Huo Ya was so startled that he sat down hard on the ground, scrambling backward with both hands and feet. Another gust of wind passed, and finally, Bayu's body fell. After a moment of silence, everyone was completely disoriented—some shivered uncontrollably, others suddenly collapsed and rushed wildly outward. Only then did Huo Ya realize what was happening, and he shouted, "Don't run! Come back! We have to stay together!" Though he shouted until his voice broke, two people still managed to escape. Chang Dong felt cold all over—this was the first time in his life he had seen someone die right before his eyes. Back then, when the camellia fell, though the disaster had been severe, the victims had simply lost consciousness instantly, without seeing blood pouring out. Now he felt nauseated, instinctively stepping back. He heard Ye Liuxi speaking to Huo Ya and the others: "You, and you, come here and carry the bodies away." Huo Ya paused, then followed the instructions. Ye Liuxi took a powerful flashlight from Changdong and went over to examine the iron shovel that had flown over: because it was used so frequently, the crescent-shaped tip of the shovel was sharp and gleaming—indeed, it made sense, as it could easily pierce saline soil, and severing someone’s throat would surely happen in mere seconds. Yet strangely, the shovel wasn’t like a flying blade. At the exact angle at which Gui Ba had just bent down, it would have had to swing the shovel from several meters away and precisely strike the throat—how could anyone possibly manage that? Could it have been the thing that had been dragging Fei Tang during the night? It seemed unwilling to let people open the coffin. Where had it gone now—had it retreated after one strike, or was it watching, ready to strike again? Ye Liuxi stood up, momentarily stunned, until Changdong called her over to inspect the painting on the coffin. The painting was far more complete than the one Fei Tang had shown earlier. It depicted a long procession, most of the people wearing chains, soldiers on horseback wielding long whips with fierce determination, clearly impatient with the slow pace of the march. Everyone was heading toward a tall, Is this the Yu Men Pass? Chang Dong’s attention wasn’t entirely on the painting. He couldn’t help asking Ye Liuxi, “Don’t you ever pay much attention to things like the dead?” “What’s the point of being concerned if he’s already dead?” Chang Dong replied. “I mean, something more than that. You’ve probably seen this kind of reaction before—more than once, in various death-related scenes.” Maybe so, but at the moment, she was more focused on the painting on the coffin: “Is this painting… of the Yu Men Pass?” Chang Dong said, “It’s very likely. Just now, the song mentioned ‘golden house housing a beloved’, a reference to Emperor Wu of Han. Moreover, the Yu Men Pass itself was established during Emperor Wu’s campaigns to the Western Regions and the founding of the four commanderies in the Western Regions. Fei Tang also noted that the style of this painting resembles Han dynasty painted brick reliefs—so it seems to depict events from the Han dynasty, perhaps involving the exile of a group of offenders.” As for more specific details, Chang Dong couldn’t quite put it into words: “We can ask Fei Tang. He’s quite knowledgeable about historical aspects related to antiquities Ye Liuxi bent her finger and tapped the coffin lid. The wood was solid, unlike a melon, where a tap on the rind would reveal its inner state. After a moment's pause, she said, "That song I've hummed before—I should be able to open this lid." Chang Dong unconsciously glanced at Gui Ba's body, now placed beside the first two corpses. Moments ago, their postures had been distinct and competitive; now they were all equal in height and spread, lying side by side, as if sharing the same space. Ye Liuxi seemed to sense his thoughts: "Don't worry. I'm still alive, suspended in the rope harness. If I do eventually die, it will be quite special—something like being sliced open at the throat with a spade. I'm not sure I can bear that." She stood up, one hand pressing firmly on the edge of the lid. The wind grew stronger, and the scorpion at the corner of her hair began to emerge clearly. Chang Dong's heart raced—he had a strong intuition that she would be safe, yet he was afraid of another sudden development. Ye Liuxi, on the contrary, didn't care much: "Changdong, guess what—will it be gold and silver treasures inside this coffin, or Kong Yang's body, or perhaps when I lift the lid, I'll find another version of myself lying there? I personally prefer the last one—it would be more exciting." She pushed hard, lifting the lid with one hand. The first thought that came to mind upon looking around was: Well, I've definitely managed to open the coffin. The second thought was: This grayish corpse really didn't deserve to die so quietly. —Changdong hadn't expected the figures stacked inside the coffin to be actual shadow puppets. Wearing real clothes and shoes and hats. It wasn't quite accurate to call them shadow puppets, since they were usually smaller—typically around thirty centimeters—and the largest one he'd seen was a calf-shaped hide puppet from Qinghai, which still hadn't reached a meter tall. Yet the shadow figures before them were nearly as tall as a person, with features in the style of Shaanxi Donglu shadow puppetry, each face distinct, though their bodies and limbs were simple and rough, only roughly shaped with joints stitched together to allow movement—yet there were no shadow rods behind them for lifting and operating the figures. Chang Dong inspected them and found there were nine, all men, dressed in robes, some wearing hats or headscarves, all wearing black leather shoes—however, since the figures themselves were thin "plates," the clothing and footwear were of normal size and shape, making their insertion into the bodies extremely odd. Ye Liuxi had grown visibly uneasy, his brows furrowed: "What on earth is this? Is it an ensemble of burial garments?" Chang Dong shook his head: "I've never heard of placing shadow puppets inside a tomb, let alone nine of them stacked together. Besides, this doesn't really look like a coffin at all. If it weren't so similar in form and size to a coffin, he'd think it was a shadow puppetry box. The momentum had subsided, and the strange humming gradually faded. Hé Yá, braving his shaky courage, peered inside the coffin: after all the hustle and bustle, with someone still dead, he couldn’t bear not to take a look. Disappointed. He stammered, "Um... shouldn’t we go back? What if something else happens?" This remark struck Chang Dong. The coffin was so heavy, it wouldn’t be practical to move it. Returning it to its original place would require manpower they simply didn’t have. Moreover, he didn’t want to be involved with these odd, dressed-up shadow figures—so he asked Ye Liuxi to hold up a flashlight, while he himself pulled out his phone to take photos of the inside and outside of the coffin, as well as the shadow figures. Once the photos were taken, Chang Dong closed the coffin lid. Hé Yá exhaled a long, relieved breath and barked at the others, "Still not moving? Are you going to die waiting?" The others had already lost their composure, trembling as they tried to catch up. Chang Dong shouted, "Stand still!" He pointed to the bodies of the gray-eight and the others Huo Ya paused, observing the expressions on his subordinates' faces, feeling that his words fell short and that he wouldn't command their full respect: "It's not that we're ignoring it. Right now, we're short on manpower. Who among our men would have the courage to carry the dead back at night, especially when it's three or four in the morning? The people left behind won't even know what's happened. We'll have to go back and discuss it—definitely come back tomorrow to collect the bodies." Someone immediately responded, "Yes, yes. Let's collect them tomorrow when the carts arrive." "Go back now—this place is absolutely creepy!" Chang Dong sneered. "Then where are the others? You've already lost two men. What are you going to do now?" "We'll look for them when it's daylight. The road to Bai Long Dui is like a maze. It's so dark and cold right now, and our men aren't familiar with it. I can't just force them to go." Chang Dong walked over to Huo Ya, placed his hand firmly on his shoulder, and said casually, "I hope we can follow through." Huo Ya shrugged off his hand and spat out the Chang Dong watched him go with a calm expression. Ye Liuxi stepped forward and said, "Is it really necessary to be so kind? You take care of the ones who have died, and the ones who have gone missing—yet for people who are family, they hardly even notice." Chang Dong replied, "Just move your lips; it doesn't tire you at all." He turned back, looked at the three bodies lying side by side, then picked up the麻bag on the ground, unfolded it, and covered their heads and faces. Before Ye Liuxi and Kong Yang's photo appeared, he always believed "Black Camellia" was a natural disaster—Kong Yang's team had already been deeply buried under sand, and it wasn't certain which sandstorm would eventually unearth them, leaving them exposed in the wilderness. He hoped that when that happened, if someone happened to pass by and found them, even if they were too busy to bother with the burial, they would at least offer the dead a measure of dignity—just as he was doing now. Fei Tang felt something was off, and asked softly, "Dong-guo, has something happened?" Chang Dong looked at him and said, "What do you mean?" "Those people brought back by Huo-Ya are just like me last night—distant eyes, suddenly shivering at any moment." Chang Dong replied, "Something has gone wrong. Half of those who didn’t return have died, and the other half have gone missing." Fei Tang’s mind went cold; he froze in place. Chang Dong didn’t wait for him, and after a while, Fei Tang hurried to catch up. Once they got into the car and settled down, he realized his lower leg had been trembling the whole time. Ye Liuxi was going through the photos on his phone one by one. When Fei Tang approached, he handed him the phone. "What do you see? Tell us." Fei Tang nodded, trying to stay composed, and opened the first photo. "This one is in the style of Han Dynasty painted brick reliefs. This style is commonly found in tombs and is closely related to rituals..." He flipped through a few more, then stopped at the shadow figures inside the coffin. Changdong asked, "Are the clothes these people are wearing from the Han dynasty?" FeiTang examined them carefully and was very certain: "No, they're from the Tang dynasty." Ye Liuxi was puzzled: "Wait a minute—let me clarify. You're saying that in the modern desert plateau area, within a Yadan landform, I discovered a coffin box with Han-style painted brick paneling, but the shadow figures inside are wearing Tang dynasty clothing?" FeiTang eagerly wanted to impress her: "West Sister, I absolutely didn't make a mistake. I'm from Xi'an, and my name is FeiTang—look at this robe: round collar, narrow sleeves, reaching just below the knees, not dragging on the ground, which is convenient for walking—this reflects the influence of northern nomadic styles. Now look at this one: it's styled with a turned-up collar, a fashion preference among Tang people who often wore such attire. And this one is wearing a hun-tuo hat, and this one has a wrapped fan-shaped hat—there's no doubt about the dynasty." Ye Liuxi turned to Changdong: "I thought the song was about Han dynasty events. Turns out, it's actually about the Tang "That doesn't make sense at all. Wasn't the Tang Dynasty known for its preference for Han-style painted brick reliefs? Fei Tang didn't catch it: 'What song?' Chang Dong hesitated, then roughly explained the situation: Under these circumstances, concealing the truth and making people believe everything was calm and stable would be equivalent to being a co-conspirator. Fei Tang's heart was nearly pounding out of his chest; he clutched at his side with both hands, trying to steady himself. He couldn't back down—he had to make them feel that he was useful, valuable, so they would value him. He kept thinking about that song, and suddenly, an idea struck him. "Xi, this song seems a bit odd," he said. "Odd in what way?" "If the criminals were exiled beyond the Jade Gate Pass, that contradicts historical facts. During the Han Wu Di's reign, when the commanderies were established beyond the Jade Gate, that region was known as Xiyu—the Western Regions. The emperor himself had no knowledge of what lay beyond the pass, which is why he sent Zhang Qian on diplomatic missions. Exiled criminals were sent to the frontier to serve hard labor and endure hardship; they The area outside the passes was originally inhabited by the Xiongnu. Emperor Wu wasn't stupid—why would he simply send so many people out to serve the Xiongnu, effectively increasing their labor force? That made sense. Ye Liu nodded. "Go on." With her approval, Fei Tang became more animated. "The saying 'one step beyond the pass means bloodshed' can be understood—the Han dynasty considered the area beyond the Yumen Pass to be perilous; once you stepped out, you were likely to die. Yet later it says, 'I don't care if I weep as I enter the pass,' suggesting he didn't even want to enter the pass." With Fei Tang's explanation, Chang Dong also began to grasp the point. ——Yumen Pass, the gate of ghosts; one step beyond means bloodshed. You live in luxury, enjoying your golden pavilion, while I weep as I enter the pass. This folk song initially sounds smooth, but upon closer reflection, it appears contradictory: if one dies upon leaving, why weep so bitterly upon entering? The phrase "I don't care" expresses clear frustration, not mere emotion. So, if he neither wants to leave nor enter, what exactly is he resent