxi felt torn: clearly, she needed to walk to a more distant Yadan to use the restroom, but after what had just happened, she didn't want to take any risks. "How much longer until sunrise?" Chang Dong checked his watch and estimated: "Probably about two and a half hours." Ye Liuxi replied with difficulty: "Let's go back first." She decided to hold it one more time.