I suddenly woke up, sitting up abruptly and bumping my head against someone’s chest. “Ouch!” I exclaimed, and An Ning beside me almost knocked me into a tree. Reflexively, I grabbed her to steady myself, and as I regained my senses, I realized I was leaning against a tree, my hand tugging at my belt, which was already half undone. Next to me was the excavation site for the snake bones, and it was still raining. The surrounding mining lights were so bright that I could barely open my eyes.

Everyone was looking at me with a puzzled expression. A waterproof tarp had been set up over the snake bones, and mining lamps were propped up on nearby branches. Dun Youping and Panzi were sitting there, while Fatty was sleeping next to me, snoring loudly. An Ning was clutching her chest, clearly in pain from my collision.

It dawned on me that I had just been dreaming, and I let out a sigh of relief. I touched my forehead; it was still damp, but I couldn’t tell if it was cold sweat or rainwater from yesterday. When did I fall asleep? As I thought back, I remembered calling them down to excavate the snake bones. The snake’s remains had been entwined in vines for at least a decade, and they were incredibly tough. After digging for half a day without finding much, we had taken turns resting. I hadn’t realized I was so exhausted that I lay down and fell asleep. My face was still soaked with rainwater, and An Ning’s drool was just from that.

Feeling a bit embarrassed, I smiled awkwardly and stood up, wiping my face before going over to help again. Panzi, with a mischievous glint in his eye, asked, “Little Third Master, what were you dreaming about? Did you want to take off your pants?” I gave him a light slap on the shoulder, thinking that even if I had a good reason, I couldn’t explain it this time. I couldn’t help but recall the story of the architect and the train, realizing that such situations weren’t just found in jokes.

I glanced at my watch; I hadn’t slept long. My whole body was wet, and I had only dozed lightly for a bit. Light sleep often leads to nightmares, but at least I had managed to sleep and felt much better. Speaking of which, that dream was a bit strange—so vivid. They say dreams reflect a person’s subconscious. I remembered some psychological things Lao Yang had told me before, wondering if I had some deep-seated fear of An Ning. The plot of my dream was unexpected.

Looking back at An Ning, she had leaned against the tree trunk, taking over my rest, her eyes closed as she tried to recuperate. She looked a bit haggard, but this softened her previously aggressive demeanor, making her appear more feminine. The distorted face of An Ning from my dream overlapped with the current scene, and I felt a twinge of fear.

Turning to check their progress, I noticed there didn’t seem to be much advancement. The vines were tangled in the bones, and after some struggle, they had broken apart. The decayed and mineralized scales scattered among the vines looked like ancient paper money.

I couldn’t help but chuckle at myself, letting out a sigh. I asked Panzi and the others what they had found and why they hadn’t continued digging. Panzi picked up a nearby mining lamp and shone it into the remains, saying they couldn’t get the corpse out. First, the bones were almost completely rotten; they crumbled at a touch. If they dug any further, there would be nothing left. Secondly, they had discovered something else.

I looked down following the light of the mining lamp and saw deep within the snake bones, where the vines were tangled, a bundle of something resembling chicken legs, except it was black and covered with a layer of rust. I leaned down to take a closer look and discovered that it was actually three old-fashioned hand grenades tied together. They had rusted into a single mass.

Surrounding the grenade bodies was a darkened harness, clearly indicating that these three items were attached to a combat pack on this corpse’s back. I couldn’t help but gasp in shock, and I was suddenly too afraid to move forcefully, carefully retreating instead. Panzi then said to me, “This was discovered by Fatty first. If it weren’t for his sharp eyes, any of us could have been blown to the sky by now.”

I was astonished and asked, “Who on earth is this corpse? Why would they be carrying something like this?” Even if it were the team of Wenjin, they should have carried explosives instead of hand grenades. These wooden-handled old-fashioned hand grenades are purely combat weapons meant for killing, and are basically useless for engineering demolition.

“Do you remember that old woman, Ding Zhuo Ma, who told us that in 1993, a group of reactionary armed forces involved in nationalist separatism fled into the Qaidam Basin, and the militia chased them deep into the Gobi Desert, but this team went missing?” Panzi asked me. “I think this corpse is one of those people from back then. Maybe it was a female bandit, or perhaps a family member. They went missing back then, and I suspect it was because they accidentally wandered into this swamp. After more than ten years, this group has never reappeared, so they must have all died here.”