After leaving the Three Rivers Source, Ding Yudie encountered some issues on the road and missed his flight back to Taiyuan. Not wanting to stay another night, he decided to drive back in the darkness, asking the driver to make the extra effort.
By midnight, he was starving and couldn’t wait for the next service area. He instructed the driver to take the nearest exit into a small county town to find food.
Unexpectedly, the small town wasn’t big on late-night dining. The car wound through empty streets – there were plenty of lit signs, but places that were actually open could be counted on one hand.
They finally found a knockoff 24-hour convenience store. The driver bought cigarettes and squatted in the empty street, puffing away. Ding Yudie bought instant noodles, added hot water, and sat dejectedly at the store’s ready-meal counter to wait. Halfway through, he glanced up at his reflection in the street-facing window-
Though he couldn’t see clearly, he felt in his heart that he looked weathered. The little butterfly in his hair, which had been flattened by Ding Panling’s jar, couldn’t be restored to its original state. He had a jewelry designer make a new one based on the original design, and while the result was decent enough, it just didn’t feel the same. Something seemed missing.
He stubbornly felt that what was missing was his free-spirited soul.
How could he not be weathered?
Honestly, when he first heard that Ding Panling had chosen him as his successor, Ding Yudie had felt secretly pleased: cream always rises to the top, and given how brilliant and excellent he usually was, he was naturally the undisputed choice.
Only after taking over did he realize what being dumbfounded meant. The three families’ business was vast, both open and hidden, and there was never a moment’s peace. Most matters didn’t interest him – only now did he understand how blessed he had been to be a carefree butterfly who got paid without managing anything.
He felt like a duck forced onto the chopping block; he wasn’t cut out for strategic planning.
He wanted to hand over the position, like passing on a hot potato, but couldn’t find anyone to pass it to: – Jiang Taiyue or Ding Haijin? Forget it, they were both in their eighties.
– Yi Yunqiao? No good either, Aunt Yunqiao was nearly sixty, and she had explicitly stated that while she would help with tasks, she wouldn’t take the lead.
– Yi Sa? Even more impossible – to put it bluntly, she was a “terminal” case…
Randomly handing it over wouldn’t sit right with his conscience. After much consideration, he had to do it himself; there was no alternative. He figured his only hope was to play the “nurturing” game – spend twenty years cultivating a worthy successor, then hand over the burden before he could return to his previous carefree life.
Twenty years – why was life so heavy?
Ding Yudie sighed and lifted the instant noodle lid: they seemed a bit overcooked, the noodles swollen like flower petals.
Just as he was about to lift a forkful to his mouth, the phone rang.
It was Yi Yunqiao.
Ding Yudie pressed the answer button, first hearing wind and waves on the other end: “Aunt Yunqiao, just finished diving?”
Just as he frequently visited the Three Rivers Source, Yi Yunqiao was responsible for the Old Master Temple area. As part of her duties, she dove at least once a week, knowing the lake bottom like the back of her hand – where the holes were, where the sand was soft – she could explain it all in detail.
Yi Yunqiao made an affirmative sound, but she hadn’t called to discuss diving. She got straight to the point: “Have you heard about Big Master?”
Big Master? Ding Yudie’s spine stiffened, afraid bad news was coming. His voice trembled: “Big Master… what happened?”
Yi Sa was a fake, Ding Panling was “gone,” and the water ghosts had dwindled to less than a handful – they couldn’t handle any more changes…
From his tone, she knew he had misunderstood. Yi Yunqiao clicked her tongue: “He’s still strong… You know he took the black notebook, right? He reads it every day.”
Ding Yudie stole a moment to slurp some noodles: “Yes, we all know that.”
“We thought he was just reading it, but these past few days he’s gotten more intense. He even personally went to the kiln factory – with his heart bypass and all, climbing up and down the passages. His escorts were green with worry.”
Ding Yudie swallowed hard, feeling like his own little heart had a shaky bridge on it too.
“That’s not all. You know the kiln factory had detained about twenty people back then? They say Big Master arranged for people to call each family of those involved to ask questions – Big Master didn’t think it through. After twenty-plus years, without any context or pretext, just calling out of the blue – how could it not raise suspicions?”
Moreover, most of those affected were Yi family members. If the Yi family wanted to investigate, they naturally had to go through Yi Yunqiao. These past few days, her phone had been ringing off the hook.
Ding Yudie’s heart stirred: “Did Big Master discover something?”
Yi Yunqiao had the same thought: “He also sent me a message asking me to send him my wedding guest book from back then, but the old man is stubborn – he won’t say what it’s for.”
“Little Butterfly, since you’re back from the Three Rivers Source, and you’re a Ding, plus you’re the water ghost he trained, why don’t you go ask…”
She complained: “If there’s any discovery, share it with everyone. Why keep it hidden – trying to make a dramatic breakthrough and claim all the credit? In his seventies or eighties, and still so petty.”
Because of Yi Yunqiao’s words, Ding Yudie didn’t return to Taiyuan but headed straight for northern Shaanxi instead.
Ding Haijin lived in the countryside of northern Shaanxi.
In his old age, he was nostalgic and didn’t like living in the city or his hometown – his hometown had developed over the years and wasn’t like he remembered from his youth.
This “countryside” he had found by chance was truly poor, without even proper roads. People lived in cave dwellings, shepherds frequently herded sheep along the ridge, and donkeys wore bells that jingled as they walked.
Ding Haijin fell in love with it immediately, saying it was exactly like his childhood memories, and insisted on living there.
Well, let him live there – the three families had money anyway. They spent big money letting him live a poor life on the mountain, while setting up properties below, where people lived to serve him, including two medical professionals.
Upon arrival, Ding Yudie first prepared at the foot of the mountain, then walked up, yielding to donkeys several times along the way. Halfway up the mountain, he saw from afar an old man wearing a white lamb’s stomach headscarf, squatting by the roadside smoking a pipe.
Ding Yudie approached and respectfully called out: “Big Master.”
Ding Haijin was surprised: “What are you doing here?”
Among families, there was no need for beating around the bush. Ding Yudie got straight to the point: “Big Master, you took the black notebook, went to the kiln factory, called all the affected Yi family households one by one, and asked for Aunt Yunqiao’s wedding guest book from back then. Did you…”
Before he could finish, Ding Haijin’s face turned fierce: “It was Yi Yunqiao who sent you to ask, wasn’t it? I said I was just looking, but she wouldn’t believe it, so she sent you, you little monkey!”
Ding Yudie smiled accommodatingly but didn’t move, his expression stubborn.
He understood the older generation like Ding Haijin – they took pride in their status and never announced anything externally unless they were absolutely certain. Even when asked, they would claim they “found nothing” or were “just looking.”
If he truly hadn’t discovered anything, why make such a fuss going to the kiln factory and making phone calls?
Actually, Ding Haijin hadn’t made any major discoveries, or at least, he felt his discovery wasn’t particularly helpful to the current situation.
He had planned to be as stubborn as an old donkey and never give in, but as he maintained his stubbornness, his heart suddenly softened.
This young Ding Yudie, who used to be so carefree and vibrant, had changed so much over the past year. The burden wasn’t just on his shoulders but showed on his face too.
He brushed off the dust as he stood up, slung his pipe behind his back, and said: “Let’s talk inside.”
Ding Yudie followed Ding Haijin into the cave dwelling.
The cave-dwelling was also like an antique – the upper half had wooden lattices covered with worn paper, and a dirty blue and white checkered curtain hung at the door.
Just inside was a large kang bed-stove, with a pile of books on the kang table – the black notebook, Yi Yunqiao’s wedding guest book, and a magnifying glass nearby – which Ding Haijin used to help read due to his poor eyesight.
Sitting cross-legged on the kang, Ding Haijin first made small talk: “How many uncompleted items are left in the Golden Soup register?”
Just mentioning this deflated Ding Yudie: “Nine items, of which at least three have clients whose descendants are still alive and can produce proof. Which means when the time comes and we can’t produce the Golden Soup, we’ll have to pay compensation.”
“Are you sure none of the ancestral tablets can be used?”
“They’re useless now. The Jiang ancestral tablet was taken to the bottom of Poyang Lake by Jiang Jun, which means all the Golden Soup along the Yangtze River line is void. Last year during the Yi family’s ‘12.3’ Golden Soup opening, Aunt Yunqiao used the Yi ancestral tablet in the Hengduan Mountains canyon area, but there was no response after entering the water.”
Ding Haijin took a few puffs from his pipe and said: “A debt can’t be denied, it must be paid. You took over at a bad time, child, the burden on your shoulders is heavy. Fortunately, the three families have acquired plenty of properties over the years. Think of ways to open more channels, increase income – when the time comes, you might be able to pay it all back.”
Ding Yudie felt a surge of bitterness: he had to help the three families earn money to repay debts – why was life so difficult?
Just as he was feeling dejected, Ding Haijin pointed to the black notebook: “You haven’t looked at this notebook since then, have you?”
Indeed they hadn’t – after finding the drifting cave, who would still fixate on a notebook?
Ding Haijin didn’t speak about the black notebook first. Instead, he pulled out the guest book and opened it, holding a magnifying glass in one hand, moving it across the pages: “Jiang Popo has told me everything about this matter. At first, I just took these things to flip through and pass the time, but later I discovered something.”
Getting to the main point now, Ding Yudie unconsciously swallowed and sat up straight.
“You might have noticed this too but didn’t investigate deeply, or perhaps your attention was all focused on the drifting cave… Look at this.”
He forgot Ding Yudie didn’t need a magnifying glass and handed it to him directly: “Here, this.”
Ding Yudie looked through the magnifying glass.
Below was a large handprint, with a small line of text beside it: Yi Baoquan, wedding gift money eight hundred.
What did this mean? Ding Yudie was completely confused.
Ding Haijin explained: “I asked Yi Yunqiao about it. She said Yi Baoquan was illiterate. When he attended her wedding and gave the gift money, he couldn’t sign his name, so someone else had to write it for him, and he just left a handprint.”
Then he opened the black notebook: “Now look at this.”
Those were the delirious words spoken by the imprisoned people that Ding Changsheng had collected and recorded. Among them, Yi Baoquan’s were the most intriguing, especially those four lines of poetry:
– Yellow River bank’s hundred-zhang drum,
– Hanging water lake bottom’s cycle bell,
– Golden Soup water connects future path,
– A thousand boats await at the crossing.
So what did it mean? Ding Yudie was still confused.
Ding Haijin spread the notebook open to that page: “I made a special trip to the kiln factory to see the boat-made-of-corpses picture Yi Baoquan drew on the wall and the characters he wrote… Even someone as meticulous as Panling missed this point. Ding Yudie, haven’t you noticed that the person who wrote the poem and the characters, and Yi Baoquan, were two different people? Yi Baoquan was illiterate, and couldn’t write or draw, so how could he suddenly write such good characters, draw such realistic pictures, and compose such well-structured poems?”
Ding Yudie quickly explained: “No, I heard Sasa say that at first, she thought it was people from the previous civilization ‘possessing corpses’, those people came with their memories, so the person writing, drawing, and composing poetry wasn’t Yi Baoquan. Later this hypothesis was overturned when we discovered there wasn’t any previous civilization, and everyone was busy finding the drifting cave and fighting the ancestral tablets, so we didn’t dwell on this matter anymore.”
Ding Haijin made an acknowledging sound: “Then what? Did you figure out what the ancestral tablets were?”
Ding Yudie shook his head with difficulty: Yi Sa and the others had seen the ancestral tablets with their own eyes and had close contact with them, touched them, stabbed them with knives, burned them with fire, fought all night, but still didn’t know what they were.
Ding Haijin pointed at the black notebook with his finger: “When you can’t figure something out, you should return to the starting point. The big hypothesis was overturned, but some details still have value and shouldn’t be discarded together – I had people call the Yi family members’ relatives to carefully inquire about those people’s personality traits and behavioral characteristics, then compared them with the records in this notebook. I found that not just Yi Baoquan, but many others didn’t match up.”
He lowered his voice: “These people completely became different people, or rather, it was as if there was another person inside their bodies.”
Ding Yudie listened with partial understanding: “Great Uncle, what are you trying to say? Just say it directly.”
Ding Haijin stroked his chest as if to soothe that fragile heart: “I know you young people love to talk about science. But when I was born, families were used to consulting fortune-tellers and worshipping spirits for problems. So, I’ll explain it my way, and you can interpret it however you want.”
“Have you ever thought about where souls go after death? Could there be something that could capture souls? Something that could capture many, many people’s souls together?”
Ding Yudie’s heart pounded: Was Ding Haijin suggesting that the ancestral tablets were objects that could collect souls? No, that was superstitious thinking. He had recently read a series of novels where a mystic explained souls as brain waves, so the ancestral tablets would be… substances that could preserve brain waves, and preserve many people’s brain waves.
Ding Haijin spoke slowly: “I grew up in the north, and as a child, I heard many stories about Taisui. Some have been excavated in various places, but I always felt that what’s being dug up now isn’t the same as what’s described in legends and unofficial histories.”
“The legendary Taisui was an elixir of immortality, making people into immortals and giving them eternal life. Many people exhausted themselves trying to obtain it. In ancient times, only officials and nobles could enjoy it; common people had no such fortune.”
“When Jiang Taiyue mentioned the Taisui in the drifting cave to me, I felt that giant Taisui better matched the legendary elixir description – what if its ability to make people immortal and grant eternal life was true, just misunderstood by everyone?”
Ding Yudie was completely following Ding Haijin’s lead now: “How was it misunderstood?”
“All along, everyone thought becoming immortal and gaining eternal life meant flying up to heaven, where there was a crystal palace, where everyone ate immortal peaches and drank immortal wine, enjoying every pleasure – an elevation of earthly riches. But perhaps the eternal life given by Taisui was actually…”
He raised his hand and pointed to his head: “Perhaps it was keeping this part of you preserved forever, keeping it alive forever?”
Ding Yudie listened with cold hands and feet, dumbfounded.
It seemed to make sense. What did eternal life mean? If the physical body could survive long-term, that certainly counts, but if you set aside the physical body, wouldn’t continuously preserving consciousness also count?
Then what Uncle Panling had sacrificed his life to fight against and control weren’t just ancestral tablets, but individual people.
Ding Yudie muttered softly: “Sasa later told me that the ancestral tablets and Taisui were two different organisms…”
Maybe they were different, but they weren’t completely separate, sharing some subtle connection.
Those people who desperately sought and consumed Taisui for immortality – did they eat the Taisui, or were they “eaten” by it? After their physical bodies ended, could their consciousness have been captured, permanently residing within the ancestral tablets?
What difference was there between living eternally in that drifting cave and being in prison? What difference was there between reaching a dead end – an endless dead end?
This so-called eternal life was worse than having a physical body and enjoying earthly pleasures. Was this why they desperately collected and preserved fresh corpses, hoping to “cross over through dead bodies”?
His gaze fell on the next line of Yi Baoquan’s words:
– They’ve reached a dead end, no path ahead, wanting to turn back.
They wanted to turn back, to be reborn as humans, to break free from the ancestral tablets’ constraints, using Taisui’s reproduction to continue their cycle of reincarnation.
Ding Yudie stared blankly at Ding Haijin: “Big Master if you’ve thought this far, why didn’t you tell us?”
Ding Haijin chuckled.
“What use would it be even if I thought of it? It’s just speculation, I can’t say it’s right. Besides, there’s no news from the drifting cave, no trace of Panling, and the three families’ ancestral tablets are paralyzed, cutting off contact with that side. Even if we understood all the connections, we wouldn’t know how future events would develop.”
– Did they succeed?
– Unknown, the story isn’t over yet.