Chapter Forty-Four: Escaping with Their Lives

Wu Cheng'an's sharp eyes fixed on a point ahead and to the right, then swept over to where Cheng Che was leaning against the wall. Stepping forward, he said, "You all stay here and rest. I'll figure something out!"

"Stop right there. Where do you think you're going? Are you trying to run away? Stay put, you're not allowed to go anywhere!" Li Qingpeng immediately stretched out his arm to block Wu Cheng'an, his tone icy.

Zhang Qinglin, his eyes wide with anxiety, pleaded, "Peng, Dashuang, now is not the time for this. Stop bickering and think of a solution!"

No sooner had Zhang Qinglin finished speaking than Wu Cheng'an deftly slipped around Li Qingpeng and started heading back the way they had come. Zhang Qinglin shouted after him, trying to catch up, but Wu Cheng'an was too fast and soon vanished into the darkness.

Li Qingpeng was injured as well. He turned to look in the direction where Wu Cheng'an had disappeared but was powerless to give chase.

After Wu Cheng'an left, Cheng Che fell into unconsciousness, with Zhang Qinglin keeping watch over him.

No one knew how much time passed before Wu Cheng'an returned, running swiftly to Cheng Che's side. He held a small porcelain vial in his hand and poured its contents into Cheng Che's mouth. After a moment, color returned to Cheng Che's face.

Wu Cheng'an stood and told Zhang Qinglin that they had to leave this place as soon as possible, or it would be difficult to get out.

Li Qingpeng eyed Wu Cheng'an, ready to question him, when suddenly Baroque Lingda sat up with a start. Before anyone could react, Wu Cheng'an's expression changed, and he shouted, "Run!"

From the depths of the tomb corridor came the sharp, grating sound of countless insects scuttling over the ground. Zhang Qinglin grabbed Cheng Che, his face stricken with terror, as he saw, not far from them, pairs of glowing eyes—swarms of insects, hungrily closing in.

These insects were bizarre in appearance, resembling ants but ten times their size, their bodies and claws covered in gleaming black hair, their eyes bright as bulbs. Wu Cheng'an led them running in the opposite direction along the tomb passage.

These creatures were likely the "Chujun" Wu Cheng'an had mentioned. After leaving the ancient tomb, Wu Cheng'an never said how he found the antidote inside.

This time, instead of retracing their steps to the entrance hall, they escaped through another opening on a cliff.

Li Qingpeng had the chance to retrieve the bronze box and the map Wu Cheng'an had discarded.

They spent the night in a village at the foot of Hulu Mountain.

That night, Wu Cheng'an could not sleep. He lay on his back, staring at the wooden beams above, recalling how before entering the tomb, Boss Ma ordered his men to untie him. As they descended, he kept a close eye on the positions and frequency with which Old Seven checked the map and notebook. From the moment they entered the first corridor, he began plotting: first provoking infighting among them, then leading them into a poisonous chamber, and seizing the opportunity to steal the map and notebook amidst the chaos.

He had hidden these two items away, though in truth they never left his person—he had simply torn the notebook apart and stuffed the pieces down his pants. Now, retrieving the map and notebook from under his pillow, he felt the weight of them in his hands.

Zhang Qinglin also could not sleep. He got up, glanced at the sleeping Cheng Che, got off the kang, and stepped into the courtyard. Sitting on a stone bench, he gazed at the moon slipping behind dark clouds, reflecting on the dangers and thrills of their journey. A chill ran through him at the thought of what could have happened—had something happened to Cheng Che, he would have lost his dearest friend and companion.

Li Qingpeng said he would contact Wanqing at dawn and have her send a car to pick them up.

As Zhang Qinglin sat lost in thought, he suddenly heard the door creak. Before he could turn, Wu Cheng'an was already beside him, also gazing at the distant moon, silent.

"I think there's something you ought to tell me..." Zhang Qinglin was the first to speak.

Wu Cheng'an showed no surprise. He looked at Zhang Qinglin and said, "You want to know where my second uncle is, don't you? If I said I didn't know, you wouldn't believe me. He sneaked over not long ago, said he was being hunted by a group of people.

At the time, I didn't give it much thought, until I saw someone actually tailing him. That's when I realized he'd gotten himself into trouble. He asked me to mail a lighter to Beijing, said it was very important to him, but before long, you all showed up."

"And then?" Zhang Qinglin pressed.

"And then... he disappeared. I asked around and heard he went to Henan. As soon as I got there, you were already captured by Boss Ma. You know the rest. But if you want to find him, I can help you."

Zhang Qinglin turned to look at him. "It's not just me—his daughter is also terribly worried. No matter what kind of person he used to be, to me, Uncle Jiang has always been someone I admire!"

"My grandmother always told me to treat people with kindness, to value virtue, to be honest and steadfast, and to see things through... Grandmother..." A glimmer of sadness flickered in Wu Cheng'an's eyes.

"This... this is something Grandmother wanted you to have." As he spoke, Zhang Qinglin took off the string of prayer beads from his left wrist and held it out to Wu Cheng'an.

"She gave this to you. You should wear it. Her greatest wish was for me to live well, but my mission is not yet complete... Oh, and these two things, it's safer if you keep them. If I'm captured, you must protect them at all costs!" Wu Cheng'an glanced around cautiously, then drew the map and notebook from his coat, his voice lowering as he handed them to Zhang Qinglin.

Zhang Qinglin accepted the items with surprise and a sense of disbelief. He hadn't expected the map to really be in Wu Cheng'an's possession. The map and notebook no longer held much significance for him, but now that they were back in his hands, he wondered if there were secrets he had yet to uncover.

As Li Qingpeng had said, this map was not of the ancient tomb beneath Hulu Mountain, but perhaps—as Wanqing had mentioned—the true layout of Emperor Gaozong of Tang's mausoleum.

At dawn, the crow of a rooster roused Zhang Qinglin. Rubbing his aching forehead, he saw the space beside him was empty and panicked, but then noticed his backpack and all its contents were still there. Cheng Che, however, was nowhere to be seen. Grabbing his bag, he rushed outside to find the courtyard filled with people.

Cheng Che and Wu Cheng'an stood at the edge of the crowd—over twenty people, some villagers, many unfamiliar. Baroque Lingda stood out in the throng. Zhang Qinglin pushed his way through, looking for Li Qingpeng but not spotting him.

He tapped Cheng Che, who spun around, startled. "Jeez, you scared me half to death!"

"You look okay... What happened? Why are so many people here?" Zhang Qinglin asked.

"I'm not sure either. I just woke up and heard the commotion, so I came out."

At that moment, the sound of wailing rose above the crowd. At the very front, a woman sat on the ground weeping, beside her a stretcher with a body atop, covered by a white cloth. Judging by the build and clothing, it was a man. An elderly man from the house they were staying at sat beside the stretcher—over seventy, white-haired, plainly dressed.

The crowd had gathered because his son was the village head, and every matter, great or small, was brought to him. The village head, surnamed Zhao, was known for his integrity and simplicity, as was his father.

Old Zhao lifted the cloth from the man's face for a closer look. The onlookers gasped; some of the younger women covered their faces in horror. Beneath the white cloth, the man's face was a mangled ruin, though the eyes, nostrils, and mouth were still visible. The skin had been expertly removed, but it was clear that the entire face had been flayed.

Old Zhao studied the corpse, shook his head, and sighed before covering the face again. He said to the woman on the ground, "Call the police."

The woman sobbed, "What's the point? The police won't find anything. Three years ago, three men in this village died just like this—three in a row, all murdered, their faces flayed. No one ever found the killer. Uncle Zhao, is there any justice left in the world? Who did this to my husband?"

"Uncle Zhao, please, have the village head do something. Now my brother is dead, and my sister-in-law is all alone. How is she supposed to live?" said a young man beside the woman, wiping away tears.

Supporting himself on his knees, Old Zhao said gently, "Lu's wife, don't lose heart. Think carefully—have you offended anyone lately? When the police arrive, tell them everything. The village head has gone into town; wait for word."

The woman wept so bitterly her eyes were swollen shut. The scene was heartbreaking.

Some bystanders offered comfort, others gossiped, while a few seemed to watch with cold indifference, as if they were only there for the spectacle.

Before long, two police cars arrived outside the courtyard. Village Head Zhao returned in one, accompanied by the head of the criminal investigation team. The captain entered the yard, and the crowd parted for him. He squatted by the stretcher, put on white gloves, and lifted the cloth, his brow furrowing. Perhaps he had seen such corpses before. He straightened up and ordered his subordinates to disperse the crowd, examine the Lu family home, and take statements from every household. Hulu Village was small, so the investigation wouldn't be difficult.

Lu's widow was only led home after her husband's body was carried away.

When the crowd had dispersed and only Zhang Qinglin and his three companions remained, the captain approached them. He had a steady, honest face. "Where are you from? Why are you still here? Haven't you seen enough?"

"Captain Gao, these friends are tourists who stayed at my house last night," Village Head Zhao explained. "They'll be leaving soon."

Captain Gao's expression changed as he took off his gloves. "Don't be in a rush to leave. There's just been a murder, so you all need to make a statement. Once you're cleared, you can go. Village Head Zhao, I'll speak with you later."

He pointed to a policeman at the door to give instructions.

Village Head Zhao helped Old Zhao into the house, and Zhang Qinglin and the others followed. Baroque Lingda went outside to wait for Li Qingpeng, who had gone to meet Wanqing outside the village.

"Village Head Zhao, were there really similar murders here before?" Cheng Che couldn't help asking.

Village Head Zhao nodded. "Yes, three years ago there were three cases just like this. Each victim was drugged, then their face or back was skinned. The killer is unspeakably cruel..."

"Weren't there any leads? Why kill and skin them? Was it a grudge?" Zhang Qinglin mused.

Village Head Zhao sighed. "That's the strangest part. Including today's, none of the families had any known enemies, let alone deep grudges. The county police followed every lead, but they all went cold. The killer has never been caught. Could it really be..."

"Be what?" Zhang Qinglin pressed.