This night was an ordeal for both Qin Bing'er and me. We couldn't sleep amidst the Taoist Master’s chanting, the clang of gongs and drums, and the occasional burst of firecrackers. Huddled in a corner, sitting on two chairs, our heads swam in a dizzying, hazy state.

Qin Bing'er had been quite captivated watching the Taoist Master perform the 'Flower Passage,' but once the ritual concluded, she too could no longer hold out, and sleep dragged her under. I had intended to listen closely to the funeral dirges the Taoist Master sang, hoping for some specific content that might aid us in finding Qin Cheng. To my disappointment, although the melodies of the dirges were graceful and flowing, they were almost entirely hummed from the Master's throat, the pronunciation so slurred that after listening for a long time, I couldn't make head nor tail of it. Finally, I gave up in resignation, planning to rest and conserve our strength for later.

Qin Bing'er drifted off to sleep, leaning drowsily against my shoulder. My mind churned over the events of the last two days until the first sliver of fish-belly white appeared on the horizon, allowing me a brief, uneasy doze. I hadn't even settled into a proper rest when Elder Chen nudged me awake, saying, "Poor thing, it’s nearly dawn now. I have a moment free, I’ll send you and Miss Qin over to my place for a quick sleep." (Poor thing: pitiable)

I roused Qin Bing'er, and we sleepily went to wake Man Niaoniao. Judging by his state, the fellow had lost money; his mouth was pouting enough to hang a latrine bucket, his eyes were bloodshot, wider than an ox’s, and he shot me an impatient glance, snarling, "You go sleep. I have to win back my stake! Damn it, what kind of weakling cries all night until dawn? I don't believe in such evil luck... A pair of Aces, you in or out?" Seeing how desperate he looked, I muttered, "Don't lose your last pair of underpants," then, ignoring him, I helped Qin Bing'er away.

Back at Elder Chen's, after a quick wash-up, Qin Bing'er went inside to sleep. Fearing I might disturb Elder Mrs. Chen too much, I opted to sleep on the bamboo lounge chair in the loft above the stilt-supported servant quarters.

I slept soundly until the scorching afternoon sun baked me awake.

Qin Bing'er was also awake and came upstairs to ask my next plan.

"Has Master Ji been by?" I asked, yawning.

"I just asked Elder Mrs. Chen. She said Uncle An hasn't been here at all."

Frustration mounted within me. Where had Master Ji gone? Even finding a feng shui-perfect spot to bury that infant should have taken this long, and he should have returned to find us by now. Yet, there was still no trace of him.

I pulled out a cigarette and lit it, pondering for a long moment before saying, "Let's go to Brother Yao’s place. Logically, since Old Man Xiang became Master Ji's master, Master Ji should be at his memorial hall to pay respects and kowtow. Perhaps he is currently looking for a burial site for his master—that's his specialty. Besides, that fellow Man Niaoniao is there too. The few of us can gather and discuss things first."

Qin Bing'er nodded in agreement. We bid farewell to Elder Mrs. Chen and headed toward Old Man Xiang Yao's house.

Washed clean by the night's heavy rain, the green trees, blue grass, and white flagstone path looked exceptionally pristine. A few unknown small birds chirped incessantly among the branches, and the rising chorus of cicadas imbued the ruins of the Tusi Imperial City with a harmonious tranquility.

As I reached the mid-slope, I saw graves of all sizes scattered across the hillside, and I changed my mind. I turned to Qin Bing'er and said, "Let's take advantage of this time and check out these graves. Since the Blood Soul Tablet bears the hint, 'To resolve the Blood Soul, seek Qin Cheng,' our ancestor must have left some mark or clue. Furthermore, as a Tusi King, even though Qin Cheng feared grave robbers, by conventional analysis, he must have left some thread of evidence, right? Perhaps Qin Cheng’s tomb is among these unmarked graves. Let's search carefully and see if any grave has something unusual about it. Look how many graves there are, large and small. To speed things up and save time, let’s split up. Are you afraid?"

Qin Bing'er replied, "In broad daylight, what should I fear?"

"Alright, it's settled then. Be careful. You search down below; there are more people there, so if anything happens, you can call for help. I’ll check the upper section."

Qin Bing'er agreed, urged me to be cautious, and headed up the mid-slope according to our plan to search for Qin Cheng's tomb.

Seeing the sun shining brightly, and noting that even where Qin Bing'er was headed—a graveyard—a few local farmers were still working in the fields, I was relieved. I began by circling the nearest mound, looking for anything distinctive or conspicuous. After sweating profusely and searching for half an hour, I ultimately found that these were just ordinary graves. There were no special features; even graves with headstones were rare, and those with upright, unmarked stones were mostly leaning or crumbling beyond recognition. Tombs on the scale of the Tusi King’s or Lady Mo’s were few and far between. All my running around was fruitless.

I grew increasingly disheartened. Looking at the overgrown, unremarkable mounds before me, I finally understood how naive my idea was. If Qin Cheng’s tomb was among these piles and had left behind clues, so much time had passed; "professionals" would have surely beaten us to the punch long ago. There would be nothing left for us to discover.

The moment this thought entered my mind, the drive to find Qin Cheng’s tomb deflated like a punctured ball, vanishing completely. Gazing at the hillock-like graves, I sullenly pulled out a cigarette and sat on a broken wall, lost in thought.

The sky was high, the clouds light, and the wind clear, yet my mood was inexplicably heavy and dejected.

I felt a degree of blame toward Master Ji. This old fellow had vanished into thin air last night, abandoning us after scribbling two cryptic characters, forcing us to laboriously guess their meaning. If Elder Chen hadn't reminded us, we wouldn't have known that 'Mao Wei' referred to the dates and times of Old Man Xiang’s death and the infant's imminent birth. Even understanding their origin, what profound meaning did they hold? Why didn't Master Ji explain things plainly to us, instead acting so mysteriously arcane?

After thinking for a long while and still failing to uncover any other deep meaning in 'Mao Wei,' I stood up and surveyed the ruins of the Tusi Imperial City below. The fields crisscrossed neatly, shady with green trees, and the broken walls flickered in and out of sight as the wind blew. The shadows of the 'Three Streets, Eighteen Alleys, Thirty-Six Courtyards' were almost entirely untraceable.

Three Streets, Eighteen Alleys? A profound question suddenly surfaced in my mind. According to Elder Chen, when Tusi King Qin Cheng died, forty-eight coffins were used, and the funeral processions departed simultaneously from forty-eight streets. So... where were the other forty-five streets? Was Elder Chen mistaken, or had the other forty-five streets vanished entirely? I carefully recalled everything Elder Chen had said when describing the Tusi Imperial City and the scene of Tusi King Qin Cheng's funeral. I increasingly felt that Elder Chen’s words were contradictory and inconsistent. Earlier he said the four-square-kilometer Tusi Imperial City contained Three Streets, Eighteen Alleys, and Thirty-Six Courtyards, yet later he claimed there were forty-eight streets. Purely numerically, the discrepancy was too large.

Even stranger, I suddenly noticed the number 'Forty-Eight' appeared frequently in the Tusi Imperial City’s history. For instance, during Qin Cheng’s era, there were exactly four thousand eight hundred households; there were forty-eight deep wells; the Tang Ya Tusi system lasted exactly four hundred and eighty years; even the stone steps leading into Qin Cheng’s official compound numbered forty-eight...

Mao Wei? A chill suddenly ran down my spine, breaking out in a cold sweat—'Mao' is the fourth in the Heavenly Stems, and 'Wei' is the eighth in the Earthly Branches. Combined, didn't these two characters secretly signify the number 'Forty-Eight'? Was it possible that Old Man Xiang's death and Sister Qiao's sudden labor pangs were both hinting at this number?

If that was the case, Master Ji knew the deeper meaning of the number 'Forty-Eight.' But what was this number implying? Was it true, as I suspected, that the Tusi Imperial City had forty-five other streets? If so, what we saw of the Tusi Imperial City might only be the tip of the iceberg, with a much larger area hidden elsewhere.

This thought excited me. I decided to immediately go meet Qin Bing'er and lose no time in finding Elder Chen to question him thoroughly. If Master Ji was also there, I could certainly learn the secret hidden behind the number 'Forty-Eight' from him.

I stood up excitedly and climbed onto a higher section of the city wall, intending to spot Qin Bing'er first. Looking out, Qin Bing'er, who had just been moving among the graves, had vanished. My heart sank—could things really be this bizarre? I had just sorted out a thread of understanding, and Qin Bing'er disappeared? There was no choice; my mind had become increasingly suspicious lately, and too many coincidences forced this worry upon me.