Covering the coffin was an apricot-yellow sutra banner two feet wide and seven or eight feet long. Wei Xun had seen high officials and nobles cover their coffins with silk paintings, usually depicting auspicious scenes of the tomb master ascending to immortality and attaining the Way. But this silk was covered with incantations—at a glance, those he could recognize were all soul-suppressing, evil-dispelling suppression symbols.
Could this princess have become a zombie or malevolent ghost after death?
Looking again at the surrounding slave corpses, one could see the implied suppression intent within.
At this point, any ordinary cowardly tomb robber would have bristled with fear and thoughts of retreat, hardly daring to open the coffin. However, this man was naturally rebellious and didn’t believe in ghosts and spirits—the more others feared something, the more he wanted to try it. Wei Xun sneered coldly, reached out to grab the sutra banner, crumpled it into a ball, and tossed it aside.
Then he pried out the nails and lifted the coffin, unceremoniously exposing the tomb’s master to light once again.
Brilliant treasure light rushed toward him—the inner coffin was so luxurious it used a full bushel of pearls as a bed, surrounding the tomb’s master within. The corpse’s face wore a terrifyingly fierce mask, seeming to leap out in the flickering candlelight. This type of mask carved with four eyes was called a “moтоu”—a ritual implement used by common folk for exorcism and soul suppression.
People often say to speak carefully of the deceased. When burying relatives, regardless of their status in life, there should be some measure of respect, usually using white silk to make a face covering. Here there was no face covering—instead, they put a моtоu on the corpse, intending to suppress the soul within the corpse to prevent vengeful spirits from causing havoc. This way, the princess could never be reborn, her soul trapped forever in the rotting body to suffer eternally.
Though Wei Xun didn’t believe in ghosts, he was still shocked by the designer’s vicious methods—even worse than those who dug up dead political enemies to whip their corpses and scatter their ashes. What kind of hatred could this be?
However, whatever grievances and secrets existed within the palace had nothing to do with him.
Wei Xun searched repeatedly through the pearls, not knowing what the thing he sought looked like, only knowing it shouldn’t be a flower ornament, didn’t seem like a hair ornament, and shouldn’t resemble a comb. Setting aside these priceless jewels, he hadn’t found his imagined target. Generally speaking, burial goods hidden close to the tomb master’s body were the most precious, also the things the tomb master most loved in daily life. He decided to feel the corpse once more.
The corpse’s face wore the моtоu mask, its body covered beneath layers of brocade silk quilts, bound with silk ribbons and wrapped tightly like a chrysalis. Wei Xun picked apart the bindings, peeling away the silk quilts layer by layer, revealing a delicate body wearing a goose-yellow wide-sleeved ceremonial dress.
A refreshing fragrance drifted out, unlike any incense he had ever smelled.
Wei Xun paused, following tomb robber customs to bow apologetically and say: “Pardon the intrusion.”
With a folded white paper in his mouth, he then turned and entered the coffin, kneeling over the corpse and feeling the princess from head to toe. The more he touched, the more puzzled he became—this body felt warm and soft to the touch, nothing like a rigid corpse. Though the tomb chamber was much colder than outside, counting from the day the princess died until today, it had been at least seven or eight days. How could someone dead so long show no swelling or putrefaction, with body temperature still present?
His heart stirred, and he reached out to lift the моtоu mask.
Beneath the ugly mask was a plump and beautiful young girl. Her cloud-like hair was arranged in a high chignon with twelve flowering tree hairpins inserted. Her face bore thick formal makeup—gold-foil flower ornaments, powdered face and vermillion lips, showing no signs of becoming a vengeful ghost.
Wei Xun, being such a vagrant without fixed abode, had naturally never seen the appearance of a deep palace noble lady, but Chang’an widely rumored that Prince Shao resembled his mother while the princess resembled her father, especially a pair of blessed ears showing imperial physiognomy. The person in the coffin indeed had full, plump earlobes.
Wei Xun tried pinching the princess’s cheek—it felt soft and elastic. At this point, strong suspicion compelled him to verify something. So he reached into the princess’s cloud-like hair, found the Baihui and Shenting acupoints and pressed, channeling inner force through the bones, using internal energy to stimulate them while continuously patting her cheeks.
“Wake up! The sun is high! The millet is cooked!”
After such repeated efforts, moments later the girl’s throat moved slightly and she spat out a crystal-clear white jade cicada. This was a mouth-stopper placed for the dead, and if the master could spit it out, it meant she wasn’t dead enough.
Observing the princess closely now, though she hadn’t awakened, her eyelashes trembled slightly and her chest rose and fell. This pale-skinned, cold-handed living man actually looked more like a dead person than the girl.
Wei Xun’s mind became crystal clear: the source of all the tomb’s strange aspects lay here—Princess Wangshou wasn’t dead at all; she had been buried alive!
As thoughts flowed, Wei Xun’s mind was made up. No longer obsessing over that elusive thing, he leaped out of the coffin, landing silently and nimbly. According to protocol, when imperial family members were buried, they should be accompanied by a thousand kinds of delicacies and immortal wine. He scanned the surrounding vessels—various wines and creams piled like mountains, if not a thousand kinds, certainly far exceeding a hundred.
Wei Xun selected a jar, broke open the mud seal, and immediately wine fragrance overflowed, sweet beyond compare. Looking at the seal paper, it read “Imperial Bestowed Condensed Dew Syrup.” He grabbed the wine jar and drank heartily. After drinking for a while, feeling his strength grow and increase, he hurled the jar aside and jumped back into the coffin. One hand supporting her neck, one hand under her knees, he lifted the unconscious princess horizontally and carried her out.
Shisan squatted at the tunnel mouth keeping watch. Time was approaching the fifth watch, and seeing the eastern horizon about to show fish-belly white, he couldn’t help feeling anxious. After full daylight, his novice monk identity wouldn’t allow for wandering about.
Suddenly hearing muffled knocking sounds from below, his heart filled with joy as he immediately moved the stone trough and lifted the grass turf. Several large earth bundles were passed up again.
Wasn’t it already dug through? Why still excavating? Senior Brother had never miscalculated directions before!
Suppressing his inner doubts, Shisan caught the earth bundles and set them aside. Then iron chisels flew, instantly expanding the small hole opening several times over. This time two heads emerged. He saw Wei Xun carrying a young female corpse covered in pearls and jade, using hands and feet to crawl out of the tunnel.
Shisan turned pale with shock, crying out: “Senior Brother, absolutely not! Even if the corpse is still fresh… you can’t learn from Fourth Brother!”
Wei Xun nearly laughed: “Don’t talk nonsense—this is a living person.”
Shisan had no time to wonder why there would be a living person in a tomb, urgently asking: “Did you find that thing?”
Wei Xun silently shook his head, his junior brother’s disappointment overflowing.
He had been busy for over twenty hours without sleep. Now his strength was nearly exhausted, his face showing not a trace of color. He feared that stopping to catch his breath would cause him to collapse—he no longer had energy for another trip down to search. Perhaps this was heaven’s will. Wei Xun thought he might as well make one final effort to settle the person properly, and his life would be well-used.
“You handle the cleanup, then meet at Cuiwei Temple.”
He left these instructions, then carried the princess and strode away.
Reaching the surface, he finally stretched his muscles and fully deployed his skills. Though carrying a person, his footsteps were soundless, swift as lightning, light as a leopard, vanishing without a trace in an instant.
Shisan watched enviously as his senior brother’s figure disappeared, knowing he could never catch up even if he tried his utmost. This unparalleled amazing skill wasn’t something that could be achieved just through famous teachers’ complete instruction and diligent practice—it was mostly natural talent.