In July of 2012, I accompanied my grandfather’s expedition team to the Heizhugou region of Sichuan to collect historical materials pertaining to the ancient Yi people.

My grandfather was a renowned scholar at the Academy of Sciences, an expert in paleontology who had made numerous significant contributions to academia. He and a group of professional field researchers ventured into Heizhugou for their survey, and I, as a third-year intern, managed to secure a spot assisting the team through my grandfather’s connections. My job was to transcribe their daily findings onto a computer and transmit them back to the Academy for analysis.

I was staying at a small inn run by a local Yi family, situated quite close to the mountains. It was quaint and full of ancient charm, and the air was remarkably fresh.

The proprietor was a young Yi man named Azhuo. His face was quite dark, but when he smiled, his two rows of white teeth were strikingly cheerful. When I wasn't busy, besides learning about local customs from him, I spent most of my time standing on the sixth-floor balcony, basking in the sun and gazing out at the distant mountain scenery.

Heizhugou was formed by two north-south running mountain ranges pressing in upon each other, creating a deep, dark gorge. Because Sichuan has always been a rainy region, the vegetation within the gorge was incredibly dense, almost to the point where footing was impossible. Giant arboreal trees competed fiercely within the crowded canyon, growing thick and towering as they fought for sunlight. Many trees surpassed thirty meters in height; this ancient forest had seen virtually no human intrusion for millennia.

Witnessing the scene before me, I was both awestruck and deeply impressed by how perfectly preserved its primeval state remained. No wonder the locals claimed to have seen pterosaurs in Heizhugou; I couldn't fathom how the ancestors of the Yi people managed to survive and thrive in this profound ravine.

Staying behind at the inn with me was a portly man over six feet tall, whose full name was Wang Chunxiong, nicknamed "Daxiong" (Big Xiong).

He weighed well over two hundred pounds, his skin was dark, and he spoke with a strong Beijing accent, heavily nasalized. Because his manner of speaking was quite amusing, we quickly became friends.

That night, the air was suffocatingly hot, dark clouds churned across the sky, and after a few muffled rumbles of thunder, a torrential downpour began.

I watched the heavy rain outside while idly chatting with Daxiong, my attention clearly elsewhere.

Daxiong asked me, "What are you staring at, kid? The expedition team has been out in the wilderness for years; it’s not like you haven't seen heavy rain. We’re equipped with American-made storm tents—nothing stops us."

I shook my head and replied, "I don't know. I just have a terrible premonition."

I told him my instincts were usually accurate: one day I kept sneezing incessantly, and the next, my little white cat, Snowball, was run over by a car. Another time, I felt inexplicably dizzy, and the tabby cat next door drowned after jumping into the water. And this time, my left eye was twitching violently.

Daxiong roared with laughter when he heard this. "You are one hell of a storyteller. Well, our expedition team didn't bring any pets with them…"

Worried about my grandfather’s safety, I tried calling the expedition team, and sure enough, the signal was dead—no connection at all.

Daxiong tried to reassure me, but I remained restless all night, drifting in and out of sleep. The next morning, I was jolted awake by a rapid pounding on the door.

"Chuanzi, it’s bad! Something happened to the expedition team!" Daxiong’s deep voice boomed from outside.

I scrambled out of bed without taking time to dress, flung the door open, and saw Daxiong standing anxiously in the doorway. I immediately demanded, "What is it?!"

Daxiong told me, "Get dressed first, then we’ll talk downstairs."

I quickly threw on some clothes and hurried downstairs. In the lobby, besides Daxiong and the innkeeper, there was a slender young man wearing glasses. He was soaked through, his face incredibly haggard, and he sat rigidly on the sofa, staring blankly at the floor.

I recognized him: he was the expedition’s botanist, Feng Ze.

Seeing me arrive, Daxiong said, "I’ve already notified the nearby military district; they’re sending a vehicle over immediately." I observed Feng Ze; his gaze was vacant, and he was shaking uncontrollably, clearly suffering from severe mental shock.

Daxiong explained to me, "He fled the mountains overnight. He mumbled for a long time, only saying that the team found ancient ruins deep inside a cavern in the gorge. Everyone from the expedition entered that ruin, leaving him outside to maintain contact. Last night, during the terrible storm, the mountain collapsed, trapping everyone inside the cave except for him."

I asked, perplexed, "Weren't we told before we came that we would only survey the outskirts of the scenic area? The interior of Heizhugou is a notorious death trap. How did the team end up venturing so deep?"

Daxiong shook his head. "I don't know either. Trying to question this kid is like dealing with a stubborn donkey; he’s been like this the whole time…"

I looked at Feng Ze’s condition and suspected the matter was far more complicated, but I figured I wouldn't get any answers out of him.

It was likely the expedition team had pre-planned their route but simply hadn't intended to inform unimportant people like me and Daxiong. No wonder the data they’d been sending back lately consisted only of innocuous studies of local flora and fauna; they were probably trying to keep things hidden from us.

About twenty minutes later, three Beijing Jeeps pulled up outside the inn. A dozen or so uniformed soldiers spilled out, each carrying a rifle and a large pack of gear. The leader was a company commander with one pip and three stripes on his shoulder.

Strangely, accompanying the commander was a woman wearing a short-sleeved T-shirt and jeans. She had large eyes, an oval face, and long hair cascading down her back—she was a beauty.

Unlike ordinary young women, this one gave me a decidedly competent and sharp impression.

Daxiong, having served in the military—and apparently being a top operative in a special field battalion that had fought drug lords on the Yunnan border—snapped to attention, rendering a crisp salute before shaking hands with the company commander.

The commander, about thirty, had a square jaw and a friendly demeanor. He told us, "This is urgent; we can talk on the way…"

At that moment, the innkeeper, Azhuo, spoke up. "Could you take me along? I know Heizhugou very well. I used to gather herbs here with my grandfather when I was a child; I'm familiar with any potential dangers."

The young commander nodded. "That would be excellent."

I, Daxiong, Feng Ze, along with the woman and the commander, shared one vehicle.

The car soon set off, heading deep into the mountains. The road conditions were poor—just gravel and rock.

After a period of silence, I broke the ice. "Commander, who is this lady?"

The commander chuckled. "Oh, I forgot introductions. This is Miss Liang Qian, a nationally renowned explorer. She happened to be giving a lecture at the base and, upon hearing about your situation, decided to join us. She explored Heizhugou alone several years ago and knows the area intimately. You don’t need to call me Commander, just call me Old Huang. You must be Professor Nie's grandson, Nie Chuan, right? I know your grandfather; I hear you’re only in your third year, but those few papers you published on paleontology have been highly praised by the academic community. Your grandfather is a famous Chinese paleontologist, too—truly, a tiger father has no dog son…"

The idea of such a delicate woman venturing alone into the death zone of Heizhugou seemed incredible to me, and I couldn't help but look at Liang Qian a couple more times, mumbling, "Old Huang, you jest. I’m just fooling around at school most days; I’m just lucky during exams."

Old Huang chuckled, paused for a moment, and then said, "Right, I heard someone came back to report the danger the expedition team faced. Could you tell me the exact details?"

Daxiong interjected unhappily, "This guy here is the one who came back to report, but he only said a few cryptic words and then shut up. Who knows what's going on in his head."

As he said this, Feng Ze remained bowed over, unresponsive. Daxiong grew irritated, nudged Feng Ze with his knee, and snapped, "Old Huang is asking you a question!"

Feng Ze shuddered violently, suddenly clutched his head, and muttered, "Don't ask me... I don't know anything..."

Old Huang glanced at Feng Ze in the rearview mirror, his brow furrowed, and sighed, "It seems he’s been thoroughly terrified. Forget it; don't press him…"

We fell silent again. Daxiong passed me a cigarette, and the two of us bracketed Feng Ze, leaning out of the open windows on either side to smoke in grim contemplation.

The scenery outside the window was beautiful. The mountain road wasn't too muddy after the heavy rain, and the air carried the sweet scent of damp earth. The tall trees on either side, washed clean by the downpour, were a verdant green like jade, and an occasional drop of water would fall, flashing brilliantly when struck by the sunlight.

I stared blankly at the passing scenery, occasionally glancing sideways at Liang Qian in the passenger seat. She sat there completely expressionless, only allowing her gaze to wander briefly when a bird or a squirrel darted across the road—a picture of quiet composure.