When Old Blind Chen recounted the events, it was just before he led his crew south to Yunnan to plunder tombs, intending to appraise and sell the various treasures unearthed from Bottle Hill. Never before had artifacts looted by grave robbers been moved so quickly, primarily because the incidents in Western Hunan had caused a significant stir. Not only did public opinion severely condemn the warlords and bandits for their treasure-hunting activities, but antique dealers from all over flocked to the area, eager to profit from the chaos.

Amidst the great upheaval, antique prices had plummeted, yet where there is a low, there must be a rise. Many merchants hoped to hoard a batch of genuine, high-quality pieces now, so they could demand astronomical prices when times stabilized. Consequently, the trade in antique artifacts never truly ceased.

The provincial governor boasted a vast fortune and an obsession with antiques. Mr. Qian, as he was known, owned several textile mills in Shanghai and Qingdao, alongside numerous other local industries. Boss Qian came from a distinguished scholarly lineage and, influenced by his upbringing, had loved ancient artifacts since childhood. He specifically sought out Old Blind Chen through an intermediary and came himself to select a few items that caught his eye.

Among them were the very sarcophagus that Patagonian encountered in the Cinnabar Well—the one from which the Six-Winged Old Centipede spat out elixir while bowing to the coffin—and the bronze alchemy furnace from the same well. He also purchased strange, ancient-looking bronze figures of men and ghosts. Boss Qian was overjoyed, his delight obvious.

Old Blind Chen had always considered himself extraordinary, scorning even the foundational thinkers like Tang, Yu, Bo Yi, and Confucius. He felt his knowledge and insight were unmatched in the contemporary world, looking down even upon the ancient sages. Yet, looking at those two eyeless bronze figures, the man and the ghost, though he sensed deep mysteries surrounding them, he couldn't decipher a fraction of the enigma. He was tempted to ask Boss Qian why he chose these specific relics, to see if the man knew their origins, but the words caught in his throat, feeling beneath his dignity.

After circling the subject a few times under the guise of discussing antiquity and current affairs, he managed to glean a little from Boss Qian. The boss was deeply fond of reading the I Ching and had studied it profoundly. He knew that the current Bagua system was derived from later elaborations; the earliest ancient hexagrams were not symbolized by characters like "Qian, Kan, Gen, Zhen." These bronze effigies—the eyeless human symbol and the ghost symbol—were among the most primitive signs of the ancient trigrams. To cast a complete divination, one needed at least four of these ancient talismans; sadly, he only possessed two, and a full set was out of the question.

It was said that a minimum of four bronze talismans were required for use, and whoever mastered this art could perceive the profound secrets of the celestial mechanisms, though Boss Qian didn't know the exact method of application. He only knew the bronze talismans must predate the "Three Dynasties"—Xia, Shang, and Zhou. Artifacts from the Tang or Song periods, compared to relics of the Three Dynasties, couldn't even be considered truly ancient, and in the eyes of a real connoisseur, their collection value was worlds apart. As for the bronze furnace used for making cinnabar, it likely dated back to the late years of the Han Dynasty.

The alchemy furnace was covered in intricate, subtle engravings depicting ancient figures refining elixirs. Upon closer inspection, there were even markings of those bronze ancient talismans embedded within the designs. Despite his deep knowledge, Mr. Qian couldn't decipher the content; he only felt it was an ancient marvel, harboring profound secrets and immense collectible value.

Old Blind Chen thought to himself, if he didn't know what they were for, what use was keeping them hidden at home? After seeing Boss Qian out, he dismissed the matter. Time flew swiftly; more than half a century passed without him encountering another similar bronze talisman. The events of that year had long slipped his mind, until I mentioned the matter of the Hundred-Eyed Scarlet Dragon Talisman the previous time, which suddenly brought it all back.

Old Blind Chen told me, "If you all have the chance, perhaps you should try to collect the four ancient talismans, so this old man can finally know what celestial secrets they reveal."

I replied, "Truthfully, I only stumbled upon two bronze ancient talismans by accident. While I am interested in them personally, I won't scour the earth looking for them just to pry open the secrets left by the ancients. What I urgently need to know now is where in the world there are still Golden Elixirs in ancient tombs. This is like fighting a fire to save someone; if I can't find the inner elixir of an ancient corpse, my friend will be meeting Marx."

Old Blind Chen laughed, "You speak mistakenly. A human life lasts but a few decades, as humble and small as an ant. If one can, with the body of an ant, grasp the secrets of the heavens, even shattering one's body would not be in vain."

I couldn't help but shake my head wryly. Though Old Blind Chen’s heroism was fading with age, his ambition hadn't waned one bit. However, his current pursuit had changed; it was loftier now—he wanted to know the secrets of 'God.'

I thought Shirley Yang was religious, and quite devoutly so; she might believe in concepts like 'celestial secrets,' 'revelations,' or 'deities.' But Shirley Yang also shook her head. She said, "Asking a person what God looks like is like asking a goldfish what the water it lives in is like; it’s meaningless. Faith should be the resting place of the heart."

Old Blind Chen continued, "As for the inner elixir of an ancient corpse, yes, there were more than one or two in Xiangxi's Bottle Hill. Bottle Hill was fundamentally a Cinnabar Palace and a medicinal mountain; having such things there is no surprise. Elsewhere, they are exceedingly rare. But Bottle Hill was completely looted decades ago. Even the caves of the mere local graves, which had no major artifacts, were hollowed out by those worthless thieves. Now, if you two want to find the Golden Elixir in ancient tombs, you might as well ask Heaven. Without a celestial revelation, even trampling the earth bare-footed will not lead you to them in this vast world."

Seeing that the last shred of hope had vanished, I felt utterly disheartened. It seemed Dolly’s life ultimately could not be saved. But a person won't give up until they reach the Yellow River; as long as Dolly was alive, I would try every other means possible. Seeing that it was getting late, and unable to return to Beijing that day, we had no choice but to find temporary lodging at the Railway Ministry Guesthouse nearby.

The next morning, I asked Old Blind Chen about his plans, wondering if he would accompany me to the US. Old Blind Chen sighed, "The ancients often likened a fleeting life to a dream, lamenting how swiftly time passes. A lifetime is like being a sojourner in the Great Void—filled with so much joy and sorrow, elation and despair, gain and loss, reunion and separation, life and death, changing forms and shedding skins. In the end, it’s all like an illusion. What gathers must scatter; it perfectly embodies the word 'impermanence.' I never imagined that after parting ways by Dongting Lake, I would never see him again in this life. Looking back at the past, it feels like just yesterday. Out of sentiment and propriety, I should pay respects at the grave of my old friend, Patagonian. However, this old body of mine probably doesn't have many days left, and I truly don't wish to die in some distant foreign land. I want to return to my hometown in Xiangyin first."

So, I bought train tickets and accompanied Shirley Yang to the station to see him off. We agreed to find him before the Qingming Festival, and then travel to the US together to pay our final respects at the tomb of the last grave robber of the Mountain-Moving School.

After bidding farewell to Old Blind Chen, we returned to the guesthouse to pack. On the way, we picked up a newspaper and flipped through a few pages on the bus. There was a full spread detailing the brilliant achievements made in various fields since the Third Plenary Session of the Eleventh Central Committee and the initiation of 'Reform and Opening Up.' It also mentioned that to enrich the recreational life of Tianjin citizens, the Tianjin Natural History Museum had reopened, with leaders from all sectors offering congratulatory inscriptions.

Such news was common and held nothing particularly special, but one part of it caught my attention. The report mentioned that to enhance the museum’s exhibits, a batch of precious excavated relics from Hunan Province would be sent to Tianjin for a week-long exhibition in the sixth gallery on the second floor.

This batch of precious Hunan artifacts included several national treasures donated by patriotic overseas Chinese. Among them, particularly noteworthy items were the historically rare "Eyeless Humanoid Bronze Ornament (Zhou Dynasty)" and the "Gilt-Inlaid, Silver-Drawn Nine-Color Painted Bronze Furnace (Han Dynasty)..."

I exclaimed, "History always has astonishing coincidences. Aren't these the very treasures that the heroes of the Mountain-Moving and Ridge-Trenching schools plundered from Bottle Hill back then? They’ve been donated to the state by patriotic overseas Chinese and now brought to Tianjin for public viewing."

Shirley Yang took the paper and read it. Her curiosity was piqued: "The photos in the paper are a bit blurry. Why don't we stop by the Natural History Museum on our way and see them for ourselves?"

We immediately agreed. We didn't go back to the guesthouse but headed straight to the Natural History Museum to buy tickets. This museum was established quite early, traceable back to the early years of the Republic, first called the "Northern Frontier Museum," later renamed the "People's Science Hall." Exhibitions were temporarily halted during the Cultural Revolution. Since its recent reopening, the exhibits seemed sparse, yet visitors were constantly flowing in. Organized school groups made up more than half the crowd, mostly there to see the various fossils and specimens of ancient life.

There was a craze for exhibitions sweeping society at the time. If you went to a park, you'd often see displays advertised as "Deformed Fetal Specimens, Xinjiang Ancient Corpse, Human Dissection..." There were even exotic animal shows, featuring things like rats the size of piglets or monsters with human heads and snake bodies—all sorts of sensational attractions, though some were undoubtedly selling dog meat under the guise of selling sheep's head. Therefore, I wasn't particularly interested in the displays inside the main hall. Seeing stairs outside leading directly to the "Precious Excavated Relics Exhibition from Hunan Province" on the second floor, I led Shirley Yang straight upstairs.

Looking in from the outside of the second floor, the exhibit was indeed rich. Hundreds of artifacts, large and small, were displayed in categorized, dazzling glass cases. Many were replicas; genuine items wouldn't be displayed so casually for public viewing, but the average visitor wouldn't know the difference, just seeing something novel. However, there weren't many people visiting this floor; it felt somewhat deserted.

Having seen countless artifacts, I found many of these items vaguely familiar as I gave them a cursory glance. In one display case, I spotted the legendary alchemy furnace. It was exactly as Old Blind Chen had described. By my assessment, this piece was definitely genuine, perhaps too large to be easily stolen.

Shirley Yang recalled that her maternal grandfather had hidden inside this furnace back then and became lost in imagination, staring at it raptly. I, however, focused on the engravings on the furnace, trying to discern the details of the images. But the bronze furnace was a full meter away from the display case glass. Although I didn't have poor eyesight, I couldn't make out the subtle elements. Furthermore, the copper furnace was cast with eight "Immortal Transmuting Elixir" scenes; several sides were completely obscured by viewing angles, hidden from view entirely.

Shirley Yang suddenly remembered she had left her inseparable camera at the guesthouse. Eager to take some pictures, she asked me to browse around while she quickly went back for it. I was left wandering the Natural History Museum alone. After examining the alchemy furnace a few times, I went to look at the bronze talismans in another set of display cases. The human symbol and the ghost symbol, with their hollowed-out eyes, were both there, mottled with ancient green patina—they all seemed genuine. Just as I was leaning in for a closer look, a uniformed police officer suddenly approached and slapped my shoulder without a word.

I had been so engrossed in examining the ancient talismans that I hadn't anticipated such a thing. The suddenness left me disoriented. Was looking at artifacts now a crime? Feeling utterly bewildered, I said to the officer, "Comrade officer, what is the meaning of this? I haven't fallen short in adhering to the Five Stresses, Four Beauties, and Three Loves..."

The officer replied, "Company Commander, you don't recognize me?" His voice was loud enough to make my ears ring.

I looked closely and realized it was a comrade-in-arms from my time in the army, someone I had fought alongside on the front lines. His name was Ai Hongjun; I used to call him 'Troublemaker Ai.' I hadn't seen him since I left the service and never expected to run into him years later at the Natural History Museum. A chance reunion with a comrade who had crawled out of piles of the dead together was both a shock and a joy.

I laughed, "Old Ai, your voice is as loud as ever. How did you end up joining the public security forces..." Just as I was about to catch up, I suddenly saw a familiar silhouette flash past the exhibition room door. I froze instantly, a vague sense of dread stabbing me in the back like a knife, yet I couldn't pinpoint exactly what felt wrong. In my bewilderment, I couldn't grasp any clue. I hurriedly pushed past the uniformed Ai Hongjun and quickly chased after that mysterious retreating figure who looked vaguely familiar.