Old Sheepskin inadvertently overheard this secret: back in ancient China, in the Greater Khingan Range area, a significant number of people secretly worshipped the long-tailed weasel, believing that the Great Immortal Yellow Weasel could control the souls of the dead, serving as a Gouhun Yin—a colloquial term for a soul-reaping ghost immortal, specifically responsible for escorting the departed souls. Any soul taken by the Gouhun Yin was sent to the Ghost Yamen, the underworld bureaucracy. Most common folk had heard tales of the Ghost Yamen, a place one entered never to return, but they only knew it was hidden deep in the mountains; its precise location remained unknown because no one who entered ever emerged alive.

It wasn't just the dead; living people were often claimed too. A perfectly sound individual might suddenly lose their mind, turning foolish or insane, which everyone assumed meant the Ghost Yamen had dispatched a Yellow Weasel to collect their soul. Those claimed by the Great Immortal Yellow Weasel, even if they didn't die immediately, would become living dead—possessing vital signs but devoid of soul, their remaining shell merely a walking corpse waiting for death.

Since antiquity, China has boasted numerous ethnic minorities, their customs blending and evolving until no one could trace exactly when or where the custom of regarding the Yellow Weasel as a Gouhun Yin originated.

Perhaps this custom related to the ability of some highly accomplished old Yellow Weasels to communicate with humans and employ bewitching magic. Certain weasels were extraordinarily unique. For example, after consuming a specific type of black rat, secretions within their bodies would change, and the resulting foul odor they emitted, if inhaled by a living person, would cause that person to lose their sanity, becoming utterly confused—weeping when told to weep, laughing when told to laugh, as if possessed. The ignorant superstitions of the unenlightened masses made it even harder to grasp the underlying cause, and through oral transmission, the tales grew ever more miraculous.

The legends concerning these Yellow Weasels and the Ghost Yamen began to diminish by the Song Dynasty, with fewer and fewer people knowing the lore. Nevertheless, a good deal of related content was preserved in folk tales. Legend held that the Great Immortal Yellow Weasel possessed a bronze coffer containing the secret of the Yellow Weasel's Gouhun Yin. Many murals and clay sculptures in Yellow Weasel temples corresponded with this folk legend, but given the vast passage of time, the whereabouts of the Great Immortal's bronze coffer could no longer be traced.

It wasn't until the Japanese army, at the terminus of the Greater Khingan Range extension—the Hundred Eyes Cave nestled between the grasslands and the desert—discovered a burial cave belonging to the ancient Xianbei people, containing countless dead and numerous strange phenomena inexplicable at the time. The Hundred Eyes Cave had two mouths, with an underground river and the "Gate of Ghosts" nestled among the central hills; everything matched the legend of the Ghost Yamen. This portal to the netherworld was a secret the ancients had concealed for a millennium.

The front entrance connected to the grasslands, occasionally plagued by terrifying "Burning Winds" that swept away humans and livestock—the "Burning Winds" mentioned in Buddhist sutras were said to be the evil spirit winds blowing from the Avici Hell. The rear entrance opened onto the Mongolian desert, an area few humans dared to tread. The soil and rock within the Hundred Eyes Cave burial chamber contained special substances that preserved the corpses from decay for ages. Investigation of this burial cave revealed that its deep secrets were the tombs of ancient Xianbei shamans. The Hundred Eyes Cave was regarded as the destination for the deceased, ranked alongside the Gaxian Cave, the supposed origin site of the Xianbei, as two supreme holy sites, constantly receiving offerings and sacrifices, achieved through the living burying jade and the dead burying stone to honor them.

Later, as time wore on, the legends and the location of the burial cave gradually faded, replaced by wild tales like the "Ghost Yamen." The numerous stone carvings and murals within the burial cave documented that the shamans possessed a bronze coffer capable of controlling the spirits of the dead. The shamans could use it to summon departed souls from the underworld for various divinatory rituals, but the exact secrets contained within it were not recorded.

The Japanese became intensely interested in this legend, believing the "Burning Wind" was connected to the entrance to the netherworld at the bottom of the burial cave—a deathly, cold wind emanating from the Yellow Springs. They surmised that the bronze coffer was likely the key to controlling it. To conduct secret research on it, they needed to find the box, so they bribed the bandit leaders of the Ni'er Hui (Mud Society) to help them search among the common folk for the Great Immortal Yellow Weasel's soul-summoning coffer. Tungsuan and Sheep Second Egg, two turncoats, blinded by greed, began their search and gradually started making headway.

When Old Sheepskin learned of this, he desperately tried to persuade Sheep Second Egg. Digging up graves was one thing, but now listening to the little Japanese devils and digging for the entrance to the Ghost Yamen? Wasn't that inviting death? After much pleading, the two brothers finally fell out. Sheep Second Egg felt Old Sheepskin was always interfering; keeping him around would eventually lead to disaster. So, he feigned agreement, swore an oath to wash his hands of the matter, and lured Old Sheepskin to a cliff edge, kicking him off the back.

But Old Sheepskin was a man of great fortune. He didn't die from the fall, catching himself on a pine tree. Several ribs were broken, and the pine branches nearly disemboweled him, but thanks to being rescued by a hunter, his life was saved. He spent a full six months recovering before he was well. He still worried about Sheep Second Egg, blaming himself for failing to persuade his brother to turn from the wrong path. He ventured back into the mountains to find him, only to learn that the Ni'er Hui had finally unearthed the soul-summoning coffer at a place called Yellow Weasel Grave, costing several lives in the process, and even Tungsuan himself had been driven by the Great Immortal Yellow Weasel to hang himself. Sheep Second Egg had miraculously survived and managed to secure the box. He took a few subordinates and the Japanese merchant who was liaising with them, and the group set off for the Hundred Eyes Cave deep in the grasslands.

Old Sheepskin followed secretly, hoping to catch up to Sheep Second Egg. However, when he reached the vicinity of the Hundred Eyes Cave, he was terrified by the black smoke billowing from the corpse incineration furnace, and as the clouds shifted, he mistook it for the dreaded dragon activity the grassland herders spoke of. He believed implicitly in such things. Hesitating and wavering, he ultimately dared not approach the Hundred Eyes Cave. In truth, even if he had followed them closely, he would likely have been captured by the Japanese Kwantung Army—either subjected to live experimentation or simply killed to silence him. He wandered around the area for over ten days and never saw a single living soul emerge. He knew something terrible had happened. What kind of place was the Hundred Eyes Cave? It was the Ghost Yamen, the portal to the underworld—once you walked that road of no return, you never came back.

Old Sheepskin was naturally timid; he lacked the courage to enter the Hundred Eyes Cave to retrieve Sheep Second Egg's body. He couldn't bear to imagine what it would feel like to face his own brother's corpse. For years afterward, he roamed the grasslands, working odd jobs for the herders to survive. After the Liberation, due to poverty, he settled down as a herdsman with government assistance. He remained taciturn day after day, burying all his past experiences deep within his heart, occasionally venting his sorrow through the Matouqin (horse-head fiddle) and Qinqiang opera.

Fatty and I understood more than half of the story upon hearing this; we experienced the subsequent events almost entirely together. Old Sheepskin, in pursuit of a stray cow, ended up mistakenly entering the Hundred Eyes Cave with us. Constrained by the environment, he genuinely feared telling the truth about his past, hence his stammering refusal to speak clearly. It wasn't until he saw Sheep Second Egg's corpse standing right before him that Old Sheepskin could no longer control his emotions. The grievances accumulated over two decades suddenly erupted. He frantically tried to open the soul-summoning bronze coffer, intending to bring Sheep Second Egg's soul back from the nether realm to question him: why didn't he listen to his brother's heartfelt advice, leading to this end? Did he feel even a shred of regret?

Old Sheepskin haltingly recounted the entire sequence of events to Fatty and me. Fatty expressed immense sympathy for him: "The sky is hung with stars, the crescent moon shines bright; in the production team, a grand meeting is called, recalling bitterness and denouncing injustice. We sympathize deeply with your past, Intellectual Youth, but your brother, Sheep Second Egg, willingly served the devils—he severed ties with the people; there is no room for compromise on matters of political line. You must make the firm resolution to draw a clear line between yourself and him!"

Unlike Fatty, I wasn't so easily fooled and paid close attention to Old Sheepskin’s narrative. Seeing that he had finally finished, a sudden impulse seized me. Anger surged from my core, and malice filled my heart. I stealthily used my leather belt to bind Old Sheepskin's hands tightly behind his back: "Sheep Second Egg, even now, you refuse to speak the truth?"