Yu Rong was about to get out of the car when Nie Jiuluo turned back, pulled out two individually wrapped masks from her equipment bag, put one on herself, and handed the other to Yu Rong.
Yu Rong took it with confusion. “What for?”
Nie Jiuluo said, “Shouldn’t we both cover up? Especially you—you’re too recognizable with those distinctive features. Why don’t you put on your hood?”
Yu Rong pinched the bare collar of her canvas cotton jacket to show her. “This jacket doesn’t have a hood.”
Nie Jiuluo pulled off her wool cap. “Here, take mine.”
A red cap? With a pompom on top? Was this some kind of joke?
Yu Rong said, “Do I look like someone who would wear that?”
Nie Jiuluo insisted, “Either wear this or find a plastic bag to cover your head. With that lizard on your head, Lin Xirong’s people would recognize you without even seeing your face.”
Yu Rong looked at her, then at the cap, but didn’t take it. Instead, she opened the glove compartment and pulled out a crumpled plastic bag. She shook it open and deliberately placed it over her head, tying the handles into a knot at the back.
“That works too,” Nie Jiuluo said, putting her wool cap back on. As long as they achieved their goal, she didn’t care about the method.
After all, she wasn’t the one wearing a plastic bag.
***
Soon, Nie Jiuluo set up her live streaming equipment at the iron gate: selfie sticks tripod planted firmly on the ground, phone in position, herself facing the camera, moving back and forth to find the best angle and position.
Yu Rong stood to the side, watching her with growing impatience. The wind on the hilltop was strong, making the plastic bag on her head rustle like a bellows.
Nie Jiuluo cleared her throat. “Today, I’m bringing everyone to see an abandoned coal mine, which is right behind me…” She turned sideways as she spoke.
Yu Rong couldn’t hold back her criticism. “Since it’s fake anyway, why not just go through the motions? You can act when people show up. Who are you performing for right now? Just me?”
Nie Jiuluo frowned, paused her “livestream,” and strode over to Yu Rong.
Yu Rong stood her ground. “I said I’d help you, but can we be more efficient about this?”
Nie Jiuluo replied, “You’ve been standing here for a while. Haven’t you noticed that while the iron gate is old and rusty, the padlock isn’t as old? It doesn’t even have dust on it.”
Yu Rong froze, then looked at the padlock.
It was true.
“Since you also suspect we’re being watched, shouldn’t we stay in character? If someone is guarding this place and sees people livestreaming, they’ll come to chase us away. Wouldn’t this give us both a chance to lure them out and make a clean getaway? If we wait until they show up to start acting, who would believe we’re livestreaming?”
Yu Rong had no response. After a pause, she gestured for Nie Jiuluo to continue streaming.
***
After finishing the “broadcast” at the main gate, everything remained eerily quiet.
Were there no guards?
Yu Rong wasn’t sure. She suggested that Nie Jiuluo climbs over the iron gate: firstly, many live streamers did this—exploring mines without climbing walls would seem unrealistic; secondly, standing higher would make them more visible—if no one came to stop them even then, it would mean there truly was no one around.
Nie Jiuluo agreed, but with one arm impaired, this task fell to Yu Rong.
Following instructions, Yu Rong climbed while greeting the “camera,” making it clear to any watching eyes that they were just two fools doing a livestream.
The climb went smoothly. Yu Rong held onto the iron plate with the character “Ban,” stepped over the highest part of the fence, and stood like a flag at the highest point of Old Niutou Hill.
From her vantage point, she surveyed all directions for a while before calling down to Nie Jiuluo: “After all this, there might be no one here. You can pick the lock—I’ll keep watch from up here.”
Nie Jiuluo tossed aside the selfie stick, went to the car, and brought over her equipment bag. She took out a manual lock pick, and in less than half a minute, had opened the main gate.
Yu Rong jumped down from the iron gate and drove the car to a position deeper inside the courtyard. Meanwhile, Nie Jiuluo closed the main gate and rehung the lock—from the outside, the courtyard would still appear securely locked, and unless someone came close, they wouldn’t know anyone had entered.
The two split up and searched through the mine’s offices, dormitories, kitchen, and cafeteria.
There wasn’t much to search—all the buildings had been emptied, with few intact window panes remaining. What was left were only some broken chairs and stools. In the office, Nie Jiuluo saw several faded, torn certificates on the wall, some marked “Top Ten” or stamped with “Advanced,” weakly testifying that this now desolate place had once been bustling with life.
Finally, the two met in the tunnel leading to the mine shaft.
At the end of the tunnel was an iron door, similar to the main gate: the door itself was old and rusty, but the padlock was relatively clean.
Yu Rong picked up the padlock to examine it. “The lock’s on the outside, meaning it can’t be opened from within. Either someone’s locked inside, or something’s hidden there. But if that’s the case, why use such an ordinary padlock?”
Nie Jiuluo’s heart was pounding. She licked her lips. “Let’s open it and see.”
***
When the iron door opened, a strange smell hit them—a mixture of earthy and moldy dampness.
Thankful for her mask, Yu Rong waved her hand near her nose and peered inside.
It was too dark. All coal mines were like this—even in daylight, only the first dozen steps into the entrance had any light; beyond that, miners relied on their headlamps.
Nie Jiuluo took a flashlight from her equipment bag and gave it to Yu Rong, taking one for herself, and they carefully proceeded inside.
Everything seemed normal.
They saw several toppled benches, presumably where miners sat to rest before descending or after ascending.
They saw old-style aluminum military canteens, likely used by miners to carry water.
They saw safety helmets, shovels, and pickaxes—all normal, all things that should be in a mine.
Further down, the path ended.
Nie Jiuluo drew in a sharp breath.
Before them was a deep hole, roughly half the size of a basketball court. Around the edge stood several crooked poles, their purpose unclear, with their tops wrapped in burlap sacks.
Looking down from the edge, there was only darkness, with no way to tell how deep it went. They dropped a small stone, and it took a while before they heard it land.
Was that… it?
Nie Jiuluo stood at the edge, her mind buzzing.
Yu Rong walked around the rim of the hole. “In this type of coal mine, shouldn’t the tunnels be below? From what I’ve seen on TV, there should be an elevator. Nie Er, I think we’re off track. If Yan Tuo is here, he was probably thrown down there.”
Nie Jiuluo’s heart trembled, but she shot back, “No, Lin Xirong even brought dumplings.”
Yu Rong thought for a moment. “Well, it was New Year’s Eve. A last meal. They didn’t want him to see the New Year’s sun. After he finished the dumplings—bang—they pushed him down.”
Nie Jiuluo looked up at her. “If you don’t know what to say, say less.”
Yu Rong smiled and habitually went to run her hand through her hair, only to touch the plastic bag instead.
She said, “My words might not be pleasant, but they’re honest. Better than self-deception, right?”
She sat down at the edge of the hole, legs dangling, and reached for a cigarette.
After a moment’s pause, she put it back. This was a coal mine, after all—she feared one spark might be her last.
Nie Jiuluo stood motionless, gripping her flashlight so tightly her knuckles turned white.
Damn it all to hell—Yu Rong’s version made too much sense. The story was logical.
—That day, Uncle Chang Xi saw that black Mercedes. Xiong Hei was driving, Lin Xirong sat in the back, and Yan Tuo was locked in the trunk. They brought along those “death row” dumplings, brought him here, watched him eat, and then pushed him in.
As for why they chose New Year’s Eve…
For some sense of ceremony? Out with the old, in with the new?
What nonsense—Nie Jiuluo shook her head violently, trying to shake out these bizarre thoughts.
If they wanted to verify it, it would be simple enough.
Nie Jiuluo looked back into the hole. “So by your logic, Yan Tuo’s body is down there?”
Yu Rong glanced at her. “You’re not thinking of going down there, are you?”
Nie Jiuluo countered, “How else can we be sure?”
Yu Rong looked down into the pitch-black hole. “I advise against it.”
“First, do you know what’s down there? The Chantou Army has searched Qingran several times over the years and only found one ‘grasshopper,’ yet Lin Xirong managed to arrange for so many earth owls to transform into humans. This means there must be an owl’s nest supplying her with earth owls continuously.”
She pointed into the hole. “This might be it. No wonder the lock was so easy to open—she’s not afraid of people stumbling in.”
“Second, there’s just the two of us. Someone needs to keep watch up here, meaning only one person can go down. I’m not going—I wouldn’t take this risk even if it was my father down there, let alone Yan Tuo. I barely know him. As for you, look at your condition. With that arm of yours, you wouldn’t even climb the iron gate, and you want to go down there?”
“Third, even if you could go down, how would you do it? Forget about an elevator—there’s not even a rope ladder. Are you planning to fly down?”
“So, Nie Er, you seem like a sensible person. Take my advice—don’t act on impulse. Let’s go back, bring more people, get proper equipment, then come back for this adventure.”
Nie Jiuluo remained silent.
Every word Yu Rong said made sense, but she just couldn’t move her feet.
After a while, she said softly, “I want to look.”
Yu Rong looked at her. “Look at what?”
“See if his body is down there.”
Yu Rong smiled helplessly. “What for?”
“For closure.”
If he was dead, she could let go—no more worrying, no more checking outside when she woke in the middle of the night, no more zoning out in the middle of tasks.
She just needed to see for herself.
She murmured, “We’re already here. What’s one more look?”
Yu Rong couldn’t argue anymore. “How do you plan to look?”
Nie Jiuluo was quiet for a moment, then said, “Wait here. I need to make a call.”
***
Ten minutes later, Nie Jiuluo returned.
She had called Liu Chang Xi.
Liu Chang Xi told her that the poles around the rim were actually pulleys, with the burlap sacks covering the pulley heads. To save costs, Yan Huaishan’s coal mine hadn’t installed elevators. The miners back then had no concept of labor protection—as long as they could earn money, they’d tie their heads to their belts and descend—they all used “monkey bags” to go up and down.
Nie Jiuluo cut open the sacks covering the pulley heads. These plastic burlap sacks hadn’t rotted—after all these years, they were still as tough as ever.
She chose two relatively intact ones and layered them together for better weight support, following Liu Chang Xi’s instructions to cut two openings at the bottom for “seating.”
The equipment bag had all the necessary ropes, which just needed to be threaded through the pulleys.
Once everything was ready, Nie Jiuluo explained her plan to Yu Rong: “You stay up here and help me go up and down. One tug means stop, two means continue down, and three means pull up. I just want to look—see if his body is down there. Don’t worry, I won’t even go all the way down. Once I’m at a good spot, I’ll shine the flashlight down and everything will be clear.”
It sounded feasible. Considering Nie Jiuluo’s arm, Yu Rong almost offered to go down instead, but looking at the bags and her build, she swallowed her words.
Better let the lightweight one go down.
Nie Jiuluo changed her boots and took off her puffy down jacket.
Underneath, she wore equipment gear with high-elasticity soft armor. It was impressive enough, though the red cap on her head added an unexpected touch of softness and playfulness.
Yu Rong helped her into the monkey bag and offered her a gun, but after some thought, Nie Jiuluo declined. “My knife skills are better than my shooting. Besides, you might need it up here—what if someone comes?”
Fair point. Yu Rong tucked the gun back into her waistband and slowly began working the rope. This was Nie Jiuluo’s first time in a monkey bag. Although Liu Chang Xi had repeatedly assured her it was safe, anyone sitting in what was essentially two layers of burlap would understand—once inside, she curled up tightly, afraid to move at all.
The pulley creaked, the rope swayed, and just as the red cap was about to disappear below the rim, Yu Rong suddenly remembered something. She paused and asked, “You said he’s ‘your person’—if you don’t mind me asking, to what extent?”
Nie Jiuluo’s voice floated up. “Just friends.”
“Boyfriend and girlfriend?”
“Hadn’t gotten there yet.”
Yu Rong thought to herself: what a waste.
Never slept together, never kissed, hadn’t even held hands, and going through all this trouble.
If it were her, she wouldn’t do it. Even if they had slept together, she wouldn’t do it. After all, if you’ve slept together, why not find someone new instead of going through all this?
***
Yu Rong continued slowly lowering the rope, constantly watching for signals.
No problems—keep lowering, keep going. Yan Huaishan was too stingy. Such a deep mine shaft, why couldn’t they install an elevator? What era were they in, still using such primitive methods?
Just as she was thinking this, the rope suddenly dropped.
Yes, a sudden drop, as if something heavy had grabbed the rope. The rope instantly went taut, the force so abrupt that even the pulley head tilted downward.
What happened? Yu Rong’s mind exploded, and just as she grabbed the pulley pole, the force on the rope vanished.
Completely vanished—only the rope hung there limply, light as a feather when she pulled it.
Yu Rong leaned over and shouted into the hole: “Nie Er!”
There was no answer from below.
No light either.
It was as silent as if no one had ever gone down, with only a lonely rope dangling into the darkness.