He didn’t mind if they couldn’t recognize it—after all, it was just a few characters. The coffin was half-unlatched and slightly tilted, making it hard to open. Chang Dong called over Fei Tang, “Help me move it.” Fei Tang, unable to decipher the seal script, felt his value plummet—like a stock chart hanging in limbo, waiting for a breakout. So he moved with extra effort, his temples bulging with strain. But as he kept moving, something felt off. It had grown darker. Not black, but a deep, dusky gray—clouds rolling across the sky had turned a pale, aged ginger hue. Fei Tang’s legs trembled. Remembering his promise made before he got on the bus, he swallowed hard to steady himself. Meanwhile, Ding Liu came rushing over, laughing, “Wow, that’s impressive!” She pulled out her phone to record a video, then turned around to take a selfie, facing the camera and saying, “Have you ever seen anything like this?” If there had been internet connection, she’d have gone live. That’s what it meant to be a rookie—bold and fearless, wasn’t it? Fei Tang felt both envious and humbled, Changdong looked up at the sky and said, "It seems they never like this coffin to be opened." Ye Liuxi rolled up her sleeve and said, "Set it down—I'll do it." She stepped close, reached up to the edge of the coffin, took a deep breath, and suddenly lifted the lid. "What about all the items meant for burial?" Chang Dong said, "We call it a 'shadow puppet coffin,' merely for convenience. It's not actually a coffin—it's just resembling one. Just now, I've counted the number of shadow puppets again—there are nine. Aside from their clothing and attire, they're hardly different from the Tang coffin." Chang Dong covered the coffin lid. "The so-called fortune-teller claimed that the story of the ghost camel caravan has been passed down for several hundred years. It seems still uncertain—perhaps it existed in various dynasties after the Han, or maybe there's always been a continuous route across the Jade Gate Pass, connecting the two sides." A caravan of camels with just nine people might seem substantial, yet when one reflects on it, over two thousand years of history, if the world beyond and within the pass were truly two separate realms, then this caravan would be no more than a single thread, a fragile current. Even with continuous efforts, how much could it actually transport? He then called Leaf Liuxi aside. "Do you remember your camera?" "Yes," he replied, "a Sea Eagle model, common in the 1980s—now it's a relic." "The things we use are constantly being updated—just a few years ago, we still relied on keypad phones, but now almost all are touch-screen smart devices. This is both due to our needs and because the availability of supplies has greatly improved, making such needs feasible. However, if people inside the region truly relied on external supplies and didn’t produce their own goods, the situation would be very different." In times of scarce resources, everything was "new for three years, old for three years, mended and patched again for another three"—even broken bowls were kept, not thrown away. One would seek a potter to drill holes and insert iron laths, then smooth out the cracks with oil and clay so that the bowl could still hold water and soup steadily. Ye Liuxi asked, "Do you think there are people inside the region?" Chang Dong replied, "Not just people—there's an entire world." It's not entirely peaceful; it's somewhat chaotic, with laws and order faltering, perhaps even characterized by the strong devouring the weak. In times of scarcity, stepping into a household might evoke a sense of temporal dislocation: on a traditional Ming and Qing-style carved bed, posters of contemporary pop singers are past That camel trail was like fine blood vessels clinging to the society beyond the passes, gradually bringing in changes from beyond—yet these changes could not spread widely, distorting and twisting the world inside the passes. Ye Liuxi frowned, "Did those people who first entered the passes survive this long?" Chang Dong replied, "It's possible they did, but more likely, they've already passed away—though there were both men and women among them, enough to sustain a lineage." Probably because they had been talking privately for a while, Ding Liu and Gao Shen clearly grew impatient, and Fei Tang also kept glancing their way. Finally seizing an opportunity to catch Chang Dong's attention, Fei Tang asked, "Dong brother, what about the rest of them—do you still have the chance to meet them?" Chang Dong looked up at the sky; though it was still far from sunset, the sky overhead had already taken on the hue of dusk. Ye Liuxi also raised his gaze, "One meeting at a time, then—let me go and secure the vehicles for you." — The second impact had nearly turned the clouds a yellow-brown, thick and rolling. Only then did Ding Liu feel a hint of hesitation, losing interest in taking photos, and instinctively drawing closer to Gao Shen. Gao Shen turned on his powerful flashlight, its beam reaching only a short distance, occasionally causing him to drift off in thought, as if the clouds were contorting like faces trying to express themselves. His scalp felt slightly tingling. He shouted up to Chang Dong, “What are you people doing?” Chang Dong was half-kneeling by the shadow coffin, gently brushing away the accumulated sand piled on its surface. “What did Master Qi tell you? He brought you out here—not to enjoy a scenic stroll.” Gao Shen fell silent. Master Qi had indeed instructed him: stay close, don’t act surprised or out of your depth, seize opportunities when possible, and if things become too overwhelming, simply withdraw. But Ding Liu had privately told him: “If you need to withdraw, go ahead. I won’t let my father-in-law see me falter.” On the coffin, another scene unfolded—this time in the hall of medicine. The furnace burned brightly, with two figures standing by the pot. One resembled an emperor, possibly Emperor Wu of Han; the other was an elderly Taoist, holding a dust cloth, seemingly engaged in conversation with the emperor. Fei Tang stepped forward to speak: "I know this. Like Qin Shi Huang, Emperor Wu also sought immortality and was engaged in alchemical practices. But Emperor Wu was far more astute than Qin Shi Huang. In the end, he realized the truth himself and openly admitted that he had been deceived by the healers, stating that he had been 'ignorant in the past and deceived by the scholars.'" The coffin was opened. Without Fei Tang's words, Ye Liuxi immediately noticed the foreign attire—Fei Tang himself could not identify it. He speculated that several Chinese dynasties had lost control over the western regions, such as the Song Dynasty, when the area was ruled either by the Uyghurs, the Tubo, or the Western Xia. To remain inconspicuous, the ghost camel caravan must have changed into the clothing of local ethnic minorities. This also indirectly confirms that Changdong is right—the Ghost Camel Team has passed from generation to generation, mingling among different eras' populations, buying and selling goods, exchanging money, just like ordinary merchants. The turning point came during their third visit to the sand mound platform: the carriage from Yefu Town stopped working. Around four or five in the afternoon, in this time zone it should have been bright and sunny, but the surroundings were dark as ink. Midway through its journey, the carriage suddenly leaned sideways, as if pushed upward by something, and one of its wheels suddenly lifted off the ground. Changdong calmly said, "Hold on." Yefu grabbed the collision bar tightly. Looking ahead at the ground, she felt a sudden tingling sensation in her scalp. The carriage had leaned at an angle exceeding forty degrees; her palms were damp, and she braced herself, expecting to feel the shock of the carriage tipping over. Yet the roar of sound continued, and the carriage simply leaned, maintaining its side, and continued moving forward, eventually spinning around and straightening itself in the open space. Ye Liu Xi felt a hum in her ears, slightly dry in her mouth. Far off, Fei Tang and Ding Liu were both staring, and she too felt a bit dazed: "You just drove on two wheels?" Chang Dong nodded. Ye Liu Xi wanted to ask if they could try it again. In that instant, she lost her balance—like a current running from her scalp down her neck, through her spine, as if her spirit had been thrown out—feeling exhilarated. Chang Dong pointed ahead: "Look." At the end of the headlights, there was a mound of sand over a meter high, with clear impressions of the off-road vehicle's tire sides visible on the surface. Ye Liu Xi realized: "So that was..." "Sand suddenly piled up and lifted the vehicle off the ground. We'd have to drive slowly, or risk tipping over—better not to open the coffin now." Indeed, it was dangerous. They had been lucky—Gui Ba had even managed to keep the lid closed, but had been cut through the throat. Secondly, although this shadow puppet coffin differs greatly from a traditional coffin, the shadow puppets themselves once lived ordinary lives—dressing, attending to business, entering and leaving the city, working, and sleeping—just like any regular person. Now, buried beneath sand, they rest with dignity, and they do not wish to disturb the peace of others. Ye Liuxi nodded in agreement. — Probably because of the daytime fatigue, both sides went to bed early that night. Chang Dong lay down but couldn’t fall asleep, listening as the wind outside gradually subsided. When there’s no wind here, the place becomes especially quiet, and the moonlight gradually brightened, pouring clear and bright light into the car. The curtains became semi-transparent. Chang Dong stared at the curtains, lost in thought, until suddenly he realized that a faint, drifting green hue was reflected on the fabric itself. He moved very gently, sitting up and slowly parting the curtains slightly. Outside the window, not far away, there was a delicate, deep emerald glow—like ghostly fire—drifting and wandering toward the distance. What was strange was that it wasn’t a solid cluster of ghostly light; sometimes it lengthened, then suddenly seemed to thin out, its light spreading widely and becoming faint. Ye Liuxi’s voice came suddenly: “What are you doing?” Probably having woken her up, Chang Dong breathed softly and pointed outside. Ye Liuxxi sat up, looked for a while, then asked quietly: “Shall we go and take a look?” "Fearing they might wake up Fei Tang, the two slipped out through the slightly opened car windows, put on their shoes, and followed the fading glow of the ghost flames in the direction they were drifting. As they continued, the cluster of ghost flames suddenly vanished. Ye Liuxi stopped abruptly, feeling deeply disappointed: "How could it have suddenly...?" Before he could finish speaking, the cluster reappeared—only this time, it was now headier and smaller, like tadpoles gliding through the air. Ye Liuxi was puzzled: "Can ghost flames change shape?" Chang Dong nodded: "Yes, but not exactly like this." He held his breath and hurried forward, then, as he drew near, suddenly had an idea—he raised his hand and struck the cluster. Instantly, the ghost flames disappeared. Ye Liuxi was startled: "You hit it... did it catch fire?" After all, it had to have something to do with 'fire'. Chang Dong looked down at his own hands: "It wasn't the ghost flame." In short, ghost flames are actually phosphorescent lights—extremely light in nature. Therefore, older generations would advise: when you encounter ghost flames, don’t speak or move, because even the slightest air movement can “suck” them away. “What’s that?” “Somewhat like… little mosquitoes.” These are a type of mosquito common in the Lop Nur region, especially prevalent in summer. Their bodies are very small—wings barely exceeding one millimeter when spread. Former research teams used to find them incredibly bothersome; once they appeared, swarms would cluster around people’s ears, nostrils, and faces, buzzing incessantly like a thick, misty haze, even after applying mosquito repellent. Yet now, it’s nearly winter, and no one has ever heard of these little mosquitoes emitting light like ghost flames. The ghost flames have reappeared, drifting further and further, gradually fading into a thin mist, heading toward the Sima Road. Chang Dong suddenly had an idea. Are these little mosquitoes flying out from within the Jade Gate Pass? Based on the timeline, as the phenomenon begins to fade, aren’t they perhaps… returning?