Pathway to Japanese Literature

First Chapter: Beastmen I

“The Madrid Daily News” article…

The monster plunged the city into uproar once more. The article swiftly reported by this newspaper regarding the incident on the 10th of last month at 2 AM—when a massive phosphorescent monster had appeared out of nowhere in the city, terrorizing passersby before abruptly vanishing near the grounds of the prefectural government residence—remained fresh in our readers’ memories. Since then, no further sightings of the monster had been confirmed, leading some to speculate whether its appearances were mere hallucinations among pedestrians or if such a creature had never truly existed at all. Yet with both unease and apprehension, the public now awaited what might come of these dual manifestations…

“Hoho! So the monster’s appeared again, you say?”

Before the private detective Rezard could finish reading the entire newspaper, his friend Danchon—an oil painter who had been listening beside him—spoke up in surprise. “It seems to have appeared again—but this time, unlike before, it’s said to be a beast with phosphorescence only around its face… or rather, just the rims of its eyes.” “Now then, do listen—I’ll read it for you.”

The suffocatingly thick fragrance of Southern European cherry blossoms had spread through the window, filling every corner of the room. In that room, Rezard and Danchon—having eaten a light breakfast while seated in armchairs—were reading the newspaper that had just been delivered.

“Alright, I’ll read it now. Do listen well.” Rezard continued reading.

The main points were as follows.

Last night—that is, March 10th—at precisely around 2 AM, a dog-shaped animal with phosphorescent rims around both eyes suddenly appeared on the street. But when it reached the grounds of the prefectural government residence, it vanished without a trace. Simultaneously, a man’s voice filled with terror pierced sharply from one of the houses for an instant before falling silent. And yet, strangely enough, it was reported that the monster’s figure was nowhere to be seen.

“Do phosphorescent animals like that even exist in reality?”

“Well…” Rezard said thoughtfully, “I can’t say they don’t exist entirely. After all, they certainly exist in fish.” “Well, fish might have it—squid do, for instance—but does any beast exist that emits phosphorescence only around its eye rims? Be that as it may, judging from this newspaper article, there seem to be two of these strange creatures.” Danchon looked at Rezard’s face and spoke with a scrutinizing air.

Rezard formed a faint smile, “So you’re suggesting there are two monsters in total—the one that appeared last night with phosphorescent eye rims and the one from the 10th of last month glowing entirely… You’ve grown quite sharp-eyed. I’ve thought this fishy from the moment I read the paper—a single phosphorescent monster would already be bizarre enough, but two? However you slice it, that doesn’t sit right… Nah, it’s still just one beast in the end.”

“According to the article, there are two.” “Due to passersby’s illusions—last time it appeared to glow entirely, last night only its eyelids seemed to shine—that’s what must’ve startled them… So I think there’s just one… But perhaps—just perhaps—there might not be any at all.” Rezard said ambiguously.

“So you’re saying it’s all an illusion?” Danchon shook his head. “Since people saw that beast not just once but twice—and not just one person but several—it can’t simply be dismissed as an illusion.” “Whether your claim holds water or my theory’s right—we won’t know unless we investigate—but since these monsters popping up aren’t exactly harming society, I’ve got zero interest in poking around… Unless there were a client paying us, mind you.”

"But," Danchon interjected, "you can't exactly call it harmless. The newspaper here clearly states people screamed after being threatened by that beast." "If they're grasping for charges, I suppose 'disturbing public order' would do. A monster disturbing order... Well, you can't prosecute a beast—or maybe that beast's... Oh—someone's here. Coming this early morning, it must be urgent business."

A rhythmic knocking sounded on the door.

“Come in,” Rezard called out. The door opened and a noblewoman hurriedly entered, but upon seeing Rezard and Danchon, she stopped in apparent bewilderment.

Rezard respectfully rose to his feet, but— “I am the Rezard you seek—and this is my friend. A most trusted friend… Well now, Madam, what business brings you here today?” he said in an excessively familiar manner.

“Oh my! You know me?” The Mayor’s Wife extended her hand and had Rezard take it while— “Indeed, I am precisely the mayor’s wife, as you say,” she replied with some surprise. “No citizen of Madrid—whoever they may be—does not wish to know their city’s leading figure—that is to say, the Mayor—and the Madam who serves as his helpmeet.” Respectfully, Rezard smiled.

“But,” the Madam shook her head, “since my constitution is terribly weak, even after coming here, I have kept myself confined indoors daily—truly, I have not once gone into town nor attended any significant social gatherings…” “As you say, Madam, you bear a striking resemblance to Mrs. Harding—the American president’s wife—who they say shares your aversion to society. And yet I believe you did attend one reception.” “Yes, just once—when my husband came here from India to assume the mayoral office, we invited a very small circle of acquaintances.” “That must have been the occasion, I suppose?”

“Indeed, that was the time.” “At that time, I saw you in the ballroom, Madam.” “Isn’t that a bit strange—your name shouldn’t have been among those who attended that time.” “The name Rezard was not present.” “However, the name of the president of the Madrid Daily News should have been present.” The Madam thought for a moment,

“A distinguished gentleman over sixty by the name of Mr. Pompiad?” “A man with lion-like sideburns.” “We certainly did extend an invitation.” “That would be me.” “Oh my!”

The Madam was utterly flabbergasted, “But from what I observed, you appear to be barely thirty, while Mr. Pompiad, on the other hand…” “That’s precisely why it’s all the easier for me to disguise myself, Madam.” “For a thirty-year-old man like myself to disguise as another thirty-year-old man is rather challenging, but transforming into a sixty-year-old man is exceedingly easy… Should you harbor any doubts, Madam, allow me five minutes to redo my transformation and show you.” he amiably and briskly declared.

However, the Madam waved her hand and, with a lonely yet beautiful smile, said, “No, there’s no need for that.” “I suppose that may indeed be the case.” “Given that you are an honorable detective… Still, I wonder why the real Mr. Pompiad was not present?”

“He was indeed traveling.”

“So you did it without obtaining Mr. Pompiad’s permission?” The Madam lightly criticized. “It’s standard procedure.” Rezard smiled pleasantly. “Do you possess such a right?” The Madam’s voice carried a slight edge. “Precisely,” Rezard grew serious. “Only two individuals possess such rights—myself and another detective who is both a senior mentor to me and a close friend. Madam, you may perhaps at least know his name—Lassin. The reason being, as the two of us have participated in government secrets, responded to imperial household requests, and worked in that capacity on several occasions, the government has granted us certain privileges.”

Then the Madam nodded, “That must indeed be the case—I understand perfectly. “As for this Mr. Lassin you just mentioned—far from merely knowing him. “Why, I’ve only just met him.”

“Ah, so you’ve already met him then?” “In that case, Great Detective Lassin told me this—‘Please commission Rezard as well.’” Rezard forced a wry smile but turned toward Danchon,

“It seems Lassin’s testing me.”

Then, bowing to the Madam, he said, “Then please proceed with your account—just as you related it to Lassin, I would ask that you share it with me as well.”

Leaned against the chair, the Mayor’s Wife remained utterly still and silent for some time. Then she began to speak quietly.

II

“…Where shall I begin?” “I suppose I had better start from the very beginning—it was midnight on the tenth of last month.” “It must have been around two in the morning when I suddenly heard a groaning sound coming from my husband’s study. I listened intently for a while, but after that, there was no further noise.” “Assuming it must have been a dream, I was about to go back to sleep when the window of the room facing the garden suddenly brightened. Startled, I tried to rise.” “Indeed, that light was a silvery glow—but in the next instant, even that light at the window vanished, so I settled back into my half-risen bed and waited for dawn.” “During morning tea in the dining room, when I saw my husband’s face, wasn’t he terribly pale?” “Are you feeling unwell?” When I asked, he shook his head, said just “No,” and then fell silent, drinking his tea. Just then, the newspaper arrived, so I casually picked it up and looked—and there was an article that struck a chord. “It was an article stating that a giant phosphorescent beast had appeared in the city last night, come all the way to the grounds of the prefectural government official residence, and then vanished.” It suddenly dawned on me. “So then, that silvery light reflected in the window last night—could it have been the monster’s light…?”

“Did you happen to see a strange light from the window last night?” I asked my husband. My husband trembled violently and turned deathly pale! But that altered expression was immediately suppressed by my husband’s strong will. My husband calmly said: “No, I didn’t see any such light.”

So I turned the newspaper article toward my husband, “I hear a monster appeared in this town around two o’clock last night.” “Hmm… A monster?” “What kind of monster?” he replied with growing composure. “It must be the townspeople’s delusion.” “There’s no such thing as a phosphorescent beast in this world.” “But you know, dear, I saw that light last night too.” “You claim *you* saw that light?” “Then I suppose you’ve enlisted in the delusion corps too.”

When my husband said this and laughed, I too fell silent, reassured as things were. Yet from that time onward, my husband’s demeanor grew gloomy, and he took to brooding. Even when I tried to speak to him during such times, he wouldn’t offer a proper reply. At other times, when there was nothing amiss, he would ask things like, “Didn’t you just say something now?” His whole demeanor seemed as though he were lost in some distant memory from long ago—it was quite unsettling. This was how we passed our days until just yesterday… But last night—no, this morning, around two o’clock—I once again saw phosphorescent light reflecting off the room’s window, casting a silvery glow. “So I leapt up, ran to the window, stuck my head out to peer outside—”

The Madam caught her breath here. “Terrible, terrible—how utterly terrifying!” “Even now when I recall it, I wonder if it wasn’t all a dream.” “Would you believe it—there was truly a large dog-like animal, its eyes rimmed with phosphorescent light, firmly hooking its two front paws onto the window frame of my husband’s study and peering through the glass door into his room!” “I nearly let out a scream but managed to stifle it, rubbing my hands like a madwoman as I strained my ears intently.” “Because my husband’s hoarse words had leaked from his room…”

―― ROV! Lake! ――A buried city! “Go back… go back… terrible ko… mai… nu――.”

From my husband’s hoarse voice, the only words I could make out were these and nothing more. Even so, I couldn’t make any sense of what it meant—but while my husband was speaking, the monster remained utterly still, listening intently. When my husband’s voice stopped, suddenly the monster leaped up. No sooner had it hooked one front paw onto the window frame than—would you believe it—the glass door slid smoothly open to the side! My husband let out a scream. And then came a heavy thud—he must have collapsed onto the floor. “I have no memory of what happened after that.” “I also lost consciousness, so…”

The Mayor’s Wife fell silent. The room suddenly fell silent.

“I have a general grasp of the situation.” Rezard said quietly at that moment. “Thus, Madam’s concern—above all, Madam’s concern lies in His Excellency the Mayor’s health, which has not been robust for some time and is now afflicted by a rather severe heart disease—is that not so?” “By the way, how is His Excellency’s current condition?”

“Oh!”

And the Madam was once again left aghast,

“How do you know such a thing? The fact that my husband has a heart condition shouldn’t be known by anyone but me.” “However, when detectives encounter someone of interest, we do not merely observe them idly—we note facial features, physical demeanor, and even measure their pulse during handshakes… When I met His Excellency the Mayor, his complexion was astonishingly robust, no doubt from his famed explorations—having traversed nothing but savage lands under direct sunlight, from Africa to India, the South Seas, Central Asia, and Xinjiang Province. Yet when it came to his pulse—well, I noticed it was rather irregular.” Ah, his heart’s in poor shape. “That’s what I thought at the time.”

“You are exactly correct.” The Madam said with a worried air. “The reason he returned from India to his homeland was due to that illness.” “And how is His Excellency’s current condition?” “It’s not quite at a dangerous level yet… but the doctor tells me that if he were to experience another shock of this sort—a shock as potent as poison to his nerves and heart, given his condition—in the near future, his life could no longer be assured… though perhaps that’s just an empty threat.”

“Ah, did I put it that way?”

Rezard fell silent and sank into thought. Through the slight gap in the opened window, cherry blossom petals swept up by a swift spring gust swirled into vortices across the Western-style desk before being carried away by another incoming wind to dance into oblivion.

In the neighboring room, a clock struck eleven, and tepid spring sunlight flooded the chamber like a deluge, while below the window, a band passed by, playing flutes and trumpets—a cheerful scene.

The Mayor’s Wife let out a deep sigh, “Given this situation, I wish to ensure that the phosphorescent monster never comes near the window again. However, if we were to report this to the Metropolitan Police Department and have officers come to guard the residence, the matter would become too grandiose—and should it become publicly known, my husband would appear cowardly…” “Indeed, that is precisely the case—it would be far more disadvantageous for His Excellency if the opposition party were to learn of this than if it became widely known.”

Rezard remarked with a hint of sarcasm, squinting one eye. “Yes, that is precisely correct… When my husband became Mayor, there were considerable opponents, and the election was fiercely contested… Thus, if it were to become known to the opposition party members that he is now a heart patient—they would surely take advantage of it—and if it were thought that he had been intimidated by such a dog-like beast, it would compromise the Mayor’s dignity.”

“So that’s why you decided to engage us private detectives? Well, I’ve fully grasped the circumstances. I shall endeavor to assist as much as possible.” “Please rest assured—no matter what expenses may be incurred—you need not concern yourself over that matter.”

The Madam trailed off after speaking. Rezard merely nodded. And once more, the two of them fell silent. “So,” Rezard intoned gravely, “the matter of your request is simply to guard against the monster ever appearing near the window again—is that all there is to it?” The Madam hesitated slightly, but—

“Yes, that is all there is to it.” “What is the true nature of the monster?” “Why did it appear by the window?” “When His Excellency saw the monster, why did he mutter to himself?” “And why did His Excellency collapse?” “Wouldn’t it be necessary to investigate?”

The Mayor’s Wife hesitated once more, but—

“No, there is no need.” Rezard rolled his eyes and let slip his signature impish grin—innocent yet sly, a subtle smirk—but upon seeing the Madam’s dejected state, he promptly withdrew it. He bit his thumbnail—a habit of his—and gazed at the ceiling while thinking at length. Then he posed a question to the Madam.

“Madam, when did you marry your husband?” “Yes—one year ago now—when my husband was stationed in India… As I too resided there at the time.” “Then you have no knowledge of His Excellency’s activities prior to that union?” “My husband does not speak of such matters.” “One further inquiry regarding recent events—prior to last month’s tenth—were there any visitors of dubious nature who called upon His Excellency? Visitors in relation to His Excellency…”

“No, there were none at all.” “Only people of known backgrounds came—no one else visited.”

“Now then, another matter concerning His Excellency—with whom would you say he maintains the closest association?” “Unlike myself, my husband receives all visitors cordially, so there are many callers; but as he has a passion for exploration, he appears particularly intimate with Mr. Echigaraī, who shares this enthusiasm.”

“Ah, so it’s Mr. Echigaraī?” “The zoo director, Mr. Echigaraī?”

“Yes, that is correct.”

III

“This is a grave matter, but—” Rezard suddenly spoke gravely. “What would His Excellency’s demeanor be like when Mr. Echigaraī visits?” “They are extremely close.” “They would immediately retreat to the study, lock the door from within, and discuss matters for one or even two hours.” “The two of them researched things like animal bones and tiles excavated from regions my husband had explored over the years—debating them—and it seems they were even collaborating on some sort of written work.”

“That’s excellent information.” “Most illuminating indeed.” Rezard said this cordially, but—

“By the way, regarding Director Echigaraī—if I recall correctly, it was through His Excellency’s arrangements that he attained his current position, is that correct?”

“That is correct.”

“We had withdrawn from India and come here when he came to visit not even a month after our arrival...” “Where might he have come from?” “He is my husband’s friend and has no relation to me, and since my husband tells me nothing about him either, I do not know where he came from—but he seems to consider him an important person, for he found him his current position and even provides financial assistance from time to time.”

“May I ask one more thing—since coming here from India, have you encountered any misfortunes such as theft or loss?” “Well…” The Madam tilted her head and pondered silently for a moment. “No, there does not seem to have been any… However, just once—no, I suppose such a thing could hardly be of any use…” “What exactly was that about?” Rezard asked all the more eagerly.

“At the beginning of last month, there was an incident where a new maid, while mistakenly cleaning my husband’s study, swept away some paper scraps that should not have been discarded—and my husband gave her a furious scolding.” “You mean the maid swept away paper scraps that shouldn’t have been discarded?” “Aha! This complicates matters!” “His Excellency must have been livid!” “And what became of the maid?” “Naturally, she no longer remains at our residence, I presume?”

“She was a short-tempered maid, and resenting having been scolded, she asked for leave and returned home.” “Her whereabouts are unknown, I presume?”

“Are you referring to the maid’s whereabouts?” “No, I am aware of her whereabouts, so—” “What? What did you say?” “You’re aware?” “And where is she now?” “At Mr. Echigaraī’s residence—since Mr. Echigaraī was the one who initially arranged for that maid’s employment.”

Rezard stood up energetically. He then bowed to the Madam and flashed his signature subtle smile,

“Madam, please rest assured—the monster shall never again show itself within this city. I shall see to it that it does not appear.”

The Madam also stood up gracefully. “With that, I am relieved.” With these words, she extended her right hand for Rezard to shake it, was escorted by him to the doorway, and left the room. Rezard returned to his chair but suddenly turned his gaze toward Danchon, who had been silently listening all along. “So Danchon—what do you make of this case?” “Don’t you find it an intriguing affair?” “Seems like an interesting case—looks like you’ve already unraveled the monster’s true identity.”

“Well, that’s about the size of it.” Rezard crossed his arms and continued speaking as if to himself. “The Mayor is a renowned explorer… should’ve gone to Xinjiang… the ROV Desert… a buried city… then there was a lake… Echigaraī, that odd man… and before that, guardian lion-dogs… a suspicious maid… lost paper scraps… the Mayor fainting at the phosphorescent monster… and his heart disease… his vast wealth—what do you think, Danchon? With all these facts lined up so neatly, even you should grasp the truth now, no?”

“However, I don’t understand.” “You’re incredibly obtuse.” “But you’re an amateur, so it can’t be helped. …By the way, in the Madam’s account, was there not a single person who struck you as suspicious?” “That man Echigaraī seems suspicious, doesn’t he?”

“In other words—the zoo director!” “If you deem the zoo director suspicious, what course of action would you take?” “First and foremost, I’d go to the zoo to check on the director’s condition.” “That should be the proper order… Though Mr. Lassin should already be at the zoo… The call should come through any moment now.” Before he could finish those words, the desk telephone’s bell rang.

“See? Just as I said!” “I told you so!”

Rezard hurriedly picked up the receiver.

“Hello,” he called out. “Is this Mr. Lassin? “……This is Rezard.” “I’ve been waiting impatiently for your call… What? What did you say?” “The Mayor’s Wife?” “Are you referring to the Mayor’s Wife?” “The Mayor’s Wife came earlier and has just now left.” “I was quite worried… So have you resolved the truth of this case?” “…Among all the cases I’ve handled so far, there’s never been one this straightforward.” “It’s utterly clear as day… But… but… What? What did you say?” “Are you calling me a fool?” Rezard—terribly startled—set down the receiver pressed to his ear. But then he hastily pressed it back. Lassin’s voice came through…

“...Among all the cases I've handled so far, none have been this straightforward—right?” “The staves have come loose—Rezard!” “You don't comprehend this case's true nature at all!” “You're only seeing the surface layer!” “That's why you can remain so damned complacent!” “You're hopelessly naive!” “You're an utter infant!” “Were you to glimpse but a fraction of this affair's depths, you'd collapse from terror!” “What do you imagine lies at this case's foundation?” “Not romance nor greed!” “This is a far more relentless—no!—a downright apocalyptic clash of civilizations!” “And mark me—should we falter tonight, hundreds of Madrileños will perish!” “This city will become a den of ravening beasts and vipers! Thus I command you:” “Present yourself at the zoo by two o'clock sharp!” “Hear me clearly, Rezard—do not forget.” “This isn't my order—it's Madrid's populace decreeing it!” “Not a command but an entreaty!”

Lassin’s phone call ended here.

Rezard remained with his arms crossed, plunged into deep doubt.

IV

The zoo was located in the center of the city, within H Park. The park was surrounded by bustling thoroughfares, and even after midnight, lively streams of pedestrians continued trudging along. However, by two o'clock, the shops had locked their window shutters, the creak of trams had grown distant, and only the occasional sound of speeding cars remained to rouse people from their sleep.

The park was surrounded by trees. Hundreds of years—or perhaps several hundred—old trees, their branches intertwining and leaves layering, turned the space beneath into deep darkness as they towered straight up into the night sky. H Park measured nearly two *ri* in circumference. There were forests, groves, hills, and ponds; buildings stood here and there, and benches were everywhere. The perimeter was enclosed by sturdy brick walls, both inside and out densely overgrown with lush trees. What disturbed the deep slumber of the quiet birds and beasts at night, after being stirred up during the day, were two male and female lions recently sent from Africa.

The unaccustomed kings of the desert gazed at the sky through the bars of their cage. At first came mournful groans, which gradually rose in pitch, until finally erupting into thunderous roars said to be capable of making timid beasts vomit blood and perish.

When that thunderous roar gradually transformed into a lament-like moan and then snapped off, the night seemed to grow deeper still, the darkness thicker yet…

Now that the voice had just ceased, the surroundings were dead silent.

At that moment, a figure appeared as if birthed from the darkness, materializing out of nowhere before the side gate at the front where it pressed against the door and stopped. He seemed to be peering inside.

Then suddenly, the side gate was opened from within, and a gardener thrust his upper body out from there. “Rezard?” called out the gardener, peering through the darkness.

“Mr. Lassin?” “It’s Rezard.” The figure in the darkness stepped forward.

“The clock just struck.” “It’s indeed two in the morning now… Come inside at once.”

Rezard slipped in through the side gate. The side gate snapped shut instantly.

The two of them slowly made their way forward through the dark grounds of the zoo. Lassin did not say a word. That seemed all the more terrifying to Rezard. The two of them walked on, choosing as much as possible the darkest places under the trees—unnoticed spots of shadow—to make their way.

“Stop.”

Suddenly, Lassin hissed a sharp warning in a stealthy whisper. Rezard stopped dead, his eyes piercing through the darkness ahead. There stood a compact Western-style building, every window shuttered tight to block interior lights. This had to be the zoo director's official residence.

Rezard fixed his eyes—now accustomed to the darkness—and stared intently at the official residence. Then, unexpectedly, there was a writhing mass on the lawn before the official residence. Upon closer inspection, they were humans, numbering close to ten. They sat cross-legged in a circle on the lawn, their foreheads pressed to the earth as if in prayer. A faint, barely audible muttering reached his ears. It seemed to be the sound of prayer.

Then suddenly, from among them, one man stood up. When he heard it somewhat clearly—now discernible as an Islamic prayer: “Allah, Allah il-Allah… Our one and absolute God… Make us strong! Grant that we may slay our enemies! O God who takes nothing from us yet grants all things!”

The man raised both hands toward the sky, bent his waist while keeping his hands raised, and leaned his upper body forward until his hands reached the ground. Then he straightened up again and waved both hands frantically at the sky. Then once more he bent his waist and brought both hands to the ground. He would extend, then bend, repeating the motions dozens of times over.

At that moment, a faint drumming—the sound of a hand drum with jingling bells—came drifting from the center of the circle with dreamlike subtlety. And then the sound of a silver flute blended into it. Faintly, faintly, the sound of a bell also—what a strange harmony it was! This Eastern-style harmony—one that could induce deep slumber and send people sleepwalking in a trance, yet utterly unheard anywhere across Europe! A monotonous, listless drumming. A flute sound as if summoning human souls from the depths of the earth. A gong’s cruel tone enough to drive listeners’ hearts into the realm of crime… whispered choral prayers. And the man who continued performing the same worship endlessly! The time was two o’clock in the dead of night.

Rezard shuddered in horror.

The horror did not end there. The horror and strangeness of the incident that occurred the very next moment would remain unforgettable to Rezard for the rest of his life.

Behold—the door of the stone Western-style building ahead gradually opened, and from it emerged, calmly and solemnly, an animal wreathed in phosphorescence! The creature’s entire body blazed with an intense brilliance, as though platinum bathed in the morning sun. The monster leapt down the stone steps in a single bound and approached the circle of believers. Then, bending its four legs, it crouched down before them. The voices of the worshippers chanting praises swelled even louder at that moment, and the deep, desolate music gradually accelerated, filling the air. The instant one among them—who had been fervently raising and lowering his hands as if summoning something—touched the monster’s back with a lightning-like motion, the phosphorescent beast sprang up and raced across the vast zoo grounds toward the gate like a blazing fireball. And then the gate swung wide open, and the monster shot off toward the city faster than an arrow, vanishing from sight in an instant.

As soon as the monster vanished from sight, the sound of the music abruptly ceased, and the ten believers stood up. And they quickened their pace and began walking toward the animal cages. The man who had been raising his hand to beckon something now stood at the head of the group.

Lassin suddenly gripped Rezard’s hand firmly.

“Look at that man at the front!” “That’s the bastard who disguised himself as a maid and infiltrated the mayor’s house.” “So he isn’t a woman after all?”

Rezard asked back in surprise. “What do you mean, ‘a woman’? That bastard’s no woman! And he’s no Spaniard either.”

“Then what exactly is he?” “He may have been in Europe for ages, but that bastard’s definitely an Oriental.” “A Uighur, that bastard.”

“You’re saying that man’s a Uighur? But Uighurs shouldn’t exist in modern society anymore, should they?” “They’re said to have perished in history—but as you see, they exist.” “Then where did they come from?”

“The Lop Desert of Xinjiang Province—the ancient city buried in shifting sands near Lop Lake! That’s where those bastards came from!” “So where are they going?” “They’re going to open the cages. Release wild beasts and venomous snakes into Madrid’s streets—set them loose at midnight to throw the city into chaos.” “I suppose there’s a reason for it?”

Rezard scratched his head violently. “The reason is simply revenge!”

“Are they taking revenge on Madrid?”

“Because a certain resident of Madrid enraged them.” “What terrible thing did he do? And who is he?”

Rezard grew increasingly irritated. "The Mayor of Madrid took part of their treasured sutra—that is, excavated it." "So they came out to take back that sutra." "Hmm," Rezard groaned, "so those paper scraps—the ones that counterfeit maid supposedly swept away while cleaning the mayor’s study—are part of the sutra, I take it?" "To retrieve those paper scraps, they disguised themselves as maids to infiltrate households, artificially crafted phosphorescent guardian lion-dogs and set them loose—all to threaten the mayor." Lassin explained nonchalantly.

“I also thought it was counterfeit,” said Rezard, his voice tinged with agitation. “...In other words, I’d interpreted this case along those lines—” “The full account can wait,” Lassin cut in. “But tell me—what exactly did you believe that monster—the phosphorescent beast—to be counterfeiting?” “I assumed they’d coated a dog or wolf with phosphorescent chemicals.”

“Whether it’s a dog or wolf, that bastard’s true nature will be revealed before long. …Look! Look! The Uighurs have opened the wild beasts’ cages!”

Looking over, they split off in all directions, stood before five cages, and threw open the doors in unison. And they barked fierce commands. “Hsss, hsss, hsss, hsss, hsss, hssss—” However, the wild beasts—the lions and tigers—did not readily emerge. But in the very next instant, from the five cages emerged the wild beasts—or rather, beast-like pitch-black things—roaring all at once, surrounding the Uighurs and pressing in to seize them.

The zoo grounds had transformed into an arena of grappling between Muslims and police officers. Those emerging from the cages were police officers.

“Let’s go home.”

And Lassin slowly turned toward the gate. “That settles everything. Let’s leave the rest to the police.”

Rezard said nothing at all. He simply followed in silence. Amidst the police officers’ shouts, the Muslims’ roars, and the howls and cries of beasts that turned the zoo into a battlefield, the two men exited through the front gate into the city without a backward glance.

The city showed no sign of anything unusual. The citizens seemed to be asleep.

At that moment, a car suddenly appeared from the side. It had several police officers inside. “Stop!” Lassin came to a halt and raised one hand in a signal.

“Where did you capture the monster?”

When Lassin said this with a laugh, the police officers also began to laugh, “In the middle of the road leading to the city hall… No, it’s a preposterous monster.”

“Rezard, look well. This is the monster’s true identity.”

Lassin pushed Rezard aside. Inside the car lay a human crowned with an Oriental dog’s pelt, sunk in deep slumber. Rezard stared at the face, “This is Director Echigaraī!” “Thus the monster’s true form—very well, gentlemen. Transport this beast to the hospital without ceremony.” The car roared once more and slid down the street like a shadow. “Let’s go, Rezard. Farewell… I shall call at your house tomorrow.” “Then I’ll hear your account.” “I’m weary tonight—I take my leave.”

Lassin turned sharply and strode off into the side street.

V

It was the following day that Lassin, Rezard, and the artist met in Rezard’s room.

Just as before, the splendid spring sunlight streamed into the room, filled with the fragrance of Southern European cherry blossoms. “While listening to Madam’s story, I began to find Director Echigaraī of the zoo suspicious, so…” Rezard proceeded to explain his interpretation to Lassin in a somewhat embarrassed tone—ashamed of his misunderstanding—his voice blurred and devoid of passion. “I considered investigating, but given that it’s Mr. Lassin we’re dealing with, I speculated with my friend Danchon here that you must have gone to the zoo ahead of me.” “And sure enough, you called—but I never could have imagined in my wildest dreams that Echigaraī would don a dog pelt himself and dash all around Madrid right up to the mayor’s window.” “Because I thought this way—both the Mayor and Echigaraī are explorers.” “However, the Mayor was a wealthy man who had been elected to his position.” “Thereupon, when Echigaraī came to visit, the Mayor enthusiastically helped him secure the zoo director’s post.” “He sometimes provides financial assistance as well.” “It seems a bit too kind for ordinary friendship.” “Perhaps there exists some unspoken interest between them… In other words, that Echigaraī knew the Mayor had become wealthy by excavating illicit treasures during his expeditions, and in exchange for not exposing this to the world, secured himself the prestigious position of zoo director—is that not the case?” “As I was thinking this, Madam mentioned that a new maid arranged by Echigaraī had swept away paper scraps from the Mayor’s study. Aha—those scraps must have been a map or document related to the illicit treasures.” They had likely made the maid steal those scraps to use as leverage for blackmailing the Mayor—and as for that monster, they must have created it by artificially coating a dog or wolf from the zoo with phosphorescence before presenting it before the Mayor’s eyes to startle him; this too stemmed from motives of blackmail, meaning there must be some connection between the phosphorescent monster and those illicit treasures. This might be the bizarre vulnerability—that now that the Mayor had seen it, he would inevitably fall under their control whether he liked it or not. Now that the Mayor saw the monster and screamed “ROV,” “lake,” and “buried city,” those illicit treasures must have been excavated near Lop Lake in Xinjiang Province’s Lop Desert. And since he continued screaming about “terrible komainu,” perhaps this phosphorescent monster had some deep connection to a temple revered by residents near Lop Lake’s shores—specifically to its guardian lion-dogs. “In any case, I had concluded that Director Echigaraī was undoubtedly behind this incident—but I must say I never imagined he himself would be the monster.”

“That you discerned so much just from hearing Madam’s story—your genius reveals itself there.”

Lassin nodded cheerfully, but

“To tell the truth,” Lassin began, “I too suspected Echigaraī just like you did—until I investigated at the zoo. I was certain that fellow was the culprit.” He leaned forward, fingers steepled. “But I considered one thing beyond your theory—that superstition must underlie this phosphorescent monster business. So I dashed to the library and researched indigenous beliefs around Uyghur territories.” His voice grew conspiratorial. “The few remaining Uyghur descendants there—hybrids mixed with Turks—venerate phosphorescent guardian lion-dogs as divine idols. Their texts warn that anyone disrespecting temples housing these statues incurs terrible divine punishments.” He tapped the table emphatically. “Examples followed: ‘Those who steal shrine treasures shall hear the lion-dogs’ barks and contract malignant fever. Those who pilfer temple sutras shall glimpse the beasts thrice—and perish on the third sighting…’”

“Then is Director Echigaraī a descendant of the Uyghurs?” I wondered at the time. “Anyway, I hurried off to the zoo.” “When I rushed to meet the director first thing—what do you know—he turned out to be a proper Spaniard through and through.” “And pitifully gravely ill at that.” “The illness being a mental disorder.” “Gripped by delusions of persecution.” “Then when I met the maid—at first glance she seemed Turkish, but there was something Chinese about her.” “A hybrid through and through.” “I casually tossed a gold coin from a distance.” Then the maid spread her legs and bent at the waist to catch it. “That’s how I knew he was a man, you see.” “When catching something thrown, a woman would close both legs—because, you see.” “And from then on, it’s exactly as you observed firsthand last night.” “Those Uyghurs—though not just them—generally speaking, the more ignorant folk tend to wield stranger powers. They’re essentially sorcerers.” “Might’ve been hypnosis, but regardless—through some sorcerous power, they transform both mind and body into beasts… The one they targeted was the Director.” “The Director’s no villain.” “Nothing but a scholar.” “Scholars are akin to fools.” “Inflexible yet honest.” “That’s where they found their opening, you see.”

“Moreover, since the director was friends with the mayor and knew every corner of his residence, it proved most convenient.” “So they employed sorcery—a sort of binding curse, you see.” “They shackled the director’s will, poured their own into him instead, then slipped him into that intricately crafted beast costume they’d prepared beforehand and set him loose.” “That’s how they terrorized the mayor, mind you.” “Having stolen the sutra himself, the mayor must’ve known all about that komainu superstition.” “No wonder he gasped when he saw that phosphorescent guardian lion-dog.” “And with his heart condition—” “If he’d glimpsed those lion-dogs not once but two or three times? Might’ve dropped dead from cardiac arrest.” “Could’ve killed him outright… Was a damn close call.” “Which is why those bastards aimed to make last night their grand finale before vanishing.” “Meant to unleash every wild beast as a parting gift—let them devour those hated Madrileños wholesale, seeing as they’re Orientals nursing racial grudges against all Europeans.” “Luckily I caught on quick—phoned police headquarters straight off, had officers sneak over, convinced the groundskeepers to empty the cages beforehand. Worked a treat. Otherwise? Half Madrid’d be waking up in pieces.”

"But by what method did that Uyghur man become acquainted with the director?" "What does it matter? That's precisely where scholars show their idiocy," Lassin dismissed. "Truth be told, I made a detour to the hospital before coming here. When I chanced upon Mr. Echigaraī and inquired about that very point, he gave a most curious account—it seems that while strolling through town one day, he encountered a young beggar woman pleading with outstretched hands." "Upon observing her features bore traces of mixed ancestry—enough to pique his scholarly curiosity—he brought her home as a maid. Then at the earnest entreaty of his friend the Mayor," Lassin concluded with a wave of his hand, "he handed her over."

“Once you hear it, it’s really nothing at all.”

Rezard involuntarily muttered.

“How about it,” Lassin said, looking at the painter, “if you were a novelist, you could craft an excellent story from this.” “Mysterious and spectral—it’s remarkably compelling material.” “It would make for an intriguing fantasy painting.” “Perhaps I should create an oil painting of a beast-like human radiating phosphorescence as it flees.” “How about titling it ‘Beast-Man’?”

Lassin said with a laugh.

It was a radiant spring afternoon.

Part Two: Desert Ancient City

VI

(The following is an excerpt from the memoir of Zhang Jiaoren, a Chinese youth.)

Dusk assaulted even the room. The potted crocus flowers on the desk began to droop their heads as if drowsy. Shadows gathered around the brow of the bronze Vasco da Gama statue placed atop the bookshelf. The recesses of the plush folds in the hanging curtain dividing the adjacent room took on a subtle hue akin to that of amethyst.

Even the gaudy golden frame of the oil painting hanging on the wall seemed unable to shine garishly within the mouse-grey purple air of the twilight-steeped room. The glass tools placed here and there, pewter dishes, celadon vases—all lay hushed and still, as if bound in a dozing dream during that lamp-less moment.

The moon was already hanging in the sky, but the sun had not yet set. It was neither day nor night. It was a truly beautiful moment when night and day had blended together.

I settled into a dining chair, intending to savor this twilight hour for a while.

If I listened carefully, I could hear the cries of peacocks coming from the thicket of plantains and sago palms outside the window. Bathed fully in the lingering sun, the outdoors still appeared bright. As if competing with the peacocks’ cries, the high-pitched metallic shrieks of parrots also reached my ears. The winter roses twining around the window’s outer wall panels were likely shedding their blossoms—a sweet, languid, yet gentle floral fragrance that lured the heart of whoever smelled it into distant memories wafted in through the open window. Lured by that floral fragrance, my heart abruptly returned to the home in my homeland that I had cast aside three years ago.……

The evening bells began to ring—prayer bells from an Islamic temple. Even in winter, how warm Madrid was! It was no different from early autumn. Not once in the past month had it snowed—or even rained. It was only natural that those Islamic temple bells resounding through the parched December sky would ring with such a high-pitched tone. Yet those divine chimes would no longer be heard starting tomorrow. Tomorrow I would bid farewell to this country.

Having gathered East and West into one while incorporating Africa's climate, I had to leave this Spain—a land of such profoundly exotic allure and deep nostalgia—and head toward the desert tomorrow. China's Western Regions—the Lop Desert! There I would go.

The desert was calling me. When I heard that call, my nostalgia for Spain vanished without a trace! How long I had waited for that call until today... The scent of winter roses drifted again. The vision of my homeland home I had left behind three years ago once more came into view before my eyes. My memories now returned nostalgically to that house.

Shina Kantō Shōka-gai. There is my house. Though it was called a home, both my father and mother had perished long ago, leaving only my sister to live a lonely existence with an elderly servant—just the two of them. My parents became casualties of the revolution and were killed by Yuan Shikai’s army. And our household goods were confiscated, and the majority of our house was burned down. At that time, I was fifteen years old. And my younger sister was eleven. We siblings were saved by a loyal servant couple. After returning to the scorched remains of our house and burying our parents’ bodies, our lives as siblings—once marked by splendor—had become wretchedly impoverished. The preeminent trader of Southern China, the most prestigious family of Southern China—we siblings, the mementos of that house, were mocked by society, abandoned by the surviving servants, and attended only by the elderly servant couple who had helped us, barely clinging to life. Before long, the elderly servant passed away due to a bullet wound, and we two orphans had to rely solely on an old woman who had lost her husband. Until that moment, I had indeed been nothing but a pitiable scion of a noble house—a spineless aristocrat—but now I shook myself and rose with resolve. I took up the sword. I joined the revolutionary party. I followed under the banner of Sun Yat-sen.

“Huanglian!” I said one day—the very day I had resolved myself—and revealed my decision to my sister. “Let me be free.” “Let me go to war.” “Our parents’ mortal enemy is Yuan Shikai.” “We can’t let him live.” “That man is the enemy of the Republic!” “If he’s left alone like this, he’ll surely become emperor.” “Could we go on living with such a fool as emperor?” “He’s an upstart and a traitor!” “He’s a man like Cao Cao.” “He’s not even a proper Cao Cao!” “That man is rather Wang Mang!” “When they enthroned Wang Mang as emperor, what became of the Han realm?” “Who could fathom how the people writhed through hellfire and ashes?” “Yuan Shikai is an even greater upstart than Wang Mang!” “Moreover, he is our parents’ mortal enemy.” “I intend to join the revolutionary army to defeat him.” “Please let me go.” “If I go away, you’ll surely feel lonely.” “When I imagine your loneliness—my resolve wavers—but it cannot outweigh the nation’s great cause.”

“Even if I go off to war, I will come back home from time to time. That way I can comfort you. I’ve made up my mind. Let me be free.”

Then my sister smiled—her eyes brimming with tears—and nodded at my words. “There’s no need to worry about me.” My sister said gently. “I shall stay here forever with the old servant.” “And I shall pray to God so that your resolution may be achieved.”

With these kind words from my sister, my resolve grew even firmer. Thereupon, after fully entrusting my sister’s care to the old woman, I left home.

In Marshal Sun Yat-sen’s camp, I was first a standard-bearer. However, before long, I voluntarily took on the role of a military intelligence operative, covertly infiltrating Beijing to observe the movements of our sworn enemy. President Yuan’s authority was so formidable that even birds in flight would fall, making him impossible to approach easily. Even so, I patiently kept watch on his movements. Thus, as stars shifted and things changed, many years flew by. Indeed, Wang Mang removed his hood and revealed his ambition. He sought to have himself declared Emperor Yuan. Like water brought to a boil in a cauldron, China suddenly erupted in turmoil, curses calling for Yuan’s overthrow echoing to every corner of the land. It was Dr. Sun Yat-sen himself who bore the nation’s hopes upon his shoulders and echoed the war drums of Yuan’s overthrow across over four hundred provinces. His bearing was as valiant as if Liu Xiu—who had vanquished Wang Mang of the Han dynasty—had returned to this world, his popularity striking with unparalleled force.

At that time, I had changed my name and status, becoming a menial servant living among the guards at President Yuan’s palace. There I bided my time, waiting for the chance to strike down both my parents’ killer and the nation’s foe.

It was late one night. The hazy spring moon cast its light upon the groves and lakes of the palace gardens, rendering the entire scene as though draped in a thin veil of gauze, while lamplight spilling through hanging curtains from towering palace windows dimly dyed the flowering trees of the garden—transforming the grounds into nothing short of a phantom paradise. I absentmindedly left the guard post and wandered deep into the palace grounds. The surroundings were wooded and quiet. There was no one to reprimand me.

“A solitary warbler sings desolate in the Apricot Garden; a lone dog barks forlorn in the Peach Blossom Spring—”

At that time, I walked deeper into the grounds while casually reciting Liu Changqing’s poem in a moderate tone. Come to think of it, there truly was a warbler singing drowsily within the garden. A dog was barking somewhere in the distance too. “The mad willow catkins whirl with the wind’s dance; the flighty peach blossoms chase the water’s flow—” By the time I recited Du Fu’s verse, I had already crossed the floating bridge over the lake toward the island without realizing it. After crossing the bridge and climbing onto the island, I quietly walked toward the pavilion nestled among flowering trees.

At that moment, a hoarse old man’s voice could be heard coming from inside the pavilion.

“Who comes there?” “No matter who you are.” “Be my companion—come sit here.”

I was slightly startled but entered without hesitation. A stout, compact old man wearing shabby clothes sat on the veranda. The shadow of a large magnolia blossom fell across his face, obscuring his features, but he remained perfectly still with closed eyes as if deep in thought, not moving an inch. I too sat down on the veranda. Thus we faced each other in silence for some time.

Then, the old man opened his eyes and fixed his gaze upon me,

“What do you think of this scenery? “Forests and springs, palaces, flower gardens, a solitary island—all hazily illuminated by the spring moon. “The sound of a flute drifts over…… Don’t you find it beautiful? “―Though from what I can see, you still seem terribly young. “You might be indifferent to the beauty of natural scenery, but…” “I think it’s a beautiful scene. “It isn’t majestic, but it is splendid. “Rather than natural, it is artificial and embodies the pinnacle of craftsmanship.”

“You’re quite the critic.” “Exactly as you say—it’s a landscape rich in artifice.” “Don’t you wish to own such a garden?” “I do think I’d like to own it, and I also think I wouldn’t like to own it.”

When I said this, the old man laughed with a hoarse voice— “You’re quite the cynic.” “By the way, I should like to hear an explanation of the meaning behind those words of yours.” “There’s no particular meaning to it, but none other than royalty possess such gardens.” “The meaning of owning such a garden is becoming royalty.” “For a man born into this world, becoming a king is both a remarkable feat and the utmost of desires. Yet once one becomes a king, it may prove neither as enjoyable nor as gratifying as it appears from the outside.” “If it brings neither joy nor delight, then there’s no point in becoming a king who owns such a garden.” “That is why I think this way.”

Then, the old man laughed amusedly in a suppressed tone, but— “You appear to be a disciple of Laozi—a man of nihilistic serenity.” “It’s troubling for a young man barely twenty to be so serene and detached.” “It seems you were softly reciting poetry when you came here, but given your lack of worldly desires, surely you couldn’t have been reciting Du Xunhe’s ‘To a Monk,’ could you?”

“No,” I said with a laugh, “I am not familiar with that particular poem by Du Xunhe. The one I recited was by Du Fu.” “If you don’t know it, I shall teach you—it’s a poem of my own past.”

The old man’s words carried dignity. They possessed both an unfathomable depth and even a pressure that bore down on the listener. I had gradually come to respect this old man. And I doubted.

Who is this old man? Is he a government official or a prefectural official? He didn’t seem like an ordinary man, but the shadow of the magnolia blossom still fell darkly across the old man’s face, making it impossible to verify.

At that moment, the old man softly recited Du Xunhe’s poem with deep emotion. “Gates of profit and roads of fame—what can one rely on? A hundred years are but a lamp’s brief flame before the wind. One fears only failing to attain a monk’s enlightened mind—yet even if attained, all is surrendered to monkhood… What do you think? This is Du Xunhe’s poem.” “I don’t consider it a masterwork, but for me, it’s a poem of memories.” “One fears only failing to attain a monk’s enlightened mind—it was upon reading this poem in my youth that I set my life’s purpose.” “To tell the truth, even I in my youth had little regard for fame and profit, just like you now.” “Whether one is a commoner or a king, a human life is all the same.” “If one were to become a king or noble, the hardships would instead be many.” “As a commoner, I used to think it was rather more carefree.” “Yet when I saw this poem, I truly thought this way.” “Even if one abandons worldly life to become a monk and still never attains peace of mind, then remaining a commoner would leave one’s heart all the more unsatisfied.” “No matter what position one occupies, the human heart finds no peace.” “If one’s heart remains equally unsettled regardless, then given the fortune of being born human, it might be interesting to throw oneself wholeheartedly into a grand endeavor.” “That is a man’s true aspiration!” “In other words, this is how I thought.” So I thought. Should I pursue wealth and nobility, or should I become a king? I will conquer both! Greedily, I thought in this manner. And then I truly exerted myself. Twenty years, thirty years, forty years—I charged forward like a carriage horse. And the beautiful youth I once was has, before I knew it, become this old man—seized by a fatal disease, my remaining life now dwindled.

It was true I had obtained all the fortune and status a man should attain, yet the more I gained, the more I found myself assailed by an insatiable desire for more—leaving me without a single day of peace. And I had enemies. Assassins' blades, poisoned draughts, pistols—these threats encircled me from every direction. Moreover, the vengeful spirits of those I had slain clung to me day and night, denying me restful slumber. Though wealthy, as a wealthy man I craved still greater riches. Small ambitions beget grand ambitions; grand ambitions spawn supreme ambitions. All men carve up their very minds and bodies in service to ambition—and I stood as its perfect specimen. Thus I pondered: Why had I resolved thus upon reading Du Xunhe's poem? Had I taken monastic vows instead of this path, might I have found some measure of peace? Now such regrets amounted to naught but fruitless complaint. Circumstances beyond my control dragged me inexorably forward—too late now for monkhood. I had become a puppet of fate, lurching blindly onward. My sole consolation in these wretched straits was this nightly ritual: changing form to flee humanity's grasp, slipping into nature's embrace to wander untethered. Yet even this fleeting pleasure would soon be lost—for a fatal malady grips me, and death draws near."

The old man considered for a moment, then continued in a solemn tone.

“I may die as soon as tomorrow.” “I may die even as I speak.” “That is why I have a request for you.” “No—rather than a request, I urge you.” “Yes—I urge you.” Having said this, the old man took out a small case from his pocket and placed it before me,

“I present this to you.” “Take it home and open it.” “Your future will surely be determined by this.” “If you find it beyond your grasp, you may reverently bury it in the earth.” “This is something bestowed by heaven.” “At first, it was bestowed upon me.” “I tried to claim what heaven bestowed as my own.” “But now it’s too late.” “My fate is determined, and there is nothing I can do about it.” “Therefore, I now transfer the fortune meant for me to you.” “It is no different than if it had been bestowed by heaven.” “However, no matter what kind of happiness one seeks to obtain, they must first brave hardships.” “If you wish to fully grasp the happiness within this case, you must still brave hardships.” “If you fear those hardships, discard that happiness—bury the case in the earth… But though you might find it strange why I would so easily hand this precious box of fortune to you, a stranger I’ve only just met, it is not strange at all.” “To be honest, I do not have a single ally to whom I would wish to entrust this case.” “Every single person around me is an enemy.” “They are wolves clad in clothing.” “And so I pass this wondrous fortune to you, a stranger.”

The mysterious old man, having said this, gracefully rose from the veranda’s edge. And without so much as a glance toward me, he left the pavilion and began to walk away. I stood dumbfounded for a moment, watching his retreating figure, then regained my senses and called out from behind. “Old sir!” I whispered urgently, “Please tell me your name—who exactly are you?”

The old man turned around,

“The most unfortunate man in this country! That is none other than this very self!” “The most unfortunate man in this country? Are you saying you’re that old man?” “People of the world, on the contrary, claim that the happiest person in this country is none other than this very self!” “I really don’t understand…” I watched the old man. “All these palaces and gardens here are possessions of this very self… The heavens and earth of the four hundred provinces now lie entirely under my control.” “I am such a man.”

I continued to scrutinize the old man under the moonlight that had broken through the clouds, but then I leapt up in shock.

“You…!” “That’s it! “I understand now!” “I am a lonely man! “A man without a single ally.”

The old man muttered under his breath but quietly began walking away as he was. And then he crossed over the pontoon bridge. I watched him go. I watched him go on and on. The retreating figure of the Republic’s enemy, the retreating figure of my parents’ foe. I watched Yuan Shikai’s retreating figure with my hands clasped. Why didn’t I leap at him? Was it out of obligation for receiving the case? No, that was absolutely not the case. Was it because I was struck by the President’s dignity? Nonsense! The very opposite! I was utterly struck by Yuan Shikai’s lonely figure.

……I picked up the case. A crudely made iron case! I examined it under moonlight. Though there was nothing strange about it—truly nothing unusual about this shabby container—to think that from within would suddenly emerge such a bizarre parchment capable of swaying my very destiny...

Sure enough, not long after that night, Yuan Shikai’s sudden death was announced in newspapers around the world, shocking people everywhere. Because it was so abrupt, the public doubted the cause of death and speculated whether it might have been assassination. Whether it was assassination, suicide, or natural death—only I knew the truth. He could not endure his loneliness and was devoured by it, dying.

As for what I did afterward, I left Sun Yat-sen’s faction and temporarily returned home, where I reunited with my sister and grandmother. Then I left home once more and embarked on a journey around the world. What was the purpose of my journey? Even if I were to explain, no one would likely believe me—it was too fantastical a tale. To put it plainly, I had set out on this global journey to find twin crystal orbs by following instructions written on parchment inside that case. For when I found those orbs would be when my fortunes changed—indeed, I was destined to become a multi-millionaire overnight.

Truly, for three years I traveled through the countries of the world. When money ran out, I worked; when I earned money, I moved forward, traversing nearly all of Asia, America, and Europe until three months ago when I arrived here in Madrid, Spain. Like many Chinese people, I myself had considerable confidence when it came to cooking. When the money finally ran out and I had to work again, I always became a cook. In exactly this manner, upon coming to Madrid and seeking an opportunity, I became the cook at this inn. And so I waited for my chance. The chance to cross over to Africa... but now Africa has completely vanished from my sight. The orb had been discovered nearby. And now I am heading toward the desert of the Western Regions in pursuit of that orb. I am heading there together with them. With them—the expedition team—

My heart pounds with both joy and anxiety. But courage does not falter. What courage could possibly falter? What am I so anxious about? Is it because I fear those two—Detective Lassin, who could be called the leader of their expedition team, and Detective Rezard, who could be called the deputy leader? Truly, those two are undoubtedly sharp and astute individuals, but I do not fear them. What do I have to fear? Let them be the ones to fear me.

Gentlemen of the expedition team! Guard those orbs of destiny you’re protecting with utmost care. For there exists a Chinese youth scheming to snatch that orb given the slightest opening. As your hired cook, I’ll venture this warning—you’d do well not to let your eyes stray from that Chinese youth named Zhang, gentlemen…

The cries of peacocks could be heard. The cries of parrots could be heard. The scent of winter roses wafted through the air. The evening glow dyed crimson across the sunset sky after the sun had dipped below the horizon. Tomorrow would likely be clear weather. I would bid farewell to this dining hall as well. I supposed I should head back to the cook’s room and pretend to pack or something.

Tomorrow I head into the desert. The desert is calling me... (memo excerpt)

VII

“What do you make of that woman?”

Lassin whispered in a low voice. "I’ve noticed for some time—she’s a stunning Turkish-style beauty. I’d love to paint her as a model."

Danchon, “the painter who does not paint,” whispered this in a low voice as well. Lassin clicked his tongue slightly but smirked wryly. “You’ve been wanting to paint for ages.” “You keep saying ‘I want to paint, I want to paint,’ but haven’t you failed to paint a single thing?” “That’s why everyone gave you that silly nickname—‘Danchon the Painter Who Doesn’t Paint.’ You haven’t even started that ‘Beastman’ piece you were so fired up about.” “You really are a slacker… But speaking of which, don’t you think there’s something odd about that woman over there?”

“What’s strange about her?”

“If that’s your response, then it seems you haven’t noticed what’s strange about that woman over there. Now look closely—right now, that woman appears to be intently reading her newspaper with her head down, but in truth, she’s not looking at the paper at all. She’s watching us.”

“Why would she be watching us?” “Who knows? I don’t know about that.” “That’s precisely why it’s mysterious.” “Where on earth did that woman board this train from?” “I think it’s from Chelyabinsk.”

“How do you know such a thing?” Lassin asked suspiciously. “There’s a reason I know.” Danchon replied nonchalantly, “I thought I’d buy postcards, so when the train stopped at Chelyabinsk, I promptly got off.” “I got off onto the platform.” “As I stepped down, someone bumped into my chest—when I quickly looked up, there stood a Turkish beauty.” “She said ‘Pardonnez-moi’ in French and blushed, you see.” “When I looked, there stood a redcap behind her, carrying the woman’s luggage.” “That’s why she boarded at that station.”

“Hmm, that woman bumped into you?” “So she definitely bumped into you?” “Actually, she bumped into me as well.” “Before we stopped at Kurgan Station, I thought I’d have a smoke and headed to the smoking car.” “When I passed in front of that woman.” “Suddenly she stood up and bumped against my waist.” “At that moment I felt the touch of a nimble hand.” “Right around my trouser pocket.”

“It must have been an accidental touch.” “Surely such a beautiful young woman wouldn’t possibly be a pickpocket.”

“...” Lassin did not respond. Pretending not to look, he fixed his gaze intently on the enigmatic woman sitting in the corner of the train, reading her newspaper.

Through the extreme cold of December Siberia, the massive International Train plowed through the raging blizzard, resembling a centipede as it sped toward Omsk. However, the interior was warm. In the warm interior, passengers wearing their preferred coats with fur collars securely fastened were seated in their seats and conversing. As it was a first-class compartment, nearly everyone one saw was a cultured gentleman or lady, and their conversation was refined. A married couple spoke loudly in nasal voices with a Moscow accent, while a pale, sickly-looking girl of eighteen or nineteen sat silently listening beside them. A grotesquely corpulent old man who appeared to be a jewel merchant had seized upon an aristocratic-looking handsome man seated before him and was recounting the tale of a black diamond he claimed to have discovered in the Pamir Plateau. Beside him, a Chinese merchant smoked Yunnan tobacco from an amber pipe with leisurely puffs, indifferent to his surroundings. When the patrolling boy came around, he panicked and hid his pipe. A burly, corpulent forty-year-old man who appeared to be a landowner from Little Russia had been intently gazing through the glass window at the sunset-lit wilderness in silence since earlier, but eventually took dominoes from his pocket and began divining alone. An elderly man who appeared to be a Mongol noble, accompanied by five attendants, drew close a youthful Chinese beauty with an oval-faced countenance, and together they amiably partook of sweets. The five attendants observed this scene with Eastern-style expressionless eyes, rather courteously. A group of Turkistan people were in a far corner of the passenger car, loudly arguing as if some mishap had occurred. In the corner where the Turkistan group could be seen to the left, there sat the enigmatic woman possessing Turkish-style beauty. She wore an extremely luxurious large fox fur coat that fluffily concealed her entire body, but through the coat, one could discern a strong yet slender, delicate yet supple, remarkably excellent physique. What stood out most strikingly was that hat. It was a crimson Turkish-style hat, from beneath which several strands of jet-black hair spilled down onto her neck. She had a charm so vivid it seemed to perfume the air. Yet she had piercing steel eyes; a nose so noble it could make one tremble—not Roman but Greek in form; and lips that—though a commonplace description—were literally like a rose. Adorably small purple boots, well-shaped slender yellow gloves...

She placed the newspaper on her lap, tilted her head slightly, then opened the lid of the basket beside her and took out an apple. Then she removed her gloves and peeled the apple. The exposed wrists were sunburned to a russet hue!

“Hey,” Lassin said to Danchon. “She’s unquestionably suspicious.” “That level of beauty paired with such attire.” “However you rationalize it—she’s court nobility.” “The finest lady-in-waiting in the Turkish Emperor’s inner sanctum!” “You might as well call her an imperial consort.” “But observe those hands!” “They’re utterly a laborer’s hands… Which leads me to conclude—” “That creature’s no mere woman.”

“So you’re saying she’s a pickpocket?” “That less-than-splendid belle?”

“Danchon grumbled discontentedly.” “She doesn’t strike me as suspicious.” “She must be a traveler.” “That’s why her skin is sunburned.” “There’s no way only her wrists would be sunburned.” “Turkish women always hide their faces with veils, I hear.” “That’s why her face and neck aren’t sunburned, but her wrists are.” “I see,” Lassin smiled. “Granted your interpretation is sound, why does she keep directing such persistent glances our way?” “There shouldn’t be a single handsome man here capable of catching her attention.”

“You think she’s looking this way? That must be your eyes playing tricks on you.” “I don’t see it that way, you see.”

“Alright,” Lassin said with a firmer tone, “let’s hear Rezard’s opinion.”

He scanned the train car, but his junior colleague and fellow private detective Rezard was nowhere to be seen among the seats. Far by the window sat the expedition’s key figure, elderly Dr. Hakugen Maharayana—nodding off repeatedly with a grandfatherly smile unbefitting one of the world’s mere fifteen Uighur language scholars—alongside young Carlos, an adventure-loving medical student in charge of the group’s hygiene, yet Rezard remained conspicuously absent.

Lassin grew somewhat uneasy. This was because Rezard was carrying on his person the sealed iron case containing the expedition’s guardian crystal orb.

Lassin stood up from his seat. However, at that moment, the door of the connected neighboring passenger car opened, and Rezard appeared from there, so Lassin sat back down in relief. Rezard, for some reason, knit his brows and came to Lassin’s side, then leaned close to his ear and whispered. “What do you think of the cook? That Chinese man named Zhang?” “Has something unusual occurred?” Lassin inquired quizzically.

“He has a map, you see.”

“A map⁉” Lassin’s eyes widened. With those eyes fixed on Rezard, he said, “Give me a more detailed account.” “Now…” Rezard began. “Since we’d be arriving in Omsk shortly, I went into the third-class car to check on the equipment—there was that Zhang I’d ordered monitored, intently examining something before the stacked tools.” “When I approached and peered over his shoulder—” “A Western Regions map!” “When I called ‘Zhang!’, he sprang up like clockwork and hid it in his pocket.” “Even when I threatened ‘Show me the map!’, he refused outright.” “When I pressed—‘Why have this map?’—he explained: ‘Having joined your expedition west, I wished to assist by procuring such a map.’” “And when I asked ‘Where’d you get it?’, he answered casually: ‘As Chinese territory, maps come easily to us Chinese.’” “His logic holds—yet if so sound, why still refuse to show it?” Rezard hesitated slightly before proposing: “Given these circumstances, I deem that Chinese man suspicious. Should we not boldly dismiss him at Omsk?”

“Dismissing him might be acceptable, but we’d lose his excellent cooking,” Lassin remarked with a sly grin. “Though I wonder—could Zhang’s map be an exact duplicate of our Western Regions chart?” “I only glimpsed it briefly,” Rezard replied, “but they appeared identical.” “Our map is a field-surveyed replica from Dr. Hedin’s work—utterly unique. If that cook possesses one, he’s either copied ours or traveled to Sweden himself to obtain Hedin’s original. Either scenario reeks of conspiracy... Our systematic exploration of the untrodden Lop Desert has gained global attention alongside the ‘Second Beastman Incident.’ The world knows how priceless our secret-enveloped crystal orb truly is.” “They know we guard it too,” Lassin continued, his voice hardening. “Hence our nightly rotation of custodians—such precautions prove necessary against these ruthless relic hunters.” His fingers tapped the seat armrest decisively. “Remove suspicious elements without mercy.”

“Since the train arrives in Omsk around five o’clock tomorrow morning, let’s give him notice of dismissal there.”

“Very well.” Lassin nodded. Then, after eyeing the Turkish beauty suspiciously once more, he whispered quietly to Rezard. However, to Rezard, the beauty did not appear to be a suspicious villain. Far more than that, he was intently thinking only about how to seize the map of the Western Regions that Zhang the cook had been carrying earlier—specifically, how to take it after informing him of his dismissal tomorrow. ……However, in reality, they could not dismiss Zhang the cook. Not only could they not dismiss him, but they were also saved by him. This was because, before reaching Omsk, around midnight that very night, a terrifying incident occurred aboard the train—one that aimed to annihilate them all—which Zhang had swiftly thwarted.

The incident went like this—

As the night deepened, the weather grew increasingly worse, and a blizzard raged against the train windows with a sound like crashing waves. The passengers inside had closed the glass panes and even fastened the metal shutters tight, chattering animatedly as they basked in the steam-heated warmth. Gradually, their conversations dwindled. Soon most grew drowsy and made for their berths. Lassin too felt this lethargy and rose to retire. Yet his limbs hung strangely limp. “Something’s wrong,” he muttered, urgently scanning the compartment. Dr. Maharayana, Rezard, and even Danchon lay slumped against the paneled walls in profound slumber. Every passenger sat motionless in sleep. They appeared deeply unconscious. Yet all their eyes gaped unnaturally wide. Were they truly awake? Still none stirred. It was then Lassin noticed it—the cloying reek of funerary incense, the sort burned in Eastern death rites, saturating the sealed carriage. He understood.

In his haste to escape the peril, he reached for the window—but by then, it was already too late. In an instant, his vital energy drained away, his limbs stiffened like rods, and he collapsed onto the seat, eyes wide open. However, his consciousness remained clear. Everything was clearly visible. The passengers, the luggage, and the window panes. Yet he couldn't move a single finger. Moreover, he could hear sounds clearly as well. The rumbling of the train's wheels charging forward, the howling snow lashing against the windows... At that moment, Lassin heard a woman's muffled laughter from the corner of the compartment. He managed to glance toward the corner of the compartment where the laughter had originated. A woman stood wearing a mask over her mouth and nose. She had on a red Turkish cap and yellow gloves, wore a fox fur coat, and sported purple shoes. And in her right hand, she held a Japanese bronze incense burner. Though it was an extremely small incense burner, the ink-black smoke rising from it carried a potent odor.

The woman surveyed the room. Then, after placing the incense burner on the seat, she strode briskly toward them. Without the slightest hesitation, she rushed up to Rezard. With equal resolve, she stripped off his jacket without pause. Next came his vest. She tore through his undergarments and dragged out the iron case wrapped in a belly band with a grating scrape. Discarding the belly band onto the floor, she held the case before her eyes for careful inspection before finally—seemingly satisfied—tucking it securely into her coat’s inner pocket. Letting out her first sigh of relief, she moved to the adjoining room’s door and gripped its handle. But before she could turn it, the iron handle clattered as the door swung open from the other side. The woman stumbled back two or three steps. Jammed against her nose was the muzzle of an automatic pistol. She staggered once more. Then from the doorway emerged a man—an Oriental in cook’s garb—Zhang Jiaoren.

“Put your hands up, Miss!” Zhang declared in impeccable French. The woman’s face blanched. Then she meekly raised her hands. Zhang gripped the pistol with one hand while using his free hand to search through her coat, swiftly extracting the iron box.

“Well now, this has become unnecessary—my dear Miss, you must be terribly disappointed, but that’s rather presumptuous of you.” “Still, your technique was truly masterful.” “To actually burn powder from the small bones of the *Fengfeng*—a venomous fish inhabiting only Kurukuge’s freshwater lakes in Western China—as incense to paralyze people... How remarkably ingenious.” “Those privy to such secrets would be limited to either Taoist devotees or veterans of Western China’s frontiers.” “I shan’t ask how you came by this knowledge.” “Had someone like me not existed, your scheme might have succeeded splendidly.” “My presence here has been most unfortunate for you... The train’s slowing down now.” “We shouldn’t have reached Omsk yet.” “A coal shortage perhaps?” “Regardless, this works to your advantage.” “Quickly now—off with you.” “You’re far too comely to surrender to constables.” “Moreover, you’re Oriental.” “And I too am Oriental.” “Shall we not extend mutual sympathy?”

Stepping aside, Zhang opened the exit door for her. Then the woman leapt down to the platform like a cat. And just like that, she vanished into the blizzard’s darkness. From the shadows came the beautiful voice of the woman’s laughter.

“O beautiful noble prince of Shina! Today you’ve won, but someday I’ll make sure I’m the victor. Let’s meet again in the desert, you… I am the desert’s daughter. In the desert, an old man is waiting. Well then, goodbye, goodbye!”

Truly, that voice was beautiful. Zhang stood as still as stone, following the receding sound. Like one who had awakened to love.

He was still asleep in the train car. From the incense burner, smoke was rising.

VIII

(The following are excerpts from the memoir of the Chinese youth Zhang Jiaoren.)

We stayed overnight in Omsk. Early the next morning, we left the hotel and went out to the banks of the Irtysh River. A river course of 2,300 ri—the grand flow of this great river might well be called continental in scale. The party boarded the steamship. We were bound for Semipalatinsk. Both banks stretched as vast Kyrgyz plains; where smoke rose, their settlements must have lain. We stayed in Semipalatinsk for two nights. From there, we would proceed overland. Along the route to Tarbagatai stood nothing but bald mountains. The plateau stretched a hundred ri in every direction, its undulating waves continuing endlessly. Here and there lay lakes, their waters frozen solid. A procession of horses, camels, and carts—our party pressed onward across that endless plateau. Beyond Tarbagatai lay Chinese territory, where the landscape gradually took on desert-like features. We hired several Nogai people to handle the camels and advanced toward Urumqi. After Wulumuzhai came Tulufan; in Urmaqī and Toroban, we completed our travel preparations. We sold off all our horses and purchased camels in great numbers. We packed blocks of ice into bags and prepared ample provisions. We placed the specialized exploration equipment into wooden boxes and sealed them securely. We again hired several people from the Nogai, Kyrgyz, and Turkish tribes. The entire party numbered thirty people.

At last, we ventured into the desert.

For days and days, we crossed the desert……

We had now been camping here for ten days. How much longer would we be camping? Let them camp forever—that was what I hoped for. I would not leave this land. I would absolutely not leave until I made that beautiful, enigmatic Turkish beauty my own.

This very area of the Lop Desert—demarcated to the north and south by the great Altun Tagh mountain range and the small Kuruktag mountain range—seemed to be its lowest point. In every direction lay nothing but a vast, flowing sea of sand. The distant hills visible on the horizon were also sand dunes, formed by a single night’s violent storm. Here and there were marshes. However, that water was undrinkable. They contained a large amount of salt. Standing like white bones in one or two places were forests of dead trees, with wild sheep walking around them, coughing as they went. The beast crying out on the distant sand dune was indeed a wild camel. It was probably afraid of us. Every night, countless grassland wolves appeared in swarms, but fearing the firelight, they did not approach. When a shot was fired, they would hurriedly hide themselves.

There were also several rivers flowing. However, that water was undrinkable. It still contained salt. These rivers, marshes, and ponds were utterly mysterious monsters that constantly shifted their positions. Moving lakes, shifting marshes, rivers and ponds that vanished without trace—truly, everything in this area was steeped in mystery and eeriness. One night, a subtle music could suddenly be heard from the sky above. The laughter of many men and women could also be heard. However, of course, their figures could not be seen. The music also vanished like the wind. Then again, one night, the ice blocks and camels were stolen. Both the ice blocks and camels were as precious as life itself to us. Everyone was utterly terrified. And so they maintained strict vigilance. On another night, an object with mysterious characters scrawled on a wooden board was thrown into the tent. When Dr.Mahalayana saw it, his complexion changed as he began to explain.

“This is indeed Uighur.” “Who on earth wrote this?” “The ink traces are still fresh...” Then he translated: “Defile not the spirit of the desert. “If ye do not depart after offering your most revered tribute, verily shall this desert’s spirit entomb you―”

Suddenly, Lassin burst out laughing.

“With this, I’ve nearly grasped its true nature! You needn’t worry any longer—just keep quiet and leave it be. Soon enough, I’ll catch that prankster desert spirit for you.”

However, Dr. Mahalayana—superstitious as was common among Indians—had been uneasily pondering for some time,

“All things have souls. “The desert too must have a soul—so I think this spirit might belong to the ancestral land of the Loulan Turkish people who established their nation here millennia ago. “If that’s true, we must enshrine it.”

“What exactly would we be enshrining?” Lassin laughed harder still. “There’s not the slightest need for concern. “Just watch—I’ll catch that wretched spirit and show it to you plain as day.”

This statement filled with confidence swept away the anxiety that had been plaguing the natives' hearts until then.

Even before the wooden piece inscribed in Uighur was thrown into the tent—though who could have placed them remained unknown—papers written in French in a woman’s hand had repeatedly been placed into my coat pocket. The first paper had this written on it.

O noble scion of China, fellow Easterner—place your unwavering trust in this humble one. Seize the crystal orb guarded by that Spanish fool and come to my abode.

The second letter had this written in it. Please make up your mind quickly. Take the stolen orb in hand and flee northeast through the desert. You must flee approximately two and a half ri by foot. Then you will reach a village. A Lop village standing in the desert! The population numbers approximately two hundred, with a spring gushing forth drinkable water. Lush evergreen trees grow thickly. In the marsh dwell fish, and among the reeds are waterfowl. The residents are all good people. They are skilled at music and theft. They are rich in legends. Their leader is an old man nearing seventy. He is known by the nickname Old Man of the Desert—a wizard-like elder nourished by several legends, several prophecies, and several superstitions. The residents’ houses are gray and made of earth, but only the old man’s house is wooden and moreover painted crimson. Come to the crimson house. I am there.

O lovely noble scion of China. Believe my words. Are we not fellow Easterners?

The third letter arrived last night. The following words were written. “I command you! Do carry it out this time. But you must surely be doubting me now. To dispel your doubts, I shall disclose my true identity. I am a woman named Elbi, the second daughter of a Turkish general called Pinan. I was raised in the court. I served as the empress’s chief lady-in-waiting. One night, the Emperor held a banquet for the new court ladies. The five court ladies presented from various countries all wore melancholy expressions as they sat reservedly in their seats. Among them, the youngest—a Persian maiden of about seventeen—appeared especially sorrowful, her eyes swollen from crying, which drew my attention. When the banquet ended and the court ladies returned to their respective chambers, I received the Empress’s permission and went to offer them comfort. When I entered the lavish chamber of that pitiful seventeen-year-old court lady, the lovely maiden was sobbing quietly on her bed. After dismissing the maidservants, I comforted her and inquired about her circumstances. According to her account, she was the beloved daughter of a reputable Persian silk merchant who had been brought to Constantinople by her parents for sightseeing exactly one month prior. However, she had been kidnapped in broad daylight and sold to a high-ranking court official, who then presented her to the Emperor. The maiden said to me: ‘Please arrange for me to escape from here. Here is a box.’”

“I do not know how many generations back it dates, but it is an iron box that has been passed down in my family,” she said, “and my parents told me that inside lies a parchment inscribed with something in an ancient script I cannot understand.” “They said that as long as I carried this box, I could escape any peril—so I’ve kept it close since childhood. But I’ll give it to you now, so please save me!” I pitied her. So I told the girl: “I’ll help you—there’s absolutely no need to worry.” The next day, I put her in my carriage and boldly took her out from the royal palace. Fortunately, without being challenged by anyone, I had the carriage driven to the British Embassy, entrusted the girl to the ambassador, returned to the palace, and casually opened the iron box she had given me—whereupon I discovered the secret mystery of the Lop Desert written in ancient Uighur script! I grasped that box and immediately fled the palace. More than fearing exposure for helping the Emperor’s court lady escape, I was astonished by the immense value of the secret mystery inscribed on that parchment. Then, following the clues in the Uighur language, I came to the desert—that is how it happened. And there I obtained this desert’s female crystal orb. Therefore, if we acquire the other male crystal orb, we can carry both orbs, float a boat on Lop Nur Lake—ten ri from our village as recorded on the parchment—and drift all the way to the city built underground. When we reach that city, the two orbs will work a miracle and reveal to us where vast treasures lie hidden.

O fellow Easterner, noble scion of China! Take the male crystal orb. Shall we not search together for those riches that the Uighurs—the earliest ancestors of us Turkish people—secretly hid when their nation perished? The 'Old Man of the Desert' who keeps the female orb is said to guide us to the lake waters. You must find it strange—how I could read that arcane Uighur script on the parchment—but there lies a reason. As written earlier in this letter, we Turks count the Uighurs as our primal ancestors. Those of sufficient standing in Turkish court circles can generally decipher basic Uighur writings. The characters inscribed on that parchment proved exceedingly simple.

When I read the third secret letter, I finally resolved. I resolved to steal the orb. Ever since the incident on the train, Lassin and his group had come to trust me implicitly—so much so that they had even entrusted me with the iron box containing the orb. In other words, they had added this me as one of their comrades. Stealing the orb was easy. One night, on a bright moonlit evening, I finally achieved my objective and made my escape all the way to the greenland where the Turkish beauty resided. Evergreen trees, a spring, a native’s hut; there were fish swimming about and small birds singing in the trees. The greenland seemed like a pleasant place to live. Among the evergreen trees stood a shrine. Two stone guardian lion-dogs faced each other at its entrance. The Old Man of the Desert and the Turkish beauty took me to the shrine and told me to worship. Being non-religious, I bowed three times toward it as instructed.

The old man said to me: “Young man, this is our god. This is the god of us Lop people. And the Lop people are Uighurs. We Lop people are the only Uighurs who have remained pure—without mixing our blood with other races—from thousands of years ago to this day. We pure Lop people have gathered in this greenland, enshrined our sole guardian deity Ara in this shrine, revered the guardian lion-dogs—adorned with the phosphorescence of Ara’s divine messengers—as incarnations of the god, and lived here for thousands of years. However, several years ago now, a Spanish expedition attacked the Lop Desert, destroyed the shrine of the god, and made off with parts of the sutras, the parchment, and the male orb stored in a box—taking them away to an unknown location. Our fury reached its peak; we swore a vow of vengeance to our god and searched for the whereabouts of the Spanish expedition’s leader. And to our astonishment, upon hearing that their leader held a key position as mayor of Madrid—Spain’s capital—we leapt for joy. So we dispatched an assassination squad to Madrid. Through ingenious means, they first recovered the sutras. Next came another group—also dispatched from the desert—this second assassination squad plunged their dagger’s sharp tip deep into the mayor’s chest. Yet the mayor did not die. Not only did he not die—he resolved to entrust the crystal orb and parchment to a private detective named Lassin, organizing an expedition to investigate the desert’s secrets. Lassin’s group calls this second assassination attempt the ‘Second Beastman Incident.’ When we heard rumors of this expedition’s formation, we conceived a plan to intercept them en route and seize the crystal orb—dispatching Elbi to meet them at the train. Though your interference ruined this plan—since you who interfered have now become an ally and seized back from those white men the crystal orb they stole, bringing it to the greenland—I bear no grudge…only gratitude. But tell me—you’re Chinese—what reason had you to join these white men’s expedition?”

The old man looked at me curiously.

So I narrated my own past experiences. The old man listened silently, “Can you read Uighur?” “How did you read the parchment in the box that Yuan Shikai gave you?” “The iron box contained both the original text and its translation.” “They might have secretly summoned Uighur language scholars through Yuan Shikai’s influence and had them translate it.”

The old man nodded in understanding and said nothing more.

The next day, we left the house. We walked the ten-ri road over two days to reach Lop Nur Lake. A small animal-hide boat, which the natives had prepared in advance, floated silently by the lake’s shore. The three of us jumped aboard it. The old man skillfully rowed.

The old man began to speak as he rowed. Elbi translated the old man’s words into French and relayed them to us. I could only listen intently.

“According to legend,” the old man said. “In the distant past, thousands of years ago, this incident was prophesied. The male crystal orb shall be seized by white people and retrieved by yellow people. And according to another legend, once the orb has passed into white hands, it shall be cleansed in Lop Nur Lake’s waters together with its remaining female counterpart. That’s why we placed both orbs in boxes and brought them here. By one final legend, whoever retrieves the lost orb shall receive Ara the Great God’s blessing—gaining sight of Uighurs still living and laboring underground, passage to their city, and through the dual orbs’ miracle upon arrival, knowledge of where ancient Uighurs buried their vast wealth. Now we float upon Lop Nur Lake as legends foretold. A miracle must manifest.”

The old man solemnly declared and gazed intently out at the lake water.

Shining under the midday winter sun, the lake—spanning about one ri (approximately 3.9 kilometers) in circumference—lay calm and clear. The clouds traversing the sky and the shadows of birds appeared reflected as if in a mirror, and absorbing the sunlight, the water within shone like gold.

The old man took out two boxes and poured lake water over them. And he began to extol the great god.

"Ara, Ara, Il..." he chanted fervently. The lake water, which had been still, suddenly began to swirl into a vortex. At the center of the vortex was the boat. The boat began to spin rapidly. Then, one bank of the sandhill crumbled away before our eyes, and in its place gaped a cavernous hole. Water flowed into the hole. Before we knew it, the boat too had been swept into it. Suddenly, the surroundings darkened, and not a single ray of sunlight remained visible. Elbi clung to me. The old man prayed in the darkness. "Ara, Ara, Ara, Ara, Ara, Ara, Il…"

The boat flowed swiftly onward through the underground waterway like an arrow... (memo omitted)

Nine

“Zhang’s nowhere to be seen!”

Early in the morning, Rezard shouted. Dr. Mahalayana and Lassin leapt up, startled by his cry. The faint light of desert dawn filtered through the tent. They first searched for the iron box holding the orbs, but found not even a shadow of it. The thirty-member group split up to look for Zhang, yet he remained nowhere to be seen. Everyone despaired, heaved sighs, and sank into silence.

“Trusting him was our mistake, wasn’t it?” “There’s no undoing it now—” Lassin’s voice hung heavy with melancholy. “Who in God’s name is he?” “Speaks French—English too—cooks like a chef—got guts to boot.” “Had maps of the Western Regions stashed away—no common street rat after all.” Rezard’s voice cracked like thin ice over dark water. Even Danchon—that eternal jester—stood mute, eyes drilling holes into the sand.

However, no matter how long they continued like that, there was no sign of Zhang emerging, so once again, everyone stood up and began searching for his whereabouts. This time, they divided into several groups and set out in all directions at once.

Lassin and Dr. Mahalayana's group of eight formed a single unit and set out northeastward to search. After traveling barely one ri (approximately 3.9 kilometers), they unexpectedly stumbled upon a village. Evergreen trees grew thick and verdant; a spring gushed forth from the ground. In the village stood a shrine with two guardian lion-dogs standing side by side.

"Ah! So this shrine in the village must be where the Mayor discovered the crystal orbs and parchment," Lassin thought to himself. "Yet I never imagined such greenery could exist so nearby. No doubt Zhang fled into this very oasis too." Acting on this deduction, he roughly apprehended a native and interrogated them through the doctor's interpretation. "Yes, he came fleeing here," replied the native with a sneer.

“And he just set out toward the lake a moment ago.” “Where is this lake located?” “Ten ri south of here.” Upon hearing this, both Lassin and Dr. Mahalayana exchanged glances and smiled. For they had grasped a lead. Taking two or three natives as guides, they immediately headed south. They spent one night on the way and arrived there around noon the following day. The lake water was clear, its surface smooth and unfrozen. A single animal-skin boat floated lightly on the water by the shore. Lassin and Dr. Mahalayana went to the boat and checked inside. Two iron boxes lay empty inside the boat. And next to them lay a notebook. On the cover were written six characters—“Memorandum, Zhang Jiaoren”—vividly...

Dr. Mahalayana read aloud the memorandum's text. For the first time, the two came to understand Zhang's true nature. The passage describing how an animal-skin boat carrying three people—led by water flowing through a cave opening on the lakeshore—had likewise drifted into that very cave left Dr. Mahalayana and Lassin astonished. So great was their astonishment that they lifted their eyes from the notebook to scan the lakeshore. Yet no such caves gaped open along any shore. On the memorandum's final page was written something to this effect:

What a marvel of civilization—that beneath the desert lies such a vast, bustling ancient city perfectly preserved, with Uighur people who perished in history now alive and working vigorously! It was a marvel, yet no dream. We three were at that very moment receiving an unprecedented welcome from the city's citizens. Ah, the beauty of that metropolis—it bore no resemblance to modern aesthetics. This was a celestial beauty—ah, its wonders defied description through mere letters or words. At last, we had effortlessly unraveled the mysterious enigma surrounding the colossal fortune linked to the crystal orbs. The citizens themselves had instructed us. We resolved to leave this underground city in the coming days and journey southward to claim that wealth. A new vessel stood ready; a fresh notebook awaited use. This aged animal-skin boat, this sullied memorandum—they had become obsolete to me. I would entrust them to the reversed currents of Lop Nur Lake's subterranean waterways, sending them to those still wandering the desert. To Dr. Mahalayana and Your Excellency Lassin, to Danchon and Mr. Rezard—farewell, farewell!

It was a surprisingly warm day. Yet the sky was overcast. And there was not even a gentle breeze. The expedition team, having no further need to remain in the desert, began preparations for departure.

Dr. Mahalayana and Lassin walked side by side through the desert, strolling aimlessly as they conversed with deep emotion.

“Despite having invited you from India and gone to the trouble of coming all this way, the expedition has ended in failure.” “I also feel terribly sorry toward you.”

“No, no,” denied the Doctor. “There’s no need for such courtesy with me.” “If anything, I’m the one who owes you an apology.” “You must’ve been sorely disappointed, but this too is fate’s design.”

“Even so, Doctor, can there truly be cities underground?”

“When it comes to deserts, one cannot say such things are entirely impossible.” The Doctor paused thoughtfully before continuing: “To put it plainly - deserts are civilization’s graveyard.” “Consider how people might mistake someone merely comatose for dead and entomb them - though this happens among living men too.” “Just so - when desert storms rage through night’s hours burying great sand-built cities whole - those buried realms may yet thrive beneath our feet.”

“On the other hand, I’ve read in some book that a storm can blow up sand overnight and bring a buried city back to the surface in an instant—does such a thing really happen?” “I’ve heard such things can happen.” The doctor nodded repeatedly.

Whether these words had become a prophecy or not, indeed, that very night, an unseasonal storm raged through till dawn. And before their eyes, a stone marker appeared atop the sand dune. When Dr. Mahalayana read aloud the Uighur script engraved upon it in his sonorous voice, Lassin, Rezard, and Danchon all held their breath and listened intently.

Our nation shall perish. Christians are our sworn foes. Let no vast treasures lie buried in sand. Send them to southern isles where coconut palms stand. The form resembles an inverted butterfly's span. Our descendants flourish where northern lands expand.

[They] wrote the contents on three parchments and sent them across the lands of Asia, recording the interpretation on one pillar and two crystals. "The form is that of an inverted butterfly; descendants are abundant in the north…" After some time passed while saying this, Lassin fell into deep thought. He suddenly whirled around and dashed back toward the tent. He took out a world map and began examining it meticulously.

“Gentlemen, I’ve got it—Australia!” Lassin declared energetically.

“Look at Australia’s shape here—it’s precisely like an inverted butterfly.” “The northern seas teem with islands.” “Hence why descendants are said to abound.” “When their nation faced ruin, the ancient Uighurs likely sent all their wealth to the southern seas and concealed it somewhere in Australia.” “They documented this in the crystal orbs and stone marker.” “Then they inscribed cryptic messages on three parchments and dispatched them across Asia.” “Thus they devised this scheme: should future sages grow suspicious of the parchments’ writings, venture into the desert on expeditions, and either unearth that marker or obtain both crystal orbs, they could uncover where the colossal fortune lies hidden.” “That Chinese man Zhang must be one such fortunate sage who acquired a parchment.” “By luck, he’s surely secured both orbs here.” “Yet by heaven’s grace, we too have located that marker.” “We and Zhang stand evenly matched.” “Our business in the desert concludes here.” “The stage now shifts to the southern seas—let us cross this desert, emerge onto China’s mainland, and press onward to those waters!”

With evident delight, Lassin looked around at everyone after saying this. Their faces were brimming with joy to the point of overflowing.

The desert continued to glitter like a phantom all the while.

Secrets! Secrets! The desert sparkled in the morning sun as if concealing all secrets.

**Part Three: The Society for World Domination**

Ten

Beijing's spring was fading away. The world had already become one of fresh greenery.

After a storm of desert sands had ephemerally scattered myriad flowers across the ground, blossoms vanished from this world. Only in the inner garden of the Forbidden City did peonies bloom in their prime, yellow and red. In the audience chamber of the Presidential Residence, even the few potted roses that had been placed there had lost their color and luster, their petals withered.

Near Central Station, at Number 10 Yanle Street, in a third-floor room of Yanle Hotel—which towered majestically, shrouded in the fresh green leaves of a grove—there had long been a guest staying.

The guests were a man and a woman. The man, judging by his features, appeared to be a nobleman under thirty from southern China, with an air of dignity in his bearing. However, while the woman was undoubtedly Asian, she did not appear to have been born in China. She had the appearance of a noblewoman from the Near East or Turkey, and while her demeanor was exceedingly graceful, there was an awkwardness about her that suggested she was unaccustomed to life in Beijing. The sharp-tongued hotel pageboys remarked on the odd pairing of the two, saying it was like mating a Guangdong chicken with a Turkish peacock.

The two were on very good terms—when in their room, they stayed together, and when going outside, they went out together. However, they mostly seemed to be holed up discussing matters in their room, though the lock was always engaged. Around this time, Beijing had grown restive. High-ranking government officials were being assassinated with frequency. Yet the perpetrators had never once been apprehended. Their methods of killing were not so much ingenious as bizarre. To give one example: One bright afternoon, a capable squad leader from the Police Department walked through bustling Nanzih Street accompanied by two subordinates. From huts lining both sides of the street came the clamorous din of opening gongs mingling with flutes, drums, and small bells. A signboard hung before one hut vividly depicted an enigmatic beautiful youth in crimson robes adorned with a chest ornament and carrying a spear. The title appeared to read “Shou Honghai.” Through this bustling alleyway—where clusters of men streamed in and out of restaurants, where the whine of a huqin drifted from a wine shop, where open-air vendors hawked counterfeits while shouting “Zhou dynasty tripods! Song dynasty inkstones!”—the squad leader and his subordinates strolled at leisure.

Then suddenly, the squad leader cried out in a pained voice.

“Someone’s dragging me off!” “Who the hell is dragging me away?!” “I can’t see anything with my eyes, but someone’s dragging me away!” “…Someone’s calling me from far away!” “I don’t know who’s calling!” While shouting, the Squad Leader dashed through bustling Nanzih Street in broad daylight like a bolt of lightning. Strangely, even as he ran this way, he bent his entire body backward like a bow, seemingly resisting the unseen force dragging him—yet the force proved stronger, and in moments his figure vanished into the crowd.

Moreover, by the next day, his body was found as a corpse ironically left at the entrance of the Police Department. The corpse bore no wounds. There were no signs of crushing. There were no traces of poisoning nor any evidence indicating suicide. It was merely a corpse. Not only were there no injuries, but the corpse hadn't even been looted. Neither his official uniform nor a single penny from his pockets had been stolen. And while the corpse's lifeless face showed surprise, there wasn't the slightest hint of resentment.

The squad leader was not the only one whose corpse was exposed on the main street through this strange manner of death. As previously stated, not only were high-ranking government officials killed, but even in the south—in Guangdong—influential members of the People’s Party were murdered. Meanwhile, in the north, Zhang Zuolin’s officers were killed. Every single one of them died in exactly the same mysterious manner of being killed. In other words, an unseen entity would drag them with an unseen force toward where an unseen person called. And their whereabouts were lost. And by the next day, they would almost invariably expose the corpses on the main thoroughfare.

Amid the frequent occurrence of such bizarre killings, a poem like the following began to be chanted by the children of Beijing.

Ancient trees encroached upon the heavens; the sun had already sunk. Under heaven, how many true heroes remained? Who now claimed mastery o'er this tower? The mastermind came! The mastermind came! The mastermind came! Starting from Beijing, this poem spread even to the countryside. Throughout every corner of the Republic of China, it came to be chanted by children—not so much sung as uttered like a habitual refrain.

The old men well-versed in ancient matters tried to decipher the meaning of this incomprehensible poem by comparing it against the past, but they could not understand what it meant.

Eleven

It was a night of brilliant moonlight. Along Golden Sparrow Street, the stately phoenix trees lining the road bore clusters of purple flowers shaped like temple bells, their beauty undiminished even in the dimness of night. In the gardens of houses where flame-like pomegranate blossoms hung like strung pearls beneath the gnarled branches of ancient plum trees—from moonlit corners untouched by direct beams—phosphorescent glimmers pulsed rhythmically: newborn fireflies taking flight.

Along the tranquil moonlit path of stylish, quiet Golden Sparrow Street, a man and woman pressed close together now moved silently through its stillness. They appeared to exchange whispers, yet kept their voices subdued—as if unwilling to shatter the hush of this early summer night with its celebrated moon. The hour approached midnight. Perhaps owing to this late time, no passersby traversed this peaceful estate-lined district save for occasional pairs of men and women. Only the rhythmic cadence of their footsteps echoed through the night.

At that moment, from far down the street, the sound of a man’s voice—seemingly drunk—reciting a poem could be heard. Moreover, as the voice drew nearer, the words of the poem became somewhat clearer. Ancient trees encroach upon the heavens; the sun has already sunk.

……… "The mastermind comes! The mastermind comes! The mastermind comes!" The poem was that now-familiar incomprehensible one currently popular in Beijing. The drunkard, singing that poem, gradually approached the two. Upon closer inspection, the drunkard appeared to be a laborer, his Chinese-style clothes soiled with filthy mud clinging repulsively here and there. An old man past fifty, his drunken face bright red. "Well now, you two together!"

The drunken laborer, upon seeing the couple, let out a shrill cry and planted himself in the middle of the road—yet rather than spewing abuse, he instead moved aside to avoid them and shambled past. But as they crossed paths, he bumped his shoulder against the man's.

The moment they brushed past, the laborer whispered. “You’d better watch yourself, Zhang Jiaoren!”

Upon hearing this, the man who had been whispered to twitched convulsively and stopped in his tracks in the middle of the street. “You’d better watch yourself, Zhang Jiaoren! Ten steps... twenty steps... no—thirty steps perhaps...”

The laborer whispered once more but continued shambling away. Zhang Jiaoren stood rigidly, staring at the laborer’s retreating figure. His head was in chaos, and his eyes gleamed with suspicion. “What did he say to you?” “That creepy Chinese man?” The woman accompanying him said this and watched the man curiously. Zhang Jiaoren remained silent, still fixing his suspicious eyes on the laborer’s retreating figure. Then he suddenly turned around and stared intently at the woman’s face. “Watch yourself, Zhang Jiaoren! “That’s exactly what that laborer said.” Zhang Jiaoren frowned. “Watch yourself, Zhang Jiaoren! “Ten steps.” “Twenty steps.” “No, thirty steps, perhaps…” “That’s exactly what that laborer said.”

“What does that mean? And how does that laborer know your real name?” “I have absolutely no idea how he knows my real name. As long as he knows mine, he must surely know yours as well.” “Hongyu—this is my real name.” “I don’t care if people know it at all.” “The fact that he knows my real name isn’t painful—but how he discovered it? What kind of man is that laborer? That’s what mystifies me.” He frowned rhythmically with each counted step. “Speaking of mysteries—ten steps... twenty steps... no thirty steps perhaps... The meaning behind those numbers is precisely what’s mysterious.”

"What on earth could it mean?" Hongyu pondered for a moment before saying, "Why don't we try walking? Ten steps. Twenty steps. Thirty steps. Let's walk it out just like that." Thereupon, the two walked side by side along the quiet path where fireflies flitted—ten steps. Twenty steps. Thirty steps—resolutely advancing forward. And when they finally counted their way to thirty steps—sure enough—an incident occurred. The incident was none other than this. Just as they reached that point, Hongyu suddenly cried out in a pained voice—

“Someone’s pulling me away! Though I can’t see anything with my eyes—someone’s pulling me away! Someone’s calling me from afar! I don’t know who’s calling, but—!”

Shouting this, she darted out into the thoroughfare like an arrow.

Zhang Jiaoren’s shock was beyond description. For a while, he stood motionless in the middle of the thoroughfare, watching Hongyu’s retreating figure—then, with a shout, he took off after her. To avoid losing sight of the fleeing pair, another man began chasing them from behind.

That was the laborer from earlier. In the moonlit streets, pale as the depths of the sea, the three of them ran and ran and ran and ran, as if in a marathon race, until at last they vanished from sight.

Twelve

The life of Zhang Jiaoren—who had lost Hongyu—became wretched thereafter. If he wasn’t sitting motionless in his room at the Yanle Hotel, consumed by grief, he was wandering the streets of Beijing day and night in search of Hongyu. To search for Hongyu’s whereabouts, he had of course immediately filed a missing person report with the police headquarters—but the police headquarters paid no heed. Not only did they pay no heed, but they even went so far as to say such things. “Given the nature of this case, finding a corpse might be one thing—but trying to locate a living woman? That’s simply impossible.” “Even within this police headquarters itself, there have been such incidents—a squad leader lost his life.”

For these reasons, the police headquarters handled the case coldly and did not even attempt to search for her whereabouts.

For Zhang Jiaoren, Hongyu was not only his partner in work but also his one and only beloved. Losing Hongyu must be said to have been a tremendous blow, both spiritually and materially. And of course, for him, the spiritual blow was far, far greater than the material one. If Hongyu were never to return to his side, his character would undoubtedly undergo a complete transformation because of it.

The woman who had suddenly appeared and captured my heart had just as suddenly vanished. However, even if she had vanished, the wound she left in my heart would not easily fade. Even so, what a truly mysterious woman Hongyu was. That I met such a woman—what misfortune is mine! As he dwelled on these thoughts, Zhang Jiaoren grew increasingly desperate to regain Hongyu no matter what. He then searched even more frequently throughout Beijing and its outskirts.

And so months passed until the season when oleanders and globe amaranths bloomed crimson, and the midsummer climate arrived where the voices of singing girls in taverns instead lulled one to sleep.

One night, Zhang Jiaoren walked toward Jinquezi Street with quickened steps—drawn by some unseen force—to where he had once lost sight of his beloved. Though barely a month had passed since then, the pale purple paulownia blossoms and flame-like pomegranate flowers had mostly scattered across gardens where hibiscus now bloomed faintly white beneath the moon. "The flowers may have changed," he mused inwardly, "but these trees and moon remain untouched since that night." "And yet how utterly transformed my own heart has become!"

Zhang Jiaoren, immersed in Chinese-style contemplation, trudged along the road while steeped in such reverie. After walking like this for a while, he casually raised his head and peered ahead—when, about nine meters ahead, a man and woman walked side by side in an intimate manner, resolutely advancing forward. Though he saw only their backs through the darkness of night, no matter how he scrutinized the woman’s figure among the couple walking ahead, there was no mistaking it—this was Hongyu.

From behind, Zhang Jiaoren involuntarily called out in a loud voice.

“Hongyu! Hongyu! Oh, Hongyu!”

Then the woman turned around. She smiled, baring her teeth, but continued walking steadily onward. The face of the woman who turned back to smile was unmistakably Hongyu. When Zhang Jiaoren recognized her, his heart raced with joy and he broke into a sprint to reach her. Yet no matter how he ran, the distance between them stubbornly remained nine meters apart. What's more, despite Zhang's desperate pace, the couple ahead never quickened their steps, maintaining the same unhurried gait as before.

Zhang Jiaoren’s body was growing increasingly fatigued. Now even breathing was difficult for him. Yet Zhang Jiaoren kept running with all his might. And he continued his desperate calls.

“Hongyu! Hongyu! Hongyu!” he...

But the woman no longer attempted to turn around. Clad in Chinese-style clothing, she remained by the burly old man's side, led by his hand as they walked leisurely onward.

Just then, from up ahead, a massive automobile came speeding toward the old man. Seeing this, the old man raised his hand and signaled for the automobile to stop. After waiting for it to halt, he helped the woman into the vehicle and settled her inside before climbing in himself. At that moment, Zhang Jiaoren finally dashed up to the side of the automobile—but then nimbly leapt inside.

The automobile immediately started moving. The door slammed shut.

"Hongyu!"

In a strangled voice that seemed to choke off his breath, Zhang Jiaoren shouted as he frantically scanned the automobile’s interior. Not a single soul remained inside the automobile! “What in God’s name has happened?!” he cried.

With a strangled cry like a man possessed, he lunged at the door—but finding it locked from the outside, it wouldn't budge an inch.

At that moment, the car’s interior light, which had been lit until now, suddenly went out, and instantly the car was plunged into darkness. The dark automobile ran on and on under the moonlight.

13

The dark automobile ran on and on under the moonlight.

Zhang Jiaoren remained seated on the cushion in the dark automobile, startled by the unexpected turn of events yet resolute and unflustered, closing his eyes as he awaited his fate. Where it was headed or how it navigated, the automobile sped onward. Before long, the two windows had been closed, and no matter how he tried, he could no longer glimpse the outside. "Things will unfold as they must." "If I were resolved to lay down my life, there would be nothing left to surprise me." "Go on—take me wherever you will!"

He had been thinking this way when—even as he thought—a bizarre incident occurred, one that would shake his very soul. And this was happening precisely inside the automobile.

For as he sat there resolved on the cushion, he sensed a presence in this pitch-black automobile. Specifically, someone appeared to be seated on the cushion across from him. Zhang Jiaoren shuddered. And he let out an involuntary cry.

“Who the hell are you there?!”

Then, sure enough, from the other side came the sound of a muffled chuckle,

“Are you frightened, Zhang Jiaoren?” a voice asked mockingly. “I’m neither frightened nor surprised. Who the hell are you?” “Not frightened, you say? How bold. But you’ll be scared soon enough. Are you asking me what I am? Well now, what in the world am I? Who I am doesn’t matter. I’ve come bearing a mission from someone greater than myself—so all I need do is fulfill it.” The unseen man on the other side laughed once more after saying this. Anger welled up within Zhang Jiaoren more than fear.

“So you came bearing a mission!” Zhang Jiaoren bellowed.

“Then hurry up and fulfill that grandiose mission of yours already!” “In that case, let’s begin fulfilling it now. Though for your sake, I ought to take my time rather than rush.”

The man opposite laughed again.

"You needn’t concern yourself with such considerations. If you intend to take your time, then I’ll simply force the issue on my end!"

“And how exactly do you plan to expedite matters?” “I’ll pounce on you—that’s how!” “I’ll strike you down—that’s what!” “How admirably brave you are.” Having said this, the unseen man resumed that repulsive laugh of his without a shred of shame—then continued in a suddenly formal tone: “Zhang Jiaoren, stretch out your hand straight ahead. Something ought to be dangling in the space before you.” “That constitutes my mission.”

Zhang Jiaoren wordlessly stretched out both hands slowly and steadily. Sure enough, in the space directly before him hung two unsheathed short swords, suspended from above by a single thread. Zhang Jiaoren felt a chill, but his nerve did not waver. A rebellious urge seethed up within him. “So this is the ‘mission’ you speak of. “So it’s a murder mission, then. “I had a feeling it was something like that.” “Rather than calling it a mission of murder, it would be more gentlemanly to call it a mission of a duel, don’t you think?”

These were the words of the unseen man. The same words were spoken again. “Zhang Jiaoren, take whichever of the two blades you prefer.” “I shall take the remaining one as my weapon.” “Then shall we cross blades inside this automobile together?” “I have no intention of fighting a duel without knowing the reason.” Zhang Jiaoren declared. “But that’s impossible!” The man opposite pressed intimidatingly. “I must obey my mission and duel you.”

“If you must follow your mission, then go ahead and kill me. Then go tell your boss you killed me in a duel. Since I’m sitting right here like this, go ahead and cut me down with that short sword. I absolutely refuse to engage in a duel without knowing the reason.”

In Zhang Jiaoren’s words, there was an unwavering resolve visible. Perhaps pressed by that resolve, the man opposite also fell silent. Inside the car was deathly silent and terrifyingly intense. The enormous automobile, carrying two people in its terrifying interior, drove on and on through the late-night road.

Fourteen

At that moment, the voice of the unseen man began to speak in a courteous tone. “Mr. Zhang Jiaoren, goodbye. Your resolve has been made clear.” "That is an admirable resolve." "Most people would have fainted by now when pushed this far." “Otherwise, they would take up a short sword and start slashing wildly.” "In the end, overcome by terror, they still end up fainting." "And then they end up dying just like that." “They have no choice but to discard the corpse from the automobile into the street.” "That Metropolitan Police Department squad leader was another one who ended up a corpse." “And yet you have boldly refused my demands and sit there composedly.” “You are a hero.” “Your courage has thoroughly impressed me.” “And thus, my crucial mission has naturally been fulfilled.” "You have truly passed the first gate with dignity." "As for the second and third gates, I have no knowledge." “Mr. Zhang Jiaoren, farewell!” “We shall meet again somewhere, someday.”

As the courteous voice faded, the figure of the man faintly visible in the darkness vanished completely, and the car's interior descended into an eerie silence.

A pallid moonlight shone in the sky as bright as noon. Bathed in moonlight like silver, the automobile's hood gleamed. Not a single soul walked the streets. Through the deserted streets headlong, the automobile raced on.

“Go ahead and drive us off into oblivion! I couldn’t give a damn!” “What becomes of me matters not at all!”

In the dark, Zhang Jiaoren muttered this discontentedly. Then, at that moment, the monster-like automobile that had raced on and on finally began to slacken its speed, as if exhausted.

Then, at that moment, from ahead came a creaking sound—as if some imposing gate were being opened. And then, apparently having entered through the gate, the automobile slowed its speed even further. Before long, it came to a complete stop.

Suddenly, the automobile door opened. Outside, it was still pitch dark.

Zhang Jiaoren leapt nimbly out of the automobile without hesitation.

Thus, Zhang Jiaoren managed to escape from the monstrous "Death Automobile," yet even afterward, his life became plagued by strange incidents more terrifying than that deathly vehicle, occurring with alarming frequency. Moreover, within that very same night. And regarding that incident, Zhang Jiaoren recorded the following in his memorandum:

(From Zhang Jiaoren’s Memorandum) …I had gotten out of the automobile, but because it was too dark all around, I could do nothing. This seemed to be inside a building. As proof, no matter which way I looked, there was neither moonlight nor starlight to be seen. And the building seemed large. No matter which direction I walked or how far I went, I never came into contact with any floorboards or walls. How lonely I must have been standing there inside that building. The automobile that had brought me here had vanished without a trace. Even if it were still there, in this darkness I wouldn’t have been able to tell. The boundless true darkness began to seem to finally disturb my heart—a heart that had known no fear. How I had longed for sunlight and human voices! I stood resolutely in the darkness while feeling a shudder. Then unexpectedly I noticed a faint rose-colored firelight flowing in from nowhere. I looked around. What an inexplicable thing this was! There on the ground beneath my feet—ground that had been pitch-dark until moments ago—now gaped open a circular hole less than one ken across, emitting a rose-colored light! Driven by curiosity my chest thudded violently with a pounding heartbeat. I quietly approached and stuck my head over the hole. A spiral staircase descended vertically from its mouth. At what seemed to be its end there appeared to be a chamber where resplendent lamplight blazed as bright as midday. And there it appeared that many cheerful-looking people were present while singing voices could be heard...

I was utterly astonished and could not tear my eyes away. What an astonishing contrast! What an unbelievable sight! The place where I now stood was enveloped in darkness, devoid of any human presence, and utterly terrifying. Yet in that underground chamber below, lamplight, singing voices, and merriment seemed to be brimming. After thinking for a while, I resolved to go to that chamber. For even if something more terrifying than this awaited me there, I believed it more meaningful to go and experience that horror myself than to remain idly standing on the surface, being gnawed at by the terror of darkness.

There, I rose to my feet and set foot on the spiral staircase. And I steadily descended the vertical staircase. When about ten minutes had passed, I finally discovered that I had arrived at the underground chamber. Three sides of the chamber were walls. From the center of the ceiling, a chandelier directed countless light bulbs downward, brightly illuminating the chamber. Though there were no apparent decorations, in the center of the chamber stood a single round table, upon which lay a sheet of paper bearing a blueprint. And there was yet another—a gigantic statue of an old man clad in Chinese attire—this colossal figure stood imposingly placed at the chamber’s entrance.

Fifteen As I examined the statue, I gradually realized whose bronze likeness this was. It was none other than Yuan Shikai - already deceased. I spent some time pondering why Yuan Ye's statue had been placed here, but there was no logical way to comprehend it. Yuan Ye's statue wasn't only here - it had also been positioned at the very center of a cross-shaped long corridor. Before discovering Yuan Ye's statue in the corridor's midpoint, I had thoroughly explored every corner of this bizarre underground mansion. Countless corridors branched out like spider legs! Along both sides of the corridors, room doors stood lined up in perfect rows. I tried knocking on several doors. No one answered from within. Though receiving no responses, it seemed many people occupied the rooms - lively voices echoed through them. Moreover, those boisterous voices sounded muddled and undisciplined in their throatiness, as if intoxicated by something.

Then, still undeterred, I tried knocking on two or three more room doors, but again there was no response. Only muddled, slurred throat sounds clamored out. From one room came the clear sound of someone reciting a poem.

Ancient trees encroach upon the heavens as the sun sinks below. How many heroes truly exist beneath the heavens? Who in this pavilion is its master? The Chieftain comes, the Chieftain comes, the Chieftain comes. "They’re reciting that poem."

I paid it no particular mind and continued walking steadily onward. And I came before the bronze statue of Yuan Ye placed at the center of the corridor's crossroads, looked up at it and stood still.

Then, suddenly from the statue's shadow emerged a Chinese man. To my surprise, it was none other than that filthy old coolie who had appeared on Kinshukushi Street—still drunk today as well. He walked unsteadily, teetering perilously with each step. "Oh!" I couldn't help but exclaim in exaggerated astonishment. The old man ignored me completely, swaying drunkenly toward the right—then abruptly whispered: "Keep going straight!" "Zhang Jiaoren!" "Left! Left! Left!" "Lift the curtain at the very end..."

Having said this, the old coolie drew close to the shadow of the bronze statue. And then where he had gone—no matter how I looked, his figure was nowhere to be seen.

Prepared for adventure, I followed the coolie’s instructions and quickened my steps as I turned left, left, left. After walking for over twenty minutes, the long corridor came to a dead end where a single chamber stood. The door hung half-open, allowing me to make out the hues of a brocade curtain draped inside. Without an instant’s hesitation, I thrust aside the curtain and slipped smoothly into the chamber.

Ah, the dream-like sight of this chamber!

Truly a dream-like small chamber! What faintly perfumed the chamber was the sweet smell of opium. The pale purple lamp cast a hazy glow over the chamber. It seemed to come from the ceiling. Illuminated by the pale purple lamplight descending from above, a single bed lay faintly visible. Upon it, the maiden in white calmly drank opium.

The shock and joy I felt upon seeing the maiden's face defied both brush and words. The maiden was none other than Hongyu, the one I had been seeking. ……I dashed to the bed. And then I hugged Hongyu.

“You’re Hongyu! Ah, Hongyu!” The words I managed to utter amounted to nothing more than these two short phrases. When I spoke them, tears streamed from my eyes like a waterfall. Then she—Hongyu—opened her eyes sleepily, stared intently at my face, and smiled an unnatural smile. She closed her eyes again and after a moment began to speak quietly. Her words came in a dreamlike murmur... “……I know you. You’re Mr. Zhang Jiaoren.” “That’s right… I remember faintly.” “That time we met in the desert!” “And yes—when we suddenly parted on Kinshukushi Street... It feels like an eternity ago!” “Five years, ten years, twenty years—all that time, I loved you!” “And you... you loved me too... But it’s too late now!” “Isn’t it?” “I belong to another now.” “So let us resign ourselves to being strangers... No tears now, dear one... Let us drink opium instead.” “Drink and drink and drink until we forget our tears.”

“Hongyu! Hongyu! “Ah, Hongyu! “You’re intoxicated by opium! “Your true self lies paralyzed! “Or if there truly exists someone who defiled your innocent being—unveil that wretch to me! “Yes—unveil that wretch to me!”

I pressed on, my voice nearly half-crazed and wavering.

However, even when told this, Hongyu continued her delirious ramblings.

Sixteen “You must surely know it already, don’t you? “Lately, from Beijing all the way to the countryside, a peculiar poem has been making the rounds, don’t you think?” “Do you know the meaning of that poem?” “‘An ancient tree encroaches upon heaven; the sun has already set’—this line comes first, doesn’t it? “The meaning is this—in China, which was once as grand as heaven, an ancient tree spread its roots and covered the land so completely that sunlight could no longer penetrate. “And eventually, that sun sank completely. “In other words, ‘sun’ refers to civilization… and ‘How many true heroes remain under heaven?’—this comes next, doesn’t it? “This meaning is exactly what it says. “In other words, it’s saying that in a China reduced to such a state, there isn’t a single hero—or anything of the sort—to be found. “‘Who in this pavilion can claim to be its master?’ This is the third line, isn’t it? “The ‘pavilion’ refers to none other than a mansion built underground. “This very place where we are now. “And so, this place is an opium den. “It is an opium den, but at the same time, this place is the most important headquarters of a secret society. “When I say this, you will ask: “‘What kind of secret society it is?’ “I’ll tell you. “It is a terrifying secret society that aims for world conquest… And as for the society’s leader—yes, he is a most eminent person who summoned me here—and I dedicate my love to him!”

“Who the hell is he?! Where the hell is he?!” I involuntarily shouted. So deeply had Hongyu’s delirious ramblings wounded my heart.

Then, in the same tone, she told me the story.

“You should know that person. At the very least, you should know his statue.” “A statue?! What kind of statue?” “It was standing in the corridor, wasn’t it?” “That is Yuan Shikai’s statue!” “He went by that name in the past, didn’t he?” “Yuan Shikai was supposed to have died ages ago!” “The world may say so, but he is truly alive.”

“It’s a delusion! A delusion! “Nonsense, it’s a delusion!” “No such thing! “No such thing! No such thing at all!” I tried to rebuke Hongyu in an angry, fierce voice, but it proved impossible. The reason was that in that very instant, the sound of a police siren far in the distance shattered the basement’s silence. Two more blasts followed! Three more blasts! A roar of voices erupted. Angry shouts, desperate pleas, a woman’s weeping... then the sharp report of a pistol! The clattering sound of a sword scabbard! It seemed the police had stormed in.

Without uttering a word, I hoisted Hongyu onto my shoulder. Then I ran out of the room. I dashed through the long corridor, veering right and left. The flaring light of blazing flames blocked the corridor ahead. The basement was ablaze. Choking on the smoke, I involuntarily staggered toward the corridor floor. At that moment, someone called out to me.

“Press the button on the left wall!” “Climb up from there!” “Run without hesitation, Zhang Jiaoren!” I jolted upright and looked toward the source of the voice. Wrapped in smoke and amidst flames stood a Chinese man. In both hands he held two pistols, his figure glaring straight ahead! That was none other than the filthy old coolie I had encountered on Jinquezi Street and before the statue. Yet though appearing as a coolie, upon closer inspection of his true visage—having torn off the false beard and eyebrows—it was none other than the Spanish star detective Lassin, whom I had betrayed, abandoned, and fled from in the Lop Desert! What words could I possibly have?! I could do nothing but burn with shame. Suddenly I bowed deeply. Then I looked at the left-hand wall. There was indeed a button. When I pressed it, part of the wall became a door. As it creaked open inward, I leapt through with Hongyu in my arms—the door snapped shut behind us.

In the pitch-black darkness, still holding Hongyu in my arms, I climbed up the staircase with all my strength.

Having thus climbed to the end of the staircase and finally emerging above ground, I found myself unexpectedly in the empty well of a stranger’s garden on Jinquezi Street. And already, the night had ended. ……(End of Memorandum――)

It was the next day.

In the Security Division office of the Republic of China Police Agency, fourteen or fifteen rather important individuals had surrounded Detective Lassin and were listening intently to his account. “...Well, given that state of affairs, after conducting various investigations, we concluded that the phenomenon of an invisible entity pulling invisible strings was nothing more than hypnosis. Once we settled on this hypothesis, we proceeded accordingly.” “However, one evening, as I was walking along Jinquezi Street, a Chinese youth of noble bearing and a Turkish beauty came strolling under the moonlight from the opposite direction. I quickly discerned that one of the two had fallen into a hypnotic state and casually issued a warning.” “This was because I recognized that young nobleman.” “And sure enough, after the Turkish beauty had walked about thirty steps, she started running in her usual manner, just as before.” “Startled, the young nobleman gave chase.” “Of course, I also gave chase.” “The young nobleman collapsed midway, but I chased her to the very end.” “And what do you think happened? After running all over Beijing, that beauty ended up returning to the very same Jinquezi Street!” “And so, she ran into an abandoned pottery factory at the edge of town.” “I also went there.” “Suddenly, a hole opened in the ground—there was a staircase leading to a basement—and the two of them descended.” “Then we arrived at a terrifyingly vast and magnificent opium den.” “I conducted various investigations.” “I even managed to obtain the blueprint of that opium den.” “And I identified who was running the opium den.” “A man named Yuan Gengsheng.” “And he himself claims to be the reincarnation of Yuan Shikai.” “And he was establishing opium den branches in nations worldwide, corrupting humanity across the globe, loudly declaring his intent to conquer the entire world—all while deceiving the ignorant masses with such grand proclamations.” “The reason such a massive opium den remained undiscovered until today is that they thoroughly vetted anyone entering or exiting the den before allowing them in. Even when Yuan Gengsheng—the leader I mentioned—used hypnosis to abduct people, they tested their mental fortitude en route. The cowardly ones were forced to commit suicide through self-hypnosis and mercilessly discarded on the streets, while only the bold ones were brought back. That’s how they kept their secret.”

Having finished his account, Detective Lassin took out a cigar, lit it, and began puffing away with evident relish.

“Regrettably,” Lassin squinted one eye slightly, “I’ve managed to let slip away none other than the ringleader Yuan Gengsheng himself—this was my failure.”

With that, he gave a wry, bitter smile.

Part Four: Shanghai Night Tales

17

In a room at the England Hotel in the center of Nanjing Road, a main thoroughfare in the British Concession of Shanghai, Detective Lassin and his friend Danchon, "the painter who does not paint," were talking while puffing on cigars.

“Hoh… So she’s such a beauty, eh? By the way, are you saying you want to make that beauty your model? It’s all well and good to have a model, but judging by your attitude thus far—even if you had the finest model imaginable—you being Danchon the ‘Painter Who Does Not Paint’ wouldn’t actually paint them. That’s what makes it so tiresome. Or will you start painting from now on?” “Of course I’d paint her. If such a splendid beauty were to stand on the model platform for me, naturally my brush would start moving on its own.”

“You keep harping on ‘beauty this, beauty that,’ but according to your own account, she remains veiled—never once showing her face. Isn’t that so?” “Though I’ve never seen her face, her figure alone confirms she must be beautiful. A physique so extraordinarily refined would be a fraud if not matched by equally extraordinary features. She is unquestionably a beauty.” “Ah yes—as a painter, you’d have expertise in such assessments. But tell me: doesn’t it strike you as odd that this paragon of beauty would personally deliver a letter to you?”

“Of course I think it’s strange.” “In other words, it’s precisely because I thought it was strange that I told you about it, but…” “It was precisely because I noticed your strange behavior and questioned you that you confessed the matter. Otherwise, you would have kept silent and, tempted by the beauty’s letter, undoubtedly gone alone to the park’s music hall tonight.” “Truly, I had to say your behavior today was outlandish.” “You, the uncouth one, primping yourself.” “Smoothing your hair with pomade, dabbing perfume on your handkerchief, and fidgeting incessantly while constantly checking your wristwatch.” “That was sheer madness… On any ordinary day, I’d let it slide.” “As you well know—after crossing the Western Regions’ desert to reach China’s capital in pursuit of a buried treasure—our most vital member Dr. Mahalayana contracted a local disease and became unable to leave Beijing. While nursing him, we wasted days getting entangled with the Beijing Police Agency over Yuan Gengsheng’s case.” “Even so, after Dr. Mahalayana’s illness had finally healed—albeit imperfectly—we came overland to Shanghai, only for him to fall ill again upon our arrival.” “Now that he’s finally recovered, aren’t we on the brink of setting sail for the South Seas tomorrow?” “With you getting all worked up over that, anyone would have to ask questions.” “It’s precisely because you asked that I told you.” “You shouldn’t have told me of your own accord.”

Though a smile lingered at the corners of Lassin’s mouth, his sharp eyes blazed with accusatory light. Danchon gradually lowered his head, his cheeks flushing like a child’s, and listened in prolonged silence—but at that moment, he suddenly looked up. Those eyes now bore an expression of genuine distress, almost pleading—so comically innocent that Lassin started to laugh despite himself. He barely caught himself and stated gravely.

“Then you shall go to the park’s music hall tonight to listen to the music, exactly as that beauty specified in her letter.” “But I won’t let you go alone.” “Of course I’ll be keeping out of sight—but I’ll come along.” “Then we’ll see whether you succeed in persuading that beauty to model for you...or whether she captures you, strings you up upside down, and makes you spill your guts. A romantic showdown indeed.” “What a splendid spectacle this will be.”

Lassin said and stood up. "The music is supposed to start at eight in the evening, right? Until then, you'll have to endure it and go wait in the doctor's room. When eight o'clock comes, then you can head out. In the meantime, I suppose I'll take care of my own business. Though I must say, my 'business' is really just strolling around town."

Lassin left the room. Then he left the hotel and walked toward the old Chinese city.

18

Even Shanghai—hailed as “the Oriental New York” or “the Oriental San Francisco”—when one stepped into its age-old Chinese city within the county town walls, found decay, stench, and filth filling both roads and interiors, so much so that those of sensitive disposition would shun even approaching. Lassin walked through such filth-filled streets of the city. However, Lassin did not head straight for his destination. He walked leisurely along the Huangpu River from the British Concession where he was staying toward the French Concession. Along his route lay the busiest streets in the Concessions—namely, the Huangpu River waterfront and Suzhou Creek, where buildings lined the streets and stood in orderly rows. The streets were bustling with people. Carriages and automobiles rang their bells and raced along the broad avenue. The windows of three- and five-story buildings were all thrown open, revealing the tidy figures of clerks busily at work. Gold signs bearing obscure characters—Shanghai Cotton Company, Guangdetai Cotton Ginning Factory—hung from the eaves of every house, glittering brilliantly in the setting sun. Lassin turned right onto Jiujiang Road, proceeded to the end of Fujian Road, and then, for the first time, slowly set foot into the French Concession.

Compared to the bustle of the British Concession, the French Concession was somewhat quieter yet more refined and elegant in compensation. It presented a scene befitting a street where gentlemen strolled with ladies, youths who looked like actors adorned with large diamond rings, and noblewomen wearing jade hats with jewels studded on their shoe tips might take their promenade. While walking quietly, Lassin kept his eyes sharply scanning left and right, mustered all his auditory attention, and strained to catch a particular song. Yet no song reached him. Though footsteps, voices, laughter, and the clatter of objects resounded everywhere he went, nowhere did the melody he sought pierce through the clamor. Having traversed the entire French Concession and lingered there hesitantly, Lassin eventually swung around in a wide detour and ventured into the American Concession.

The American Concession lacked the elegance of the French and the orderliness of the British; it was simply chaotic—bustling beyond prosperity into clamor. Among those walking the streets were Indians and Turks. Hungarians ceaselessly puffing on cigarettes, dark-complexioned Nubians, Japanese of modest stature, and quick-to-quarrel Mexican merchants—all oppressed by gold's might—stumbled about with bloodshot eyes. The grand buildings of consulates and banks from various nations lined the streets, while warehouses, piers, post offices, and such stood everywhere. Shanghai's true masters—the Chinese merchants—lurked everywhere in the American Concession as its most cunning profiteers.

Lassin strolled leisurely while gazing at the sights to his left and right, listening to the sounds that arose around him, and pressed onward. However much he still wished to hear it, that song remained out of reach. And so he passed through the American Concession with disappointment. And this time, quickening his pace, he pressed resolutely onward toward his destination—the old Chinese city.

The streets gradually grew desolate. The filth of the streets made Lassin frown.

When he came before the city wall separating the inner and outer districts, he stood for a while in admiration, gazing at it as he always did. The city wall’s circumference measured thirty shinari, constructed by layering bricks and tiles; atop the wall, a formidable buttress had been erected every half-chō. The cannons first installed during the Long-Haired Bandit Rebellion still remained on the buttresses, but their barrels had rusted bluish-black to the point of being nearly unusable. Along the city wall, tall grasses grew thick and unchecked by human hands, while the sparse red and white wildflowers in bloom added a rustic charm. In ancient times, during the era of the Warring States, this had been the castle long maintained by Lord Chunshen—a man praised throughout the land for keeping three thousand retainers in his service. The walled city had seven outer gates. All outer gates led to the old city within the walls, and the Daotai Yamen was located inside the East Gate. The Magistrate’s Yamen stood at the center of Xiaodongmen Nei.

At sunset, the inner and outer districts—the old city within the county town walls and the new city outside—were governed by a rule that severed traffic between them. As sunset now approached, Lassin hurried through one of the outer gates into the walled city. The narrowness of the streets in the walled city was such that even two people could not walk side by side. The severely uneven road was awash with pig blood and cow fat flowing out to form small gutters. The stench emanating from sewage buckets, along with the aromas of scallions, Sichuan pepper, mustard, and other vegetables favored by the Chinese, mingled with the dense smoke that filled the streets and numbed people’s sense of smell. From hovel-like shacks came the cries of infants, women’s shrieks, and the thwacks of bamboo sticks, which blended with the barks of stray dogs crowding the alleys into a menacing chorus.

The streets teemed with people; everywhere, Chinese merchants engaged in their trade with exaggerated voices and gestures—haggling over prices with cries of “Give in!” and “Never!”—their way of conducting business. Everyone without exception seemed busy. Weaving through these busy crowds, youths who seemed to have all the time in the world loitered about while humming little tunes. Upon closer inspection, all of them were sturdy-bodied youths in their prime. Moreover, they were not even trying to work, walking about while singing songs. The very song they were singing was the one Lassin had been straining to hear.

As Kobokuten was encroached upon, the sun had already sunk. How many in this world could truly be called heroes? Who now claimed lordship o'er this tower? The great leader comes! The great leader comes! The great leader comes!

As they sang this song, the youths poured their strength into the final refrain—"The great leader comes! The great leader comes! The great leader comes!"—chanting with fervor as though expecting that mighty figure to arrive at any moment in grand procession and reveal himself. Lassin walked slowly, feigning nonchalance while keeping watch through sidelong glances and attentive ears to observe their behavior. And inwardly, he seethed.

"Hmph—let them chant all they want with their 'The great leader comes! The great leader comes! The great leader comes!'" he cursed inwardly. "As for what sort of mastermind this might be—why, I know exactly who you are. No matter what bastard comes along, this old nose won't twitch. I'll collar every last one of them. I'll toss every last obstructionist into hell's cauldron—whether they're Tom, Dick, or Harry!" Lassin then wandered aimlessly around the walled city for a while longer before making his way to the banks of the Huangpu River.

The Huangpu River—which flowed northward past the county town and three concessions standing on its eastern bank—stretched two hundred ken wide with yellowed, muddy waters, yet carried countless merchant ships, warships, and Chinese vessels upon its abundant flow as it coursed toward the Yangtze River. The large factories with their prominent features all stood on the river’s eastern bank, where colossal chimneys and steeply sloped roofs towered densely enough to blot out the sky. The clamor of heavy cranes in motion, beast-like steam whistles, and leisurely Chinese-style shouts reverberated through the soot-filled air. From the Oriental Shipyard’s factory came the sound of hammers, while from the Dongjia Shipyard dock standing isolated on the opposite bank echoed the roar of boilers.

Lassin walked along the riverbank, listening attentively toward the American Concession. Before long, the sun—like a scorched and mangled cannonball—spun round and round as it sank below the horizon of the plain, and soon the surroundings grew dark. From the direction of the distant county town, the creaking sound of gates closing resounded with grave solemnity, as though announcing the day’s end—and with that noise, workers emerged from factories everywhere like swarming ants. Exchanging greetings in weary voices, they scattered in all directions. After that, everything fell eerily silent, and even the sudden spill of fiery light from two windows of a factory apparently working night shifts only deepened the sense of desolation.

The surroundings were eerily silent.

At that moment, from the water’s surface beneath the bank where Lassin was walking, a lively song could be heard. It was, after all, that poem. As Kobokuten is encroached upon, the sun has already sunk.

………

………… The great leader comes! The great leader comes! The great leader comes! Lassin frowned slightly and peered down at the water’s surface beneath his feet. A massive Chinese ship floated there, its unlit interior revealing twenty to thirty shadowy figures moving faintly about—a sight that caught his eye. His heart pounded as his eyes widened abruptly. He slipped stealthily into the shade of a willow tree and fixed his gaze to observe. The singing from the ship soon ceased, plunging the surroundings back into silence. Then from the opposite bank—over two hundred ken away—the same song drifted faintly across the water to Lassin’s ears. When this chanting too faded, a solitary blue light flickered into existence from that direction within the darkness. Like a will-o’-the-wisp, the blue glow swayed left and right before dissolving back into the void. At that moment, an identical light emerged from the Chinese ship at his feet; after quivering five or six times midair, it vanished with a sudden puff.

"Hmph, that's some kind of signal." Under the willow shade, Lassin involuntarily muttered to himself like this yet still lingered there, observing the Chinese ship.

Then, without seeming to move, the Chinese ship faintly shifted its hull. The dark river surface stirred quietly, gliding toward the direction of a small pier about a block away as though evading human eyes. When they reached the pier, the Chinese people who had been in the ship climbed onto the pier one by one. When over twenty figures had massed on the bridge like an ink-black clot, a single large black box was lifted from within the ship. The figures on the pier simultaneously thrust their hands forward and received the black box. Then once more, figures filed out from within the ship and climbed onto the pier. Supporting a box on their shoulders and surrounding it, they walked with reverent attitudes as though bearing a portable shrine before the gods.

“Well, I simply can’t figure this out.” Lassin crossed his arms and made a sour face as he muttered. He then emerged from the willow shade and chased after the portable shrine procession, but upon remembering and glancing at his wristwatch, he abandoned the pursuit.

In ten minutes, it would be eight o'clock! He alternated his gaze between the portable shrine and his wristwatch, remaining still in thought for a while. Then, as if having reached a decision, he turned sharply and broke into a sprint at full speed.

He ran toward the park.

At the corner where the Huangpu River and Wusong River converged stood the Settlement Park. To the north and east, it faced the water; to the west, it looked toward the British Concession. On the grassy hill within the park facing the water stood the music hall. Dazzling electric lights illuminated the music hall’s surroundings so brightly that even the moles on the gathered audience were clearly visible.

Nineteen

The music had already begun. It was an Italian band—a rather dubious-looking group judging from their braid-studded outfits and the conductor’s bearing—but perhaps owing to their billing as “Italians,” the audience had gathered in a massive crowd. The audience consisted entirely of Europeans; not a single Chinese person was present. This was because a sign sternly stood at the park entrance bearing the words “No Chinese Allowed.” Lassin blended into the crowd and quietly surveyed his surroundings with his keen observational eye. “The Painter Who Does Not Paint” His purpose was to locate Danchon. Danchon’s figure stood about ten ken to Lassin’s left. Dressed boldly in a new hat and white tie, the man struck Lassin as utterly absurd. Danchon—by nature a somewhat clownish provincial—was peering about restlessly with nervous eyes, wholly ignoring the music as he tried to spot the renowned beauty. It made for a truly peculiar spectacle.

Lassin suppressed his amusement as he kept watch over Danchon’s movements. At that moment, when Danchon’s gaze abruptly froze and fixed on a particular spot, Lassin muttered “Hm?” and turned his eyes in that direction. There was indeed a woman there. Leaning against the music hall’s pillar stood a tall European beauty in pale blue attire—her face hidden behind a black veil—lingering gracefully. “Hm?” Lassin muttered again involuntarily upon seeing the woman. This was because the veiled figure looked unmistakably familiar.

"Hmm, where on earth did I become acquainted with that woman?" Lassin tugged at the threads of memory in his mind for an instant but could not recall. Meanwhile, on the music hall's stage, the awkward music continued playing. And the audience kept listening patiently and quietly.

It was a serene, quiet, utterly peaceful, exotic scene. Lassin continued to strain his eyes, alternately gazing at the veiled woman and Danchon. And if there were any suspicious behavior, he prepared to give chase.

Then, at that very moment, the cry of a beast could be heard from somewhere. "A sharp screech!" The crowd, engrossed in the music, made no attempt to heed the beast’s sharp cry. They were quietly listening to the music. The moment the veiled woman alone heard the beast’s cry, her body shuddered violently. Then, as if compelled by the beast’s cry, she suddenly slipped through the crowd and approached Danchon.

The veiled woman and Danchon pressed their bodies together and attempted to slip out of the audience circle. Having perceived this, Lassin also swiftly parted through the crowd and emerged into the brightly lit square. And when he looked straight ahead, the veiled woman and Danchon were walking toward a shadowy area with thick trees, not glancing sideways. Maintaining a moderate interval, Lassin followed after them. The sharp cry of a beast—which was the cry of an orangutan—came once more at that very moment from beyond the trees, past the iron fence, on the sidewalk outside the park. The veiled woman and Danchon slipped out through the park’s back gate as if guided by the cry. They quickened their pace and ran off southward along the sidewalk. Three or four times more, the cries of the orangutan came from ahead. Lassin too broke into a run chasing after them.

How long had they been running like this? From the shadow of a dark, large building, a Chinese man darted out like a leopard stalking its prey. Like a spirited young man with robust muscles and bones, he chased after the couple with light-footed strides. Lassin was momentarily startled and stared at the Chinese man, but— "That's him... That man!" He involuntarily muttered this. The moment he did, he understood in a flash who the veiled woman truly was.

The veiled woman and Danchon gradually began to accelerate their pace. They ran as though dancing. As if beckoning them onward, the orangutan’s cries echoed repeatedly from ahead. Strangely, these calls sometimes seemed to originate nearby, then moments later from distant shadows. Even Lassin’s iron constitution had at last begun to show signs of fatigue. Yet abandoning the chase never once crossed his mind. Matching their every stride, he flew forward like the wind itself.

How long had they been running like this? At the spot where the masts and smokestacks of countless merchant and sailing ships floating on the Huangpu River loomed dimly in the distance—though the area itself was pitch-dark—an unforeseen commotion erupted like lightning when the group arrived there.

Twenty Just as they reached that spot, the Chinese youth ran up and—as if unable to contain his yearning or anxiety—shouted something while pulling the veiled woman into an embrace and fiercely kissed her on the mouth. Then the woman—overwhelmed by shock, as if she had fainted, or depending on one's perspective like someone awakening from a nightmare clinging to her protector—lay motionless in the Chinese youth's arms. Danchon was the one shocked; as if their sweet romance had been violated, he—unlike his usual self—abruptly raised his fist and lunged at the Chinese youth. Just as the two were about to clash, the orangutan's sharp roar erupted right beside their ears.

Then, from the darkness, twenty or thirty figures swarmed out and surrounded the three. And at that moment, even Lassin, who had come running, was surrounded. And so, an inexplicable struggle ensued there. The twenty or thirty figures did not utter a single word. They continued their work in complete silence. They snatched the woman from the Chinese youth’s arms. Five or six people restrained the enraged youth as he lunged forward. At that moment, a large jet-black box was carried out by them, and the veiled woman was placed inside that box by their hands. Seeing this, Danchon lunged at the box like a bird in flight. Then, over ten of them pulled Danchon away from the box. In that instant, the box’s lid came off. Behold! Inside the box sat an orangutan as large as a calf! Tightly bound with iron chains, it sat composedly by the pillow of the veiled woman who lay unconscious.

The lid was immediately closed. They hoisted the box onto their shoulders and ran off toward the Huangpu River. The Chinese youth, who had been brutally knocked down in the street, staggered unsteadily to his feet upon seeing this, but— “Hongyu! Hongyu! Oh, Hongyu!” With this cry, he collapsed again and lay completely still. He had apparently lost consciousness. Beside him, who had lost consciousness, Danchon also lay unconscious in an undignified posture.

Now, what had become of Lassin? He too lay unconscious on the street—though his unconsciousness alone was feigned. The moment he saw the mysterious group carry out the black box, he had deliberately let himself be beaten down by them to observe their movements. As soon as they departed, he sprang upright in the street. Without hesitation he rushed to Danchon’s side, but finding no danger there, ran to the Chinese youth instead. Pressing his mouth to the man’s ear, he bellowed: “Hey—snap out of it, Zhang Jiaoren!” Then he took the youth’s hand to check his pulse. The pulse throbbed faintly.

“All in all, this one’s not in danger.”

Lassin muttered and stood up, thought for just an instant, but the next moment quickened his steps and ran toward the Huangpu River.

When Lassin reached the bank of the Huangpu River, he hid himself in the shade of a tree and stared intently at the miracle in the river, his eyes wide with wonder. On the water's surface floated a Chinese ship. On its deck lay that coffin-like black box. Surrounding it, their group stood like statues, treading slowly. At the stern was set a single lamp emitting firelight like blood. They fell completely silent and, with eyes fixed on the river's downstream course, seemed to await something. In the far distance on the opposite shore too burned a blood-red light of terrifying intensity. The terrifying light and this red light here appeared to be signaling each other.

The surroundings lay utterly silent. Even the sleepy blue glows dotting the masts and bows of merchant ships moored at piers and docks across the area now appeared to dim, their light itself weakening. Faintly, from a clock tower somewhere, nine o'clock tolled. The group inside the Chinese ship remained quiet and silent. They were still gazing downstream. Lassin, hidden in the tree shade, did not attempt to move from his position. He kept watching their movements.

How many hours passed like this? Each time, the clock tower’s clock tolled a gloomy sound. And so, when the clock wearily finished tolling three times at 3 AM, a ship parted the darkness and emerged from downstream. Though small, it was a merchant ship that seemed to compensate with considerable speed. The merchant ship’s speed gradually began to slow. Continuing at a slow speed, it overtook and passed the Chinese ship, but when it had gone just five or six ken beyond, a strange phenomenon occurred. The reason was none other than this: As the merchant ship advanced, the Chinese ship also began to move quietly and approached the merchant ship’s side. Moreover, two Chinese ships—that is, even that Chinese ship which until just moments ago had only shown its lights far in the distance—were approaching.

No sooner had the two Chinese ships pulled up snugly alongside the merchant ship’s hull than rope ladders were swiftly thrown. With monkey-like speed, their group rushed into the merchant ship.

Suddenly, roars and shouts erupted! Seven or eight pistol shots rang out! Shadowy figures clashed in a chaotic scuffle! The raid concluded in a struggle lasting less than five minutes. Sailors lay collapsed on the deck, bound in a row. Looking down upon them stood a white-haired nobleman, surrounded by a multitude of subordinates. In the lantern light cast by his underlings, his dignified bearing became clearly visible. He wore a Chinese robe embroidered with coiled dragons and bore a crown upon his head. His frame was slightly plump, his stature somewhat short. Sharp eyes gleamed above tightly pressed lips. Ah—that figure could be none other than Yuan Shikai: erstwhile president, nay, erstwhile emperor of China!

The merchant ship swung its stern around. And with abnormal speed, it turned back the way it had come. Thus, a transport ship vanished into the darkness.

After some time had passed, when a Water Police Bureau motorboat patrolling the waters happened to approach that area, they found two unmanned Chinese boats drifting idly on the waves and, finding it peculiar, inspected them but discovered nothing noteworthy. Naturally, the aforementioned black box was no longer there either.

Twenty-One

Having witnessed everything, Lassin immediately turned back and returned to the scene of the struggle. However, Danchon alone still lay collapsed, unconscious, but Zhang Jiaoren’s figure was nowhere to be seen. So it seems that scoundrel alone has come to and hidden himself somewhere. Lassin made a dissatisfied expression as he thought this to himself, but since he couldn’t just leave Danchon behind, he dashed off toward the town at high speed to find an automobile to transport him to the inn.

In the berth of a first-class cabin aboard a British steamship on the Borneo route lay Danchon—the "painter who does not paint"—his entire body wrapped in bandages, wearing a pitiful expression as he stared fixedly at the mouth of Lassin, who sat facing him while chattering away cheerfully.

Lassin continued his explanation. “Well… I’d known all along—even before you mentioned that noblewoman tempting Danchon here—that Yuan Gengsheng’s gang had targeted all of us.” “How did I know? Someone tipped me off.” “Who else but our friends at the Beijing Police Bureau.” “They sent me a coded telegram—said Yuan’s crew resented me for exposing his opium den and had tailed us to Shanghai for revenge.” “When I read that wire, my gut told me—” “No—if they’d really chased us here, hurting me wasn’t their game. They wanted what we’re after—the South Seas treasure hunt—to snatch it right from our hands.” “Why? Because I’d learned they knew as much about that buried hoard as we did.” “Where? At their own damn opium den.” “How? Found this Turkish beauty there—Hongyu she called herself—claiming to be some desert princess.” “Why was she there? Yuan’s sorcery lured her.” “Once bewitched? Even Hongyu dances to Yuan’s tune.” “So she spilled everything about the treasure’s location when he asked.” “If that’s true? Everything else falls into place.” “First step—capture someone from our group for interrogation.” “That veiled woman you wanted to paint? Pure bait.”

“Still, I never imagined that veiled woman was Hongyu.” “I didn’t know at first either… By rights, Hongyu should have been rescued by Zhang Jiaoren that night of the opium den raid and kept somewhere safe. But afterward, it seems she was snatched back by Yuan Gengsheng’s sorcery.” “I never expected not only Hongyu but even Zhang Jiaoren to come rushing out like that.”

Danchon, still clutching his head as if in pain, spoke in a groaning voice. “That man is truly pitiable as well. But he’s not someone you can hate. He has a courage you wouldn’t expect from a Chinese man—there’s something rather intriguing about him.” Lassin said with a faint smile, “He must have rushed out there to reclaim Hongyu. Don’t you think Zhang and Hongyu seem like lovers? But such things hardly matter. At any rate, Zhang Jiaoren won’t stay silent and do nothing. He’ll eventually cross over to the South Seas to compete with us. Zhang’s competition isn’t fearsome—Yuan Gengsheng is the slightly tougher opponent. Even under cover of darkness, their method of boldly commandeering that steamship on the Huangpu River was splendid—admirable even from an enemy. And their Chinese-style tactics carried an amusingly comical edge.”

“What method did they use?”

“Their method was to tie two Chinese boats together with a rope stretched across the water and wait for their prey to snag. And sure enough, the steamship caught on it. The steamship kept plowing ahead with the rope still tangled around it. As it advanced, the two Chinese boats closed in from both sides until they pressed tightly against the steamship’s flanks. Once stuck fast like that, those boats weren’t coming loose easily—the rope saw to that. Then they hooked up a rope ladder.” Clambering along it, they leapt onto the deck like katydids. They fired five or six pistol shots into the air. “And that was that—job done. From what I saw, their commander Yuan Gengsheng-dono was probably holed up in the Chinese boat opposite where I stood.”

“Even so, why on earth was the orangutan-like beast inside the box?!” Danchon suddenly widened his eyes and let out a terrified cry. “That one?” Lassin nodded. “I was surprised by that too.” “But later I realized—it was an enchanted orangutan-like beast, you see.” “And it was Yuan Gengsheng’s substitute, you see.” “In other words, Hongyu’s watcher, you see.”

“I simply don’t understand.”

“It seems my view of Yuan Gengsheng has changed somewhat from my initial impression.” “At first, I thought that man was merely a hypnotist.” “But that wasn’t the case.” “He appears to be a Taoist sorcerer.” “A Taoist sorcerer employs evil beasts as his proxies.” “By working sorcery upon such a beast, he strips away its primal nature and instead pours his own will into it, transforming it into an extension of himself.” “This self-transformed beast becomes what we call a Xuxu※ (grass radical/(歹 + 昜)).” “Thus, the Xuxu performed Yuan Gengsheng’s duties in his stead.” “It was manipulating Hongyu through this means.”

Fifth Chapter: The Tailed Humanoids Guarding the Treasure Vault (Part 1)

Twenty-Two

“When I read in the papers that your ship had been sunk by Chinese pirates near Luban Island, my heart is still racing at the shock of it.” “But when I received the telegram from you yourself stating that all of you had landed safely, no words could describe my joy.” “So I have come rushing here without a moment’s delay…”

Having gone ahead to the South Seas long before as the advance party for this expedition team, Detective Rezard, upon receiving Detective Lassin’s telegram, left without a moment’s delay—driving an automobile from Sandakan, the capital of Borneo where he had been awaiting Lassin’s group—and had just arrived at Cook Village’s rubber plantation, where Lassin and the others were taking refuge.

“Thank you for coming so promptly.”

With his usual energetic tone that showed no signs of fatigue, Lassin first offered his thanks. Then, in Lassin’s signature businesslike tone, he recounted the general course of this incident. “...I’ll explain the details later,” he began, “but when our ship reached Luban Island’s offshore waters—that’s when a vessel suddenly emerged from behind the island and started firing cannons at us.” “Though shaped like a merchant ship,” he continued while adjusting his monocle reflexively—a habit when recalling tactical details—“the cannon muzzles glinting at bow and stern gave away its true nature as a pirate vessel.” “They fired two or three warning shots before signaling us to halt—standard intimidation tactics.” “We considered fleeing,” Lassin’s voice grew taut at the memory, “but their ship’s speed made escape impossible.” “We had no choice but to stop.” “The pirate ship kept closing in.” Passengers erupted into chaos. Sobs! Roars! Desperate prayers! “Our pleasant voyage turned into hell’s marketplace in an instant,” he grimaced. “Still,” he leaned forward conspiratorially—a mannerism from their Madrid days—“I reasoned even pirates wouldn’t kill compliant captives who surrendered valuables.” “Resolved thus,” he gestured toward imaginary companions on the rubber plantation floor—Mahalayana here，Danchon there—“I instructed our group to remain calm on deck while observing through binoculars...” His fist suddenly struck his palm. “And then I recognized her!” “That Dutch steamship Yuan Gengsheng’s gang had seized on Huangpu River!” “Damnation!” The exclamation startled a macaw in nearby trees. “No time for hesitation!” “Lives hung in balance.” With military precision honed through decades of investigations，he concluded: “We ran sternward—Dr.Mahalayana，Danchon，Dr.Marshall，and I—to board the lifeboat.”

“We’ll try our damnedest to get away.” With this thought, I put everyone into the lifeboat, lowered it into the sea, and then jumped in myself. “Row for your lives!” And with my command, they began rowing with all their might. The pirates soon stormed our ship, plundered everything, and ruthlessly sank it before leisurely withdrawing—but by some divine mercy, they didn’t seem to notice the lifeboat we were in. Without worrying about pursuit, we rowed the lifeboat onward. But no matter how far we rowed onward, not even a shadow of anything resembling land could be seen. Before long, night fell. Even after that night ended, land was nowhere to be seen. As for our disappointment at that time... With hunger, heat, and parched throats, every last one of us was utterly exhausted. Before long, night fell once more. Everyone stopped rowing and lay on their backs in the boat. I was no exception. Staring fixedly at the stars in the sky, I nearly let tears fall. “On land, perhaps—but on the crocodile-infested waves of the South Seas—we couldn’t even lift an oar.” Before long, I dozed off. “I don’t remember how many hours I slept—but I must have slept quite a bit.” With a start, I woke up and looked ahead—what did I see but a rubber forest bathed in morning sunlight, standing like a wall! Without thinking, I jumped up. “Then I shook everyone awake and brought the boat to that shore.”

“Where there’s a rubber forest, there must be a rubber plantation.” “And where there’s a plantation, there must be people.” Finding those people became our utmost priority. We pushed through the woods and finally emerged before the plantation. Our joy at that moment nearly made us burst into cheers. “That’s how we’ve been living under the plantation owner’s protection until today.” “When I learned Sandakan was less than thirty miles away with motorcars running between, I had the staff wire you late yesterday—though none of us dreamed you’d reach us this swiftly. Your arrival will hearten everyone.”

Lassin deliberately rose to his feet, walked to the window, and peered outside. "They went out earlier to inspect the rubber plantation," he said, "but they ought to return before long."

Having said this, he sat down on the sofa and lightly closed his eyes, as if contemplating the adventures that lay ahead.

Inside the log cabin-style building, it was quiet for a while. Through the window, the midday sun shining from the tops of the rubber forest cast spotted patterns on the wooden walls of the room, making those patches alone glow golden. Birds of the South Seas, unlike any ever heard before, flew from the forest into the square, and as they cast sidelong glances toward the window while singing in crystalline voices, it seemed they were comforting the patients lying within the room. From here and there in the forest, the rustic songs of native girls collecting rubber sap also resounded. A melody containing the lament of a fallen nation, yet unrestrained…

Twenty-Three

At that moment, Dr. Mahalayana opened the front door and entered, but without noticing Rezard’s presence, he hurriedly spoke to Lassin.

“Do listen to the song!” “The song of the native maidens!” “I have been listening for some time now…”

Lassin replied magnanimously.

“So, what do you make of that song?”

Dr. Mahalayana’s tone was serious. “I must say I’m at a loss when you ask me such a question.” “I am a Spaniard, not a Borneo native—I don’t even understand the song’s lyrics.” “I see,” Dr. Mahalayana frowned. “This is my oversight... Then I shall translate it for you.” “The verses are quite simple, you see.” Then Dr. Mahalayana began translating the natives’ song in a lilting cadence.

Long, long ago, in ancient times, Two giant birds lived. "Shall we create humans?" When one giant bird said this, "That sounds splendid indeed." The other one also said, The very first thing they created was

An enormous, enormous tree it was. The second thing they created was A hard, hard stone it was. "You can’t make humans from trees!" "You can’t make humans from stone either!" "Shall we make them from water and earth?" "That sounds splendid indeed." What is made from water and earth Our ancestors, the Honorable Humans! Earth piles up and becomes a mountain. Water accumulates and becomes a lake. Protected by mountains and lakes, Our ancestors dwell Surrounded by lakes and mountains, The ancestors' treasure is kept hidden.

Having finished translating, Dr. Mahalayana looked straight at Lassin's face and spoke in an earnest tone.

“Protected by mountains and lakes, our ancestors dwelled.” “Surrounded by lakes and mountains, the ancestors’ treasure lies hidden… What do you make of this song’s meaning?” “Don’t you see a thread connecting our treasure vault expedition’s purpose with the suggestive meaning in these lyrics?...” Then Rezard—who had stood silently beside the doctor until now—spoke up from the side. “I believe there’s profound significance… In truth, I’ve heard tales from Borneo natives countless times that echo this song’s meaning exactly.” “That’s precisely why we postponed exploring Australia to prioritize Borneo. After multiple consultations via letters and telegrams with Mr. Lassin, we privately resolved—just between ourselves—to first land in Sandakan en route to Melbourne and venture into Borneo’s interior at all costs.” “We absolutely cannot dismiss native songs and legends as nonsense.” “My primary objective is to uncover the great treasure supposedly hidden by the Lop people—desert dwellers from millennia past—as their nation fell. Thus it’s already a grand legend in its own right.” “With no definitive leads for discovery nowadays, if we don’t use native legends or folk songs as clues, we’ll have no starting point whatsoever...”

Dr. Mahalayana looked at Rezard’s face as if surprised— “Oh! You’re Rezard!”

"I’m glad to see you’re safe, Doctor." "But you were supposed to be in Australia?" "Indeed, I had been in Australia. However, due to such circumstances as I have just mentioned, I had come to this city of Sandakan in Borneo some time ago." "I see," the Doctor said, furrowing his brows. "So you’re exploring Borneo before Australia then… I had no idea at all." "To maintain absolute secrecy, I had not informed you until now."

"So then, our being attacked by pirates and taking refuge in Borneo wasn't such a bad loss after all?" "It must be heaven's blessing."

The three of them laughed heartily.

From within the forest, the maiden’s song could still be heard peacefully. In the midday light, the treetops were shining like gold.

Twenty-Four

At the entrance of the Borneo Government Office, a mountain of people had gathered. The tropical sky stretched clear, the morning sun glittering brilliantly. Birds sang hidden among palm fronds as if celebrating the day's departure. An automobile parted the spectators and glided forward silently. Inside sat Lassin, Danchon, Dr. Mahalayana, and Mr. Marshall—their faces radiant with vigor—composedly occupying their seats. The crowd pressed closer around the automobile, straining to glimpse this valiant expedition team. On the government office balcony stood the Governor and Sandakan City's dignitaries lined up with bouquets. Police officers formed ranks along the road, barking orders to control the throng. National flags fluttered at every household gate while band music drifted from tents at street corners.

At that moment, the governor—from the balcony above—threw a bouquet into the automobile while praying for the expedition’s success and the members’ safety. Following this, the dignitaries threw down the bouquets they had been holding in their hands like rain. The band began to play a march. The spectating crowd cheered loudly. The automobile slowly began to move through the commotion swirling with sounds, colors, and human faces.

Upon exiting the city, the automobile began speeding along at twenty miles per hour. Their destination was the forest. There in that forest, Rezard waited while keeping watch over the various expedition tools. Thus pressing onward through the day, around noon they came to see several tents gleaming white amidst a distant rubber tree forest. As the automobile drew near, cheers rose from within the woods to welcome them. Bronze-skinned natives swarmed like flies around the pure white tents. Among them stood a young gentleman in stark white summer clothes shading his eyes with one hand - unmistakably Rezard.

The automobile blew its horn, gradually reducing its speed as it drew nearer and nearer to the forest. And when it had come to a complete stop, the automobile found itself entirely surrounded by a crowd of natives to the point of immobility. They all raised their hands in unison and uttered strange cries to celebrate the safe arrival.

Lassin’s group alighted from the automobile and, pushing through the natives, followed Rezard as they walked toward the tents.

The scene in the forest was filled with both bustling activity and commotion, as if an army had camped there. Horses and water buffaloes constantly swished their tails while grazing on grass—this was to prevent small insects from gathering. There were natives tending fires; all nearly half-naked, wearing straw sandals on their feet while stamping the ground with those same feet, conversing in the local Borneo dialect and occasionally bursting into loud laughter. There were natives drawing bows: when someone released an arrow with a *whizz* toward the depths of the rubber tree forest, a South Seas hawk plummeted down from the grove like a bullet. There were natives maintaining their weapons, natives blowing copper flutes, and natives racing.

As if presiding over a dozen tents, a single giant tent had been erected with a towering ridgepole at its center, and Lassin's group entered it. Lassin surveyed his surroundings before beginning his questioning in an official tone.

“Have any natives attempted to escape?” “They’ll likely begin deserting sporadically soon enough, but thus far not a single one has fled,” Rezard replied in his businesslike manner. “That makes one hundred men total?” Lassin gave a slight nod. “And none of the expedition equipment has been stolen?” “I shall conduct an inspection.” The examination of supplies occupying two tents commenced. One tent housed an orderly array of weaponry—seventy rifled guns, ammunition crates holding ten thousand rounds, fifty-kanme gunpowder casks, one small-caliber cannon, an assembly vessel divided into five sections, twenty automatic rifles, countless pickaxes and axes, shovels, saws, bugles, national flags, and innumerable other implements... The adjacent tent stood crammed with provisions piled mountain-high. Hidden among these lay boxes containing thousands of ornamental beads, garish garments, and endless toys—tools for pacifying unenlightened barbarians—yet neither weapons nor supplies showed any sign of theft.

They spent the night there, and the next day, the expedition team finally set out toward the interior. They set out vigorously along the bank of the Bambaya River, which was approximately two hundred meters wide. The fifty-man native army—composed of various ethnicities including the Achin, Malay, Zangibār, and Mahomedan peoples—took the lead. Following behind them advanced a group of white men, after whom came a baggage train unit solemnly proceeding under the guard of another fifty-man native army. The great forest—untrodden by human feet for centuries—veiled the sky, leaving even midday as dim as twilight; through weeds, dwarf bamboo, ferns, and laurel trees that grew taller than a man’s height, a procession of men and horses writhed their way forward. The vanguard group cleared paths through living trees with axes and saws, shattered rocks to open fields, filled rivers to build bridges so that the rear could proceed with ease, while those in the rear kept vigilant watch, striving to ensure they avoided attacks from cannibal tribes like the Diyal and Makili peoples. When the vanguard unit beat drums, the rear unit would also beat drums; when the white unit blew bugles, the native army would also blow bugles. And from time to time, they would raise shouts to ward off attacks by wild beasts. All the white men rode horses, and even in the native army, only the chieftain rode a Borneo horse. They waited for dawn to advance the force and made camp while daylight remained. They dispatched scouts and set up sentries to prepare for sudden attacks. Their daily progress was a mere eight kilometers; their destination still four hundred kilometers away—a journey of approximately two months. Moreover, whether there was indeed a treasure vault at their final destination remained unclear at present. Moreover, there was another thing weighing on Lassin and his group’s minds. Might Yuan Gengsheng’s faction of pirates have also landed on this island, listened to the natives’ songs and legends to pinpoint the treasure vault’s location, and organized their own expedition to head into the interior to unearth it? If they had gone, they should have had far greater advantages than our white expedition team. This was because it was a custom of the Borneo natives to show goodwill to Asians. By taking advantage of the natives’ goodwill, might those Asian pirates choose a shortcut to venture into the interior and achieve discovering the treasure vault before us? ——This was Lassin and his group’s worry. Thus, they drove the native army to push into the interior as quickly as possible. However, no matter how much they drove them, they could not advance quickly along the treacherous path overgrown with thorns.

25 As they proceeded, whenever they reached a native village—that is, at every settlement—they would display decorative beads and toys to barter for provisions. They traded for rice, vegetables, chickens, eggs, chili peppers, plantain fruits, cocoa, and similar goods.

The tribal natives did not show as much hostility toward them as they had imagined. They took out their stored provisions and exchanged them without hesitation. They even hosted a native-style banquet for the group. Wearing feathered helmets and necklaces of human teeth, gripping polished spears, they descended into the banquet grounds and performed a warrior dance so ferocious it seemed to embody victory itself. Yet some tribes occasionally showed hostility toward them. When they reached Bambaya Lake—the source of the Bambaya River—poisoned arrows suddenly shot from a reed thicket. Five or six allied natives were struck and fell to the ground. Startled, their native allies retreated en masse but soon unleashed a precise volley from their rifled guns. Through the dissipating smoke, someone glimpsed fifteen or sixteen dugout canoes fleeing frantically across the lake—apparent casualties were heavy. Emboldened, the allied natives tried pursuing along the shore, but Lassin forbade it, fearing an ambush. Examination revealed shallow wounds on their injured allies, but arrowheads coated with potent poison made them writhe in agony until they gradually weakened. Dr. Marshall exhausted his expertise tending to them, yet two succumbed that night. After burying the native corpses, the group pressed on. Upon reaching another village, they found it eerily deserted—not a single inhabitant remained.

There, the group felt relieved and pitched their tents in the village clearing, deciding to spend the night there as each prepared to go to sleep. Around what seemed to be midnight, flames suddenly erupted simultaneously from all the village houses, and they realized for the first time that they had fallen into the natives’ trap. The flames continued to engulf the tents while relentlessly attacking from all directions. Through the rising sparks, poisoned arrows came raining down like a downpour. The ignorant natives made no attempt to extinguish the fire and trembled in terror. The horses, water buffaloes, and Borneo dogs—all livestock brought from the city to carry luggage—tried to cut their reins and charge into the flames. Precisely because their allies carried gunpowder, the danger grew immense. If those flames were to reach the tents, the gunpowder itself would explode. Should the fifty-kan gunpowder box detonate all at once, over a hundred lives would be blown to smithereens!

Lassin, Rezard, Dr. Mahalayana, Danchon, and Mr. Marshall could only stand by helplessly, staring blankly at the raging flames, utterly powerless to act. The crackle of flames licking at coconut and rubber trees—their oils spitting and hissing—the ground-shaking collapse of burning huts, the enemy’s war cries—all whipped the primeval forest night, untouched by axes for millennia, into a battlefield frenzy. At that moment, among the four chieftains, the Zangibār chieftain came running up gasping for breath, seized Dr. Mahalayana by the arm, and began speaking rapidly.

The doctor interpreted this… “The Chieftain says that if you give him a hundred decorative beads, he will make peace with the enemy natives and put out the fire to show his sincerity.” “If decorative beads can secure peace, we’ll give two hundred—no, three hundred!” Lassin shouted jubilantly. Dr. Mahalayana relayed this offer.

Then，the chieftain turned around，climbed a nearby coconut tree，looked down at the enemy natives，and began shouting loudly from there. Miraculously，the arrows from the enemy side ceased entirely. Soon，the flames’ intensity weakened and gradually died away. All danger was gone.

Not only had the danger passed, but they had also gained fifty new allies. This was because the tribal natives who had been enemies until now proposed selecting fifty able-bodied young men to join the expeditionary force, and Lassin immediately granted their request. Those tribal natives were Zangibār people. Therefore, they promptly accepted the proposal from their own Zangibār Chieftain and achieved peace with ease. The 150-member expeditionary force departed the village the next day and continued their journey into the interior.

An endless expanse of primeval forest! Mountains and rivers within the forest! Bottomless swamps and streams teeming with crocodiles! Crossing these obstacles, they pressed deeper into the interior for a full month, eventually passing beyond British territory and entering Dutch lands. Thus they continued their advance still further, until their targeted wilderness drew near.

At that moment, they clashed with a formidable major tribe of the Dyal people.

Several minor skirmishes took place. The cannibalistic Dyal tribe proved even more ferocious than the rumors suggested. The allied natives, terrified of them, refused to advance. The mere sight of them made the natives drop their weapons and flee. When reprimanded for this, they would desert the group in fear of punishment. Over ten had already fled. When escaping, the natives stole guns and decorative beads as they ran.

One night, an unexpected chant suddenly drifted over from the enemy encampment.

It was, unexpectedly, that poem.

Ancient trees encroach upon the heavens; the sun has already set. How many heroes exist under heaven? Who is master of this pavilion?

Great Chieftain come, Great Chieftain come, Great Chieftain come!

Upon hearing this poem, Lassin spoke irritably as follows: “Just as I feared, Yuan Gengsheng, that bastard, seems to have tamed the Dyal tribe and skillfully brought them over to his side.” “Now that the pirates have joined forces with them, we likely won’t be able to capture that Dyal stronghold easily.” “Since there’s no other way, let’s build a sturdy fortress on our side as well.”

Thus, at last, preparations for a protracted war between the two armies were commenced.

Twenty-Six

(Zhang Jiaoren’s Memorandum) …Where should I begin writing? My mind was in disarray. How could I even begin to explain? I was utterly lost in a fog… The fleeting joy of rescuing Hongyu—who had been taken—from the opium den and bringing her back to the Yanle Hotel through Detective Lassin’s kindness now seemed hollow. One day before my very eyes, she leapt from the window and vanished again. She had been lured into Yuan Gengsheng’s heretical cult and made its victim once more. From that moment, I became a madman. Chasing Yuan Gengsheng’s trail from Beijing to Shanghai had all been to reclaim Hongyu. Yet no matter how I searched, her whereabouts remained unknown. I finally abandoned hope and resolved to depart for the South Seas. I would go search for the treasure vault. By then I had exhausted all funds and stood utterly penniless. So I devised a plan—using my usual specialty—and secured employment as a cook aboard a British ship bound for the South Seas route.

On the evening before our long-awaited departure, I walked along the coastal road outside the park fence. From the music hall within came the sound of wind instruments. The breeze through fresh leaves rustled along the tree-lined avenue—a serenely peaceful night. As I passed casually by, a veiled young woman hurried away ahead. Though her appearance differed, how could I forget her! That had to be Hongyu. Even now I cringe at my own foolishness... I lunged forward and grabbed her in my arms. A hulking European man who'd been trailing Hongyu suddenly blocked my path. Then—from the darkness swarmed countless figures who knocked us both down and tried forcing Hongyu into a box... From within burst forth a massive orangutan-like beast!

When I regained consciousness after fainting like that, the surroundings were utterly silent, with only the European man from earlier lying there as if dead. Because my injuries were light, I dragged my weary legs and stumbled into the steamship’s cook’s quarters, where I fell into a deep sleep. The voyage had been extremely safe. We passed through the Taiwan Strait without incident and soon arrived in Hong Kong. The voyage resumed southeast across the South China Sea. Keeping the Philippine Islands to our left, we gradually approached Sandakan, the capital of British Borneo. The journey had been uneventful thus far. However, just as the ship neared Luban Island around noon, a great calamity suddenly struck. It was pirates—Yuan Gengsheng’s ship—that had sunk the steamship.

I jumped into the sea. Into waters teeming with sharks and predatory fish. Yet I swam on unmolested for some time. Then a lifeboat drifted toward me from nowhere. Summoning my last strength, I hauled myself aboard. No one remained—only crimson-soaked fragments of flesh staining the hull. There lay an oar, a pistol, bullets, a fountain pen, and a bloodstained notebook. Some poor soul must have tried escaping pirates in this boat. But they'd been spotted, shot, and cast into the sea. Dead—their misfortune became my salvation! Scanning the horizon revealed neither pirate ship nor our vanished steamer. I exhaled relief and took up the oars. Night fell swiftly. Hunger and exhaustion dragged me toward oblivion. Don't sleep—it's death! Yet even as I fought it, darkness claimed me.

……How many hours had I slept, I wonder……

There was someone—someone was rubbing my entire body. Though delicate, their rough hands were rubbing my entire body. That pleasant tactile sensation soothed my body, numbed by fatigue and pain. My consciousness seemed to gradually recover. I tried desperately to open my eyes; even as I sought to see the kind soul tending to me, my heavy eyelids grew heavier and heavier, leaving me powerless. Even so, I kept trying. And finally, I opened my eyes slightly and tried to look around. Then, at that moment, the hands that had been rubbing my body stopped. No matter how much I looked around, there was no sign of anyone fitting that description. But here was one strange thing: a large sunshade made of palm fronds to protect me from the sunlight covered my body. And there were footprints in the sandy ground—barefoot human footprints continuing all the way to the large forest behind the coast. When I looked at the shore, there was a moored boat floating on the water with the pistol and fountain pen placed inside just as they had been. I crawled there and retrieved those items, but I could no longer crawl. I rolled onto my stomach on the sand like a log and fell into a deep sleep. When I awoke again, a coconut fruit and a bowl of drinking water had been placed beside me. After eating the fruit and drinking the water, I finally regained my strength. Having donned a palm-leaf hat on my head, fastened a pistol and ammunition belt at my waist, and hidden a notebook and fountain pen under my lower garment, I entered the forest. First and foremost, I tried to find the figure of the benefactor who had revived me, proceeding while relying on the footprints; but upon entering the forest, they were overgrown with weeds, making it impossible to find them.

The weeds had grown tall, taller than a person’s height, and the forest was as dark as night. The towering trees stretched skyward, their leaves overlapping thickly to form a green canopy that spanned several chō or even several ri. A primeval stillness dwelled within the forest’s depths. No birds sang, no human figures stirred—even the wind, blocked by walls of leaves, failed to reach the woodland interior. Overwhelmed by nature’s solemnity, I stood transfixed in bewilderment. What on earth should I do? What am I supposed to do now? As these thoughts came, I shuddered at my own terrifying fate.

27

When I stood bewildered in the forest, looking around wondering which way to go, yet another miracle revealed itself. As if beckoning me forward, the towering grass had been cut away to form a narrow path—wasn’t this exactly what lay before me!

"It must be the owner of the footprints." I immediately thought this. Without a moment’s hesitation, I walked along the path deeper into the forest. How many hours did I walk, I wonder? My body grew as limp as cotton. I could not take another step. If I were to collapse here as I was—while imagining the fearsome fangs of wild beasts or venomous snakes sinking into me at any moment—there was nothing I could do. I collapsed onto the ground where fern leaves grew thickly. Sleep immediately overwhelmed me. I must have fallen asleep. While asleep, I felt hands touching my entire body. Though delicate, I sensed the ceaseless contact of rough palms.

I had no idea how long I had slept. When I opened my eyes, morning light filtered through the layered canopy above - two or three golden threads of sunlight piercing through. The forest leaves swayed in the morning breeze, dancing up and down like delighted performers. Fresh fruits lay by my pillow. Having eaten them for breakfast, I felt courage surge through my body. Slowly rising, I prepared to continue my forest journey. That's when I noticed it - a massive Borneo tiger lying in the weeds beside me, dead with a poisoned arrow through its flank. I sprang upright. With every hair standing on end, I crept toward the carcass.

"Last night, when this beast attacked trying to make me its prey, that unseen benefactor must have shot it dead with a poisoned arrow." My heart seemed about to burst with gratitude. And I had come to feel that unless I discovered that benefactor by any means necessary and expressed my heartfelt gratitude, I simply could not rest. I pulled out the poisoned arrow and carefully examined it. It was a bow and arrow used by the natives. The tip of the arrowhead was thickly coated with amber-colored poison. As a memento, I carefully held the bow and arrow in my hand and pressed onward. As it had yesterday, a single path had formed through the weeds. When the morning wind ceased, the forest fell silent once more, and even the sunlight grew faint. The grass grew ever taller. The tall trees grew ever more luxuriantly, and it was impossible to imagine where they might end. There was no state as desolate as my current one. However, since I believed that the benefactor protecting me was constantly watching over me from somewhere, I felt neither lonely nor afraid. I tried to imagine various things about my benefactor. Given the use of poisoned arrows, they must be natives of this island. However, considering the delicate touch when they stroked me, it didn’t seem like that of a man. Then, could it be a native woman?

"There’s no reason for a native woman to protect a Chinese youth like me with such fervor."

As these thoughts intensified, my desire to catch even a fleeting glimpse of this benefactor burned brighter than ever. Having spent another day in the forest, I emerged around noon on the third day onto a small hill where patches of azure sky and sunlight filtered through the thinning trees. Atop the hill stood three oak trees supporting a weathered wooden hut nearly seven meters above ground - a sturdy structure with a robust rope ladder dangling beneath. The ladder appeared conspicuously new compared to the aged hut. I climbed the slope and carefully studied the elevated shelter. From its construction, I deduced this had been built long ago for hunting dangerous game and now stood abandoned. True to its purpose as a beast-hunting lodge, every detail spoke of formidable defenses. Three gun ports pierced each wooden wall at measured intervals, while the rust-pitted entrance consisted of a single iron plate.

Just to be thorough, I called out toward the hut several times. Of course, there was no response. Therefore, I resolved myself and cautiously began climbing the rope ladder. Inside the hut, as expected, there was no sign of anyone living. It echoed emptily. Large webs of tropical spiders hung everywhere. Dust had accumulated on the floor. And wooden chairs and tables for five people were neatly arranged. The room was divided into two parts. The inner small room appeared to be a bedroom, where tattered bedding had been laid out.

"It seemed five brave hunters had shut themselves inside this hut to hunt Borneo tigers, orangutans, and Malayan wild boars, firing their hunting rifles through the loopholes. Having taken abundant game, they must have abandoned the hut as it stood and departed somewhere. Judging from the wind- and rain-weathered plank walls and dust accumulated on the floor, the hut appeared to have been built three years ago, five years ago—perhaps even longer."

While thinking this, I continued surveying the room's condition. Then I noticed something I hadn't seen before - on a table in the corner, fruits stood stacked high, with drinking water even arranged in a bowl fashioned from a coconut shell. Startled, I widened my eyes—yet understood at once—

"The unseen benefactor must have sent lunch." I sat down on the wooden chair and ate the delicious offering. Then, bidding farewell to the hut, I tried to climb down the rope ladder. The rope ladder was gone. The palm rope ladder that had been hanging there moments earlier was missing. I stood frozen, unable to even form a thought.

“What in the world is this?!” I let my voice ring out and scanned the room aimlessly. What on earth was happening?! Wasn’t that palm rope ladder pulled down and lying right at my feet?! Who could have hauled it up? “It was obviously the ‘Benefactor’!” But why would they do such a thing? “What could this possibly mean?”

I thought for a while. A ray of light began to glow pale and faint within my chest.

“That’s it!” I struck my knee. “It must be a riddle telling me to live in the hut! Since they’d cleared weeds to make a path, guided me here, and removed the ladder, there was no other way to interpret this… If they’re telling me to stay, then I’ll stay. It seemed a decent enough hut anyway—I could shelter here from wild beasts. Better to remain here than wander aimlessly through the forest.”

I abruptly made up my mind and set about cleaning the room. Then, I hung the rope ladder myself and went into the forest to gather dried grass—intending to make a bed with it—parting the undergrowth as I went. It took that day and the next—two days—to tidy up the inside of the hut in an orderly manner. For now, there was no need to worry about food and drinking water since the "unseen benefactor" brought them, but there was no telling when that might stop. If I did not focus on supplying my own food and drinking water, I would face hardship… Having arrived at this conclusion, I diligently searched every day for the locations of fruits and springs.

I thought in this way...

“Given that they went to the trouble of building such a sturdy hut for beast hunting, they wouldn’t have abandoned it after just ten or twenty days.” They must have holed up and lived there for a month or two. They might even have stayed half a year or a full year. But could hunters really survive that long on supplies brought from the city? Five hunters’ provisions for an entire year! That would be an enormous quantity. They could never have stored such a massive stockpile in this hut. So what did they do? In my judgment, they must have procured food and water from the forest near the hut! “Then I’ll find those resources in the forest too!”

Fortunately, this idea of mine soon became fact and was corroborated. Within half a mile into the forest, I found both of them. Namely, the spring and the fruit trees...

Part 6: The Tailed Humanoids Guarding the Treasure Vault (Middle)

Twenty-Eight

In the orchard I had discovered, palm trees, betel palms, pineapple plants, and banana trees stood with branches sagging under the weight of half-ripe fruits that hung down to the ground; at its center gushed an artificial spring ringed by stones stacked on all sides. Though veiled in moss and foliage, the jade-like water remained clear—cupping it in my palm to drink revealed a softness imbued with subtle fragrance and sweetness.

After discovering the orchard and spring, I suddenly felt reassured, and my life was no longer accompanied by anxiety. For me—a vegetarian—the inability to eat fish or beast meat did not seem particularly painful. Evidently having observed somewhere that I had discovered the orchard, this "unseen benefactor" ceased bringing fruits or fresh water. Instead, one day they stealthily brought me a native-style bow and arrows. They also provided another flint and steel striker. Thanks to this, I could now catch birds and beasts, grill their meat over fire, and savor it. How I longed for just a pinch of salt at that time! Having no salt, I would squeeze fruit juice to soak the meat and eat it sparingly.

My daily life was exactly like Robinson Crusoe’s. In the hut, I kept a memorandum. For breakfast, I ate three bananas, figs, and a quarter of a coconut. Until noon, I would sit and think about various things. Then I would go hunting—entering the forest with a pistol and bullet belt at my waist, a native-style bow in hand, and a quiver on my back. While hunting, I also strove to find that "unseen benefactor." And as I wandered freely through the forest, I thought about wanting to discover what kind of place this benefactor lived in—to find the native tribe where he resided. I would spend half a day hunting through the forest, return to the hut while sunlight remained, and begin preparing dinner. At night, I would soak a wick in animal oil to produce meager light.

Even if I lit the lamp, there wasn't a single book at hand to comfort my heart! What could I say about this loneliness! To speak of loneliness—there wasn't a single thing untouched by it. The storm's roar through the forest, the leopard's cry on the hill, the fox's growl in the thicket... One night, peering through the loophole, I saw a leopard desperately scratching the hut door. The sparse trees here let moonlight stream through their gaps. Illumined by that pale light, the leopard's beauty—its soft fur with vivid spots—diligently sharpened its claws with childlike hands. I watched awhile before kicking the door from inside. The scratching stopped dead. After a moment's thought, I slipped out silently, followed the tree trunk down the hill, and entered the forest.

Among the beasts living in the forest, the goats and small monkeys had grown quite accustomed and came to gather around the hut every day. They would happily eat the food they received from me. The small birds, who had been fearful at first, gradually grew accustomed as well, until finally they began to flit fearlessly through the loopholes into the hut, engaging in adorable bird-like mischief—such as dropping droppings or pecking at chair backs—before returning to the forest through the same loopholes. One day, I caught a goat and tried milking it. Pure white, opaque milk filled three coconut shell bowls. It had an excellent flavor and was an extremely fine beverage. I had no shortage of tobacco. Wild tobacco plants grew everywhere, providing excellent shredded tobacco. When I stuffed it into my homemade pipe and puffed on it without stint, I was truly happy.

The slightly vexing one was Shōjō. From the fork of a distant tree, he would peer out and keep watch for two or even three days; if I aimed my bow at him, he would startle and fluster into hiding among the leaves, but after a short while, he would peek out again. As was the habit of that jealous beast, whenever he saw the small monkeys playing with me, he would burn with jealousy and attempt to intimidate us by letting out eerie growls.

After walking about one ri through the forest, there was a river where reeds grew thickly. There were several crocodiles there waiting for prey. One day I went hunting toward that river with my friends—that is, bringing along goats and small monkeys. Before long we reached the riverbank. My friends and I walked along that bank amidst the clamor. Then a vigorous young male goat that had been before me went down to the river to drink water. At that instant a brown log raised its head. The moment it snapped its jaws open, the goat's upper half flew into them like a ball. What I had thought was a log turned out to be a crocodile; it sank deep into the water with a splash and left me powerless to act.

On another occasion, I was walking through the marshlands with my friends. Reeds and pampas grass grew thickly, reaching twice my height and swaying toward the sky. My friends—the monkeys and goats—seeming to find the marshlands novel, ran ahead of me and were noisily chattering away. However, suddenly, their chatter was severed like a thread.

29

At the same time, a mournful beast's howl sounded from the direction of the marsh. And something seemed to part the pampas grass and glide toward the marsh. I hesitated for a moment, but in the next instant found myself running toward the marsh like a madman. Because I thought my friends would surely be taken by crocodiles again. However, I hadn't run even ten ken when I involuntarily froze in shock. Due to the overwhelming terror, my body broke out in goosebumps all at once, and even the hair on my head stood on end. The only useful parts of my body were my wide-open eyes; both my hands and legs had lost all strength.

What should appear before me but a giant python that had swallowed an entire deer sideways, writhing as it parted the weeds before my eyes and slithered toward the marsh! My friends—the goats and small monkeys—must have ceased their chatter. Even I found myself unable to utter a single sound. Only when the python's form had completely submerged into the marsh did I finally regain my wits. For the first time, I let out a scream and began running wildly in the direction opposite the marsh, my legs churning through empty air. At once, both goats and monkeys came charging after me from behind, shrieking like mad creatures.

As for the terror I felt at that moment, it can be understood from the fact that I developed a fever all over my body that night and could not take a single step outside the hut for two whole days. That was truly the first terror I had experienced since the day I was born.

But soon after came what would be called the "unimaginably strange incident" and the "great anthropological miracle." Compared to that bizarre event, this might hardly qualify as terror. "A great anthropological miracle!" As for when exactly this occurred—it was about ten days after I saw that python devour the deer—on a day when I remained holed up in my hut ceaselessly puffing tobacco smoke. Outside my hut goats monkeys and solo-singing birds chattered incessantly as if trying to summon me. Not a breath stirred—the forest stood deathly silent.

Without responding to their summons, I remained in the room indefinitely. Then suddenly, their voices were severed as if a thread had been cut. Whenever their voices ceased so abruptly, it always meant their fearsome enemy was attacking them. I strained my ears to discern what was approaching. At that moment, a mysterious cry came from the direction of the distant forest. It was an unfathomable voice—one I had never heard since I began living there. It resembled the horrifying death scream of a young woman desperately fighting off an assailant, yet sounded even more sorrowful. I leapt up from my stool and peered through the loophole facing the forest toward the sound. What had I just witnessed? A colossal brute! A colossal brute! No—a monster! An anthropoid ape—nearly eight feet tall and shrouded in jet-black fur—darted through the branches like lightning, bloodshot eyes fixed on its prey as it bared yellow fangs and came leaping toward me, clattering those teeth all the while. His most striking feature was his long tail, which moved as freely as a hand. Not only did it wrap around branches to support his full weight, but he would swing it to strike down obstructing undergrowth—even sturdy living trees snapped cleanly in two from a single blow, as if split by a sharp axe. An anthropoid ape with a tail! It was a young native woman who came fleeing while screaming, chased by this tailed beast. Fluttering her long hair behind her, she ran with her terror-wide eyes fixed on the hut and her feet barely touching the ground. Her reddish-brown limbs gleamed white in the sun; the bird feathers wrapped around her waist fluttered like palm fronds; her figure—chest thrust forward as she ran—was beautiful even for a native. Both pursuer and pursued dashed through the forest and emerged into a clearing encircling the hill.

The tailed anthropoid ape released its tail from the tree branch and leapt to the ground like a ball; then, clenching and unclenching both fists—occasionally touching the ground with their tips—and thrusting its bull-like shoulders forward, it came chasing in a dancelike manner. Gradually cornered by the tireless tailed anthropoid ape, the native girl’s running legs grew steadily slower from terror. And as if she knew I dwelled within the hut, she raised both hands toward it and repeated that sorrowful death scream again and again. Summoned by the maiden’s cry, my heart surged. My paralyzed hand regained its freedom. I seized my pistol, kicked open the hut door, and scrambled down the hill via the rope ladder. Then, without an instant’s hesitation, I raced toward the girl. Having shielded the maiden behind me and leveled my pistol unwaveringly at the ferocious form of the tailed anthropoid ape, my courage held firm.

My sudden appearance seemed to startle the tailed human, for he stopped in his tracks for an instant. But in the very next moment, he let out a thunderous howl and lunged like a gale. Just as his hands were about to grasp my body, my pistol roared. And three shots in rapid succession at that.

Thirty As the mountain-like body of the tailed anthropoid ape writhed and collapsed to the ground, flocks of goats, small birds, and little monkeys that had been hiding until then emerged chattering noisily from the forest. They surrounded the anthropoid ape and began circling it in unison. They cried out as they circled, as though performing a triumphal march. I turned to see where the native girl was. Perhaps because her earlier terror had vanished all at once—she stood with arms hanging limply at her sides, watching the ape's form—but when she saw my turned face, she displayed the fiery passion of South Seas natives and suddenly leapt at me. Seizing me with powerful arms, she pressed her face against my chest and squeezed me tight while trembling head to toe. Though undoubtedly a grateful embrace, her arms were too strong—squeezed with desperate fervor, I nearly cried out. The maiden seemed to notice this and slackened her grip, but instead began covering every inch of my body with her lips. Yielding myself to her actions, I stood motionless—yet my gaze involuntarily darted to her face as she kissed me frantically. How could I scorn this face as that of a savage woman! What exquisitely proportioned features! The thick lips typical of natives were not hers alone. Were they not thin and taut like a European's? And how crimson they were! As though smeared with crushed coral. Her thick, prominent nose and large passionate eyes resembled those of Europeans more than South Seas natives.

After her passion had cooled, I attempted to converse through hand gestures. Through this method, I learned three facts: that she was my "invisible benefactor," that a native tribe resided in a forest four miles distant, and that this tribe was presently engaged in battle against an enemy force containing white men—which made them tough adversaries.

So then, I resolved to follow her to their village and see for myself.

That day, I departed toward the tribe with the native girl. Along the way, I continued extracting information through gestures. What shocked me most was learning that Chinese people like myself inhabited this native tribe. Moreover, they existed in great numbers - these numerous Chinese siding with the tribespeople to battle an invading force led by white men. Resolving that everything would clarify upon reaching the tribe, I hastened along the treacherous path. Through gestural communication, I discovered why this beautiful native girl with no connection to me had saved my life. The moment she saw me - lying half-dead in that shoreboat - she'd felt what passes for love among South Seas maidens toward my pitiable state. Thus she rescued me; otherwise would have devoured my flesh instead. She recounted this horror through candid gestures with unsettling composure. The cannibalistic Daiyaru tribe! However comely her features, her savage lineage brooked no denial. This truth sank deep within me. To be desired by this fearsome barbarian woman tormented me beyond measure. Yet she remained my life's preserver. Confronting her blazing ardor, honor forbade brutal rejection. But Hongyu existed. Hongyu! Hongyu! Ah Hongyu! Where might Hongyu be?

Even while living in this forest—not knowing life or death—I had never once forgotten her! As long as breath remained in me, no matter what it took—I would surely find her! …

Even so—what am I to do with this savage woman’s passion and sincerity toward me! She always walked ahead of me with cautious steps. She did this to protect me from attacks by poisonous snakes and wild beasts. When we came to a river where crocodiles seemed to lurk, she carried me on her back and swiftly crossed the water.

By the time we arrived at the native tribe's village after spending nearly ten hours on a mere four-mile journey, it was already approaching midnight.

The midnight full moon hung in the sky, and under its pale moonlight lay an area where hundreds of thatched huts stood clustered together—this was the native tribe. The village interior was in an uproar, likely because they were battling an invading army. While hiding in the shadows of trees, I observed the tribe's situation. Bonfires seemed to be burning in various places—rose-colored flames rose toward the heavens as pale smoke billowed upward. The natives' shouts, the sound of loosed arrows, and even rifle reports reached my ears.

What astonished me was that amidst all that noise, I could clearly hear the sound of someone speaking impeccable Chinese. What surprised me even more was hearing that very poem I had heard in Beijing resound so clearly. An ancient tree encroaches upon the heavens; the sun sinks beyond reach. ………… The chieftain comes! The chieftain comes! The chieftain comes!

“Yuan Gengsheng’s gang of pirate scoundrels must be there!”

I immediately thought this. The blood in my body had involuntarily flared up with thoughts of revenge. 31 No sooner had a war cry roared up from the forest far beyond the native tribe’s village than drums resounded in response from the village itself, and even women and children poured into the square as if performing a triumphant dance—kicking their legs skyward while bathed in the rosy glow of flames.

The native girl had been standing by my side until that moment, but no sooner had she caught sight of the village’s spectacle than she too kicked her legs skyward and began dancing like a madwoman. Then, pulling me along, she began running toward the village. As we drew closer to the village, I could clearly discern what was happening in the square.

In the square stood a single stake with a person bound to it. He appeared to have been captured just moments earlier in the forest beyond, fresh cuts on his cheek streaming blood. His pristine white clothes hung in tatters, exposing bare skin. The barbarians circled him in a victory dance. I saw the captive's face—it was unmistakably Mr. Danchon! This prisoner was none other than Mr. Danchon, the Spanish painter who had explored the desert with us! The instant I realized this, I connected the white-led invading force fighting these natives to Detective Lassin and Rezard's expedition team beyond doubt.

"So the Spanish expedition team had already come this far? But even so—how on earth had Mr. Danchon ended up as a captive of the natives? Were Detective Lassin and his team unaware he'd been taken prisoner? I owed a debt to the expedition members—Detective Lassin himself had saved my life once. When I'd stumbled into Yuan Gengsheng’s opium den searching for Hongyu, that very detective had shown me an escape route. Now Danchon—Lassin’s own companion—faced execution at tribal hands right before me. To stand witness meant I had to save him by any obligation owed—but how? How could I possibly manage it?"

I stood there lost in thought.

When the native girl saw this, she stopped her dancing hands mid-motion and gestured urgently toward me. “There’s nothing to worry about. “You’re my savior who rescued me from the tailed humanoid apes—our tribe will welcome you.” Her earnest gestures conveyed this meaning. Yet I remained motionless. I kept standing there, deep in thought. Then she gestured to me once more in this way.

“If you’re uneasy, I’ll go to the village first and tell them about you.”

Even so, I remained silent. The girl tilted her head slightly and gazed at my face, but then suddenly whirled around and ran off toward the village. She must be going to inform the people of the tribe of my presence here.

When her figure was obscured by the cotton tree flowers and disappeared from view, I made a split-second decision and started running back the way I had come. As long as Yuan Gengsheng’s group remained in the native tribe, being caught would surely mean my life was forfeit. That was what terrified me. But by the time I fled, I had already lost my chance. The shouts of tribesmen pursuing from the village grew louder behind me with each passing moment. I had mistaken my bearings and simply ran about wildly. Suddenly, Chinese-language shouts erupted from the thicket ahead—Yuan Gengsheng’s gang members must have cut me off. Behind me, the tribesmen closed in. The tips of their spears glittered in the moonlight, and the crests of their bird-feathered helmets peeked through the trees above.

I was cornered. From then on, I was driven less by recklessness than by sheer desperation. I drew the pistol at my hip and fired repeatedly at the tribal army. I had apparently shot two or three of them dead. Abandoning the panicked tribesmen who fled screaming, I burrowed into the bushes like a rabbit. I didn’t know where or how far I’d wandered when—as my surroundings began brightening faintly—I jerked my head up and stared ahead. What madness—there before me lay the native village’s square illuminated by bonfires! And there still remained the unfortunate Mr. Danchon tied to that stake, though not a single tribesman could be seen anywhere.

I was seized by a chivalrous impulse. “This is the chance to save Mr. Danchon!”

So I parted the weeds and approached the square. However, at that moment, something turned my attention away. …From the distant grove beyond my side came a woman’s voice—the laughter of my lover, so reminiscent of Hongyu’s that I could never forget it even in my dreams—sounding utterly delighted. Following that came the beast’s cry, equally cheerful in tone. I stood rooted to the spot as if struck by lightning, straining to catch that laughter. Again and again the woman’s voice and beast’s cry reached me. It seemed she was amusing herself by playing with the creature.

I focused my awareness in all directions, steadied my racing heart with force, and stole toward where the voice originated.

Thirty-Two Illuminated by the bright full moon, the backyard of the tribesmen’s hut lay before me as clearly as if I could reach out and touch it. On the frost-white garden ground, a giant silver-furred orangutan-like beast leaped skyward like an otter. A girl clad in white stood clapping her hands lightly as if to amuse the creature. Moonlight struck her upturned face, etching her features in vivid relief. It was Hongyu—unmistakably Hongyu!

Forgetting all the circumstances around me, I ran forward. “Hongyu!”

I screamed and tried to embrace her with both hands. Then the orangutan-like beast ran over and blocked the two of them apart. With bell-like eyes glaring at me, it tried to shield Hongyu behind itself.

“Who are you?”

Hongyu asked in a voice as dear and unchanged as I remembered from the past.

“‘Who am I?’ You’re asking me that? “Zhang Jiaoren!” “Zhang Jiaoren!” However, Hongyu showed no emotion and merely gazed at my face,

“Mr. Zhang Jiaoren!” “Who could you be, I wonder?” “Ah yes! I finally remembered.” “There was such a gentleman, long, long ago… We met in the Lop Desert, didn’t we? I stayed with you until the peonies bloomed… And then I fled from you when the paulownias flowered.” “But when I was finally discovered and dragged back from my dear, dear opium den to your place—how terribly sad I felt… And then I ran away again.” “That’s right—from your place… I have a lover, you know.” “I have a dear, dear lover!” “Come on, Silver Fur! Try leaping up!” “My lover is you!” “Come on, Silver Fur! Try leaping up!”

Then, just as she commanded, the demonic beast Silver Fur leapt into the air again and again with ethereal lightness. In the sky hung a full moon; on the ground crouched a beast; and a goddess-like lover stood wrapped in white robes... This was a settlement of the Daiyaru tribe—man-eaters in these barbaric lands... ...My vision swam violently. Was I going mad?! All while thinking this, I clenched the pistol in one hand and pointed its barrel at Silver Fur...

…After that, I myself have no clear recollection of what I did. In any case, I was fleeing with Danchon while being chased by tribesmen. Who untied Danchon’s ropes—though it must have been me—or how I managed it? Even that I don’t clearly remember—the only thing I recall is firing the pistol. Who on earth did I shoot? Had I shot at Silver Fur? Why would I shoot Silver Fur? Because I thought it was an evil beast deceiving Hongyu. How could I possibly explain why? It was pure instinct! The bullet from my pistol unfortunately missed the evil beast. I had only startled it. Startled, the evil beast leapt up and seized Hongyu’s body. Then it nimbly scaled the tree. Still clutching Hongyu carefully, it nimbly leaped to another tree. Moving from treetop to treetop this way, it vanished into the woods. And that was the last time I ever saw them…

Danchon and I didn't exchange a word as we ran as far as our strength would take us toward where the tribesmen's voices couldn't be heard. When we had completely exhausted our strength and collapsed together, night was fading into pale dawn. The dangers of wild beasts or venomous snakes held no fear for us in our exhausted state. There we sank into deep sleep.

Around noon that day, I finally found a hut.

For a while, the two of us remained silent. Slumped in wooden chairs, both Danchon and I stayed wordless. How long had we been silent? Even so, Danchon finally began speaking in a lazy voice. Through Danchon’s account, I learned that the expedition team had built a combat fortress in a rubber forest one mile from the tribesmen’s settlement where they were barricaded, and that they were supposed to launch a full-scale attack on the tribesmen’s settlement by fire either today or early tomorrow morning. Moreover, I learned another of the expedition team’s objectives. According to his story, ten miles southwest from this hut stood a steep mountain with a lake at its foot. It was said that at the bottom of this lake lay hidden the Lop people’s great treasure vault—the one we had long been searching for.

“This is a recent discovery, but apparently Dr. Mahalayana heard this from a Daiyaru tribesman prisoner—that the treasure vault at the bottom of the lake is guarded by primitive people called tailed humans.” “They’re a ferocious race, you see—apparently even the notoriously violent Daiyaru tribesmen fear only the tailed humans and avoid approaching them.”

“I’ve seen tailed humans!”

I gave him a condensed account of the events from the other day. Then I asked him.

“How on earth did you end up getting captured by tribesmen?” “Well, you see,” Danchon said with a wry smile, “since Mr. Lassin and Rezard gave me that nickname—‘Danchon the Painter Who Doesn’t Paint’—I thought I’d try to redeem myself by painting this island’s scenery. So yesterday, I took my canvas and wandered around the woods… and ended up stumbling into the tribesmen’s settlement.” Danchon laughed carefreely.

That evening, I saw a plume of smoke rising high beyond the forest. The tribesmen’s settlement that had been subjected to the arson attack was likely burning. When night fell, tongues of flame flickered into view in the sky. The forest birds and beasts, fearing the firelight, gathered at the base of the hut. The wild boar dug into the earth with its snout, trying to bury itself within. Squirrels climbed up and down the tree trunks, chirping shrilly all the while. The mountain doves danced in wheel-like patterns through the sky; even after swooping down in unison, they immediately soared back up. Leopards were growling in the shadow of the rocks, and water buffaloes were trembling in the pampas grass.

The flames spread ever wider. The flames had completely consumed the village and now seemed to have shifted to the forest.

A massive wildfire in the South Seas primeval forest! Deer, rabbits, and reindeer used their swift legs to flee from grove to grove. A flock of small birds formed a massive group and sailed through the vast sea of the sky. A large contingent of zebras ran off toward the marsh, their manes flowing.

The fire’s advance gradually drew nearer. Smoke enveloped the hut. I grabbed the pistol and, the moment I handed Danchon the bow and arrows left by the tribal girl, we leaped down from the hut and fled into the midst of the running beasts, heading downwind.

Thirty-Three

A human scream filled with terror came from behind us. Before we could even turn around, Daiyaru tribesmen dashed past us like birds in flight, not even holding weapons in their hands. Of course, even if they noticed us, they made no attempt to attack. They seemed frantic only about escaping the advancing flames. The flames drew perilously close. The depths of the forest were crimson, as if someone had spilled scarlet dye. Steamed by the heat, sweat poured down my back like a waterfall. Even in the midst of this great danger, I found myself thinking such things.

We mustn’t flee with the tribesmen. We mustn’t go where the tribesmen are heading. As is their way, those barbarians might change their minds at any moment. Even if we luckily escape this deep forest and reach the grassland, we’d still lose our lives if attacked by tribesmen there. We had to flee opposite to where they were escaping.

I called out to Danchon.

“To the southwest! Southwest!” Then Danchon shouted back: “The fire’s already spread that way!” “Shut up and follow me! Shut up and follow me!”

With that, I changed direction toward the southwest and broke into a madman’s sprint. Danchon followed close behind.

When I looked around, sure enough, the entire southwest area was a sea of flames. However, within the sea of flames, a pitch-black streak stretched like a single watercourse. It appeared to be a ravine. To get there, we had to make a great detour. Making a detour might be manageable, but wouldn't the fire catch up to us before we reached that ravine? But there was no other way.

Entrusting our fate to luck, we began that great detour. It must have been what you’d call divine protection—when we reached the ravine, the fire had arrived as well.

In the ravine, a river flowed. Before anything else, we immersed our bodies in the river.

We swam quietly downstream along the bank like this, but the path ahead shone bright as day, letting us see even each other's eyelashes. How many hours had we been swept along? When the waters of the fairly rapid river had completely lost their force, we crawled out and urgently scanned our surroundings. Though the fire's light still cast its glow, we were already far removed from the blaze's epicenter. Haloed by rose-colored flames, an unearthly aura beyond mortal realms seemed to drift across the lake's surface encircled by rocky crags on all sides. Before my very eyes stretched a lake spread out like a mirror!

“Lake!”

“Lake!” I muttered. The voice was trembling terribly. Then Danchon also said. “Lake! No doubt about it—that must be the lake!”

At last, we arrived. To the lake concealing the treasure vault!

Chapter 7: The Tailed Humanoids Guarding the Treasure Vault (Part 2)

34

Dawn began to break over the tribal lands.

Danchon and I stood in silence at the lakeside. The cold of dawn assailed our bodies, making us shiver violently. The sky gradually began to take on color. Mouse-grey, pale yellow, rose... The primeval forest encircling the lake awoke from its dream and began to stir. Leaves whispered leaf to leaf, branches swayed branch to branch, and trunks rubbed against trunks, raising voices like phantom birds. The wind blew past like a war arrow. A flock of birds, clustered like clouds, soared and wheeled through the rose-colored sky, racing left and right. The lake water too gradually began to take on color. Lead-gray, mackerel-gray, pale yellow—then gradually turning pink—until when the sun rose over the primeval forest, it shone a deep crimson.

Surrounded by plateaus, covered by forests, and filled with lake water—this secluded land thus saw night end, the sun rise, and full daylight arrive. Which direction had the terrible mountain fire from last night burned away to? This secluded land remained tranquil, as if such a terrifying wildfire had never occurred anywhere. However, to me, this secluded land began to seem all the more eerie precisely because it was too quiet. If only we could have heard the roar of a leopard or seen wild boars emerge from the forest—then a sense of reassurance that we were indeed on an island in the South Seas like Borneo would have naturally arisen in our hearts. The very silence of our surroundings was precisely what filled me with dread.

It appeared that Danchon was feeling the same terror as I, for he had been surveying our surroundings with doubt-filled eyes when suddenly he jabbed my arm and whispered in a hoarse voice.

“Look at that! That face!” For some reason, the word “face” pierced through my very being at that moment. So I widened my eyes and hurriedly turned my gaze in the direction he was pointing.

Face! Face! Human faces! And not just one or two. Dozens of human faces were staring fixedly at us from between the trees in the thicket without blinking. Those were indeed human faces. There was no mistaking them for human faces—but if those were indeed human faces, what bizarre visages they were! Compared to ordinary human faces, they were nearly twice as large. Three-fifths of each face was covered in sepia-colored fur, their foreheads sunken low as if struck by giant hammers, presenting visages of primal ignorance. In contrast, their lips swelled sensually, protruding beyond their noses. The malformed noses—with flaring nostrils but no bridges whatsoever—stretched and contracted between eyes and mouths like rubber-crafted toys.

Overwhelmed by terror, I instinctively tried to cling to Danchon.

“It’s monsters! Monsters!” “No, barbarians!” I let out an involuntary groan, but when I saw the foremost of those barbarians I had thought were monsters leap nimbly from the thicket, cling to a tall tree trunk, and climb swiftly to the treetop, I realized they were neither monsters nor barbarians, but utterly unexpected apelike tailed humanoids. “Pithecanthropus!” “They’re tailed humanoids!” Once again I groaned, widened my eyes in desperation, and scanned my surroundings for any possible savior. Then Danchon—nearly fainting from terror—gripped my hand tightly and shrieked in a trembling voice.

“A hundred of them!” “Five hundred of them!” “A thousand of them!” “Hordes of them swarming from all directions!” Indeed—now that he mentioned it—the apes had surrounded us. Clustered like a black cloud from between the trees, thicket shadows, and hilltops, their snake-like tails stiffly raised above their heads, they inched closer and closer toward us.

The green forest, the crystal-clear lake—this picturesque world had instantly transformed into a hellish realm of terror with the sudden emergence of the apes. However, I resolved that no matter what it took, I must escape from the terrifying claws and fangs of these apes. But even so, how could I possibly escape? Should I charge into their horde, grapple with the apes, and try to break free from their midst? But could there possibly be any hope of fighting and defeating forest-dwelling primitives weighing fifty kan? There was absolutely no hope of that! Then should I jump into the lake, swim across, and flee to the opposite shore? But even if I reached the opposite shore, would not that forest too be inhabited by apes? Then how was I supposed to escape? What could I do to escape?

Without wasting a single moment, I thought through all this up to this point. And finally reached a dead end. All the while, the Tailed Humanoids approached us step by step with their indigenous cunning. When the distance between us narrowed to about eighteen meters, they rose up in unison. What magnificent physiques they possessed! If only they lacked tails and body fur - they might have made stalwart warriors... They abruptly began dancing around us in formation. With us at their center, they first swirled leftward in circles, then rightward, again leftward before turning right once more - spinning endlessly like a great watery vortex.

Thirty-Five "So this was their scheme!"

By the time I thought this, we had already been swept into their vortex and plunged into a hypnotic state.

...Green... vast sky... ape faces... and their shrieks... lake water... sunlight... hairy hands... countless, countless hairy hands lifted us from the ground. And they carried us somewhere through the green woods... The green grew ever deeper. The sunlight gradually dimmed... when abruptly, an old man appeared before us. What an intellectual face he had! What magnificent white hair he had! Leading the apes, the old man ran ahead. He must be commanding the apes. A god? A prophet? A savior? God, save us!... The forest was plunged into darkness. Sunlight came shining again. The green walls swayed. Where are we being taken?...

That was something from the past.

It was necessary to go back roughly thirty years. At that time，a young man was walking across the island of Borneo. He was a British zoologist versed in archaeology—a man named Johnson who，true to his English heritage，overflowed with adventurous spirit. Through profound study of both archaeological and zoological theories，he had come to hold an unshakable conviction：that humans bearing enormous tails must inhabit either Borneo’s South Seas jungles or Iranian Plateau forests. Thus he resolved personally verify his theory. Gathering comrades，he first explored Iranian Plateau from Persian approaches. Yet there they found no trace of Tailed Humanoids. Disheartened，his companions returned directly Britain—but Johnson alone remained steadfast，crossing Borneo himself.

He had spent many days avoiding attacks by indigenous tribes and perils from wild beasts and venomous snakes to finally reach the interior, but there was not a trace of the Tailed Humanoids. Even the supremely confident Johnson could no longer persist with his theory under these circumstances. He had no choice but to resign himself to the fact that these so-called Tailed Humanoids were nothing more than a rash delusion of his own making—that no matter where one searched across the world, such creatures did not actually exist.

He was utterly disheartened and at a loss for what to do next. To avoid the dangers of wild beasts, he built a hut atop a tall rubber tree and spent days inside pondering. Yet he found it regrettable to abandon this place as it was, and ultimately resolved to remain in this land after all—even if there were no Tailed Humanoids—since many other rare animals swarmed here in abundance, deciding at least to study them. Thus first thing, he set about repairing the hut where he lived. Then he discovered food and drinking water near the hut and made improvements to them. For weapons to protect himself, he possessed nothing but a single pistol with some ammunition and a Western-style sword—and thus began Johnson’s life in the deepest reaches of the untamed wilderness, trembling nightly under the roars of tigers, the growls of leopards, and the fearsome howls of wolves that swarmed beneath the pale moonlight to attack.

One year, two years—three years, four years—five years passed. He grew familiar with nearly all birds and beasts inhabiting the forest, studying each one exhaustively. Tigers and leopards held no terror for him anymore. His naturally robust physique, hardened by the wilderness climate and honed through grappling with wild beasts, grew ever sturdier; through competing with the apes, he attained terrifying agility. By now he had utterly abandoned his former theories about Tailed Humanoids—Johnson himself had transformed into a complete savage, indistinguishable from the apes. He could race through the forest like wind itself, traversing branches to limbs to trunks. From towering treetops he would leap into thickets below, handling his body with such lightness that not a scratch marred him.

What a delightful life this was! What a primitive life this was! This was precisely the life of our ancestors—the very life of the apes themselves! Natural food, natural drink, natural amusements, natural sleep—here existed no vanity whatsoever. Nor were there any formal rituals here. Compared to this, that European social life I had lived through before was like a prison cell. I reveled wholeheartedly... in this forest life...

Johnson had actually come to think this way—far from fearing life in the untamed wilds, he loved it. And he resolved never to return to the ostentatious social life of Europe or similar places. He loved and cherished birds and beasts, even taming crocodiles. Through their cries, the movements of their eyes, or the writhing of their limbs, he could discern their emotions. He could perceive what they demanded and what they disliked. So he tirelessly fulfilled their demands. In return, they too performed various tasks for him.

Thirty-Six

It was a fine day, and he had left his hut to sit atop a small hillock. Suddenly, cries of birds and beasts were heard from the forest ahead, and at the same moment, a tiger burst forth from the thicket. What emerged from the same thicket in pursuit of the tiger’s trail was—unexpectedly—a Tailed Humanoid. His astonishment upon realizing this defied all description. He suddenly leapt up and advanced toward the ape. A piercing roar! A fierce snarl! ...Even the formidable ape was kicked in the chest by Johnson and sent rolling.

Several days after this incident, on a certain day, Johnson—who was usually in his hut—had vanished without a trace. And it grieved the countless birds and beasts who had grown close to Johnson. By this time, Johnson had already stepped into a primordial paradise—unchanged since antiquity and adorned with primeval forests and lakes—with a captured ape as his guide.

Years upon years passed by.

In Paris and London, tens of thousands of people died and were born anew into this world... Of course, in the South Seas wilderness too, pineapples ripened countless times and fig blossoms fell countless times. And elderly civets and injured crocodiles died.

Several years passed. The time had come when the young man too would become an old man. The time had come when his blond hair turned white. Thirty years had already passed since the young British zoologist built a hut deep in Borneo's interior and lived freely among birds and beasts. Even so, there still stood a wooden hut atop the rubber tree.

...Around this time, in the paradise beautifully adorned by the lake and primeval forest—that is, the apes’ dwelling place—there lived an old man, an unmistakably European human, alongside the Tailed Humanoids. He dwelled in utmost peace, served by their group as though he were the apes’ king.

The inside of the cave was dark. A single candle made from animal fat burned dimly, faintly illuminating just the two of us and the old man, while the sunlight streaming in from outside did not reach this far. Danchon and I had been taken captive by the mysterious old man who called himself the King of the Tailed Humanoid Apes and brought into the cave—and hearing the legendary tale of his life’s journey directly from his lips, how utterly astonished we must have been. However, we were exhausted. Thus, we had apparently fallen into a deep sleep at some point during the old man’s tale.

By the time we finally awoke, it was already noon the following day.

We decided to go outside the cave with the old man’s permission. A flood of sunlight! The verdant leaves’ radiance! And the unfathomably deep color of the ultramarine lake’s depths! Dazzled by those colors, we stood still for a moment. What came from the thicket was the voices of the apes. Even those voices today seemed like calm human ones. The two of us went to the lakeshore and there once more paced about. “Mystical lake! Mystical lake! Mystical lake!” I involuntarily muttered this and looked back at Danchon’s face. “That’s right,” Danchon also murmured and looked back at my face.

“The two of us were the first to discover the mystical lake. So this time we have first rights to explore the lakebed... The Lop people’s treasure vault—vast treasures must lie hidden at the bottom.” Danchon’s voice quivered like a bowstring taut with emotion. I stopped him with a hand gesture and silently watched the lake. At that moment, the water before our eyes swelled up like mountains to either side, collapsed in an instant, and from within emerged a hill-like mass. The instant we perceived this, from the water’s surface covered in floating algae ten ken away from the underwater hill, accompanied by a sudden whoosh of spray, what fluttered and glinted in the air was a face resembling a python.

“Thunder Lizard!” The astonished cry burst from my lips. At that moment, Danchon pointed his finger toward the far-off forest and,

“A giant lizard is flying!” Danchon said in a voice filled with terror. Exactly as he had said, a twenty-foot-long giant lizard was flying from tree to tree like a dragon, flapping the wings on its shoulders. And parting the thicket beside it, a monstrous forty-to-fifty-foot creature—a cross between jackal and elephant—was chasing a wild mouse while violently brandishing its twin horns. It was indeed a dinosaur. Whether called Thunder Lizards or dinosaurs, these were all animals that had lived on Earth hundreds of thousands of years ago, and just like the apes, they should have all perished in that distant past hundreds of thousands of years prior. Nevertheless, for them to have coexisted with apes deep in Borneo and survived into the twentieth century was truly a wonder of the world.

Danchon and I, utterly terrified to our very souls by this wonder, fled from the lakeshore. And so we returned to the cave.

37

Even in the society of the fierce apes, several unwritten laws were observed. They never committed violence toward females not their own. They united as one against enemies other than apes and did not greedily consume food all at once but gathered and stored it in one place... These were their principal rules. The enforcer of these unwritten laws was their king—the old man—and the apes feared the punishments he imposed. The apes' lives were exceedingly free and lively. They lived in the trees, slept in the trees, and played by traversing the trees. Their daily food consisted of nuts, roots, and birds and beasts, and they diligently worked to gather abundant provisions. The primeval forest spread ten ri in all directions around the lake, but it was precisely this great forest spanning ten ri that formed the apes' kingdom. In this vast forest, from hundreds of thousands of years ago to hundreds of thousands of years later into the present day, they gave birth, raised offspring, multiplied, transcended Darwinism, sustained their existence within primitive life's bounds, and thus persisted until today. Still, why did they possess such long and sturdy tails? That in itself wasn't particularly mysterious. They had likely used those tails vigorously from hundreds of thousands of years ago through to the present day hundreds of thousands of years later. That was why their tails developed so magnificently. Herein lay the application of the great truth: use begets development.

One day, Danchon and I were wandering through the forest. While following our trail, numerous apes crossed through the trees and continued to follow us endlessly. Possibly cautious of us being unfamiliar with forest navigation, they would sometimes take the lead and point out directions. As we proceeded, the forest grew increasingly dense and thick until even sunlight could no longer penetrate. Startled by our footsteps, foxes and rabbits fled; skunks scrambled through brambles to leap panic-stricken into the same hole where lemurs hid; long-armed monkeys playing in groups let out a collective shriek as they scampered from branch to branch.

When a giant gorilla suddenly appeared before us, we stopped in our tracks out of terror. However, there was no danger at all. The apes were protecting us... Indeed, from above our heads, the apes fluttered down exactly like bats. And a desperate struggle ensued with the giant gorilla, but in less than ten minutes, the gorilla was torn into three pieces.

When we came to a large marsh where the forest opened up and sunlight streamed in, once again we encountered one of the beasts from the previous century. It was a tall creature measuring about ten ken in length, with a spiked tail covering its entire back and an elongated neck, using that tail and its hind legs to wobble along while standing upright. The moment it spotted us, it leapt into the water and vanished from sight. The two of us proceeded quietly along the marsh’s edge. Kee! Kee! Hearing "Kee! Kee!" and something crying in a sorrowful voice from the treetops, we absentmindedly looked up to see. A shark-like fish over eight feet long with bulging eyes and elongated fins was crying sorrowfully as it climbed a tree trunk using its fins.

We wandered on still further. We crossed a muddy river inhabited by crocodiles, traversed a wetland teeming with duck-billed creatures, and wandered aimlessly. Once again the forest came to an end, and in the far distance ahead, sand dunes became visible. Before us unfolded a somehow divine otherworld where the tropical sun blazed, flooding everything with a deluge of light. On the sand dune ahead, baptized in this deluge of light, stood a single shrine—before it sat stone-carved guardian lion-dogs wreathed in shoulder flames as if protecting it. When I beheld this sight, I abruptly conjured in my mind the identical shrine I had seen in the green oasis of the Lop Desert.

"Oh! Could they be identical? ...The shrine from the Lop Desert and this shrine deep in Borneo!"

I stood rooted to the spot, my chest trembling with awe, and gazed fixedly at the shrine. Then a mysterious incident occurred that heightened my awe even further. It was that the apes who had been protecting us from the treetops until now, upon catching sight of the shrine, scrambled down from the branches and—like humans—prostrated themselves in worship from afar.

Ah, how could I ever compare their fervor and piety? Shall we liken it to ancient Buddhist devotees who offered prayers with firm faith before statues of Buddha? Yet how could these apes know how to worship from afar? Had someone taught them? Or did they learn it naturally? And what exactly was enshrined in that shrine! Their deity? Treasure? Was that large hill merely piled-up sand? Or could something lie hidden within its depths?

"Mystery! Mystery! In short, mystery! Just like the lake—nothing but mystery!" I muttered to myself and surveyed the surroundings. Then I noticed that this entire area—including the sand dune—was low-lying.

38

Cared for by the apes and the old man, we spent ten days. One morning, the clamor of apes reverberated ominously all the way to the rock cavern. Then unexpectedly came the sound of cannons from across the lake. We leapt up in alarm.

And then we ran out of the rock cavern. What did we find? ……

Beyond the lake glistening in the morning sun, with the primeval forest's greenery at their backs, fifty or sixty people stood like statues on the distant shore of the lake, their cannon muzzles pointed this way.

“It’s Detective Lassin’s group!”

Danchon exclaimed excitedly like this.

“But,”

“But,” I hesitated. “It might be Yuan Gengsheng.”

The two gazed intently. The apes, sensitive to danger, seemed utterly terrified by the cannon fire and fled deep into the forest without showing a single trace. Danchon and I stood rooted in place, continuing our intense scrutiny. The considerable distance made it impossible to discern whether it was Yuan Gengsheng's gang or Detective Lassin's party. However, when the group fired blank shots again to gauge our position—presumably judging it safe—they began approaching gradually, allowing us at last to identify them.

——They were our allies……

Passionate greetings were exchanged between both parties, and their miraculous encounter was celebrated. Then both sides vied with each other to recount their experiences up to that day. Through their accounts, we learned how that terrible wildfire had started—the cannonball they had fired to save Danchon, who had been captured by the savages, had struck the savages' village and burned their thatched huts. They told us how they had fought the savages amidst that blazing inferno, and how after finally subjugating them completely, they had relentlessly pursued Yuan Gengsheng's group to Borneo's northern tip and massacred them there. Yet regrettably, Yuan Gengsheng alone had managed to escape.

In this brutal massacre, our allies had also suffered considerable injuries, so they left several severely wounded comrades in the savages' village, bringing only those unharmed and robust enough to come this far—or so we were told. “Even if you were to betray us,” came the magnanimous words, “no matter how desperately you might flee from us, we wouldn’t think any less of you.” “Isn’t that right, Mr. Zhang Jiaoren…”

Always magnanimous, Detective Lassin grasped my hand firmly as he said this with a cheerful laugh. At that moment, my face actually flushed red with embarrassment. “Not only that…” said the great detective, scrutinizing my face, “but I must sincerely thank you for your chivalrous spirit in rescuing our friend Mr. Danchon from the savages’ clutches.” Having said this, he even bowed his head courteously to me. The two of us were sitting on a fallen tree by the lakeshore, talking with each other. Danchon had apparently led everyone into the forest earlier to introduce Rezard and Dr. Mahalayana to the apes and the old man, and still hadn’t returned.

And so the surroundings were quiet. The lake was placidly gleaming.

Dinosaurs, thunder dragons, trachodons—they all seemed startled by the sound of cannons and showed no sign of emerging from the water. The inverted images of trees, the passage of clouds—all were mirrored in the water. A wind must have stealthily swept through, for ripples intertwined across the water's surface.

But once again it grew quiet, and the lake glowed golden.

Mystery! Mystery! Truly a mystery! If indeed the treasure of the Lop people—their immeasurable wealth—lay buried in this tranquil lake’s depths, within these unremarkable waters, what an astounding mystery that would be! Mystery! Mystery! Truly a mystery! And now we had gathered at the lakeshore to unveil this priceless mystery. If this mystery had remained intact, we might have become men of wealth. Yes—we could have become men of splendid fortune!

As I gazed at the lake, I became lost in such fantasies.

Then, Detective Lassin began to hum something under his breath.

………… Guarded by mountains and lakes Our ancestors dwell Surrounded by lake and mountains

Ancestors' treasures lie concealed

Suddenly, Lassin stood up. And solemnly declared:

“Let’s launch boats onto the lake! “There are boats made of hide!” “And let’s see the bottom of the lake!” “Let’s take the first step in uncovering the lake’s secrets, no matter what!”

Thirty-Nine

The expedition party retreated along their original path, leaving me behind in the savage territory. The members of the expedition—particularly Detective Lassin—had earnestly urged me to accompany them, but I refused to consent. As for why I refused—that was a matter for which I alone held my reasons.

As soon as the group finally left the lakeshore and entered the deep primeval forest, the Tailed Humanoids—who had remained unseen until now—revealed their hideous faces from among the trees and grasses and began chattering noisily. And the old zoologist, who had nearly concealed himself somewhere with the apes, had also returned unnoticed to the cave. Until now I had stayed in the savage territory with Danchon, but now that Danchon too had disappeared into the primeval forest with the group, I found myself utterly alone. So if I were to speak of friends, they would be the prophet-like old man, the tailed primitives, and the Trachodon monster from the lake depths—they might be called friends, yet all remained distant beings.

I continued spending my days in the old man’s cave with him as before, but ever since this incident occurred, even he no longer showed me the same goodwill he once had. And so I sought to establish my dwelling outside the cave. After long deliberation, the old man finally acquiesced to my request and allowed me to build a hut. Following his orders, the Tailed Humanoids constructed my hut high in a tree within the woods overlooking the lake. The apes—relying on brute strength—snapped massive green trees with resounding cracks and tore apart vines stronger than iron as if slicing thread, completing my hut in less than half a day. What pleased me most was being able to ponder undisturbed in the hut, free from interference by either the old man or apes. I spent entire days sitting there, contemplating the plan I was determined to execute henceforth. It was precisely this plan that had compelled me to refuse Detective Lassin’s urgings and remain alone in this savage territory.

However, before recording my plans in this memoir, it seemed more logical to first document why the expedition party had abandoned this land and departed. It was on the day after the expedition party appeared before us that they attempted, under Detective Lassin’s command, to float a single leather boat on the lake to investigate the lakebed’s condition. It was a collapsible leather boat large enough to hold eight people. As a vessel to float upon the lake, there could be no better craft than this. Light and buoyant upon the water, it moved with the swiftness of a swallow.

Detective Lassin, Mr. Rezard, Dr. Mahalayana, Dr. Marshall, painter Danchon, two natives, and I boarded the boat. Detective Lassin, concerned that the Thunder Dragon at the lake's bottom might raise its head and capsize the boat, ordered the native army gathered on the shore to fire cannons periodically. Of course those were blanks; Detective Lassin's hope was to intimidate the timid Thunder Dragon with their sound and keep it submerged indefinitely at the lake's bottom.

Amid the booming roar of cannons, our boat was propelled forward as we rowed out toward the lake. As we advanced, we peered into the water through our goggles, but with its strange aquatic plants and malformed fish, the submerged world resembled nothing less than the full bloom of May in the world above. The primeval forest blocked all wind, leaving the lake's surface unrippled—a thick, transparent blue like dissolved blue vitriol. Near the shore, the water mirrored the grove of trees so perfectly that storm-tossed treetops seemed to sway beneath the surface itself. As our boat progressed, a single wake streaked across the water, glittering silver where sunlight struck it alone. Countless waterfowl floated in dense flocks near the lake's heart, showing no inclination to move from their stations even as we drew near, as though wholly unaware of our approach.

We reached the center of the lake. There we anchored the boat for a time and observed the lakebed. Yet with mere diving goggles, we could never hope to discern anything at such unfathomable depths. Swaying aquatic plants, darting fish—these alone flickered dimly into view. We then rowed toward the shore where the native army had massed to survey the lake's perimeter. The natives fired blank shots skyward in near-ceaseless volleys. The cannons' ominous roar reverberated through every object in that untrodden mystic realm, returning as woodland spirits.

As our leather boat approached within about eighteen meters of the shore, it suddenly stopped moving. And in the next moment, the boat rapidly started moving backward, ever backward.

How this unexpected event must have shocked us! Half-dazed yet still putting our strength into the oars, we continued rowing toward the shore. This time, instead of retreating backward or advancing forward, the leather boat began rapidly circling sideways along the shore at a distance of eighteen meters, as though tracing the lake’s perimeter.

At that moment, Lassin’s sharp voice pierced our ears. “Look at the water! Look at the water! Look at the water!”

We all looked at the lake’s surface simultaneously. The lake—could it be surging?!

Forty

The jade-green lake waters, which until now hadn’t even rippled, now raged like wild horses, churning with white foam. And miraculously, the water had formed into a gigantic whirlpool that revolved around the lake's center. Our boat was caught in the outermost ring of that whirlpool. Carried by that ring's water force, the boat raced along the lakeshore.

As the boat raced onward, the native army on shore let out sharp cries of astonishment one after another as they chased after it from behind. However, they could not match the water’s force, and in moments, the distance between the boat and them grew vast and ever more distant. By the time we had circled the lake once, the boat was racing along the whirlpool’s second ring, tilting somewhat toward its center. We made every effort to escape the whirlpool, but like ants fallen into an antlion pit, we could do nothing. The boat attempted to pass before the native army stationed on the shore. At that moment, the natives all shouted and threw us a single palm-fiber rope, but it merely grazed the bow and ended up falling uselessly into the water. Before we knew it, we had entered the third ring of the whirlpool. The water ran in rings, sometimes swelling high, then the next moment crashing down low with a wave. When our boat rode the wave and surged high into the air, I quickly cast my eyes to look at the whirlpool’s center. The entire area was engulfed in white foam, seething like thousands of white horses with manes flailing as they danced, while at the very center of that churning froth gaped a bluish-black hole nearly fifty meters across—and all the lake’s water surged straight toward it, roaring as it rushed into the abyss. The hole was conical like a funnel, and the plunging water, rather than immediately cascading down like a waterfall into its maw, instead swirled round and round in that same funnel shape before quietly disappearing underground.

I had managed to observe all this during the brief moment our boat lingered at the crest of a wave, so that by the time the wave collapsed into a valley and our vessel plunged straight into that watery trough, the maelstrom’s maw had already vanished from sight. All the while, the boat was pulled by the ever-advancing force of the water toward the maelstrom’s maw, spinning round and round across the lake.

When we absently glanced toward the shore, a cliff-like formation in an ochre-black hue towered in the far distance. Usually, the lake water would lap right against the shore, but now it had receded to form a cliff over three meters tall, standing with the forest at its back. In other words, that much of the lake water had been sucked underground. We could not even begin to reckon how long we had drifted across the lake’s surface, but just as our boat—swept into the whirlpool—was about to plunge into the watery maw gaping at the lake’s heart, what one might call divine providence occurred: abruptly, the maelstrom’s maw sealed shut, the great whirlpool ceased its motion, and the lake’s surface once again drank in the sunlight to shine like a mirror.

We finally regained our vigor and strained every muscle to row the boat. When we scrambled up onto the lakeshore where the native troops were stationed, we felt as though we had been resurrected. The lake water had lost over two-thirds of its volume. Aquatic plants streamed across the surface like battle standards, while several dinosaurs and thunder lizards raised their massive heads from the water to stare at us. Not one waterfowl remained. The waters near shore mirrored the forest, while those farther out lay perfectly clear and calm, steeped in the sky's reflection.

Nowhere could we see any trace of that magnificent whirlpool’s terrifying spectacle. The water had indeed diminished, yet it lay still and solemn, steeped in primordial dreams. We exchanged glances and did not utter a word. Even the formidable detective Lassin could do nothing but gaze vacantly at the lake, his sun-darkened face etched solely with awe.

And so we stood on the lakeshore for some time. At that moment, once again, the same miracle as before occurred on the surface of the lake. A bluish-black hole abruptly appeared near its center, and the lake's water began swirling toward it in a surging vortex. What a spectacle! What grandeur! Could there truly be such a stark difference between viewing it while adrift in the lake and surveying it from the shore?! ......The waters stretching below seemed drawn by some unseen force—the outer rim of the whirlpool raised great waves, while its inner ring spun with the crystalline speed of a top......Nameless deformed sea beasts, colossal water buffaloes, and Trachodons thrashed wildly in sprays of foam, struggling against being swept into the vortex—yet overpowered by the current's might, they were dragged inexorably closer to the bluish-black watery maw, that funnel of death......At the edge of this lethal abyss, plunging waters clashed violently, raising billowing clouds of steam that hung a dazzling rainbow in the sunlight—so vivid it seared the eyes......Adorned with this floral wreath of light, the bluish-black funnel—the deathly maelstrom—seized the cascading waters. Like wine or water poured into a funnel swirling round and round before dripping into a vessel below, the captured torrent raced along the hole's inner surface with unstoppable momentum—spiraling downward, ever downward—faster and faster into oblivion.......

Forty-One

……Now, a water buffalo was thrown into the hole, tumbling head over heels. The force of the water instantly seized it and whirled it round and round along the funnel-shaped inner surface of the hole. The creature appeared unable to even struggle—keeping all four legs raised high—for the water's force proved too violent to sink deeply beneath the surface. Exposing its entire body above the water, it continued its dance macabre directly beneath the rainbow's floral wreath until gradually swept downward by the swirling current, vanishing abruptly from sight. One after another, various beasts—just like the water buffalo before—were mercilessly churned by the whirlpool until inevitably falling into the watery maw, then swirled round and round in that funnel shape before finally being dragged underground… And around the edge of that abyss, clouds of steam drifted aimlessly while a rainbow glittered resplendently. ……Before our eyes, the water rapidly diminished, the surrounding banks towered high, and the lakebed gradually became exposed.

――There is not a single falsehood recorded in my memorandum. To this memorandum that permits no lies, I faithfully recorded the subsequent scenes as follows... Eventually the lake dried completely, and at last the whirlpool vanished. What remained was a great cavity of volcanic rock encircled by primeval forest. In scattered pools, small fish splashed while water weeds clung to rocks. Gravel had settled at the bottom though scarcely any mud could be seen. Dinosaur carcasses lay half-buried among the gravel, scattered here and there.

We, along with the natives, descended to the lake's remains and each conducted our own explorations. We hurried toward what we believed to be the lakebed near where the whirlpool had occurred, but found only an enormous boulder nearly fifty meters across—no trace of anything resembling a hole. We procured dynamite and attempted to shatter the great stone as a precaution, but succeeded only in sending rock fragments flying—the massive boulder refused to budge. Then—where could all that lake water have possibly drained away? And where might those colossal beasts have vanished?

The sky stretched clear and blue above, and the forest stood in solemn silence, yet our questions remained unanswered. Everyone remained utterly silent, their gazes sweeping across their surroundings.

Dr. Mahalayana, wearing the superstitious gaze characteristic of an Indian, had been alternately surveying the heavens and earth when he abruptly spoke thus: “It’s divine wrath! “It’s a divine miracle!” “Because we have defiled this sacred ground, the Heavenly Emperor has manifested a terrifying miracle to show us His wrath!” Then Lassin answered in a scientific and cold voice as follows. “It cannot be divine wrath.” “Nor is it likely to be a miracle.” “I believe they—that is to say, the apes—are the ones who played this prank.” “It’s not a miracle—it’s a trick.”

“No, no—that’s absolutely impossible!”

Dr. Mahalayana became frantic. “If not a miracle, then what could it be?! That the great water vanished without a trace before our very eyes is precisely a divine miracle! How could those apes—mere animals—perform such a miracle? Or can you explain where the water vanished to?” “It’s the rock, the rock—this massive boulder! The water fell into this.” “Then go ahead and smash the rock to show us where the water has gone.”

“As you can see, even with dynamite applied, this massive boulder shows no sign of breaking.” “If only we could shatter this rock—the water’s whereabouts would become clear at once.” “No, no! The rock’s refusal to shatter proves it’s precisely the divine will!”

The debate between the two men spread like lightning among the natives. The superstitious natives agreed without hesitation to the superstitious doctor’s theory.

And this action by the natives ultimately swayed the majority, compelling Detective Lassin and his party to depart from this land together. And following their original plan to head for Australia, they turned back toward Sandakan to attempt their third expedition. I remained in the uncivilized region, but my life there proved rather inconvenient and lonely. I spent entire days shut up in the hut pondering the plan. The plan was none other than— To search for the water's whereabouts—precisely aligned with Detective Lassin's theory.

I thought as follows—

The lake’s water had dried up because there existed a mechanism to drain it—this was by no means any mystery or miracle. Then for what reason had they drained the lake water? In my view, it was a trick to demonstrate to the expedition members that the Lop people’s vast wealth was not concealed within the lake. Then where exactly was the lake water being stored? That very question became one of the crucial plans I was determined to solve at all costs, for I believed that once the water’s whereabouts became known, the location of the Lop people’s immense fortune might naturally reveal itself as well.

In any case, I resolved first to venture into the forest inhabited by the Tailed Humanoids to test my theories. Yet strangely, the apes maintained constant surveillance, barring my passage into the deeper woods. The old man in his cave too appeared deeply opposed to my forest expeditions. There I concluded— "Above all else, I must make allies of these apes." Though initially at a loss for methods, I eventually conceived a strategy. I would entice them through gastronomy. While semi-human in form, they lacked any knowledge of cooking arts. This became my leverage.

One day, as usual, I was smoking rabbit meat in the stone stove of my hut. When it was completely ready, I thoroughly soaked it in fruit juice and went outside from the hut.

Forty-Two In the forest, a great number of apes were going about their lives, but upon spotting me, they warily called out to each other. I only knew simple words from the apes’ language that the old man had taught me, so when I encountered the first ape, I declared in their tongue: “Grilled meat. Eat!”

Then, in their language, I first announced energetically and threw the smoked meat I had brought. The ape initially scrutinized the piece of meat lying on the ground, eventually picked it up with one hand, brought it to his mouth and bit into it—startled by its delicate flavor completely different from raw meat—then dashed toward his companions still clutching the morsel and began chattering excitedly. In unison, the apes turned their eyes toward me, but struck by their gleaming gazes, I couldn’t help but shudder.

The next instant, hundreds of apes encircled me three or four layers deep, thrusting their hands toward me as they stared fixedly at me. After throwing the mere piece of meat I held into their midst, I fled into the treehouse as terror gripped me. My plan succeeded, and from that time onward, whenever the apes caught sight of me, they would thrust their hands forward and demand smoked meat. One time I fashioned a large basket woven from vines, filled it to the brim with smoked meat, and planned my first journey. However, before we had gone even a kilometer, all the meat in the basket was exhausted, and once it ran out, the apes bared their teeth and threatened me. They drove me back toward the hut without ceremony. Thus I had to return to the hut again in vain.

Thus several days passed.

The lake remained empty. The water in the puddles had completely dried up, and most of the aquatic plants had withered. Hunting the inexhaustible rabbits and foxes proved easy enough, and smoking or grilling their meat required little effort, but I struggled with transporting it all the way to the depths of the forest I sought to reach. If provisions ran out along the way, those ferocious apes would surely drive me back to the hut without ceremony once more. This brought me great distress.

However, as the old proverb says, "When in dire straits, a path opens"—before long, I discovered a method to overcome that difficulty. It was to build a cart.

How simple this was! Yet though it seemed exceedingly straightforward once conceived, the struggle to reach this idea had been no ordinary ordeal. The moment it came to me, I leapt for joy in my delight. I put the apes to work using grilled meat as reward. They obeyed my every command. Their claws served as saws, their fangs as axes. That tremendous arm strength might as well have been motors themselves. True enough, we completed a splendid cart in less than half a day. Having particular reasons, I also had them construct a single-person raft. Two oars were...

It was a fine morning when I loaded the cart high with grilled meat, piled the raft on top, boarded the raft myself, and had an ape push the cart as we departed on our second journey.

The apes gathered from all directions, pressing in around the cart and eyeing me suspiciously. At that moment, I hurled a handful of grilled meat toward the rear. Simultaneously, a sharp cry rose from the horde of apes, followed immediately by a brawl breaking out. They fought each other to snatch up the fallen grilled meat. Originally, they had never quarreled over food among themselves. This was because within this vast primeval forest—their world—an inexhaustible supply of provisions existed, allowing them to freely obtain whatever they needed. There had been no necessity for competition nor reason for conflict. Yet when I appeared and threw this mysterious food—grilled meat they'd never tasted—from my hand... Moreover, this meat proved exquisitely delicious yet strictly limited in quantity, making endless consumption impossible. Therefore, competition became inevitable. This was my opening—while they fought amongst themselves, I drove the cart forward.

Grilled meat—competition—brawl—advance!

The cart pressed forward through the great forest impervious to sunlight. And as morning turned to noon and evening approached, they reached the edge of the great forest.

Coming to the edge of this forest had been my sole purpose. This edge of the forest was where Danchon and I had once come when lost. And at that moment, I saw! The ochre plain! That there had been an embankment stretching through that ochre desert! And atop that embankment, guarded by two stone lion-dogs, there had stood a shrine of the gods!

Forty-Three And now I, positioned once again at the same spot, sought to gaze upon the desert. But when I emerged from the forest and cast my eyes forward, the sight was seared clearly into both my pupils—the desert, embankment, and guardian lion-dogs all submerged beneath water, with only the shrine's roof piercing through the surface to glimmer. Indeed, where there had once been a desert, a lake now brimmed in its place.

However, I was not surprised—rather, it was something I had anticipated. I leaped onto the cart, seized all remaining grilled meat, and hurled it in every direction. Leaving behind the apes' shrieks and the din of their scuffle, I launched the raft onto the lake. Clutching two oars, I sprang lightly onto its planks and began slicing through the water. The raft surged forward relentlessly. The apes massed along the shore, howling monstrous cries and brandishing their fists in mock blows—yet with this great flood between us, they appeared impotent to intervene. The raft cleaved onward through the waves toward the shrine. My breast swelled with expectation as my heart hammered violently against my ribs.

Sunset, a gentle breeze, the whisper of waves—the lake’s surface was cool, and no matter how I rowed, I felt no fatigue.

The raft approached the shrine. When the raft had drifted to where the roof protruded above the lake's surface, I noticed a dugout canoe moored there. Strangely enough, there was a square hole in the shrine's roof large enough for a person to enter, with a vertical ladder extending down. The instant I saw this, I felt I'd already unraveled ninety percent of the mystery. What reason had I to hesitate! I secured the raft to the dugout canoe's stern and scrambled up onto the roof.

Then I descended the ladder.

As I descended lower, the sunlight filtering in grew fainter, and even after complete darkness set in, I still had to keep descending. I stealthily counted the approximate number of rungs in my mind as I went down further and further. "Ten rungs, twenty rungs, thirty rungs..." When I had counted this far, the ladder had already ended. Unaware of this, my foot reached for the next rung—with a start, it slipped into empty space, and I plummeted headlong. And then I lost consciousness.

My consciousness seemed to gradually return. An old man stood before me holding a candle—though this was likely a hallucination—surrounded by countless glittering jewels. Golden helmets, golden armor—illuminated by candlelight, they glittered resplendently as though a heavenly rainbow had descended, with even the scent of incense drifting through the air. "What a beautiful hallucination this was!"

Half-regaining my senses, I muttered these words under my breath. "What a magnificent old man—the very image of that zoologist living in the cave... Hallucination, I beg you, do not fade away." Once more muttering to myself, I struggled to sit up.

The dignified old man gravely moved his beard-covered mouth. “Have you come to your senses, Zhang Jiaoren!”

I barely managed to respond. “Who might you be?” “I am the old man of the cavern.” “The esteemed old zoologist?”

“That’s correct. And you might as well call me the king of ape country.”

I looked around my surroundings. Everything around me shone reverently—golden plates in the far corner, a Persian carpet atop a chest. A life-sized statue of Buddha, its entire body studded with gold, stood propped bare against the wall. The statue’s left and right eyes were inlaid with diamonds that reflected the candlelight, casting a violet light that rippled like a waterway. “Where on earth is this place?” “This is an underground chamber beneath the water!” “This is the treasure vault, I presume?” “Indeed it is.” “The Lop people’s treasure vault, you see.”

“What? The Lop people?!” “You could also call them Uighur people.” “Uighur people?! So this means I’ve finally achieved my objective! The Lop people’s treasure vault! The Lop people’s treasure vault!” “But I had already found it before you could discover it. It was also I who moved the treasure from the perilous lakebed to the desert basement together with the apes.” “So was it all you who created the whirlpool and drained the lake water?”

The old man smiled silently. “Even so, why haven’t you announced this treasure vault to the world and put it to use?” “It is simply because I do not desire it." "There are forty chambers underground, and every manner of jewel and precious metal fills them to bursting." “Hundreds of millions, tens of billions—if converted into modern currency, it could easily buy two or three continents…”

Forty-Four

The old man continued quietly. “It is a fortune of terrifying magnitude. When we speak of today’s world, isn’t it one wholly consumed by material pursuits? If such a world were to be provided with this vast fortune, they would even wage wars between nations over disputes of ownership for that treasure. That is what I fear.” The old man fell silent after saying this. To me, the old man’s words rang utterly true, so from then on I said nothing.

The old man took a candle himself and walked ahead of me through each of the forty chambers constructed underground. A treasure vault of spectral mystery—as though from some fairy-tale world—spread open before my eyes. My gaze seized upon its unfolding wonders until, confronted by wealth beyond mortal reckoning, I let slip an involuntary sigh.

I have discovered it! The treasure vault I had been searching for! I have now uncovered the immeasurable fortune—the vast wealth hidden on a southern island of palm trees by the great Uighur nation, which had established a state in China’s western Lop Desert millennia ago and was conquered by Christian forces at its moment of collapse!

I boarded the boat with the old man and returned to the forest. And, protected by the apes, we entered the old man’s cavern.

Thus I came to live in the cavern with the old man once again. It must have been that he had ordered them, for from then on I was no longer watched by the apes. I could now walk freely through the forest at will—if he was king of this land, I stood as viceroy. My life grew secure, my future brimming with hope. This was because he would tell me so like a recurring refrain.

“I am very old.” “I will die soon.” “Then you shall be the king here.” “Since you have become the king here, you are the owner of all the treasures in that underwater basement!” “You can do with them as you please.”

However, the old man did not seem likely to depart this world easily. Sprightly surpassing men in their prime as he dashed through the forests, he was more agile than even the apes. I too imitated the old man, often dashing through the forests and striving not to be outdone by them.

Thus, six months passed. And a year passed by.

One day, the old man called me and handed me various keys. And he even explained how one could freely control the floodwaters within a single day. It was an exquisitely ingenious device that amply demonstrated how advanced the old man’s scientific thinking was, and when I came to understand it, my reverence for him had grown even greater than before.

The old man grasped my hand. “You shall be king here from tomorrow.” “Love them and care for them.” “I shall rest awhile.”

Having said this, he gently closed his eyes. As the day ended and night fell, when the moon shone in the sky, the old man passed away peacefully.

The next day, we prepared a new coffin for the old man. We waited until nightfall to bury him on the hillock. The usually boisterous apes remained uncharacteristically quiet that evening. The moon shone in the sky. Night birds called through the forest. The apes surrounded the grave marker and writhed there until deep into the night.

Before the graveyard, I made this declaration to the apes. “In place of the old man, Zhang Jiaoren shall become the king of this forest! It is because I am the smartest among all of you!” The apes bowed their heads and listened intently to my words. I descended the hill there. The apes walked reverently along, protecting me. Thus, beginning on this day, I became fully the king of this land. The apes continued to live cheerfully in the forest as they always had, seemingly having forgotten about the old man. In accordance with the commands of my words, they obeyed cheerfully.

Wanting to test my newly granted power, I used one of the keys in accordance with the old man’s teachings. Then, the massive boulder at the site of the dried-up lake soundlessly and quietly heaved upward, and from the enormous hole that formed behind it, water began bubbling up vigorously. In the blink of an eye, it swelled and spread, and once again the form of the boundless lake unfolded before our eyes.

When the apes saw this, they ran out from the forest, stood on the lakeshore, and began performing their bizarre dance.

Here, the Ape Kingdom regained its age-old peace once more, while the forty underground rooms storing vast wealth—crowned by desert sand dunes at their summit and maintaining a secret entrance near their shoulders, namely a mysterious shrine guarded by Guardian Lion-Dogs—glittered and sparkled beneath setting suns and rising suns, promising eternal mystery as they slept under my dominion.