Volume One: The Field of Eight Coffins Chapter 38: Wind Chimes of Human Bones

I asked in confusion, “What are you speculating about?”

Ma Su replied, “Do you remember what I mentioned earlier about the Auxiliary Star? ‘The Auxiliary Star aligns with Kaiyang, thus assisting the Dipper to success, an omen of a prime minister. When the seven main stars shine brightly, the nation prospers; when the Auxiliary Star is bright, the ministers are strong.’ I originally thought that whoever was buried at the position of the Auxiliary Star must have been someone who understood celestial phenomena and geomancy. He wanted his descendants to possess the destiny of generals and ministers. The inscription on this stone tablet confirms exactly that.”

“So who exactly is buried here?”

Ma Su, touching the stone slab and reading the engraved words, said, “This man’s name was Wu Baozhang.”

“I’ve never heard of Wu Baozhang,” I said.

Ma Su nodded, “Of course you haven’t, but his master was extremely famous—Wu Sangui, the Prince Who Pacified the West and once ruled Yunnan. Wu Baozhang was his trusted retainer. He earned many merits for Wu Sangui, though he lived a low-key life and was not a noble, so many historical records do not mention him. During the Revolt of the Three Feudatories, Wu Baozhang was sent to Guangdong to make contact with the Prince Who Pacified the South, Shang Kexi. He was a man with a keen sense of timing; once in Guangdong, he advised Shang Kexi to remain loyal to the Qing, and with Guangdong’s small territory, held back over a hundred thousand rebel troops from advancing north, thus creating favorable conditions for the Qing to quell the rebellion. Afterwards, he did not return to Yunnan, but stayed in Guangdong. Recognizing his talent and his success in persuasion, the Prince Who Pacified the South appointed him to govern Xin’an County—what is now the area around Shenzhen. He was diligent in his post, and though not of high rank, he achieved much. Wu Baozhang eventually died in Guangdong and was buried where he served. To be precise, we are now within his tomb.”

After Ma Su’s explanation, I began to understand. My third uncle had once said that the feng shui here formed a pattern called the Eight Pythons Coiling the Dragon, and that the eight coffins contained dangerous criminals buried alive, leading him to suspect that only a person of great power would covet such a site. Now, the identity of the tomb’s owner was clear. While Wu Baozhang wasn’t exactly a world-shaking figure, his status was far from low, and after years as a local official, he certainly had the means. Having served by Wu Sangui’s side, he had seen great events and wanted his own descendants to rise in the world, so he chose this auspicious site—a dragon vein, no less. But because the dragon here was considered malevolent, he had a geomancer use the pattern of Eight Pythons Coiling the Dragon to counteract its evil influence.

To be honest, I wasn’t particularly interested in the tomb owner’s identity. I’d come here solely to find out what had happened to my third uncle and Liang Yue. Ma Su had mentioned that this chamber was called the Kaiyang Star, and that there might be another chamber, the Auxiliary Star, nearby. I was eager to find it.

Ma Su pointed at the stone slab on the floor. “If my guess is correct, beneath this slab should be a passage to another chamber.”

He sounded quite certain, but I was half-skeptical as I squatted down to pry at the slab.

It wasn’t very thick; with some effort, I managed to wedge it open, and a gust of icy wind rushed out from the crack, making me shiver.

The underground chamber was already bone-chilling, and I hadn’t been feeling well, but the cold from beneath the slab was even more intense, as if the space below was a different world entirely, the slab acting as a barrier between two realms.

Ma Su’s deduction, however, was spot on. A pitch-black passageway really did appear beneath it. By the light of my lamp, I could see a spiraling tunnel descending into the depths, and the cold wind was blowing up from below.

I glanced at Ma Su, who nodded at me—everything seemed to be unfolding according to his plan.

I moved the slab aside completely, gripped my peachwood sword, took up a lamp, and led the way down.

The passage spiraled downward, clearly dug by hand. After descending three or four meters, another burial chamber came into view.

It was at this moment that a sudden sound of flute music reached us.

This time, the flute sounded different than before. Previously, it always seemed distant and hollow, but now it was as if the sound was right beside my ear.

We looked toward the source, and the scene nearly made me wet myself.

On one wall of the chamber, corpses were hung densely, one after another.

Some were mummified, some not fully decomposed—likely only dead for a few years. Among them, I recognized Chen Wanli, who had previously attacked me and Liang Yue, and also the female corpse—they were unmistakably hung among the others.

No wonder, I thought, that we hadn’t encountered them again in the underground parking lot—they’d all been strung up here.

What was even stranger was that in front of the wall of corpses hung a string of wind chimes, swaying in the breeze. At first I wondered why there would be wind chimes here, but on closer inspection I realized that what looked like chimes were actually segments of human shin bones.

Looking again at the ancient corpses on the wall, I saw that all of them were missing part of their lower legs.

The bone chimes were made from the shin bones of those corpses. As the cold breeze swept through, the bone chimes emitted a wailing flute sound.

That sound was chilling—though made from mere fragments of bone, it inspired dread and kept us from getting too close.

It was a bone flute.

Ma Su, having finally seen the bone flute he’d so longed to witness, forgot his fear for a moment, called out in excitement, and rushed over to stare up at the string of bone flutes.

I never would have guessed that the sound of the bone flute wasn’t made by a person at all, but by the wind stirring the bones where they hung. And yet, this was an enclosed space—where was the wind coming from?

Ma Su seemed to realize this as well. He followed the direction in which the chimes were swaying and looked toward where the wind was coming from.

We then discovered that this burial chamber was gourd-shaped. The one with the bone chimes was smaller, separated by a narrow passage from a larger chamber.

The wind that set the bone chimes ringing was blowing from the larger chamber.

We had tracked our way here from the underground parking lot, each discovery setting our nerves further on edge. Luckily, my third uncle and Liang Yue were not among the corpses, but who knew what we’d find next?

I gritted my teeth, and without waiting for Ma Su to speak, lifted my lamp and strode toward the larger chamber.

Ma Su followed close behind as we squeezed through the narrow passageway into the main burial chamber.

Around the chamber, many ancient oil lamps were lit, but the narrow passage had blocked most of the light, which is why we hadn’t noticed the chamber before.

In the center of the chamber stood a coffin.

It would not be unusual to find a coffin in a tomb, but this one was unique in shape.

Ordinary coffins tend to be broader at one end and narrower at the other, but this one was a tortoise coffin.

It was called a tortoise coffin because it was borne on the back of a wooden tortoise. The coffin and the tortoise seemed carved as one, the base of the coffin fitting perfectly onto the tortoise’s shell without a seam. Clearly, the two were crafted together.

We were in awe, not just of the unusual form but also of the craftsmanship.

The tortoise held its head high, facing the passage, looking lifelike and spirited.

Staring at the strange coffin, I couldn’t help but ask, “Is Wu Baozhang in this coffin? Why is it resting on a tortoise?”

Ma Su glanced at me. “Li, you really should study more. It’s not a crime to be ignorant, but it is to be ignorant and speak with such confidence.”

“What do you mean, Old Ma? Did I say something wrong?” I asked.

The eccentric professor explained patiently, “That’s not a tortoise—it’s called a Bixi, one of the nine sons of the dragon in ancient Han mythology, also known as Baxia. It resembles a tortoise and is famed for its strength and ability to bear heavy loads. That’s why you often see it carrying steles at temples, ancestral halls, and mausoleums. The Bixi bearing a stele has deep cultural significance—symbolizing longevity and good fortune, as well as status, totemic beliefs, and, in some places, even ritualistic worship.”

“But wait, you’re talking about bearing steles. This one is carrying a coffin,” I objected.

“There have been a few cases in history of tortoise coffins. Whenever such a coffin was unearthed, a severe drought would soon follow. Ancient texts mention this phenomenon, though it’s unclear if the two are connected. Also, look around—doesn’t this chamber resemble a shrine?”

Prompted by his words, I looked around the burial chamber.

I quickly noticed another difference—the tomb had been deliberately decorated to resemble a temple.

Stone slabs were embedded in the walls, covered in carved murals. Below them were incense burners and ancient tripods.

I walked over and found some ashes in the incense burner; judging by their color, incense had been burned here not too long ago.

I was more confused than ever, realizing that I wasn’t going to figure this out on my own. I looked to Ma Su, hoping for a perfect explanation.

Ma Su opened his mouth to speak, but suddenly we heard a noise from inside the tortoise coffin.

I tensed, afraid I’d misheard. Then there was another bump, as if something inside had accidentally struck the coffin.

At that moment, a gust of icy wind burst from the mouth of the Bixi bearing the coffin, strong and deathly cold.

At the same time, the bone chimes before the corpse wall outside let out another soul-chilling flute sound.

We’d found the source: the wind playing the bone flute was coming from the mouth of the Bixi supporting the coffin.

But no matter how lifelike, the Bixi was just a wooden carving—how could it produce wind?

Ma Su shook his head. “No, the real mystery lies within the coffin. Come, let’s open it and see what’s inside.”

(End of chapter)