The call came at a bad time. None of the six directors of the Bureau were home; it was Po Jun who picked up the phone. I explained everything to him, hoping he could track down Director Hao Wenming and report it.
I didn't delay returning to Grandpa's house. We gathered up all the gold ingots found by the others on the riverbed. After deducting the portion allocated to the village and the clan, the rest was distributed to each family that had sent someone to help search for gold (Sun Fatty's guess was spot on). Nearly every household received nine gold and twenty silver ingots — twenty-nine ingots in total.
As soon as the villagers got their share, they scattered. Grandpa kept reminding everyone over and over not to flaunt their wealth — never let anyone outside the village see it.
Since arriving at Grandpa's house, Monk Xiao had been frowning the whole time, deep in thought with his head down. He didn't even show interest in the half-sack of gold ingots he picked up himself — it was Third Uncle who ended up bringing it out for him.
"Old Xiao, don't overthink it. Once the dam machinery is fixed and we release the water to flood that big pit, all of this will be behind us. You're still the chairman of Lingyun Temple Film & Entertainment Co. Now that you've got some gold, go make a few TV series. Let's hire big stars — whoever's famous, we'll hire them. The ones without fame, even if they crawl into your bed, they're useless..." Grandpa, his friend of decades, knew exactly what this old rascal liked and tried hard to comfort him.
But to our surprise, Monk Xiao just kept sighing. In the past, just a topic like this would've gotten him talking endlessly. Now, it didn't attract him at all.
Grandpa was about to say something more when the front gate of the courtyard suddenly burst open. The militia squad leader from our village rushed in. "Grandpa!" (All the young men with the surname Shen in our village call him Grandpa.) "Something terrible's happened! Our men lost control — someone entered the big pit!"
As luck would have it, the troublemaker turned out to be one of the people who had just received their share of gold ingots. Technically speaking, he was my third cousin once removed — not too distant, my dad's cousin within the fifth degree of kinship.
On his way home, he ran into his brother-in-law from the neighboring village who had come over to drink. But there wasn't even a need for alcohol — my third cousin was already drunk from the moment he got his gold share.
When he saw his brother-in-law, he hadn't even taken a sip of wine, but he was already spouting drunken nonsense. Right at the table, he poured out all his "earnings" for the day. "Your brother-in-law's rich now!"
A table full of gold and silver ingots — his brother-in-law was instantly dumbfounded. He kept pressing for details. My third cousin's wife joined in too, and with both of them coaxing, he didn't hold back at all. He told them everything about finding the ingots on the riverbed and even added his own version at the end: "Don't be fooled into thinking all the gold is gone. There's a massive pit in the river — full of gold ingots. I saw it with my own eyes. Too many to count."
Upon hearing this, his brother-in-law didn't bother drinking anymore. He threw on his clothes and went straight back to his village downstream. There, he gathered seven or eight young men he was close with, armed them, and headed straight for the riverbank. Their village was downstream, so they followed the river upstream and soon found the pit. From afar, they spotted two militiamen standing guard.
The seven or eight young men didn't hesitate. They charged straight toward the pit. The guards did try to stop them, but they were just village militia — each only had a wooden stick in hand. Facing a group of aggressive young men, they were quickly knocked to the ground.
The two guards tried to warn them: "Don't go down — there's a monster in that pit." But at that point, no one was listening anymore.
The group tied ropes and one daring guy slid down first with a flashlight. Not long after, they heard him shout, "It's full of gold down here! Come down! Everyone, come down and take some!"
That one line was all it took. The others followed one after another, sliding down the rope. But none of them came back up.
Realizing something was wrong, the two guards struggled to their feet and supported each other as they rushed to report to the village head and Grandpa.
Exactly what we feared had happened. Grandpa clutched his head and shouted at my dad, "Tell the people at the dam not to release the water — even if the machines are fixed!" Then he threw on his coat and ran out the door. Just as he reached the entrance, he remembered Monk Xiao and turned back to ask, "Old Xiao, aren't you going to take a look?"
To our surprise, at that very moment, Old Daoist Xiao suddenly calmed down. The fear and anxiety that had just been on his face vanished without a trace.
"You go ahead. I'm heading back to the temple to get a few things. Lazi and Director Sun, come with me and give me a hand."
Grandpa didn't have time to argue with him. "Then be quick," he said, turning and running toward the riverbank.
Watching Grandpa disappear into the distance, the sloppy old monk finally stood up and said, "Come on, let's go grab a few things."
"Grab a few things? Old Daoist, you're not planning to bail on us, are you?" Sun Fatty said with a fake grin.
But the old monk wasn't offended. He just looked at the two of us, slowly and deliberately. Then, out of nowhere, he asked, "Who's in charge over there now? Gao Liang or Xiao Sanda?"
His words caught us both off guard. Sun Fatty blinked and asked, "Xiao Sanda? Who's that?"
Old Daoist Xiao gave Sun Fatty a glance, and a faint light faded in his eyes. "You don't know Xiao Sanda? Then I guess Gao Liang's the one running things now. Right, it's probably not called the 'Special Case Handling Office' anymore, is it? Back then, Gao Liang was the one advocating for a name change."
As he said this, the old monk gave a vague smile, as if he was reminiscing about the old days.
I had known this unkempt old Daoist since I was a child—almost became his disciple, in fact. He was the one who taught me to wash my head with black dog's blood to conceal the Heavenly Eye. I'd always thought he was just a greedy, lecherous old eccentric. Never would I have guessed he had such deep ties to the Bureau of Paranormal Investigation.
I said, "It's now called the Folk Customs Investigation and Research Bureau. Both I and Dasheng are in Division One."
"Heh." The old monk chuckled lightly. "I figured you two weren't really directors or chiefs or anything. Same old tricks from the Special Office days—looks like Gao Liang hasn't come up with anything new."
But he made no move to leave. I saw that Grandpa had already reached the riverbed and couldn't stay still any longer.
"Whatever Gao Liang's plans are, ask him yourself next time. But can you at least tell us now—what did you see in that pit?"
Finally, the old monk snapped out of his nostalgic daze. He looked at me and smiled again.
"You'll see soon enough what's in that pit. Alright, enough talk—come with me to grab some gear."
With that, he turned and left Grandpa's yard without another word.
Sun Fatty and I exchanged a glance. These guys from the Bureau were all the same—say what they want, then just take off, never caring if you follow or not. We had no choice but to tag along behind him.
Sun Fatty asked, "Lazi, that scruffy old Daoist turns out to be something else. What's that 'Special Case Handling Office' he mentioned? And who's Xiao Sanda? Ever heard of him?"
Back when Hao Wenming told us about the Bureau's history, Sun Fatty wasn't interested and never paid much attention. But I'd always been curious about the Bureau's origins.
"The 'Special Case Handling Office' was probably the Bureau's predecessor. It wasn't renamed until the 1980s. As for that Xiao Sanda guy—never heard of him. Might've been one of the old-timers from that earlier office."
The Lingyun Temple Film & Entertainment Co., Ltd., run by the old monk, was on the edge of the village. I'd been there a few times as a kid. From the looks of it now, not much had changed apart from a new sign out front.
Old Monk Xiao led us straight into the main hall. He rummaged beneath the statue of the Celestial Worthy of Primordial Beginning and pulled out a large leather trunk. He didn't hide anything from us and opened the box right in front of us.
The contents were all too familiar to Sun Fatty and me: various old-style ID badges, several thousand jin worth of national grain coupons (no cash—probably long spent), a pitch-black dagger, and several oilcloth bundles. These bundles contained gun parts, bullets, and a few bundles of talismans.
Old Daoist Xiao expertly assembled a pistol and tucked it into the back of his waistband. I could clearly see it was a military-issue Type 54 pistol, engraved with the same kind of symbols as the one I carried.
Finally, he pocketed whatever usable items were left in the trunk. Then he suddenly turned to me and said, "If you had taken me as your master back then, all this would've been yours."
Sun Fatty elbowed me while ogling the grain coupons. "Lazi, you really lost out big time. Think how many pairs of gloves you could've traded these for…"
By the time we returned to the riverbank, a crowd had already gathered around the pit. Not just folks from our village, Xiaoqinghe, but even people from the downstream villages had shown up. In no time, word had spread that there were gold ingots buried in the pit, so Xiaoqinghe's people had posted militia guards to prevent outsiders from snatching them.
Of course, the other villages weren't having it. They sent their own crews, and by the time Grandpa arrived, hundreds of people had surrounded the pit in layers. Things were getting out of hand—several village heads were already pushing and shoving each other. Villagers from the outer ring had even armed themselves with tools—shovels, pickaxes, sleds—it was on the verge of turning into a full-blown brawl.
Grandpa tried yelling, warning, even pleading, until his face turned red, but aside from our own villagers, no one was listening. Normally, Grandpa's word would be law in a situation like this. But now that gold was supposedly involved, even if the Jade Emperor himself showed up, he might not be able to stop it.
At that moment—BANG! A gunshot rang out, startling the entire crowd.
Chief Xiong had arrived with a few officers and militia members from the police station. Things had already gotten physical on the outer edges, and Xiong Ba's men couldn't hold them back. Seeing the situation deteriorate, Chief Xiong had no choice but to fire a warning shot.
"Xiong Ba! You dare fire your gun?! That's clearly taking Xiaoqinghe's side!"
The downstream village heads were furious. Everyone knew that Chief Xiong and our village chief were close—practically brothers in all but name. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been talked down so easily just a few nights ago.
"Who just accused me of siding with Xiaoqinghe?" Xiong Ba growled with a smile. He was known for his bluntness and heavy-handed ways—say the wrong thing, and he'd punch first, ask questions later. And that kind of behavior worked like a charm in rural areas like ours. No one dared answer him now.
Chief Xiong glared around the crowd, and anyone who met his eyes instinctively looked away.
Once it was quiet, he walked up to Grandpa. "Old Shen, what the hell are you up to now? You trying to kill me with stress?"
Grandpa gave a bitter smile and whispered what had happened into his ear. As soon as he got to the part about someone going into the pit, Xiong Ba's eyes widened.
"When was that? Are they still down there?"
Our village chief stepped in and said, "Old Xiong, there are too many people—keep your voice down."
But Chief Xiong didn't care about politeness. He shot a glare at the village chief and turned to shout at the crowd.
"Clear out! You village heads stay. The rest of you spectators, leave!"
But the villagers weren't moving, still dreaming about the gold ingots buried in the pit. Finally, Chief Xiong snapped.
"If you don't leave right now, I'll charge you all with disturbing public order! My precinct still has arrest quotas this year—anyone want to help us hit our numbers?!"
That shout hit like a thunderclap. The more timid ones shuddered on the spot.
No one wanted to mess with Chief Xiong. Reluctantly, the villagers packed up their tools and left the area.
Once the outer ring dispersed, Sun Fatty, Old Daoist Xiao, and I were finally able to approach the edge of the pit.
Xiong Ba noticed movement and was just about to curse again when he saw it was us.
He forced an awkward smile. "Oh, you two leaders came in person? Sorry to trouble you. Just a little dispute here—some villages… fighting over water. It's already resolved."
Sun Fatty looked around at the barren riverbed. "You call this a water dispute? Why not say they're fighting over air?"
Old Daoist Xiao chuckled. "Old Xiong, give it a rest. These two already know everything—you can't hide it now."