The past few days of oppressive humidity left me sweating even while sitting still, but finally, heaven released a torrential downpour, the rain falling so heavily it seemed to steam, finally cooling the overheated city.

After the rain, the old marketplace of Fanjiayuan buzzed with activity. Due to the weather keeping them indoors for days, the amateur collectors and antique enthusiasts flocked there to hunt for treasures.

Big Gold Tooth was busy negotiating with a regular customer, while Fatty was aggressively promoting our "country shoe" to a foreign couple with blue eyes and large noses. Fatty urged them, "How about it? Take a whiff inside this shoe—it smells just like your American Marilyn Monroe! This is the fragrant shoe worn by a Ming Dynasty Monroe of China. Do you understand the term... courtesan?"

The foreign couple, who spoke a little Chinese, were clearly intrigued by the delicately shaped Eastern country shoe. Fatty seized the opportunity to make an outrageous opening bid, demanding twenty thousand. This price startled the foreigners so much they turned to leave. However, foreigners who frequently visited China knew how to bargain. Seeing that this couple didn't seem to know how to haggle, Fatty realized they were first-timers in China, so he quickly stopped them, claiming that to promote Sino-foreign exchange, and under the premise of upholding the Five Principles of Peaceful Coexistence, he could offer them a discount.

I sat to the side, smoking, completely uninterested in the lively spectacle of the antique market. After returning from Shaanxi, I had gone to the hospital for a check-up regarding the marks on my and Fatty’s backs, but they found nothing unusual; no illness was detected.

Nor did I feel anything particularly strange. Lately, my fortune has been booming; business is flourishing. The Wenxiang Yu raw stones we brought back from Shaanxi sold for a price that should make one wake up laughing in their dreams. We also acquired several genuine Ming Dynasty funerary objects; nearly every transaction yielded profits multiplied several times over. However, the moment I recall Professor Sun’s words, a massive weight settles on my back, making it hard to breathe. Every thought of this leaves me deeply worried, incapable of taking interest in anything.

That detestable, hypocritical Professor Sun absolutely refuses to tell me the meaning of this symbol. Furthermore, he is the only one who possesses the technique to decipher the ancient encrypted script, yet I cannot use force to compel him to speak.

Although the batch of dragon bones unearthed at Gutian was destroyed, Professor Sun must have kept a record beforehand. How can I devise a way to travel to Shaanxi again and ask him for it? Only if I can confirm that the mark on my back has no connection to the eye in the Ghost Cave of Jingjue is when I can truly relax. Yet, during that conversation, the moment I mentioned the words "Ghost Cave," Professor Sun flew into a rage, which is why I have never dared mention that place to him again.

The more Professor Sun conceals and deflects, the more I believe it relates to the Ghost Cave of Jingjue. If I don't figure this out, a major disaster is inevitable. Since Professor Sun won't give it to me openly, I’ll have to resort to some tactics. I can’t go through life carrying around this eyeball-like brand.

Summer is a season prone to drowsiness. I was sitting in a reclining chair, watching things to prevent thieves—the "Buddha Lord"—from snatching a few items, but my mind wandered, and before I knew it, I had fallen asleep.

I had a string of strange dreams. Initially, I dreamt I married a mute girl. She gestured animatedly, asking me to take her to a movie. Somehow, we ended up at a cinema, walking right in without buying tickets. The film was nonsensical, without beginning or end; I couldn’t tell what was happening until the middle, when the girl vanished amidst what looked like a landslide. As the movie progressed, my mute wife and I realized the cinema had transformed into a cave. Inside the cave was a hazy, indistinct, seemingly bottomless abyss. I was terrified and quickly told my mute wife, "Bad news, this place is the 'Bottomless Ghost Cave' deep in the desert! Let's run!" But my mute wife remained motionless. Suddenly, she shoved me into the Ghost Cave. I tumbled into the depths, and at the bottom, a massive eye was staring directly at me...

Suddenly, my nose felt cold, as if pinched. I woke up with a start to see a figure standing before me, seemingly familiar. The person was pinching my nose with their fingers. As my eyes opened, I met their gaze directly. Still shaken from the terrifying giant eye in my dream, seeing a person looking down at me startled me, and I nearly tumbled off the recliner.

I blinked and saw Chen Yanjing standing right there. Fatty and Big Gold Tooth were doubled over beside me, laughing hysterically. Fatty roared, "Old Hu, having a wet dream, are we? You’ve got drool hanging down, must’ve been dreaming about marrying a wife."

Big Gold Tooth said to me, "Master Hu is awake. Miss Yang just rushed over from America; she said it’s urgent business."

Chen Yanjing handed me a handkerchief. "Haven't seen you in a few days, and you’ve picked up a new habit? Your drool is practically a river—wipe it up."

I didn’t take the handkerchief, wiping around my mouth with my sleeve instead. Then, I stretched expansively and rubbed my eyes before muttering somewhat hazily to Chen Yanjing, "Your eyes... oh, right!" My drowsiness had completely vanished. I suddenly remembered the eyeball-shaped red spot on my back and urgently told Chen Yanjing, "Right, I was just thinking about how to find you these past few days. There are some critical things I need to discuss with you."

Chen Yanjing replied, "I also have something important. It’s too noisy here; let's find a quiet spot to talk."

I quickly got up from the recliner, leaving Fatty and Big Gold Tooth to continue minding the shop. Chen Yanjing and I went to Longtan Park, near the antique market.

Longtan Park hadn't been renovated yet; it wasn't very large, and even on a holiday, there weren't many visitors. Chen Yanjing pointed to a quiet stone bench by the lake, saying, "This place is perfect; let's sit here and talk."

I said to Chen Yanjing, "Usually, only couples strolling around sit here. If you don't mind the association, I don't care; this little spot is really nice, perfect for a date."

Chen Yanjing was born and raised in America. Although she lived in the Chinese community for a long time, she didn't quite grasp the implication of my words and asked, "What? Are you saying only couples in love are allowed to sit by the lake?"

I thought the cultural differences between our countries were too vast; explaining it would be complicated. I said, "The people’s parks are for the people to sit in; who sits on these benches doesn't matter. Let’s not worry about those formalities." And with that, I sat down.

I asked Chen Yanjing, "Has Professor Chen’s illness improved?"

Chen Yanjing sat down beside me, sighing, "The Professor is still undergoing treatment in America. The shock he experienced was too severe, and there hasn't been much progress in his treatment yet."

Hearing that Professor Chen's condition hadn't improved saddened me too. After making small talk with Chen Yanjing for a few more minutes, we got down to business—and naturally, it wasn't about repaying money. As I suspected, it was about the strange, sudden, eyeball-shaped red scar that had appeared on our backs.

Not just Fatty and me, but Chen Yanjing and Professor Chen also had these bizarre marks. Of the five people who survived that trip to Xinjiang, the only other survivor besides these four was the Uyghur guide, the old desert fox Anliman. Did he also develop this red scar?

Chen Yanjing said, "Grandpa Anliman won't have it, because he never saw the Ghost Cave. I believe this mark must be connected to the eyes of the Ghost Cave people."

There were too many unanswered questions about that mysterious race. But these secrets, unknown to the world—including that "Ghost Cave" leading nowhere—were now permanently buried beneath the yellow sands, never to see daylight again.

I recounted to Chen Yanjing what I had learned from Professor Sun in Gutian, Shaanxi. Perhaps she could make some sort of informed judgment: was this symbol a curse brought upon us by the Ghost Cave?

After hearing my account, Chen Yanjing said, "Professor Sun... is his name Sun Yaozu? His name carries considerable prestige in Western archaeology circles. He is one of the world's foremost experts in deciphering ancient scripts, ancient ciphers, and ancient encrypted pictorial information. I've read his books and know he is friends with Professor Chen, though I've never met him personally. In 1981, artifacts were excavated from the tomb of the Pharaoh Garotep in Egypt. Among them was a scepter carved with numerous hieroglyphic symbols whose meaning baffled many experts. A French expert who knew Sun Yaozu wrote to him seeking advice and received his invaluable counsel, ultimately identifying the scepter as the Scepter of the Yellow Springs—the staff engraved with infernal texts from ancient Egyptian legend. That discovery shocked the entire world, making Professor Sun famous across the globe. If he says this symbol is not an eye but some form of symbolic figurative language, I believe there must be truth in it."

I secretly gasped. I never imagined that the professor, with his strange temper and peasant-like attire, was such an eminent figure. Truly, one should never judge a book by its cover. I asked Chen Yanjing, "Whether this is a symbol or script, what matters most is whether it foretells good fortune or disaster. And does it have any connection to that damned ruin of the Jingjue Kingdom?"

Chen Yanjing replied, "I have found some leads on this matter back in America. Do you remember the Prophet’s Revelation in the Zagrama Mountains? It mentioned that one of the four survivors among us was a descendant of the Prophet Clan. That person is indeed me. My maternal grandfather passed away when I was seventeen; he died very suddenly, leaving no instructions. During my recent trip back to the US, I reviewed some of the precious documents he left behind. Among them was a notebook containing startling clues that fully confirm the authenticity of the Prophet’s Revelation."

It seemed matters were developing in the very direction I feared most—what you dread often comes true. That nightmare of a Ghost Cave, which I tried desperately to avoid, now clung to me like inescapable plaster. Have we truly been cursed by the ancient state of Jingjue? Hadn't that ancient city, along with the entire Zagrama region, been permanently buried by the sands?

Chen Yanjing stated, "It is not a curse, but it is more troublesome than a curse. Zagrama... I will tell you everything I know, starting from the beginning."