In the days that followed, Chow often went down to the town at the foot of the mountain. Our mountain is called Funiu Mountain, which has neither rare animals nor historical sites. It’s mostly barren, with the most notable feature being a Taoist temple.
The temple, named Huiji Temple, was built during the late Qing Dynasty. It had been destroyed several times in wars, but each time it was rebuilt with sponsorship. The temple doesn’t have many Taoist priests, but they all seem to have some special abilities, so the temple has always been well-attended.
Some say Huiji Temple is affiliated with the Zhengyi Wei Meng Dao, and its first abbot was a master from the Tianshi Mansion on Dragon Tiger Mountain. However, this is likely an exaggeration. The Tianshi Mansion is a sacred Taoist site, and those who come from there are practically immortal. There are many famous Taoist sites in the world; why would they come to our remote area to establish a sect?
The Taoist priest who vomited blood after calculating my birthdate was from Huiji Temple. Chow had been going down the mountain to gather information about the priest.
Seven days later, at noon, the weather suddenly turned. Dark clouds loomed over Funiu Mountain, and thunder rumbled in the distance.
Not long after, Chow returned, humming a tune. The first thing he said was to announce someone’s death: Qiu was dead.
Qiu was the name of the Taoist priest. Chow had said that calculating my fate would surely kill him, and now it had come true.
“Chow, how did he die?” I wanted to know the cause of Qiu’s death, as it filled me with a heavy sense of guilt.
“He wasn’t skilled enough to peek into the secrets of heaven, so he was struck by lightning.”
Being struck by lightning is one of the most tragic ways to die and a most vicious curse. I was shocked to learn that Qiu had met such a fate just for calculating my birthdate. I was speechless.
Chow said Qiu should have died that day, but because he was an ordained Taoist priest, he was given a seven-day grace period. Unfortunately, he wasn’t skilled enough to seize a chance at survival from heaven.
“Chow, is my birthdate really that ominous?” I couldn’t help but ask.
“It’s not your birthdate that’s ominous; it’s your fate. There are some things you’re better off not knowing yet. The earlier you know, the worse it is for you. Just trust me. Everything I’ve done is for your good, and I would never harm you.”
I believed him. Although I knew he was hiding something important from me, I was sure he meant me no harm. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have risked his life to save me from Xiang. If he had been even a moment later that day, I would have died at Cai’s hands.
The days that followed were uneventful. Xiang didn’t cause any more trouble and completely disappeared. Huiji Temple didn’t make a fuss about Qiu’s death either.
Chow and I continued rowing our rotten boat on the Yellow River, retrieving corpses for money. As for my marriage to the Yellow River Maiden, Chow told me not to rush. She wasn’t available now, but she would come to me when she was ready.
I thought to myself, *I’m not in a hurry. If she’s not in a rush, I’ll enjoy being single. Maybe over time she’ll forget about me, and I can use the money I’ve earned to marry a living woman.*
Several peaceful months passed. I didn’t get into any more trouble, but Chow found himself in a very difficult situation.
At the beginning of July, a big shot from out of town came to see Chow.
This man was clearly important. He had seven or eight people with him and two Land Cruisers that could climb riverbanks. Leading the way was Gang, the village head of Chow’s village.
“What should I call you, old man?” the big shot asked as he approached Chow.
“Chow.”
“There have always been extraordinary people along the ancient Yellow River. Your village head has told me a lot about you, Chow. I want to hire you to retrieve a set of bones,” the man said straightforwardly.
“Is it local?” Chow asked.
“Not far—Jiulong Cave.”
Jiulong Cave wasn’t far—thirty miles by water, or about a hundred miles by land if you took the long way. But the place was notorious. When Chow told me about places not to go, he specifically warned me about Jiulong Cave. It was a forbidden area—entering it meant death.
“Then I’m sorry. I can’t go to Jiulong Cave. No amount of money will change that,” Chow said firmly, leaving no room for negotiation.
Seeing Chow refuse so bluntly, the village head’s face fell. Clearly, he had taken a bribe and promised results, or he wouldn’t have brought the man here. He forced a smile and said, “Chow, Mr. Wang is an important person. He’s come all this way to ask for your help. Don’t be so final. Money isn’t an issue.”
“You go if you want. What’s the point of money if you’re dead?” Chow shot back, glaring at the village head.
The village head’s face turned even darker, like a storm cloud.
As the saying goes, poor mountains and bad waters breed tough people. In our remote area, village heads usually come from powerful families. If it weren’t for Mr. Wang’s presence, the village head would have cursed Chow to his face.
After being rejected, Mr. Wang remained calm, standing in the courtyard and looking around. He didn’t speak, but a burly man with a scarred face stepped forward.
The scarred man walked up to Chow and stared at him intently without saying a word.
Everyone has an aura, and this man’s was overwhelming, especially his fierce, murderous eyes.
In contrast, Chow, thin and wrapped in an old cotton-padded jacket, looked meek and cowardly.
Chow trembled under the man’s gaze, and I didn’t dare breathe too loudly. Even ghosts fear evil men, let alone ordinary people like us.
After a while, just as Chow was about to break, he suddenly stomped his foot and ran into the house.
When he came out, he was holding three black memorial tablets.
Chow raised one tablet and walked past the scarred man to stand before Mr. Wang, saying loudly, “Our family has been retrieving corpses since my great-grandfather’s time. This is his memorial tablet.”
“This is my grandfather’s.”
“This is my father’s.”
“Their tablets are here, but their bodies are in Jiulong Cave.”
“If you can give me a reason to go to Jiulong Cave today, I’ll go with you right now!”
No one expected Chow to bring out his ancestors’ memorial tablets. Everyone fell silent.
The group left as quickly as they had come. After they were gone, I closed the courtyard gate and went inside to find Chow throwing the tablets into the stove.
“Chow, what are you doing?” I asked, shocked.
“A shield can only be used once. What’s the point of keeping them?”
“But these are your ancestors’ memorial tablets. How can you…”
I couldn’t finish. I had never seen anyone burn their ancestors’ tablets before. It was not just unfilial—it was unthinkable.
“Ungrateful ancestors. Why should I respect them?”
I was speechless.
I had only ever heard of unfilial descendants, not unfilial ancestors.
Seeing that he was talking nonsense, I left the house to give him some space to cool down.
The Chow family had been corpse retrievers for generations and rarely interacted with villagers. Naturally, no one knew how their family members had died. If Chow hadn’t used the memorial tablets as a shield today, even I wouldn’t have known they had all died in Jiulong Cave.
Undoubtedly, the Chow family had a tragic and bizarre history, and Jiulong Cave’s forbidden nature only deepened my curiosity.
There were many mysterious legends about Jiulong Cave in our area. It wasn’t an ancient site but formed over a hundred years ago during a chaotic period in China.
Originally, Jiulong Cave was just a mountain peak surrounded by the Yellow River, connected to Funiu Mountain. Over a hundred years ago, during a time of turmoil, the Yellow River experienced a rare flood. The water inundated both banks, drowning countless towns and villages, and directly collapsed the mountain peak.
That evening at dinner, Chow told me the story of Jiulong Cave.
After hearing it, I realized that there was a shocking secret behind Jiulong Cave…