Both of them almost simultaneously recalled the story recorded in the bamboo slip photos sent by Shen Gun.
Yin Xi asked: What should be done if the seven stars remain bright?
Laozi pondered for a long time, then answered, “The Juzi may be expected.”
Yin Xi asked again: Who is the Juzi?
Laozi answered: I don’t know either.
Indeed, Laozi couldn’t possibly know, because according to chronology, the birth of Mozi, the first Juzi of the Mohist School, occurred after Laozi’s death.
So, this phrase before them – “Juzi’s command, kill” – had much to contemplate.
Luo Ren came over and also crouched down, taking Mu Dai’s flashlight, examining the seal script content character by character. This passage wasn’t long, and the description was simple, but the tone was extremely indignant. The gist was: Sudden changes in the situation, Mohists rising from all directions, the Juzi commanding to kill, by the sea, atop mountains, in barren yellow earth, the Star Lords repeatedly falling, our group of ten meeting our end here, all lured into this pit, molten bronze poured from above, with no way out…
It was like a final testament. Even reading it over a thousand years later, the sense of grief and pain still lingered in the marks chiseled into the stone.
This inscription must have been carved before the tunnel leading outside was excavated.
Luo Ren pulled Mu Dai: “Come here, help me.”
He moved the stacked corpses one by one, piling them up again at the side. For each corpse removed, he searched for the bronze waist tag, finding nine corpses with nine waist tags, all of which he handed to Mu Dai.
Following instructions, Mu Dai turned all nine waist tags to the side with characters, carefully identifying them, then categorized them into four groups based on different characters.
The oracle bone character for “knife,” one piece; “water,” one piece; “mouth,” one piece; the remaining six pieces all had the same character.
The shape looked like a mountain. Luo Ren recognized it as the oracle bone character for “earth.”
Mu Dai drew in a sharp breath: “The fifth evil bamboo slip, the character is ‘earth’?”
Luo Ren nodded: “Almost certainly. In ancient times, the earth was associated with being buried alive, with entombment, with sealing.”
The seal script said “our group of ten meeting our end here,” using “meeting our end” rather than “being killed,” suggesting these people were still alive at the time.
Mu Dai sighed with emotion: “They say the Juzi was the leader of the Mohist School. Was ‘Juzi’s command, kill the Mohists dealing with these people? I heard the Mohist School advocated love and non-aggression, how could they bear to use such cruel methods?”
Luo Ren already had some understanding in his heart: “That depends on who they were dealing with.”
He changed the subject: “In Nantian, the night at the Tengma Carved Platform, Yi Wansan said something that left a deep impression on me. Later, Shen Gun also gathered similar information at Yin Er Ma’s place.”
At that time, Yi Wansan had murmured while looking at the outline of the Tengma Carved Platform: “In ancient times, this would truly resemble a sacrificial altar.”
As he spoke, he pointed to the large expanse of rice stalks bending in the wind: “Doesn’t it look like they’re worshipping? If a priest stood on the platform, muttering a few magical incantations…”
Shen Gun had conveyed a similar meaning, saying that in primitive societies, due to extremely low productivity, humans had the most primitive natural worship, such as worshipping wind, thunder, lightning, and so on. Among these, the most important was the worship of stars.
The seven evil bamboo slips needed to be restrained by the Phoenix-Luan clasp. Phoenix, male phoenix, and luan were auspicious mythical birds used as totems, representing primitive mystical bird worship.
Luo Ren sat down with Mu Dai: “In ancient Chinese mythology, when Hou Yi shot down the sun, what fell was a three-legged divine crow, similar to the luan-phoenix bird. The seven evil bamboo slips are related to the Big Dipper. Stars represent night, while luan birds represent daytime. Comparing the two, it indeed seems like a balance of two forces. When Yin Xi asked Laozi what to do if the seven stars remain bright, it sounds like the night refusing to disperse.”
Mu Dai understood: “Laozi’s answer about expecting the Juzi means he foresaw the later Mohist School’s power could counter the evil slips?”
Luo Ren nodded, pointing to the waist tags on the ground: “Placing these objects on their bodies, arranging them neatly in their arms even after death, shows these things held great significance to them. These people should have no connection to the Juzi or the Mohist School. If I’m not mistaken, at that time, some people followed the evil slips.”
Following the evil slips? Mu Dai found it hard to believe. Even in Nantian, those influenced by Xiang Si’lan were forced to comply—who would actively follow?
Luo Ren explained: “In the West, there are those who worship God, and those who worship the Devil. One extreme view holds that religion stems from the fear in human hearts. Following the Devil isn’t out of genuine support or admiration, but fear that the Devil will bring misfortune upon oneself.”
Mu Dai said, “Like those traitors during the War of Resistance, right?”
Luo Ren wanted to laugh—her comparison was somewhat inappropriate, but upon careful consideration, it did carry some meaning.
He said, “Put simply, at that time, some people worshipped the evil spirits, and they might have formed their own organized, tight-knit group.”
Mu Dai asked: “What was their purpose?”
Luo Ren answered: “Seven stars remaining bright.”
“Seven stars remaining bright” was just a symbolic statement. As for what kind of situation it represented, he hadn’t figured out yet.
Luo Ren took out his dagger, gesturing for Mu Dai to illuminate for him, roughly sketching a map of the country on the ground.
He said: “At first, I hadn’t thought of it, but just now, I suddenly recalled Shen Gun saying that on the Eight Trigrams Star-Observing Platform, there were initially seven stars, then four dimmed, leaving three exceptionally bright.”
With the tip of his knife, he marked an X in the lower left corner of the map, near Beihai in Guangxi. Mu Dai continued: “Wuzhu Village.”
Luo Ren added: “By the sea.”
With his prompt, a sudden realization flashed in Mu Dai’s mind: “You mean…”
Luo Ren nodded with a smile, moving the knife tip upward, marking another X near the Guizhou-Guangxi border: “Sizhai, atop mountains.”
Mu Dai exhaled. Luo Ren glanced at her, sliding the knife tip toward the northwest. This time, he didn’t speak, waiting for her to say it.
This place was all too familiar to Mu Dai.
“Xiaoshang River… the barren yellow earth?”
Xiaoshang River was located in the Gobi Desert, where sandstorms would fill the sky with yellow sand during gales. In the eyes of ancient people, wasn’t this thoroughly the barren yellow earth?
She was somewhat stunned: “So, we aren’t…”
Luo Ren nodded.
Laozi told Yin Xi that no one could open the evil slips. This statement was inaccurate. According to the information obtained here, several hundred years after Laozi’s death, the evil slips had been opened. Not only were they distributed across far-flung regions, but these locations also significantly overlapped with the places they had visited.
If the seven evil bamboo slips truly corresponded to the seven stars of the Big Dipper, then it made perfect sense that the ancient followers of the evil slips would call them “Star Lords,” and “Star Lords falling” meant the slips were reclaimed.
So, the so-called “Phoenix Squad” wasn’t the first group to deal with the evil slips. In ancient times, the Mohist School, under the Juzi’s command, did similar work.
The only difference was that the predecessors dealt not only with the evil slips but also with those who followed them.
Luo Ren looked up again at the so-called dome where molten bronze had been poured. In Cao Village, there was no record of this ancient relic on the surface. Based on the geographical location outside, above this dome should still be a mountain.
The most likely possibility was that in the long years after this dome was formed, the surrounding mountain continually collapsed with mudslides, forcibly creating another mountain above the dome.
If the character on the evil slip here was “earth,” then the Juzi’s men back then could be said to have exacted eye-for-eye, root-and-branch vengeance. Luo Ren even felt that perhaps it was precisely this “sudden change, Juzi’s command to kill” approach that caused the organization of slip worshippers to collapse completely and gradually die out.
However, things might not be so optimistic.
The tunnel had been excavated; someone had escaped.
Luo Ren suddenly had a bold hypothesis.
He looked at Mu Dai, his voice lowering considerably: “According to population distribution in early Qin and Han dynasties, such mountain villages would hardly have any human presence.”
Although Mu Dai hadn’t figured it out completely, she knew his meaning was unfinished: “So?”
So, after that person escaped, did he perhaps not go far at all? His comrades perished here—would he have waited for things to settle down, built a dwelling, and established a community right here? Tracing back to its origins, could today’s Cao Village have possibly begun… with him?
Today was the first day of the wedding ceremony. Qing Shan pushed open the door and came out. His first action was to look up at the sky.
Fine drizzle, endless.
Finding it inauspicious, he frowned and spat: “Rain again!”
In the front courtyard, many villagers who had come to help corrected him: “Rain is also auspicious, it’s raining wealth and blessings!”
Chinese people always have this innate self-deception, holding many taboos, yet when these taboos actually manifest, they often rationalize them. For instance, breaking a rice bowl during the New Year is unlucky, but if it happens, it’s called “peace year after year.”
Qing Shan scratched his head, chuckling dryly. Looking up, he saw Seventh Auntie coming over, shaking her towel and patting the mud spots on her pants.
Qing Shan’s parents had fallen ill and passed away some years ago, so for major events like marriage, he relied on the older villagers. Seventh Auntie had naturally assumed the role of his mother.
She hurriedly instructed him: “I consulted with Blind Second to calculate the auspicious date, which is today. The auspicious time cannot be later than noon. Half an hour earlier, everyone in the village must be at the threshing ground. The bride’s family will sit at one table…”
Saying this, she couldn’t help but complain: “I know she’s an orphan, but how come not even a single relative came? In total, only two girlfriends arrived last night, and they said they had trouble getting time off work, so they have to leave right after the wedding banquet today—we’re hosting banquets for three days!”
Qing Shan smiled apologetically: “Ya Feng has had a hard life…”
“Tsk, tsk, tsk, it’s a joyous occasion, don’t talk about hardship,” Seventh Auntie was characteristically decisive. “I’ve already arranged it. Those from other villages and those who’ve returned from working outside will all sit at the bride’s family table. Jin Hua will be responsible for that table.”
Qing Shan breathed a sigh of relief, then suddenly thought of something else: “What about requesting the ancestral tablet…”
Requesting the ancestral tablet was a village custom. The tablet was kept by the oldest person in the village. If they passed away, the next oldest would take over. Whenever there was a wedding, the youngest child in the village would go to the elder’s home early in the morning to request the tablet. After obtaining it, adults would lead the child, carrying the red cloth-covered tablet, around the village once. Passing each household door, they would say auspicious phrases like “harmony for a hundred years” or “may you soon have a noble son.”
During the wedding ceremony, besides bowing to heaven, earth, parents, and each other, the couple would also bow to the ancestral tablet.
What exactly the ancestral tablet was, no one could explain in detail. They only knew that without this tablet, there would be no village.
Seventh Auntie reassured him: “Everything has been arranged. When the gong sounds, that’s when the village procession begins. Have you prepared the red envelopes? The little boy making this round should be given a reward.”
…
Just past ten o’clock, the first sound of the brass gong rang out. The gong mallet, wrapped in red cloth, struck directly at the center of the gong, powerful yet steady. With a boom, the gong sound lingered, heard clearly throughout the village, far and near.
Yan Hongsha, who had just entered the village, heard it too. Not only did she hear it, but it unexpectedly almost made her stumble.
But she quickly steadied herself, clutched her briefcase tighter, adjusted the black-framed glasses on her nose, tugged at her slightly loose black suit, and flexed her ankles, uncomfortable from walking in wedge heels.
All these items were props hastily purchased in town last night.
Taking a deep breath, she demanded of herself to remain calm and composed.
After all, she was now… an insurance professional.