I ignored the sharp pain throbbing on my forehead and the blood oozing between my fingers, raising my eyes just in time to see two stout, though not particularly tall, stone horses standing majestically within the pavilion. They looked poised to move, their heads, bodies, legs, and tails rendered with startling realism; even the saddles and bridles, intricately carved with patterns of birds, flowers, deer, and fish, were all in place. Beside each horse stood a life-sized stone figure, approximately two meters tall, holding an umbrella, positioned near the horse’s head as if grasping the reins. Regrettably, the head of the stone figure on the left was long gone, leaving only the torso, yet it maintained a striking presence, perfectly lifelike in form and spirit. The four pillars of the pavilion were lacquered in vermilion, framing bluestone railings about two feet high. Beyond the railings, a bluestone eave channel collected rainwater pouring in from all directions, the water gurgling through it, keeping the pavilion floor dry and free of dampness. Looking up, I saw an exquisitely crafted, vividly colored, openwork carved ceiling. Behind the pavilion was a mound of earth built up with fitted bluestones, resembling a hearth, overgrown with weeds. Resting squarely atop the foremost bluestone slab was a headless stone Bodhisattva. Before the statue, in a small earthen niche, were stuck a few short, stubby incense sticks and candles, and inside the niche was a pile of soggy, black paper ash. To the right of the pavilion, several strips of red silk were draped haphazardly on a scraggly tree, looking lifeless in the rain. On a broken wall to the left, there seemed to be some carved inscriptions, but the distance and the heavy downpour obscured the characters.

I wondered privately, is this considered a significant spot in the Tusi Imperial City?

Qin Bing’er spared it a brief glance before walking over to me. She pulled a cleansing wipe from her bag, gently moved my hand away from my forehead, stood on her tiptoes, and meticulously dabbed the blood from my face. After blowing gently on the spot, her expression tightened. She murmured softly, “Yingying, you’re probably going to have a scar on your forehead again. The middle stroke of the character for ‘earth’ [] has been stretched…” Alarmed, I gestured for Qin Bing’er to hand me her small mirror. Looking into it, I saw it clearly: a deep gash running vertically down the center of where the character for ‘earth’ would be, exposing the dark red flesh beneath my forehead.

Man Niao Niao saw it and landed heavily on a nearby stone, laughing boisterously for a long time before remarking with dripping sarcasm, “Just needs one more stroke, and it becomes the character for ‘Ox’ [] in ‘Niu Boyi’ []! Hahahaha… Your buddy really is something; he gets a souvenir right upon entering the Tusi Imperial City. Good luck, good luck… Hahaha…” Just as I was getting angry enough to kick him, Qin Bing’er held me back and asked curiously, “‘Niu Boyi’? Is he one of your friends too?” I was caught between laughter and tears, unable to explain the meaning of “Niu Boyi” to her, feeling a profound sense of frustration well up inside me.

Little did I expect that Man Niao Niao’s joke would prove prophetic; later, that extra stroke did indeed appear, turning the ‘earth’ character on my forehead into the unmistakable character for ‘ox.’ Of course, that is a story for another time, which I shall leave aside for now.

“Are you folks here to tour the Tusi Imperial City?” The old man named Chen Zhaobei walked into the pavilion. He removed his rain cape and straw coat, allowing me to finally take in his build and appearance: not tall, with a slightly hunched back, his lean, sharp face covered in short, grizzled stubble, and strikingly bright eyes. He wore a blue cloth top, the pockets bulging; half a stalk of grass tobacco peeked from one, marking him as a fellow smoker like Ji Ye. His trouser legs were rolled up to his knees, revealing muscular, corded, antique-bronze calves. It was clear he was a man weathered by harsh experiences.

“Are you the guide here, sir?” Ji Ye quickly and respectfully offered Chen Zhaobei a piece of grass tobacco, pointing at Qin Bing’er. “We are also from Xidu; only this young lady is from out of town. We came specifically to see the Tusi Imperial City.” Old Man Chen waved his hand politely. “This area is a cultural heritage protection site; smoking is not allowed here.” In this region, people often referred to smoking as ‘eating tobacco.’

The old man glanced at Qin Bing’er and said, “Welcome, guests from afar, to the Tusi Imperial City. How about this: I will start by explaining these two pairs of stone figures and horses, and the ruins of the Hou Huan Temple behind them.”

“Hou Huan Temple? Which Hou Huan?” Man Niao Niao interrupted Old Man Chen. I shot him a fierce glare—why interrupt with such nonsense? I settled in to listen.

Old Man Chen grinned. “The name Hou Huan is not generally known. In fact, it refers to Zhang Fei from the Three Kingdoms period…” “Zhang Fei?” Man Niao Niao eagerly interjected again. “Many ancient sites worship Lord Guan, so why would the Tusi Imperial City specifically build a temple for Zhang Fei?”

“Since you are so interested in the Zhang Fei Temple, I will start with that,” Old Man Chen said, pointing to the earth mound enclosed by bluestones behind the pavilion. “That is where Hou Huan Zhang Fei was enshrined. At that time, the statue of Lord Zhang was different from those elsewhere; it wasn’t made of mud but of wood, and it was mechanized so that Lord Zhang could appear to sit or stand. Alas, during the Cultural Revolution, the ‘Red Guards’ smashed it to pieces during the ‘Smash the Four Olds’ campaign; not even a splinter of the wood can be found now. The headless Bodhisattva you see was accidentally dug up by some children herding cattle. When I saw it, I moved it here to rest. It’s actually a local Earth God. If you look at its side, beneath its right rib, you’ll see a very clear carving—a general riding a horse. Foreign visitors initially thought it was later work done with cement, but it’s not; it formed naturally…”

Upon hearing that the stone Earth God bore a naturally formed carving, Man Niao Niao forgot the rain and bounced over to the headless deity, tilting his head to look. He shouted in a deliberately dramatic fashion, “Damn it, there really is a vivid image here! How strange…” Seeing Old Man Chen’s face turn cold, I quickly reprimanded Man Niao Niao, “Watch your mouth! Don’t spew nonsense regardless of the time or place…” Man Niao Niao sheepishly stuck out his tongue, slapped his own cheek, and mumbled, “Lord Zhang, forgive me.”

Old Man Chen gave me an appreciative look and continued, “The area enclosed by the bluestones has a very peculiar characteristic: no matter how cold the weather gets, it never freezes over. Any snow that falls inside melts immediately. If you were to visit during a snowy winter, you would notice that even if the bluestones were covered with several inches of snow, the inside of the enclosure would still be clean, and the weeds would remain green and leafy.”

“Huh?” Man Niao Niao’s eyes widened again, and he asked confusedly, “What’s the reason for that?”

“Actually, the explanation is quite simple. That mound sits atop a sinkhole. The entrance to the sinkhole was sealed with stone slabs by Immortal Chen, who carved these two pairs of stone figures and horses. You all know that in winter, the sinkhole emits hot mist, so naturally, snow and ice won't accumulate there.”

“Oh, so that’s the reason. I thought there was some mystical explanation,” Man Niao Niao said with sudden understanding. I grasped the principle, but another doubt arose in my mind: why would the people who built the Zhang Fei Temple place the statue directly over a sinkhole? Doesn’t that resemble the isolated grave we saw in the Anle Cave? Furthermore, why was Zhang Fei’s statue made of wood, capable of moving between sitting and standing positions? Was there any historical basis or local lore for that?

Qin Bing’er also seemed to ponder this and asked, “Do you know why Lord Zhang’s statue was erected over the sinkhole?” Old Man Chen spoke slowly, “Many people have asked that question, but frankly, I don't know why either.”

Lord Zhang Fei’s image is deeply ingrained in Chinese culture, and his personality traits are well-known to most—often characterized as fierce and intimidating. Could it be that the sinkhole below housed some malevolent force or something unclean, requiring Lord Zhang’s fearsome presence to subdue it through opposition (evil counteracting evil)?

It appeared the Tusi Imperial City was far more complex and veiled than it looked from the outside.

As I was deep in conjecture, Old Man Chen pointed at the pavilion. “This pavilion was actually built in the 1970s with government funding. It’s called the ‘Horse Covering Pavilion,’ built to protect these two pairs of stone figures and horses from the sun and rain. These stone figures and horses were also carved by the Immortal Chen back then…”

I recalled that Old Man Chen was also named Chen and asked, “Are you perhaps a descendant of Immortal Chen?”

Old Man Chen chuckled. “Many people have asked that too. But I’m afraid I must disappoint you; my ancestor was not Immortal Chen, but rather the son-in-law of the Tusi King Qin Cheng back in those days…”

Though we already knew Qin Cheng was the most famous Tusi King in history, hearing it confirmed by an elder who intimately understood that period still caused us considerable shock. Especially for Qin Bing’er, upon hearing the name “Qin Cheng,” her gaze grew distant, her delicate mouth parted slightly, and she let out a soft sound, her expression flickering between light and shadow.

Old Man Chen looked at Qin Bing’er strangely and asked with concern, “This young lady… Are you alright?”

Fearing that Qin Bing’er’s excitement and burning desire to uncover the truth about her origins might cause her to blurt everything out, I quickly told Old Man Chen, “She’s fine, sir. Please continue.” At the same time, I glanced at Qin Bing’er, signaling her not to rush; we could inquire slowly. Realizing her lapse, Qin Bing’er blushed slightly, moved to stand beside me, linked her arm through mine, and began to tremble lightly again.

The old man was quite talkative. Pointing to the two pairs of stone figures and horses, he said, “Although these two pairs of stone figures and horses are the work of Immortal Chen, they were commissioned by Madam Mo…”

“Madam Mo? Who is Madam Mo?” Man Niao Niao’s ‘God of Fire’ temper flared up again.

Old Man Chen looked at Man Niao Niao suspiciously. “Little brother, are you even from around here? You don’t even know of Madam Mo, whom the Tujia people revere so highly? She was the wife of Tusi King Qin Cheng of Tangya. Back then, the Tangya Tusi and the neighboring Longtan Tusi were constantly at war over territory. To quell the strife, the Longtan Tusi proposed a ‘marriage alliance.’ Thus, Madam Mo, as an ambassador of peace, married Qin Cheng, the son of the Tangya Tusi. The wars between the Tusi clans ceased as a result. Madam Mo was an unusually enlightened woman. Through her interactions with the outside world, she recognized the advanced culture and productivity of the Han people. During a pilgrimage to Mount Emei, she specifically sent people to Chengdu and other places to learn techniques such as pig farming, sericulture, and embroidery from the local Han population, and upon her return, she taught these skills to the local commoners. Madam Mo also possessed unique talents in managing Tusi internal affairs. After Qin Cheng passed away, his son became the new Tusi King but was exceedingly cruel and violent. Madam Mo restrained him with rites and laws and personally presided over the government for a period. During this time, ‘the interior was peaceful, and the exterior supply lines were uninterrupted.’ Later, Madam Mo passed the throne to Qin Cheng’s nephew. This was an exception to the succession by direct lineage in the history of the Tangya Tusi, reflecting Madam Mo’s foresight and wisdom… You say you don't even know about such a distinguished lady who contributed so much to the development of the Tujia people? Aren't you courting misfortune [seeking ‘Ri Jue’]?”

Man Niao Niao chuckled sheepishly and looked away. Sweat beaded on my forehead too. Never mind a coarse fellow like Man Niao Niao, even I, an intellectual with some education, knew nothing of Madam Mo. As a true Tujia descendant, it would be shocking not to feel shame.

“Why did Madam Mo commission the carving of these two pairs of stone figures and horses?” Qin Bing’er asked, her composure restored, curiosity shining in her eyes. “That is what I am about to explain. Legend says the male horse on the left was Tusi King Qin Cheng’s, and the mare on the right was Madam Mo’s. Some say Madam Mo carved these lifelike stone horses to express reverence for her husband and to showcase his mighty achievements. But the deeper reason for this is unknown to anyone. However, you can imagine the kingly demeanor—the air of supreme authority—that must have been displayed when Qin Cheng and Madam Mo rode beneath these male and female figures, can’t you?”

We all nodded, faces filled with awe.

“These two stone horses hold two mysteries that remain unsolved to this day,” Old Man Chen continued. “The first is that they are both carved from a single block of stone, yet the Tangya region has no such sandstone. Archaeological experts investigated a few years ago and determined that the nearest source for this type of stone is sixty li away. So, what method did the people of that era use to transport stones weighing several tons here? Moreover, why insist on using this non-local sandstone instead of the local bluestone? Isn't that going to great lengths for something close by?” Old Man Chen pointed to the tail of the male horse. “Look, this horse’s tail was broken off during the Cultural Revolution. The segment attached later with cement is made of local stone, and you can see the color difference, can’t you?” Indeed, the lower half of the male horse’s tail was a deeper color, distinctly different from the grayish-white stone of the main body, clearly indicating a later repair.

I thought that the ancients possessed their own wisdom; devising a transportation method beyond the known capabilities of the era should not have been impossible. The strange thing was why Madam Mo, known for her compassion toward the people, would choose stone from afar, incurring such labor and difficulty, instead of using local materials. If the local stone was inferior in quality, why were the Tusi Imperial City walls and stone paths constructed from local rock? This truly was an inexplicable puzzle.

“What’s the second one?” Man Niao Niao asked Old Man Chen, pondering silently for a moment, impatient.

“Heh heh, the second one has more of a mythological flavor,” Old Man Chen chuckled. “Come look, what do these two horses have in common on their rumps?”

Seeing Old Man Chen’s mysterious expression, Man Niao Niao walked behind the horses and stared for a long time before saying, “Besides looking particularly fat in the rear, I don’t see any other common features.” Qin Bing’er also walked behind them and then exclaimed in surprise, “Why are there small holes on the right rump of both horses?”

Old Man Chen laughed. “It’s this young lady with the sharp eyes who spotted the problem.”

Prompted by Qin Bing’er, Man Niao Niao also saw the two small holes, about the thickness of a middle finger and two inches deep, and asked strangely, “What’s going on here? Was this also damage from the Cultural Revolution?” I secretly cursed Man Niao Niao for being thick-headed; Old Man Chen had already said it had mythological significance, yet he still missed the point—his intelligence was truly…

“No, those weren’t caused by vandalism. Legend says that shortly after these stone horses were completed, these two small holes mysteriously appeared on their rumps…” “Did Immortal Chen or someone else deliberately do it?” Man Niao Niao guessed. Old Man Chen replied, “Did he dare? You must remember that at the time, Qin Cheng and Madam Mo were treated almost like an Emperor and Empress; who would dare defy them? Given the Tusi King’s special status—he could execute people without imperial decree—and Madam Mo’s widespread affection, who would dare commit such an act?”

“Don’t press for details anymore,” Old Man Chen said with a smile to Man Niao Niao. “Let me tell you the whole story clearly. Do you see the Tangya River below? That river has a very unique characteristic: its water flows from east to west, eventually merging into the Wujiang and Yangtze Rivers. There’s a saying, ‘The water of the Tangya River flows backward for three thousand eight hundred li.’ On the opposite bank, there used to be vast rice paddies. One summer, local farmers discovered that large patches of their rice stalks were being eaten over several consecutive nights by some creature. So, they assigned two men to guard the fields day and night, hoping to find out what was eating the grain so they could devise a strategy. The first night, the two guards saw nothing. The second night was the same. On the third night, the two men kept watch for half the night and suddenly spotted two vague, grayish-white shadows. Unsure of the situation, they dared not pursue them rashly, so they fired their flintlock guns toward the shadows. The two white shapes were startled and flew from the opposite bank over to this side. The next morning, the locals followed the blood trail, tracing it all the way here. They found blood still dripping from the male horse and, upon closer inspection, discovered a small hole shot into the right rump of both horses—the very holes you see now.”

This was clearly a myth. However, such stories were abundant in the area, and one could hardly blame the people of that era for being superstitious. In fact, many historical truths have survived precisely through myths and legends, and even in this age of rapidly advancing science, humanity is still struggling to explore many mysteries, continuing to speculate and analyze them in various forms.

Since it was a myth, I decided to simply listen. Yet, I grew increasingly perplexed: the Zhang Fei Temple was built at the very bottom of a gentle slope, close to the Tangya River—by conventional logic, this placement seemed abnormal. Also, since Madam Mo commissioned the carving of the two stone horses to manifest an aura of “ruling the world,” why weren’t they placed at the top of the slope or on the peaks of the surrounding mountains? Wouldn’t that have enhanced the grandeur even more?

“Are the red cloths on that tree from people making vows?” Ji Ye asked.

“Yes. They say the blessings are very effective. If someone falls ill, they can make a vow here at the Hou Huan Temple, and they’ll get better upon returning. Of course, this is superstitious behavior and not something to encourage. So, if someone comes to pray, I advise them to go to a hospital for medicine. But some people still sneak here, and I can’t stop them all.”

“What about the inscription on the wall?”

“That was also found and put up later. It records some names, possibly those of the craftsmen at the time,” Old Man Chen explained. “The rain has stopped; I will take you to see the most well-preserved stone archway in the Tusi Imperial City.”

Leaving the pavilion, I looked back at the disorganized Hou Huan Temple and the two pairs of stone figures and horses, sensing an inexpressible eeriness lingering within that small space.