The following events are actually not necessary to recount in detail, but they are somewhat related to the developments that followed, so I’ll mention them briefly.

Uncle left five days later. I don’t know if they found anything there; in any case, he didn’t tell me anything but agreed to have a good chat when we returned to Hangzhou.

The Fatty and the Silent Oil Bottle weren’t seriously injured. After receiving treatment, they were discharged from the hospital in less than two weeks. We didn’t return to Hangzhou immediately; instead, we went back to Ba Nai. The Fatty was convinced that the Silent Oil Bottle had some connection to that place, and until we got more clues, we might have to stay there for a while.

Four days later, we went back to the lakeside and held a memorial for those bones in the center of the lake, erecting a mound of earth. The Horse didn’t appear again, which made me feel quite guilty, but thinking about his fate in the “Sin Alley,” it felt like a kind of destiny. With my professional salvage equipment in hand, I continued to conduct meticulous salvage operations, hoping to uncover more clues. More items were gradually brought up, but nothing particularly crucial was discovered.

Next, we planned to enter the ancient village to carefully inspect the situation at the Zhang family building. However, just at that critical moment, all the oxygen tanks ran out, and we had to go replace them.

Coincidentally, on the last day of diving, as we were preparing to come ashore and return, something unexpected happened by the lake.

At that time, we were still at the center of the lake. As soon as we surfaced, the Fatty called out, wiped his face, and pointed toward the shore. I looked over and saw not only Yun Cai but also many other people who were setting up tents.

“What the hell! What’s going on?” the Fatty wondered. “Has this place turned into a tourist spot? Why are there more people here?”

I took a few breaths and observed closely, discovering that many of the newcomers were villagers from the village. Yun Cai was chatting with them, and among them were some people dressed in a very urban style, whose origins I couldn’t determine. More people were coming down from the small path we had used, leading a number of mules, all loaded with packages.

I didn’t recognize any of these people; John wasn’t Uncle returning.

As we slowly swam back to shore, I felt increasingly that something was off because those people brought many mules and a lot of packages. Several large tents were already set up, and the rocky beach was bustling with activity. A few people glanced at us with mild surprise, but no one paid much attention to the few of us who had just emerged from the water in our shorts.

We had no idea how to react. When we reached Yun Cai and A Gui, I suddenly saw a familiar face—the guy with a strong Beijing accent and a short stature whom I had encountered at the Horse’s place. He was directing the villagers who were acting as porters, barking orders with an arrogant expression.

I had seen many such people on the road. I recalled hearing that he was following a Beijing boss to this area, so these people might have been brought here by that boss. Did they also inquire about the story of the Horse and come here to look for something? There seemed to be too many of them!

He spotted us and, having seen us before, greeted us. I couldn’t be bothered to think too much about it and returned the greeting as I passed by him to Yun Cai, asking what was going on.

She quietly replied that she had heard from a few villagers that a big boss had hired them to move things here, but the villagers weren’t clear on the specifics.

This situation is quite awkward. I didn’t want things to develop this way, but this lake belongs to the public, and you can’t just say that others can’t come here. The goal of this group of people is to find something worth a few pieces, and I don’t know if they are aware of the truth about the iron pieces or if they are simply here for redemption, making it impossible to come up with a countermeasure.

Their numbers keep increasing, and six or seven tents have been set up. Everyone speaks with a Beijing accent, which makes me feel as if I have suddenly arrived by the Houhai Lake. I sit down, resting while vigilantly watching them work. This is actually quite frustrating; it’s like playing basketball on the court when suddenly a bunch of tall and robust people show up, outnumbering you several times. At that moment, you can only obediently step off the court to rest.

While cursing under my breath, I carefully observe the items they are bringing in, hoping to discover some clues. I didn’t realize it until I looked closely, and my heart sank. Among those large packages, there are several diving tanks, and a lot of the supplies look like diving equipment.

“They came prepared,” the fat man snorted. “They know there’s something down there in the water.”

I thought for a moment and said to the fat man, “Could it be that some old dealer from Beijing came here to dig for treasures? Do you know any of those people?”

The fat man replied, “There are plenty of brokers and middlemen in Beijing. Not many in Panjiayuan actually go out to the field themselves; I think the possibility is low. These people don’t seem to be from the Four Nine City; they might be people we don’t know. Nowadays, new forces are emerging everywhere.”

“You have a wide network in Beijing. Do you recognize one or two of them?” I asked again.

The fat man shook his head. “I don’t see any familiar faces. Let me take a closer look. But these people’s Beijing accent is a bit strange. Wait a moment; let me find out who their boss is.”

The fat man walked over to the busy camp and greeted one of the people in Beijing dialect, but that person ignored him. Who is the fat man? He immediately followed them, and they walked far away.

I thought about what I could do—either wander around their camp to see what they have or simply go find their boss?

In the end, I did nothing because the pain from the diving left me unable to stand up. My eyes and ears were also very uncomfortable, especially my ears, which were both itchy and painful, making the sounds I heard very strange. It seemed that diving like this was quite harmful to the body.

As I pondered what to do, suddenly, the dull oil bottle behind me pinched my shoulder.

The pinch was just right, and I shrank my neck in comfort, thinking that this guy had a sudden change of heart and wanted to give me a massage, but then he whispered, “Look.”

I redirected my attention back to the camp, wanting to see if there was anything unusual, but I noticed that another group of people had arrived from the other side of the woods, and someone was being helped down from a mule. The short and stout figure quickly approached.

Upon closer inspection, I found that the person was a bit older and, after getting down, walked unsteadily, unable to straighten his back. He had several attendants around him, moving toward us from both front and back.

I stood up, wanting to go over, but the dull oil bottle pressed down on me. I turned my head and found him crouched behind me, staring intently at the approaching person, saying, “Don’t let them see me.”

“What’s going on?” I felt a jolt in my heart, straightened my back to block the muffled oil bottle, and watched as they drew closer. The person being supported, who looked like a big shot, was a tall but extremely thin old man. It was evident that he must have been very robust in his youth. Because he was surrounded by several people, I couldn’t see his face clearly, but I could tell he was very old and walked with no strength, as if he were in the twilight of his life.

The group beside him, a mix of men and women, seemed to be introducing him as they walked. They didn’t approach us directly but turned into a tent.

Once they entered the tent, the muffled oil bottle finally released his grip on my shoulder. His hold had made my blood circulation feel sluggish, and after rubbing my shoulder a few times, I asked him, “What? Do you know this person?”

He nodded, his face turning ashen, and said, “Qiu Dekao.”

“Qiu Dekao?” I was taken aback. “This old man is Qiu Dekao?” I nearly jumped up. Wow! These people were also from An Ning Company, and this old man actually came in person.

For a moment, I didn’t know how to react. Qiu Dekao had a fixed image in my mind—both certain and uncertain. He was a missionary with a face like Sven Hedin’s but also somewhat resembling that big liar Marco Polo. In the stories my grandfather told me during my childhood, Qiu Dekao was the worst of villains, and I had even imagined him as a monster with a big wolf-like head. I never expected him to be such a frail old man in reality.

This preconception made me feel very strange and utterly unreal. My grandfather’s stories were like fairy tales from my childhood, and now, the characters from those fairy tales suddenly stepped out of my grandfather’s notebook, creating a disorienting sensation.

What was he doing here? From the looks of it, he seemed to know about the things beneath the lake. After the Snake Marsh incident, he, like us, hadn’t given up on the investigation and had come here too?

However, our investigation was completely random; they didn’t share the same foundation as us, so how could we possibly cross paths? Had they been following us all along?

But thinking about it again, that didn’t seem likely. If they were following us, they wouldn’t have been able to prepare more thoroughly than we did. We had no idea that diving equipment was needed here, yet they brought it with them, which meant they must know more—at least they must have known earlier. I felt both excited and a bit scared. The old man’s appearance here was certainly significant. At his age, he wasn’t suited for long-distance pursuits; his presence here must be a last-ditch effort.

What on earth was down there?

Thinking further, the current situation was troublesome; our relationship with them was too complicated. My grandfather and Qiu Dekao were sworn enemies. Although I had no thoughts of revenge now, this relationship made it impossible for me to have any goodwill toward them. Moreover, the grievances between my third uncle and Qiu Dekao were even more tangled.

Even if there was no hostility between our two sides, there was a strong competitive relationship. In a situation where they were strong and we were weak, I needed to think carefully about how to handle our relationship.

One step at a time.

I suppressed my racing heartbeat and recalled something—I thought the muffled oil bottle had amnesia? How could he know Qiu Dekao? And what was he hiding?

I turned my head and asked him. He was still looking in the direction of the tent and replied, “I met him once when I was in the hospital.”
“The hospital? Was it in Beijing or Golmud?” We were picked up from Qaidam by Jude Kao’s people, but I didn’t remember encountering him. He must have suffered more than us at that time.
“Beijing,” he replied, “just last month.”
So it was when he was receiving treatment in Beijing. Damn! Jude Kao had met the Silent Bottle? Why didn’t the Fatty tell me?
Thinking further, that damn Fatty is definitely loyal when it comes to brotherhood, but he’s not good at taking care of people. When I was in Hangzhou, I had him watch over the Silent Bottle, and I can imagine he was only half-hearted about it. Besides, someone like the Silent Bottle finds it difficult to get along with anyone alone; without me there to smooth things over, Fatty’s blunt personality would surely lead to a standoff. When the Silent Bottle met Jude Kao, he probably didn’t even know where he was wandering, so he wouldn’t know.
Remembering this made me want to curse. The Silent Bottle is a trump card in our hands; how could we not know he had met Jude Kao? This means that if Jude Kao were a bit tougher, he might have taken the Silent Bottle away, and we would have had no way out. Fatty really isn’t paying enough attention! And the Silent Bottle, really, doesn’t say anything.
“What did he want from you?” I asked the Silent Bottle, “Why didn’t you tell me, Boss?”
He didn’t answer and glanced back at me.
Turning around, I saw Jude Kao being supported by someone as he came out of the tent. He looked around, put on a hat, and walked toward the shade of a tree.
“What are you hiding from?” I asked again, “What if he sees you? He might have known you were here all along.”
The Silent Bottle shook his head and said to me, “We can’t let them get ahead; we must buy them some time.”
“What do you want to do?” I asked.
He pointed to a pile of diving equipment nearby. “We’re going to steal the scuba gear.”