adminMiss Dong looked at the human skin; this piece of human skin was clearly much older than the others, darkened in the glass cabinet and covered in cracks. The tattoos on the skin were of ancient designs, in simple monochrome colors.
“This one is several thousand years old. The Zhang family all have tattoos, though they are located differently on each person. This family has been passed down for a long time,” Miss Dong said. “Over a thousand years ago, they established the Western Archives specifically to investigate strange events in the Tibet region. After that, archives were set up in various places to investigate and resolve strange occurrences, with the Nanyang Archives being the last established, only having a history of more than sixty years.”
“Does the Zhang family have such wide-reaching influence? Even the Empress Dowager doesn’t intervene; isn’t there any agricultural work in the Northeast?” Zhang Haiyan asked.
“No one knows why the Zhang family does these things. Some say that the business of the Zhang family is related to ancient tombs, as they have been tomb raiders for years and need legends about tomb chambers, which is why they established the archives. Initially, the people in the archives were all members of the Zhang family, but since the last century, the Zhang family’s population has decreased, and in the remote areas of Nanyang, they began to recruit orphans,” Miss Dong explained.
Zhang Haiyan fell silent. Miss Dong continued walking further in: “In fact, we people who do this only know that every year, tons of files are sent to the Northeast. Besides helping the Zhang family collect information from various places, we also adopt orphans, train you, and then hunt down the traitors of the Zhang family—Zhang Ruipu is one such traitor. These Zhang family members are quite difficult to deal with; I’m sure you can relate.”
“Sounds just like a gang,” Zhang Haiyan thought to himself. It seemed that the Zhang family in the Northeast was a kind of organized crime group, reminiscent of a hereditary ‘gang’ with a long history, somewhat similar to the Ge Lao Hui, possibly with mysterious religious customs, hence the establishment of archives in various places to worship and catch ghosts, while simultaneously developing their network.
Zhang Haiyan followed her, and soon they arrived at a dark room. Zhang Haiyan glanced at the decor of the dark room, which was filled with filing cabinets, similar to those used in the Nanyang Archives. “This was originally intended to expand the Nanyang Archives, but now this is all that remains,” Miss Dong said, pulling down a white cloth in the middle of the room to reveal Zhang Ruipu’s corpse lying on a table in the center.
Miss Dong turned on the incandescent light above the corpse and picked up one of its hands to show Zhang Haiyan. Zhang Haiyan noticed that the corpse had three very long fingers, with a hint of deformity. “One of the characteristics of the Zhang family is that they have long fingers. Zhang Ruipu has three, which is considered relatively mediocre. It is said that these fingers were used for unlocking mechanisms during tomb raiding; the fewer fingers one has, the smaller spaces one can enter,” she explained, then took out a file from the side: “This is Zhang Ruipu’s file.” She flipped through a few pages and revealed a photograph.
It was a photo of a Taoist figure alongside Zhang Ruipu. “This was taken during the 24th year of the Daoguang era when Qi Ying, the governor of Guangxi and the Minister of Trade for the five ports, was negotiating with the French in Macau. This person is Zhang Ruipu, and this person is Qi Ying.” It was evident that Zhang Ruipu appeared to be in his fifties, looking much like he did now.
Zhang Haiyan took the photo and compared it with the corpse. It had been nearly 70 years since the 24th year of the Daoguang era. Even though Zhang Ruipu was only 20 at that time, he would be 90 now. Yet, the corpse of Zhang Ruipu still looked to be in its fifties.
“Why hasn’t he aged?” Zhang Haiyan asked.
“This is the Zhang family; they hardly ever age,” Miss Dong replied. She removed Zhang Ruipu’s clothing, took a bottle of brandy from the side, soaked the clothing in it, then lit it and pressed it against the shoulder of the corpse, extinguishing the flame after several pats. Zhang Haiyan then saw a qilin tattoo appear on Zhang Ruipu’s body.
Turning the file to the next page, there was a drawing of the qilin tattoo.
“They all have tattoos, made from a special blend of herbs and bird blood. The heat of the blood is what brings them out. This is an impression of his tattoo, used for verification, because everyone’s tattoo is unique,” Miss Dong placed the document next to Zhang Ruipu’s corpse, and Zhang Haiyan realized that the details matched perfectly. The corpse was indeed him.
“Are you saying that the Zhang family is immortal? A bunch of monsters.”
“There are rumors that they excavate ancient tombs and establish archives to search for the elixir of immortality hidden in those tombs,” Miss Dong said. “Of course, these are just rumors. Living long isn’t necessarily a good thing. If all the people you care about are dead, what’s the point of living?”
Zhang Haiyan fell silent. If he had heard this before boarding the Nanan ship, he would have been incredibly excited, thinking his boss was a group of immortals, and he was just a servant. But Zhang Haixia was already dead. Now that he learned that some people could live forever, he felt skeptical and somewhat amused.
What good is immortality if one still lies here?
“There are no immortals in this world,” Zhang Haixia said. “I’ve seen many ascetics in Nanyang who claim to have lived since the Portuguese era, buried underground and still alive. Yet, they haven’t emerged from the ground; only the rice paddies above them have grown exceptionally well. Photos like these could easily be fabricated.”
Zhang Haiqi flipped through the files, which contained records and photographs from the negotiations involving the elders at that time, with a red circle marking Zhang Ruipu: “Zhang Ruipu participated in this negotiation and obtained exclusive rights to rubber. These photos come from archives in France at the time. The French wouldn’t help him fabricate anything.”
Zhang Haiyan shook his head. He wished he could believe this, but after so many years, all he had encountered in Nanyang were scams. He had become a materialist.
“You need more direct evidence,” Zhang Haiyan said. “Even I could make a fake face based on the photo, and you wouldn’t be able to tell.”
Miss Dong laughed, “Of course, there is direct evidence.” She continued walking deeper. Zhang Haiyan asked, “So what do you think? If you were to speculate, why do you think the Zhang family established the Nanyang archives? Is it really for immortality? Do you truly believe that?”
“They are waiting for something to happen, something very, very significant. I suspect they knew this event would occur a thousand years ago and have been waiting ever since. They also understand that before this event happens, there may be various signs around the world, rumored to be unfathomable occurrences. Therefore, they established archives to monitor the possibility of large-scale, unexplained phenomena erupting.”
Mo Yungao is precisely using the characteristics of the Nanyang Archives to spread the plague. Zhang Haiyan shook his head, and Miss Dong said, “You call it a hypothesis, but I’ve said it before, no one really knows what the Zhang family intends to do.”
“Since the Zhang family is so mysterious, if you tell me this, will I be in danger?”
Miss Dong did not answer. The two continued deeper into the building, where there were empty rooms. They reached the end of a corridor and saw an iron door. By this time, they had ventured quite far in. Suddenly, Zhang Haiyan thought of a question and asked, “You said there are only the two of us in the Nanyang Archives. Do you happen to know where someone named Zhang Haiqi is?”
“When you were in Malacca, Mo Yungao led a raid on the archives. Aside from me, no one survived,” Miss Dong said. “She should be dead.”
Zhang Haiyan shook his head again. “No, she’s the most formidable woman I’ve ever met; she wouldn’t die so easily.”
“Your good friend is dead too, isn’t she?” Miss Dong turned back and sneered, “Why do you think everyone you know is extraordinary?”
Zhang Haiyan felt very uncomfortable. He knew he would continue to deny everything. Even if what was behind the iron door was compelling, he wouldn’t believe it. Because if he believed Miss Dong, he would truly be alone in this world.
