My head foggy, I found myself pulling Qin Bing'er along, unconsciously following the funeral procession to the resting place of Old Man Xiang.

Approaching the grave site, Old Man Xiang's eldest son and his wife removed their mourning sashes and laid them on the ground. The pallbearers then set the coffin upon these sashes. Others tore the long rolls of "Wang Shan Qian" (mountain-gazing money), leaving only short scraps, while the rest were burned in the "well." The ashes were carefully smoothed over. Only after this was completed did the men, amid the clamor of gongs, drums, and firecrackers, lower the coffin into the "well," untie the "Dragon Lever," and pass it forward to those waiting to receive it, while others quickly positioned the remaining "Wang Shan Qian" to "set the pulse." At this moment, the other grieving sons and grandsons were already winding their mourning sashes around their heads.

Once the pulse was set, the aged eldest son of Xiang climbed onto the coffin, kneeling halfway upon it. Someone beside him handed him a hoe. Xiang's eldest son took it, dug a shovelful of earth, and cried out "Father!" He repeated this three times, shouting his father's name each time, before handing the hoe behind his back, where it was instantly caught by someone else. The other helpers then shoveled earth to fill the grave, quickly mounding it into a tumulus. During this process, the funeral canopy, the spirit house, the Nine Lotus Terrace, and all of Old Man Xiang's belongings from his lifetime were burned to ash.

Up to this point, the "Three-Day Auspicious Burial" was essentially concluded. The later work of compacting the mound, known as "covering the mountain," was the responsibility of the immediate family and had little to do with those who had helped.

It was only then that the realization struck me with stark clarity: how had Qin Bing'er and I ended up among the mourners?

My senses returning, I pulled Qin Bing'er up, intending to leave. As soon as I turned, a collective gasp rose from behind me. I looked back to see the "Dragon Lever," which had been leaning against the earthen bank, inexplicably fallen directly onto the newly piled grave of Old Man Xiang. And the very tip of the "Dragon Lever" was pointing precisely toward those two dimly visible Twin Firs!

This sudden turn of events stunned the crowd into silence for a long moment before someone offered words of comfort, helping to right the "Dragon Lever" and respectfully place it aside.

My heart trembled, a wave of inexplicable dread washing over me. I grabbed Qin Bing'er and walked away swiftly.

The Dragon Lever, a single wooden beam used to carry the coffin, was an object whose status in the entire funeral ritual I understood well. This lever was not something every household possessed, nor could it be casually substituted with any random piece of wood. Generally, in a radius of fifty li, only one family would own such an item. If someone died, borrowing the Dragon Lever was not referred to as "borrowing" but as "inviting," and returning it was not called "returning" but "respectfully escorting." Both the invitation and the escort required burning incense and paper offerings, including tributes like "knife-head" cakes and baba buns. After the coffin was interred in the "well," the Dragon Lever had to be carefully drawn out from the higher end of the coffin—the end where the deceased's head lay. Once withdrawn, it must be leaned obliquely against an earthen bank or a tree, and a designated person was tasked with guarding it. Legend held that if those who frequently carried the coffin felt the Dragon Lever and the coffin suddenly become extremely heavy, it was a sign that another death was imminent nearby, as the souls of the soon-to-die were "hitching a ride on the hearse." It can be said that the local people held the Dragon Lever in deep reverence and fear, surrounded by numerous taboos. Older residents had effectively "deified" it, believing that the slightest disrespect would invite severe public censure.

Just think, who would dare make a joke of carelessly knocking over a properly placed Dragon Lever? — Only the dead Old Man Xiang could possess such audacity. If my experience in the mourning hall was merely a bizarre, grotesque dream, then the toppling of the Dragon Lever right before everyone's eyes had undoubtedly escalated the eerie atmosphere to its zenith—and that was precisely why I was terrified.

The sky was beginning to lighten slightly. I pulled Qin Bing'er and stumbled forward a few paces, suddenly remembering Man Niao Niao. I uttered his name softly, but Qin Bing'er said, "No need to call. He didn't come to the gravesite at all..." I paused for a moment, then, taking long, uneven strides, I dashed across the fields among the clods of earth, my sole thought being to escape this cursed place as quickly as possible.

By the time Qin Bing'er and I were breathless, collapsing onto the ground from exhaustion, the crimson sun was just peeking over Zhuque Mountain. To my surprise, in our frantic flight, we had run straight to the area in front of the Twin Firs. The sunlight was casting the faint shadows of the trees right across our waists.

Before I could even register my shock, there was a whoosh, and a gray shadow bolted toward us like lightning. My hair stood on end. Before I could utter a sound, the shadow passed swiftly and impossibly through the space between Qin Bing'er and myself and vanished. I turned to look: the place where we had been leaning was actually a pile of assorted, irregular stones of various sizes. The pile wasn't large, and the stones were uneven. However, based on my experience, I recognized the mound as a grave site that had been neglected for many years. Green moss grew on the fist-sized stones, through which the old earth of the tumulus was visible. The mound sat in the middle of a barren patch of ground, apparently formed by clearing stones from the fields. Near where my armpit rested, there was a small, bowl-sized hole. The black shadow had clearly drilled into this aperture. Unfortunately, it was too fast, and the light was still dim, so neither Qin Bing'er nor I could clearly discern what the dark figure had been.

As we exchanged bewildered glances, another, larger shadow lunged toward us. Focusing my sight, I saw it was Hua'er, who had been missing for two days and nights, now covered entirely in "Old Woman's Needles." A mix of joy and alarm surged through me. Just as I was about to yell or curse at him, Hua'er completely ignored me. He stretched his pointed head as far as possible toward the small hole in the grave mound, occasionally letting out a low growl or a whimper. Suddenly, I understood: that first black shadow must have been Hua'er's prey—perhaps a rabbit or a pheasant.

With Hua'er beside us, Qin Bing'er and I both felt a measure of relief. There is strength in numbers; even if there were ghosts, we wouldn't be afraid—even if Hua'er was just a dog.

The appearance of the shadow and Hua'er's tracking pursuit had taken no more than two minutes. The shadows of the Twin Firs had lengthened only slightly; they now fell precisely across the very top of the haphazard stone mound.

Hua'er was still straining with all his might to squeeze into the mound. I saw the tree shadows on the mound, and a thought flashed through my mind like lightning. I recalled the direction the Dragon Lever had pointed when it fell, and then the character 'sù' carved on Old Man Xiang's palm in my dream. Deconstructing it revealed the radicals 'Sun' (), 'West' (), and 'Early' ()! Could this hold some deeper meaning? Comparing this to the mound and the shadows before me, and then glancing toward the sun topping Zhuque Mountain, I felt an indistinct understanding beginning to dawn.

I hurried around to the front of the mound and was surprised to find a small, severely weathered stone tablet standing there. This tablet, too, bore no inscription.

That feeling of sudden enlightenment grew stronger. Facing the direction of the Twin Firs, I began measuring the distance from the broken stele to the trees, using my feet to take slow, even paces, repeating the process three times. The result astonished me—the distance from the mound to the Twin Firs was approximately forty-eight chi! I could barely believe this finding. Ignoring Qin Bing'er's curious gaze, I placed the heel of my right foot against the stele and the heel of my left foot against the toe of my right, slowly alternating this movement toward the Twin Firs. When I reached the midpoint between the two trees, I suddenly felt as if the morning sunlight had lost its brilliance—My shoes were size 40, equivalent to 25 centimeters, and my shoes had imprinted sixty-four times on the ground, totaling sixteen meters, which is forty-eight chi.

—Another instance of the number "48"!

My face ashen, I walked over to Qin Bing'er and said, "This unremarkable mound is strange. From this broken tablet to those two fir trees is exactly forty-eight chi—another '48' has appeared. And early this morning, I had a bizarre dream..." I recounted the dream to Qin Bing'er: seeing Old Man Xiang "revive" in the mourning hall, hacking open Man Niao Niao's head with a knife, and showing me the character 'sù'. I concluded: "Just now, seeing the tree shadow on the mound, I remembered that 'sù' decomposes into 'Sun,' 'West,' and 'Early.' In plain terms, this might mean the western sun in the morning, but that contradicts reality. However, if it means the sun shining on something in the morning causes its shadow to fall in the west, then it makes perfect sense. Considering the direction the Dragon Lever pointed, the shadow of the Twin Firs, and this pervasive '48,' do you think Old Man Xiang, or perhaps Qin Cheng himself, is guiding us subconsciously to find this grave?"

"You mean... this is the tomb of the Tusi King, Qin Cheng?" Qin Bing'er pointed at the unassuming pile of stones before us. "No way? Qin Cheng was a powerful ruler in his time. Even if he worried about grave robbers, he wouldn't have built a tomb this shabby, would he?"

"This..." Before I could finish speaking, Hua'er, using his mouth and paws, quickly dug away the loose stones and earth of the mound. Stones and dirt scattered everywhere, revealing a highly decayed wooden "box" in the center. After excavating the mound, Hua'er hadn't spotted the unknown black shadow from before. Unwilling to give up, he nudged the rotten, muddy "box" with his snout, flipping the lid clean off...

My heart skipped a beat, remembering the "A Ke Bi" from Anle Cave. I wondered if this "box" contained another infant who had died prematurely? To my surprise, when I dared to look, there were no bones inside the "box," but rather an object covered in green copper rust, placed upside down. "Tiger-Knob Chun Yu?" I exclaimed. I had seen a photograph of this item in the Annals of Xi Du; its size, shape, and the tiger knob on top were identical to what lay before me.

Hua'er, not understanding the value of this precious artifact, pawed at it, knocking something out of the Tiger-Knob Chun Yu. I looked up at the sun, sharply told Hua'er to stop, and then, with trembling hands, picked up the object that had fallen out of the "box." It was a pair of brightly colored, strangely alluring embroidered shoes...