After a considerable time, the statue-like Zhang Wenjie finally stirred, rubbing his sore eyes, causing a collision with me, sending stars dancing before my eyes as I clutched my nose and crouched on the ground.
"Guangting, are you a mouse? Why did you walk so silently?"
Rubbing my throbbing nose, I grimaced and said, "I called out to you for half an eternity. I was just about to blast you with a cannon. Ouch, it hurts."
As we exited the main gate of the Provincial Museum, Zhang Wenjie continued to mutter under his breath.
"Hey, mumbling to yourself. What are you saying?"
"Nothing much. Time flies so fast. It's almost dark."
Over the following month, we visited the Provincial Museum several times. Eventually, I grew somewhat weary, thinking that this fellow was too miserly, always leading me to places where admission was free.
However, he seemed inexplicably fascinated by the model of the Yong Tomb, to the extent that it even attracted the attention of the security guards, who found his behavior suspicious and trailed him.
After learning of this, Lin Canghai warned Zhang Wenjie never to go to the museum again, lest he open up a can of worms.
Time passed swiftly, and before we knew it, September arrived.
I remember it was around September 20th, when everyone gathered at Botong Tang.
Lin Canghai got straight to the point: "It's been idle for a few months. It's time to get moving."
Everyone was eager, displaying signs of excitement.
Lin Canghai inquired about the preparations and nodded, saying, "The corn has finished filling out, and the harvest season is about ten days away. Remember, we only have a week. Whether successful or not, once the time is up, we must retreat immediately, without smashing the pot."
Except for Lin Canghai and Zhang Ling, all seven of us set out, but the target was too large, so we adopted a divide-and-conquer strategy, going in batches.
In the preceding days, Duan Huairen, under the pretext of selling fish, had been wandering around several villages nearby and even set up a stall at the intersection near the Yong Tomb for a few days, monitoring the situation in the surrounding villages.
The next evening, Duan Huairen called, saying that everything was normal, and we could proceed. Under the cover of darkness, we squeezed into a van and headed towards the Yong Tomb.
About three hours later, the vehicle stopped near a farmer's market, where the bustling crowd meant that the sudden appearance of a car wouldn't attract much attention.
After walking for three or four miles under the stars, we could faintly see an immense earthen mound shrouded in a light blue mist, stretching endlessly within a vast expanse of green curtains. The corn around it was unusually lush, standing a cut above the rest.
According to the "Mystery of the Ten Thousand Tombs," this was because it was a Feng Shui treasure trove, capable of gathering wind and qi to nourish all things.
Crouching low, we stealthily made our way into the cornfield.
The corn leaves were wide and large, with a layer of fine fuzz that felt uncomfortable against the skin, accompanied by a rustling sound in our ears.
After walking for a few hundred meters, a flashlight beam suddenly shone upon us.
"Be careful, someone's there," I whispered in a hushed tone.
Everyone froze as if someone had pressed the pause button. After a few seconds, the flashlight on the other side blinked three times.
"It's Duan Huairen's group. Our people. Don't be nervous."
Chen Lao Da responded with three flashes from his flashlight.
Approaching, we found a cleared area in the cornfield, where tents had been pitched, and supplies were prepared.
After testing the radio frequency, Duan Huairen ducked into the green curtains and headed to the nearby intersection to keep watch.
Continuing forward for about three to four hundred meters, I observed Zhang Wenjie with his head down, taking large strides and continuously checking numbers under his breath.
"Seventy-three, seventy-four, seventy-five..."
He kept counting until he reached ninety-six, then paused, using his toe to kick a depression into the ground.
Puzzled, I asked, "Mr. Zhang, what are you doing?"
With a mysterious smile, Zhang Wenjie replied, "Do you remember the model in the museum?"
I nodded, affirming that I did.
"The museum doesn't allow photographs, so I memorized that model. By enlarging it proportionally on-site, we can locate the entrance to the tomb."
Upon hearing this, I was somewhat astonished. This was indeed remarkable.
Chen Lao Da approached and inquired, "Mr. Zhang, how confident are you?"
After a moment of thought, Zhang Wenjie responded, "Ninety percent, I'd say."
With a nod from Chen Lao Da, the three of us brothers acted decisively, coordinating seamlessly as we descended into the visibly discernible tunnel.
After about half an hour, Chen Lao Da furrowed his brow and turned to say, "We've hit a snag. We can't go further down. It seems we've reached the rammed earth layer. We'll need some assistance."
Immediately, Chen Lao Er stepped forward, and the two of them grabbed a Luoyang shovel and vigorously dug a few times. Then, slowly, they raised the Luoyang shovel. Several flashlight beams illuminated the cylindrical soil core below, with a few small white dots attached to it, resembling sesame seeds. It wasn't easy to notice without careful inspection.
Chen Duoyu heated up those white dots with a lighter, bringing his nose close to sniff. Suddenly, he exclaimed in excitement, "It's crumbled sticky rice paste. We've indeed reached the rammed earth layer."
Ancient people spared no effort in preventing tomb theft, and sticky rice paste was one of their methods. It was made by mixing rice paste with soil to form an incredibly hard substance. Later developments included the use of three-layer soil, five-layer soil, and more.
This type of soil was incredibly hard, even more so than modern concrete. When the Luoyang shovel struck it, it merely left a white mark.
Uncle Ding cautioned, "Don't celebrate too soon. With such a large earthen mound here, there's undoubtedly a big pot underneath. That's beyond doubt. However, the exact location of the tomb entrance is still uncertain. If we hit the sealing layer just now, breaking through to enter the burial chamber will take at least three to five days. Time is running short."
Unable to contain his impatience, Chen Duoyu suggested, "Let's not waste time. Let's fire a shot to see. Uncle Ding, prepare the explosives."
Uncle Ding called for me, and we carried over a woven bag containing sections of connected detonators.
After placing the detonators into the tunnel, we all backed away more than ten meters. With a muffled bang, a cloud of soil mist sprayed from the entrance, shaking the earth, causing the green curtains to rustle in the shockwave.
Approaching, we found that the tunnel had instantly expanded several times its original size. With a bit of repair, it would be spacious enough for one person to enter and exit.
This type of tunnel relied on violent compression and didn't require additional reinforcement, saving time and effort.
Zhang Wenjie picked up the walkie-talkie and shouted, "Old Duan, Old Duan, what's the situation on your end?"
There was a crackle, then a response, "Everything's normal except for a few dog barks. All is well. Over."
After waiting for about fifteen minutes for the gunpowder smell to dissipate from the tunnel, Chen Lao Da took out a climbing rope, tied it around his waist, grabbed an iron bucket, and armed with a whirlwind shovel and a demolition tool, entered the tunnel.
Bucket after bucket of yellow earth was brought up. After dozens of buckets, we heard Chen Lao Da's voice through the walkie-talkie.
"I'm about to break through."