Chapter Eighty-Two: The Enigma (1)

Zha Wenbin said to me, “It’s the room where we examined Zhou Bocai. Your great-uncle on your mother’s side used to live there back in the day.”

“How do you know that?”

“He told me last night.” Zha Wenbin popped a bun into his mouth, then suddenly asked, “Didn’t he come to see you last night?”

I suddenly remembered—the man waving at me while riding a donkey last night—could it have been…? I choked on a mouthful of steamed bread, almost unable to catch my breath, and hurriedly waved my hand, “No…”

After breakfast, we set out once again for Scholar’s Village. That day happened to be the funeral of the old matriarch, the Zhou family patriarch. We were outsiders, but since it was the Spring Festival, there were plenty of visitors, so no one paid us much attention. I heard they disposed of Zhou Bocai’s body that same day, and nothing untoward happened.

We visited the same neighbor as before. I bought two bottles of liquor, a carton of cigarettes, and a packet of candy—it was the least I could do for the New Year. The man was very hospitable, insisting we stay for lunch. His wife, seeing we didn’t come empty-handed, softened her attitude and even slaughtered an old hen for our meal.

After a few rounds of drinks, the conversation began to flow. Fatty handled the talking while Zha Wenbin and I just listened.

“Brother, you’ve lived here most of your life. Let me ask you something—when they first opened the mine across the way, did a lot of people come here?”

“They did. The army came. The country needed energy back then, so it was the military doing the mining. More than thirty people lived in our compound, all lined up in communal beds. It was livelier than it is now.”

“Then you must know this person I’m going to ask about—your next-door neighbor, the one who died, Zhou Bocai’s father-in-law. Are you familiar with him?”

The man set down his chopsticks and said, “You mean Old Ga? Of course I knew him.”

My heart leapt. My great-uncle was called Old Ga, but not many people knew that nickname. Clearly, this man could be trusted.

He continued, “Old Ga’s son-in-law got betrothed during the early days of the mine. Zhou Bocai was a smooth talker, and I’ll admit, Old Ga’s daughter was a real beauty back then. Zhou Bocai’s father took a liking to her at first sight and was always inviting Old Ga over. Who’d have thought that both son-in-law and father-in-law would end up dead, one after the other. Why are you asking about him?”

“Old Ga was my great-uncle,” I explained. “He’s been coming to me in dreams these past few days, saying he had a good friend here and asking me to visit. He said the friend’s name was Zhou Youfa, which must be you.”

“Really?” The man’s thin mustache twitched upward.

“Absolutely. Why else would I come again today? He said you treated him well back then.” In truth, I’d already spotted his name on the villagers’ roster posted at the village entrance, but my little white lie worked—he believed me.

Zhou Youfa was clearly delighted. He poured himself another drink, took a sip, and said, “Old Ga really had a good heart. I didn’t save him back then for nothing.”

Fatty took up the thread, “You saved him?”

“Of course. Back in those days…”

Once he got started, Zhou Youfa couldn’t stop, regaling us with “back in the day” tales until dusk. The story, though, was truly fascinating.

In the 1940s, my great-uncle had been conscripted by the Nationalists and taken to Tongchuan, Shaanxi, to mine coal for Yan Xishan’s army. After liberation, he drifted back to northwestern Zhejiang to become a farmer.

In the late 1960s, coal was discovered in southern Anhui, and experienced miners were in high demand. My great-uncle naturally became part of the southern Anhui coal mine, the very one across from Scholar’s Village.

Though he was already getting on in years, his experience meant he was entrusted with a key role: mine safety inspector. He was responsible for checking the mine three times a day—morning, noon, and night—living and eating on-site all year round.

Zhou Youfa was younger than my great-uncle, Old Ga, but he was a local. When the mine first opened, there wasn’t enough labor, so workers were recruited from neighboring villages. Coal mining is hard work, and while Zhou Youfa was a silver-tongued fellow, he wasn’t particularly strong. Still, he was diligent and personable, and managed to land a job as a safety inspector’s assistant, working under Old Ga.

Old Ga was the foreman; Zhou Youfa was a team member. There were five in their safety inspection team.

It wasn’t the locals who discovered the coal mine; one day, several truckloads of soldiers suddenly arrived and began digging. A few leaders lodged at the village office. The discovery of a mine was a major event—everyone in the township got involved. The first batch of coal was dug out in less than a month, reported as top quality, but in the following three months, not even a trace of coal turned up.

Another three months passed, and only stones came up—nothing else. Eventually, the army began to withdraw. But they left behind equipment and supplies, all state property. The safety inspection team was kept on, in case mining resumed.

Old Ga was meticulous—though the army left, he kept up his inspections. One day, it was his and Zhou Youfa’s turn to check the mine. They took their lamps and descended. The shaft sloped gently, with rails laid along the narrow, meter-and-a-half-wide tunnel; you had to walk hunched over, flanked by piles of black coal dust, going more than a hundred meters deep.

Halfway in, Old Ga’s lamp broke. Zhou Youfa suggested going back for a new bulb, but Old Ga insisted they press on. Sharing a lamp, they reached the end of the mine, which was blocked by planks to prevent coal theft. Old Ga went to inspect the barricade. Unfortunately, a collapse occurred. The floorboards, long rotten from the moist, river-adjacent ground, gave way with a creak. Zhou Youfa heard Old Ga cry out and vanish. Shining the lamp down, he saw a vertical shaft below, with water rushing inside.

“Help… help!”

Hearing Old Ga’s cry, Zhou Youfa didn’t run. He frantically found a length of rope in the tunnel, tied it around his waist, and lowered himself down. He found Old Ga had been swept by the current a dozen meters away and was clinging to a large stone tablet.

That’s how Zhou Youfa rescued Old Ga, though he was left with a limp.

It was a clear case of a work injury, so they filed a report. A few days later, officials came to take Old Ga away. The next day, they returned to announce the mine would be permanently sealed, and the inspection team was disbanded.

Old Ga? He spent half a month in the hospital before being sent home—this was only three years ago.

“I heard his son and son-in-law went to demand compensation, but I don’t know if they got anything.”

I shook my head. With almost all the people involved gone, there was no way to confirm, but knowing their temperaments, I guessed they must have tried.

Zhou Youfa sighed, “Old Ga was a hard-luck man.”

I asked, “So how did the mine reopen later on?”

“No idea. Sometime later, another group arrived, claiming to have found new coal reserves. This time, though, none of our villagers were hired. All strangers. They’ve been working flat out for more than two years now.”

We stood to leave. “Well, it’s late, brother. You should get some rest. We’ll be on our way.”

“It’s so late—there aren’t any vehicles out here. Why not stay the night?”

“No trouble, the three of us can walk; the town’s not far, and there’s a guesthouse. We won’t impose.”

Once we left the courtyard, we didn’t go far. Zha Wenbin suggested staying in the abandoned dormitory, but Fatty flatly refused—clearly still shaken by the incident the other night. We had no choice but to walk the ten or so miles of mountain road to town.

As we walked, Zha Wenbin suddenly asked, “Xiao Yi, what do you make of all this?”

I replied, “There’s more to it than meets the eye.”

Zha Wenbin agreed, “A case within a case.”

Fatty grew impatient. “Can you two stop acting like spies exchanging code words? Can we speak like normal revolutionaries for once?”

I said to Fatty, “Don’t you think there’s something odd?”

“What’s odd?” Zha Wenbin countered.

“When Zhou Youcai was talking this afternoon, did you catch a small detail? He said when Old Ga fell, he was clinging to a stone tablet! Fatty, what is it you do for a living?”

“I’m a junk dealer! Wasn’t I the king of scrap when we worked together?”

“I meant before that.”

Fatty looked puzzled. “Still a junk dealer.”

I reminded him, “I mean the other kind of junk—the stuff underground!”

Fatty slapped his thigh. “Right! Damn, how did I miss that? It’s clear now—Old Ga must have seen something down there, word got out, and that’s why the supposedly abandoned mine was reopened…”

“Exactly. And I noticed something else. The road we’ve taken these past days is so narrow, with wild grass covering the old roadbed—clearly no heavy vehicles have passed through in years. Yet the coal mine claims to be in operation. So where are their shipments going?”

Zha Wenbin mused, “A high-ranking official moved here—already suspicious. We might be onto something big.”

“Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go check it out!”

There was a wide river, more than fifty meters across, separating the mine from Scholar’s Village, with no bridge. On the bank, a nearly derelict little boat was tied to a rock.

“It’s plain they don’t want people crossing. A mine that size and no connection with this side—definitely suspicious!”

“So, General Fatty, what’s our next move?”

“No need to ask—let’s march over and see for ourselves!” With that, Fatty prepared to untie the boat.

Just then, Zha Wenbin pressed our heads down, whispering, “Shh, there’s something moving on the other side…”

Note from the author: Went out for a bit after the afternoon livestream and came back late, so only one update today.