When the phrase “Mysterious Oil Bottle” was mentioned, I noticed that Ah Ning’s expression was very wooden, even dull, a stark contrast to her previously spirited demeanor. Now, being pressed down by Mysterious Oil Bottle, she neither struggled nor spoke, and didn’t even look at us, as if this matter had nothing to do with her.
The Fatty found it strange and said, “Something’s off here. I cursed her so harshly, yet she didn’t react. Normally, if I teased her a bit, she’d have kicked me already.”
I knew he had a rough hand, so I asked him, “Did you go too hard just now? Look at her, she can’t even speak. I suspect you might have hit her too hard and knocked her senseless.”
The Fatty was furious and said, “Don’t talk nonsense! How could I treat a lady like that? I just pressed her foot, and it was gentle, not leaving a mark. If you don’t believe me, ask the little brother.”
Mysterious Oil Bottle told us to stop arguing and said, “Don’t worry, she’s not seriously hurt, just a bit disoriented. She might have experienced some shock.” While saying this, he waved his hand in front of her and even snapped his fingers, but Ah Ning showed no reaction at all.
The Fatty scratched his head, puzzled, and said, “Could it be that this woman saw something that scared her silly?”
I replied, “This woman is incredibly tough and skilled; you saw how she treated me. How could someone like her be scared silly? Don’t let her fool you; she might be pretending.”
Upon hearing this, the Fatty began to doubt, saying, “You have a point. The most poisonous thing is a woman’s heart. We should be cautious. How about we each give her a few slaps and see how she reacts? This woman is quite strong; a few slaps won’t hurt her, no matter how virtuous she pretends to be.”
I saw he was rambling and scolded, “Stop! Damn it, have you watched too many revolutionary films? Trying to be like a Nationalist spy? Look at her like this, how could you bring yourself to hit her?”
The Fatty raised his big hand and symbolically slapped the air near Ah Ning’s small face a couple of times, but found he really couldn’t bring himself to do it. He sighed, “It’s a pity that I’ve never hit a woman. So what do you suggest we do?”
I hadn’t spent much time with her, and it was impossible to judge if she was pretending based on her actions alone. I said, “We can’t determine this right away. I think we should tie her up and take her out first. Then we can call the police and let them handle it.”
The Fatty was furious, “Are you really stupid or just pretending? We three are tomb raiders, do you know what that means? Handing it over to the police? Have you bumped your head on a pig?”
I actually felt a bit dazed. After what the Fatty said, I wanted to slap myself, thinking how my mindset hadn’t adjusted yet, still considering myself a small-time antique dealer. I quickly said to the Fatty, “In my previous tomb raiding experiences, I was just thrown into the situation, thinking of myself as a good citizen, used to seeking help from the police. I blurted it out without thinking, just treat it like I was talking nonsense. Let me rephrase.”
The Fatty waved his hand and said, “Forget it. I see you don’t have any good ideas. Let’s just watch this little brother; relying on you is like waiting for cold flowers to bloom.”
I was left speechless by what he said, so I had to go look at the “Muffled Oil Bottle.” He was shining a flashlight into her eyes. When we turned to look, he said, “No need to argue, her pupils are dilated, and her reaction is very slow, much worse than ‘scared silly.’ It can’t be faked.”
Seeing that he seemed quite confident, I had no reason to doubt him and asked, “Can you tell how this happened?”
The Muffled Oil Bottle shook his head and said, “I only understand a little about this, and that’s from what I heard while doing checks myself. To make a further judgment, I’m powerless. We need to go to a professional hospital.”
I sighed, recalling how vibrant this woman used to be, and couldn’t help but exclaim, “Well, I can’t figure out what’s wrong right now, so let’s not overthink it here. Let’s take her out first.”
They all agreed with this suggestion, and the Fatty said to the Muffled Oil Bottle, “Then let’s do it this way. No need to dawdle. This place feels so eerie. Let’s take a look around, and if we don’t find anything, let’s get out quickly.”
I had already forgotten where I was, but as soon as he mentioned it, I felt a chill and wanted to leave immediately. However, seeing that they both had their own purposes, I couldn’t voice my thoughts and could only force myself to nod.
The Fatty immediately turned around and shone the flashlight into the depths of the cave. Following his beam, I saw that the cave wasn’t very long; at a distance of a few dozen steps, I could already see something at the bottom, but the flashlight’s penetration wasn’t strong enough to illuminate it clearly.
My eyesight isn’t as good as the Fatty’s, and I had no idea what was inside. I was just hoping he wouldn’t see anything and would quickly give up on the idea. I couldn’t stay here for even a minute.
The Fatty examined it closely and suddenly frowned, as if he had seen something. I followed his gaze but couldn’t see anything. I only heard him quietly ask us, “You two, do you see at the very back, is that a tree?”
I exclaimed, “How could there be a tree in an ancient tomb? There’s no sunlight here, and no one to water it. If there were a tree, it would have rotted long ago.”
The Fatty looked for a long time and probably wasn’t sure, so he insisted on pointing it out to me. I had no choice but to go along with him, but I really couldn’t see clearly; my eyes were straining, and I could only vaguely make out something branch-like. The outline looked somewhat familiar, but I couldn’t recall what it was. I said to him, “I can’t see clearly, but that’s definitely not a tree.”
The Fatty shone the light again, stubbornly saying, “I think it looks like a tree. Look, it’s even shining with a golden light. If you don’t believe me, let’s go take a look.”
I saw through his ulterior motives and angrily said, “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to. Even if it’s a golden tree in there, can you carry it out?”
The Fatty, realizing I had seen through him, didn’t seem bothered and said, “Whether I can carry it out or not, we’ll only know if we take a look. Who knows, there might be some smaller items nearby. If we hadn’t come in, that would be one thing, but now that we’re here and see something good, we should at least take a look! Besides, we’ve come this far; it’s not too deep. If something were going to happen, it would have happened already. There’s nothing to be afraid of, right?”
I felt frustrated but helpless. I understood the logic of the fat guy very well: he was all about sightseeing, observing, and then taking advantage of the situation. This guy was like a reincarnated demon; anyone who crossed paths with him was bound to be unlucky.
Just as I was about to mock him, I saw the silent oil bottle gesture for quiet and softly said, “Everyone follow me, don’t fall behind.” Without looking back, he walked straight into the darkness.
The fat guy was overjoyed at this and picked up A-Ning to follow him. I found it strange, but the oil bottle was moving quickly, and I didn’t have time to think too much about it, so I limped after them.
The oil bottle walked briskly ahead. The brick tunnel was uniformly wide from the inside to the outside, and there wasn’t much distance from our position to the end of the tunnel. We soon arrived in front of what was referred to as a tree, the innermost part of the entire brick tunnel. When the oil bottle raised his flashlight, we saw its true appearance.
It was a gigantic white coral, over a person’s height, branching into twelve arms that spread out like a tree. The entire coral was well-carved, but the material was very ordinary and not particularly valuable.
The coral was planted in a huge porcelain pot, held down by pebbles. There were many small golden bells hanging from its branches. The golden light the fat guy had seen was likely reflected from these bells. However, these bells were definitely not made of gold, as there was already verdigris appearing in the seams, suggesting they were made of brass. The outer layer had been gilded to maintain their current shine.
The fat guy was greatly disappointed when he didn’t find the golden tree, but he wasn’t ready to give up. He shone the flashlight around other areas and asked me, “Xiao Wu, do you think this coral is worth anything?”
I had some knowledge about this and, recalling his earlier demeanor, decided to tease him a bit, saying, “I’m not trying to discourage you, but with this quality, the market price is about 16 yuan per pound, which is already considered decent.”
The fat guy listened, somewhat skeptical, and asked the oil bottle. The oil bottle nodded, and he immediately became gloomy, cursing, “Damn it, I thought I was going to strike it rich this time, but it turns out to be all for nothing.”
I chuckled and said, “Don’t be disheartened, Fatty. I’ll tell you, while the coral may not be worth much, look at those bells on it; those are valuable items.”
The fat guy didn’t believe me and said, “I see that smirk on your face; don’t be talking nonsense. I’ve come across plenty of these broken bells, and they’re only worth a thousand or so. Where do you think their value lies?”
I replied, “With your limited business acumen, it’s no wonder you can’t see it. To be honest, I can’t estimate the exact value, but I can guarantee that they’re worth more than an equal volume of gold. Look at the patterns on these bells; they date back even earlier than the Ming Dynasty. In that era, they would be considered antiques. Do you understand what I mean?”
The fat man was taken aback by my words, unsure whether what I said was true or not. I felt a sense of satisfaction inside but chose not to reveal the truth. In fact, I couldn’t discern the origins of these bells either. Bells are considered quite niche in the world of antiques; typically, the most common items found are porcelain and pottery. Metal objects can rust and require special preservation methods, which only large museums can afford. Even the wealthiest households cannot withstand such maintenance. Moreover, bells are more complex among metal artifacts, containing many small parts, and those that are well-preserved are extremely valuable.
The fat man pondered for a while but still didn’t believe me. He wanted to take one down to have a look, but the oil bottle man grabbed him and said, “Don’t move.” The fat man had already placed one foot on the basin filled with pebbles but was forcibly pulled down. Feeling puzzled, he asked what was going on. The oil bottle man ignored him and instead asked me, “Do you remember where you’ve seen this kind of bell before?”
