Pathway to Japanese Literature

Part One: Beastman

I

An article from the *Madrid Daily News*…

Monster Again Disturbs the City. The article concerning the gigantic phosphorescent monster that appeared from nowhere in the city at around 2:00 AM on the tenth of last month, threatened passersby, and abruptly vanished near the residential grounds of the prefectural government residence—promptly reported by our newspaper—should remain fresh in readers' memories. Yet since then, no further sightings of the monster had been confirmed, leading some to speculate that its appearances might have been mere hallucinations of passersby, and that such a monster might not exist in reality. Nevertheless... people awaited these dual occurrences with no small measure of unease and trepidation...

“Hoho! So the monster has 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 a beast said to bear phosphorescence only around its face… or rather, just the rims of its eyes.” “Now listen—I’ll read it for you.” The suffocatingly thick floral scent of Southern European cherry blossoms wafted through the window, filling the entire room. In that room, Rezard and Danchon, having taken a light breakfast while seated in armchairs, were reading the newspaper that had just been delivered.

“Okay, listen up. I’ll read it now.” “Now listen well.” Thereupon, Rezard continued reading. The main points were as follows. Last night—that is, March 10th—at precisely around 2:00 AM, a dog-shaped animal with phosphorescent rims around both eyes abruptly appeared on the street. It proceeded to the residential grounds of the prefectural government residence, whereupon it vanished without a trace. Simultaneously, a man’s voice brimming with terror pierced the air for an instant from one of the houses before falling silent just as abruptly. And strangely enough, it was reported that the monster’s figure was nowhere to be seen.

“Does an animal that emits phosphorescence even exist in reality?”

“Well,” Rezard mused deeply, “I can’t say it’s entirely impossible. Because it certainly exists in fish, you know.” “Well, fish might have it—squid do, for example—but does a beast that emits phosphorescence only around its eyes even exist? That aside, according to this newspaper article, it seems there are two of these strange animals.” Danchon looked at Rezard’s face and spoke dubiously.

Rezard formed a faint smile, but, "So you're saying there are two monsters in total—the one that appeared last night with phosphorescence only around its eyes, and the beast from the tenth of last month that glowed all over? ...You've become quite sharp-eyed." "I also thought this was odd when I first read the newspaper—the very idea of even one phosphorescent beast existing is strange enough, but having two of them just doesn't sit right with me no matter how I think about it... Ah well, it's probably just one after all."

“According to the article, there are two.”

“Due to passersby’s illusions, last time it appeared to glow all over its body, and last night only its eyelids seemed to shine—they must have been startled by that… So I think there’s one… But perhaps—just perhaps—there might not be any at all.” Rezard remarked with subtle nuance.

“Are you reducing everything to illusions?” Danchon shook his head. “When it’s happened not just once but twice, and been witnessed not by one person but several, you can’t simply write it all off as illusions.”

“Whether your claim is true or my theory is correct cannot be known without investigating, but since the mere appearance of a monster does no harm to society, I have no interest in investigating… Unless there’s a client involved, that is.”

“But,” Danchon interjected, “it can’t be called harmless. This newspaper clearly states someone actually screamed after being threatened by the beast.” “If we must find fault,” Rezard countered, “I suppose it would count as disturbing public order.” He paused thoughtfully. “Though if it’s just a beast causing disorder… Well, animals can’t help their nature… Unless perhaps this beast’s—” His train of thought broke abruptly. “Oh—sounds like we’ve got a visitor. For someone to come this early morning, it must undoubtedly be an urgent matter.”

A knocking sound came from 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 stood up. “I am Rezard, whom you seek—and this is my friend.” “A friend with whom I needn’t stand on ceremony… Ahem. Now then, Madam Mayor, what business brings you here?”

He said in an overly familiar manner. “Oh my! You know me?”

The Mayor’s Wife extended her hand and had Rezard grasp it while, “I am indeed the Mayor’s wife, just as you say,” she replied with some surprise. “There isn’t a single Madrilenian who wouldn’t want to know about the helpmate of their city’s leader—that is to say, the Mayor—his wife.”

Rezard smiled courteously. “But,” the Mayor’s Wife shook her head, “since my health is terribly frail, even after coming here, I’ve been confining myself every day—truly, I haven’t once gone into town or even attended significant social events, yet…” “As you say, Madam, you bear a striking resemblance to Mrs. Harding, the wife of the American President—they say you dislike socializing—and yet I believe you did attend a reception just once.”

“Indeed, just once—when my husband came from India to assume the position of mayor here, though it was an exceedingly small circle of acquaintances, we did hold a reception.” “That must have been the time, wasn’t it?” “Indeed, that was the time.” “At that time, I was in the ballroom and caught sight of you, Madam.” “Isn’t that a bit strange—your name should not have been among the people who attended at that time.”

“The name Rezard was not present.” “However, the name of the Madrid Daily News’s president should have been there.” The Madam thought for a moment,

“A distinguished gentleman over sixty by the name of Mr. Pompiado?” “A person who sported lion-like cheek whiskers,”

“Indeed, we did extend an invitation.” “That would be me.”

“Oh my!” The Madam was utterly astonished, “But from what I can see, you are barely thirty, yet on the other hand, Mr. Pompiado…” “That’s precisely why it’s all the easier for me to disguise myself, Madam. For me, a man of thirty, disguising as another thirty-year-old man is indeed difficult, but transforming into a sixty-year-old man is quite easy… If you still harbor doubts, allow me five minutes to redo my disguise and show you.” He amiably and cheerfully declared.

But the Madam waved her hand and, with a lonely, beautiful smile, said, “No, there’s no need for that.” “I suppose that could be the case.” “Since you are a reputable detective… But even so, why wasn’t the real Mr. Pompiado there?” “He was indeed traveling at the time.” “So you proceeded without consulting Mr. Pompiado?” The Madam lightly chided him.

“It’s a regular occurrence, you know.” Rezard smiled cheerfully.

“And you have such a right?” The Madam’s voice held a slight edge.

“Indeed,” Rezard said seriously, “I, and one other person—a senior to me with whom I am on excellent terms—though you may perhaps know at least his name, Madam—the detective called Mr. Rashinu—we alone have such rights. To explain why—the two of us had participated in government secrets and responded to requests from the Imperial Household, having worked in that capacity several times before, so the government had granted the two of us special privileges.”

Then the Madam nodded,

“That must indeed be the case—I quite understand.” “As for the Mr. Rashinu you just mentioned—I don’t merely know of him.” “As I have just met him.”

“Ah, so you’ve already met him?” “In that case, Mr. Rashinu, the Great Detective, told me—‘Please also make your request to Rezard.’”

Rezard formed a bitter smile but turned toward Danchon, “It seems Rashinu is putting me to the test.” He then bowed to the Madam and said, “Now then, please proceed with your account—I would ask that you tell me exactly as you did Rashinu.”

Leaning against the chair, the Mayor’s Wife remained utterly still and silent for a time. Then she began to speak in hushed tones.

II “...Where should I begin my account?” “I suppose it would be best to start from the very beginning—it was midnight on the tenth of last month.” “It must have been around 2:00 AM when I suddenly heard a groaning sound from my husband’s study. After listening intently for some time, there was no further noise.” “Thinking it must have been a dream, I tried to go back to sleep—but then the window of the room facing the garden suddenly brightened, startling me into sitting upright.” “Indeed, that light was silvery in hue—yet as it vanished from the window the very next moment, I returned to my half-risen bed and waited for daybreak.”

“When I saw my husband’s face in the dining room during morning tea, wasn’t he exceedingly pale?” “Is there somewhere your health is ailing?” When I asked, he shook his head, said just “No,” and silently drank his tea. Just then, the newspaper arrived, so I casually picked it up and looked—and there was an article that struck me as relevant. It was an article stating that a giant beast emitting phosphorescence had appeared in the city last night, come as far as the grounds of the government residence, and then vanished. I was struck by a thought. So that silver light reflected in the window last night—could that have been the monster’s glow…?

“Didn’t you see a strange light from the window last night?” I asked my husband. Then my husband trembled violently and turned deathly pale! However, that altered expression was immediately suppressed by my husband’s strong will. My husband calmly said as follows.

“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 2:00 AM last night.” “Hmm, a monster? What kind of monster?” my husband said with increasing composure. “It must be the townspeople’s delusion. A beast emitting phosphorescence—there can’t be such a thing in this world.” “But you know, I saw that light last night too.” “You saw it, you say? That light? So you’re saying you’ve joined the delusion camp too?”

When my husband said this and laughed, I too remained silent, reassured as things were. But from then on, my husband’s demeanor became gloomy, and he began to brood. Even when I tried speaking to him at such times, he wouldn’t even give a proper reply. “Then again, at completely ordinary times, he would ask things like, ‘Didn’t you say something just now?’” His whole demeanor appeared absorbed in some long-past memory—it was quite unnerving—and so things continued until just yesterday…… But last night—no, this morning, around 2:00 AM—I again noticed the window of my room reflecting a phosphorescent light, shining silver. “Thereupon I sprang up, ran to the window, stuck my head out to peer outside, when…”

The Madam caught her breath there. “How dreadful, dreadful, utterly dreadful!” “Even now when I recall it, I wonder if it wasn’t a dream.” “What do you think—there truly was a large dog-like animal with phosphorescent light shining only around its eyes, firmly planting its two front legs on the window frame of my husband’s study, peering into his room through the glass door—isn’t that so?” “I nearly let out a scream but managed to swallow it, and while wringing my hands like a madwoman, I strained my ears intently.” “Because from my husband’s room—his hoarse words leaked out…”

―― ROV! Lake! —A buried city! ...Come back... come back... dreadful... m-m-monster――.

From within my husband’s hoarse voice, the only words I could make out were these. “Even so, I couldn’t make any sense of what it meant—but while my husband was speaking, the monster didn’t move a muscle, listening intently.” When my husband’s voice ceased, the monster suddenly leaped up. “And then, just as it placed a front leg on the window frame—wouldn’t you know it—the glass door slid smoothly open to the side.” “My husband let out a scream.” It seemed he collapsed onto the floor, and a thud was heard. “I have no memory of what happened after that.” “Since I also fainted.”

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

“I’ve roughly grasped the situation.” Rezard said quietly at that moment. “Thus, Madam, your concern—your foremost concern—lies in the fact that His Excellency the Mayor’s health has not been particularly robust for some time, and he is currently afflicted with a heart condition of rather unfavorable nature, is that not so?” “By the way, what is His Excellency’s current condition?”

“Oh!” And the Madam was taken aback once more,

“How do you know such a thing? No one besides me should know about my husband’s heart condition, yet…” “However, when detectives encounter someone of interest, we do not idly observe them—we note facial features, physical condition, and even measure their pulse during a handshake… When I met His Excellency the Mayor, his complexion was astonishingly robust, no doubt from his famed explorations traversing barbarian lands under direct sunlight—Africa, India, the South Seas, Central Asia, Xinjiang Province—but as for his pulse, it was decidedly irregular.” “Ah, his heart isn’t in good shape.” “That’s what I thought at the time.”

“You are exactly correct.” The Madam said anxiously. “The reason my husband returned from India to his homeland was due to that illness.” “By the way, how is His Excellency’s present condition?” “It’s not yet at a dangerous stage… but the doctor tells me that should he experience another such shock—a shock as potent as poison for an illness that violently agitates both nerves and heart—in recent days, even his life could not be assured… though this may perhaps be an exaggeration…”

“Ah, did I phrase it that way?”

Rezard fell silent and became lost in thought.

Cherry blossom petals, swirled up by a spring gust through the gap of the slightly opened window, formed a whirl and scattered across the Western-style desk—only to be blown away by another rushing wind, dancing off to nowhere.

In the adjacent room, a clock struck eleven, and the lukewarm spring sunlight flooded the room like a deluge; even the band passing by beneath the window, playing flutes and trumpets, added to the cheerful atmosphere. The Madam let out a deep sigh, “For these reasons, I wish to ensure the phosphorescent monster never comes near the windows again—however, if we were to report this to the Metropolitan Police Department and have officers come guard the residence, the matter would become too grandiose. Should it become publicly known, my husband would appear spineless…”

“Indeed, that is precisely the case—it would be more disadvantageous for His Excellency if the opposition party were to learn of it than if it became publicly known.”

Rezard closed one eye and remarked with a touch of sarcasm. "Precisely... When my husband became Mayor, there were many opponents, and the election was fiercely contested... Thus, should the enemy party learn he is now a heart-diseased invalid—and should it become known he was threatened by some dog-like beast—it would compromise the Mayor’s dignity."

“So you chose to make your request to us private detectives?” “Well, I’ve fully grasped the situation.” “I shall do my utmost to assist you.” “However much the cost may be, please do not concern yourself with that point.” The Madam trailed off hesitantly after speaking. Rezard merely nodded. And once again, the two fell silent. “Now then,” Rezard said solemnly, “regarding your request—to ensure the monster never appears near the windows again—would that be all?”

The Madam hesitated slightly, but “Yes, that is all there is.”

“What is the true identity of the monster?” “Why did it appear by the window?” “When His Excellency saw the monster, why did he utter a soliloquy?” “And why did he faint?” “Wouldn’t it be necessary to investigate?”

The Madam hesitated once more, but "No, there is no need."

Rezard rolled his eyes and let slip a mischievous laugh—innocent yet spiteful in its subtlety, characteristic of him—but upon seeing the Madam's dejected appearance, he immediately withdrew that laugh.

He bit his thumbnail—one of his habits—and while directing his gaze toward the ceiling, he thought for a considerable length of time. Then he questioned the Madam. “Madam, around when did you marry your husband, may I ask?” “Yes, one year ago now, when my husband was in India… I was also in India at the time.” “Then I take it Madam has no knowledge regarding His Excellency’s actions prior to that?”

“Since my husband doesn’t tell me.” “Might I ask one more thing—prior to the 10th of last month, were there any visitors who seemed suspicious in recent days? Visitors to His Excellency…” “No, there was not a single one.” “Only people of known background came; no one else visited.”

“Now then, another thing—regarding His Excellency, who would you say he is closest to?” “Unlike myself, my husband meets everyone amiably, so he has many visitors; but being fond of exploration, he does seem particularly close with Mr. Etigurai, who shares this fondness for exploration.” “Ah, Mr. Etigurai, is it?” “The zoo director Mr. Etigurai?”

“Yes, that is correct.”

III

“This is a serious matter,” Rezard suddenly adopted a solemn tone and asked, “What would His Excellency’s attitude be like when Mr. Etigurai comes to visit?” “They are very close.” “They immediately retreat to the study, lock the door from inside, and discuss matters for one or even two hours.” “They research animal bones and tiles excavated from various regions my husband has explored, debate them together—and it seems they are even collaborating on some writing.”

“You’ve told me something very useful.” “That seems most informative.” Rezard said amiably,

“By the way, regarding Director Mr. Etigurai—I believe it was through His Excellency’s recommendation that he assumed his current position, is that correct?” “That is correct. It was not even a month after we withdrew from India and came here that he came to visit us…” “Where might he have come from, I wonder?” “That person 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 does appear to be someone important to my husband, for he found him his current position and occasionally provides financial assistance.”

“May I ask one more thing—since coming from India to this place, have you encountered any misfortunes such as theft or loss?” “Well…” The Madam tilted her head and pondered for a moment before saying, “No, there does not seem to have been any… However, just once—no, I suppose such a matter would hardly be of any use…”

“What exactly was that about?” Rezard asked with renewed eagerness. “At the beginning of last month, a new maid mistakenly swept away some paper scraps that should not have been discarded while cleaning my husband’s study, and my husband reprimanded her vehemently.” “So you’re saying the maid swept away paper scraps that shouldn’t have been discarded?” “Aha! This changes everything!” “His Excellency must have been livid!” “And what became of the maid?” “Naturally, she no longer resides here, I presume?”

“She was a short-tempered maid who, chagrined at having been scolded, quit and went home.” “Her whereabouts are unknown?” “The maid’s whereabouts?” “No, I am aware of them.”

“What? What did you say?” “You know?” “And where is she now, I wonder?” “At Mr. Etigurai’s residence—since Mr. Etigurai was the one who initially arranged for the maid’s employment.”

Rezard stood up energetically. Then he bowed to Madam and smiled his usual subtle smile, “Madam, please rest assured—the monster will never show itself in this city again.” “I shall see to it that it doesn’t.”

Madam also stood up gracefully. “That puts my mind at ease.” Having said this, she extended her right hand, let Rezard shake it, was escorted by him to the doorway, and then left the room. Rezard returned to his chair but suddenly fixed his eyes on Danchon, who had been silently listening all along.

“What do you think of this case, Danchon?” “Don’t you think this is an interesting case?”

“This seems like an interesting case. You’ve already figured out the monster’s true identity, haven’t you?”

“Well, that’s about right.” Rezard crossed his arms and continued speaking as if talking to himself. “The Mayor is a renowned explorer… He must have gone to Xinjiang Province… The ROV Desert… A buried city… Then there was the lake… That peculiar man Etigurai… And before that, the stone lion-dogs… The suspicious maid… The lost paper scraps… The Mayor fainting at the phosphorescent monster… And his heart disease… Possessing a vast fortune—well, Danchon, with all these facts lined up so neatly, even you should grasp the truth by now?”

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

“In other words, the zoo director! If you consider the zoo director suspicious, what steps would you take?” “First and foremost, I’d go to the zoo and check on his behavior.”

“First comes that proper procedure… But Mr. Rashinu should already have gone to the zoo… The call ought to come through any moment now.”

Before he could even finish those words, the desk phone’s bell rang. “There you have it!” “Just as I said.”

Rezard hurriedly picked up the receiver.

“Hello?” he called out. “Is this Mr. Rashinu?” “……This is Rezard.” “I’ve been waiting impatiently for your call…… What? What did you say?” “The Mayor’s Wife?” “Are you speaking of the Mayor’s Wife?” “The Mayor’s Wife came here earlier and has just now left.” “I was quite anxious…… So then, have you resolved the truth of the case?” “……Among all the cases I’ve handled until now, there hasn’t been one this straightforward.” “It’s utterly obvious… But… What? What was that?” “Are you calling me a fool?” Rezard—startled—set down the receiver he’d been holding to his ear. Then frantically pressed it back again. Rashinu’s voice came through…

“...Among the cases I’ve handled so far, there’s never been one as straightforward as this?” “The hoop’s come loose! Hey, Rezard!” “You’ve completely failed to understand this case’s true nature!” “You’re only seeing the surface!” “That’s why you can stay so damned carefree!” “You’re hopelessly naive!” “You’re an absolute infant!” “If you caught even a glimpse into the deepest depths of this affair, you’d likely faint dead away from terror!” “What in blazes do you think lies at the root of this case?” “It’s neither love nor money!” “It’s a far more tenacious—no! An even more reckless clash between entire races!” “And mark this—if we slip up tonight, hundreds of Madrid’s citizens will die!” “And mark this—this city will become a den of wild beasts and venomous snakes! —Therefore I order you!” “Come to the zoo by two o’clock tonight without fail.” “Listen well, Rezard. Don’t forget.” “This isn’t my order but Madrid’s citizens’ command!” “This isn’t an order—it’s a plea!”

Rashinu’s phone call ended there.

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

IV

The zoo was located in the city’s central area, within H Park.

The park was surrounded by main thoroughfares, where even past twelve o'clock, a bustling flow of people still continued steadily. Yet by two o'clock, the shops had shuttered their windows, the creaking of trams grew distant, and only the occasional sound of speeding automobiles was enough to rouse people from their sleep.

The park was surrounded by trees. Large trees that had stood for a hundred or several hundred years—their branches intertwining and leaves layering, casting deep shadows beneath them—towered straight up into the night sky. H Park measured nearly four miles in circumference. Forests, groves, hills, ponds—here and there stood buildings, and everywhere there were benches. The perimeter was enclosed by sturdy brick walls, with dense trees covering both sides of the walls, thriving thickly inside and out. Those disturbing the deep slumber of birds and beasts during the quiet nights—roused by daytime commotion—were two male and female lions recently brought from Africa.

The desert king, unaccustomed to its cage, gazed at the sky through the bars—first letting out a sorrowful moan, then gradually raising its voice until it unleashed a thunderous roar said to make weaker beasts vomit blood and perish merely upon hearing it.

When that thunderous roar gradually transformed into a mournful moan and then abruptly ceased, the night seemed to grow deeper and the darkness denser.… Now that the voice had just ceased, the surroundings were dead silent.

At that moment, a silhouette emerged from the darkness as though born from it, appearing out of nowhere before a side gate at the front. Pressing itself against the door, it came to a halt. He seemed to be peering inside.

Then suddenly, the side gate was opened from within, and a gardener thrust out their upper body from there.

“Rezard?” called out the gardener, peering into the darkness.

“Is this Mr. Rashinu?” “This is Rezard.” The shadowy figure in the darkness stepped forward.

“The clock just struck.” “It’s indeed 2:00 AM now…… Come inside at once.”

Rezard sneaked in through the side door. Instantly, the side door closed. The two slowly walked forward through the dark garden. Rashinu did not say a word. That seemed all the more terrifying to Rezard. The two walked on, choosing paths through the deepest shadows beneath the trees—places hidden from view, as dark as possible. “Stop.” Suddenly, Rashinu warned in a sharp, hushed voice. And Rezard stopped and peered into the darkness ahead. Having tightly closed shutters over every window and blocked out all lamplight inside, a small Western-style house stood there. It appeared to be the director’s official residence.

With eyes accustomed to the darkness fixed steadily, Rezard stared at the official residence. Then unexpectedly, there was a squirming mass taking shape on the lawn before the official residence. Looking closer, they were humans—a group numbering nearly ten. Sitting cross-legged on the lawn in a circle, they pressed their foreheads against the earth as if praying. A faint muttering sound reached his ears. It seemed to be something like the sound of prayer.

Then suddenly, a man stood up from among them. When listened to with some clarity, it proved to be an Islamic prayer. “Allah, Allah, Ilah, Allah… O our one and absolute God… Make us strong!” “Grant that we may slay our enemies!” “…O God who takes nothing from us and grants all things to us!” The man raised both hands toward the sky, bent his waist while keeping his hands aloft, and leaned his upper body forward until his hands nearly touched the ground. Then he straightened his back again and waved both hands vigorously at the sky. Then he bent his waist once more and brought both hands down to the ground. He would stretch, then bend, repeating this dozens of times over.

At that moment, a faint drumbeat—the sound of a hand drum with jingling bells—drifted up from the center of the circle with dreamlike subtlety. Then the sound of a silver flute joined in. Faintly, faintly, the sound of a gong—and what a strange harmony it was! A harmony that lulled people into deep sleep and drove them to walk in trances—an Oriental-style harmony that could never be heard anywhere in Europe, no matter where one went! Monotonous and dreary drumbeats. A flute’s sound like one that draws human souls up from the depths of the earth. The gong’s cruel tone that incited listeners’ hearts toward even the realm of crime…the whispered choral prayers. And there was the man, continuing the same worship endlessly!

The time was 2:00 AM. Rezard shuddered at the terror. The terror did not end there. The terror and strangeness of the incident that occurred the next moment would remain unforgettable for Rezard throughout his life.

Behold—the door of the stone Western-style building ahead gradually opened, and from it emerged quietly an animal cloaked in phosphorescence! The creature’s entire body blazed with a ferocious brilliance, like platinum illuminated by the morning sun. The monster leaped over the stone steps in a single bound and approached the Muslims’ circle. Then, folding its four legs, it crouched before them.

The voices of the worshippers chanting praises swelled even louder at that moment, and the deep, desolate sound of the music gradually grew more rapid. The moment one among them—who had been fervently raising and lowering his hands in the air as if summoning something—touched the monster’s back with a motion swift as lightning, the phosphorescent monster leapt up and dashed straight as an arrow across the vast garden toward the gate, blazing like a ball of flame. The gate swung wide open, and the monster dashed toward the town faster than an arrow, disappearing in the blink of an eye.

As soon as the monster disappeared from view, the music abruptly ceased, and the ten cult members rose to their feet. And they quickened their pace and began walking toward the animal cages. The man who had been raising his hand to summon something now stood at their head.

Rashinu suddenly grasped Rezard’s hand firmly.

“Look at that man at the front! “That bastard disguised himself as a maid and infiltrated the Mayor’s house.” “So he’s not a woman, then?”

Rezard asked back in surprise. “What do you mean he’s a woman?” “And he’s definitely not a Spaniard either.” “Then what exactly is he?”

“It seems he spent a long time in Europe, but that bastard is definitely an Oriental.” “He’s a Uyghur bastard.”

“That man is a Uyghur?” “But in modern society, there shouldn’t be any Uyghur bastards left, should there?”

“They may have perished in history, but as you can see, they exist.”

“Where on earth did they come from?” “The Lop Desert in Xinjiang Province—the ancient city buried by shifting sands near Lop Lake!” “From there those bastards came!” “So where are they going?”

“They’re going to open the cages.” “They’ll release wild beasts and venomous snakes from them, set them loose in Madrid’s streets, and stir up chaos in the city late at night.” “There must be some reason for this, I suppose?”

Rezard clutched at his hair. “The reason is revenge!” “Are they taking revenge on Madrid?” “Because a certain resident of Madrid enraged them.” “What wrong had they done? And who exactly was that?” Rezard grew increasingly irritated. “The Mayor of Madrid took part of their treasure—the sutra. To put it plainly, he excavated it.” “That’s why they emerged—to reclaim that sutra.”

“Hmm,” Rezard groaned, “so those scraps of paper—the ones that fake maid supposedly discarded while cleaning the Mayor’s study—are part of the sutra, right?” “To retrieve those paper scraps, they disguised themselves as a maid and infiltrated [the household], artificially created a phosphorescent beast and let it loose, and threatened the Mayor—that’s what they did.” Rashinu explained calmly.

“I also thought it was a fake.” Rezard grew somewhat excited. “...In other words, this is how I interpreted the case...” “I’ll hear the full story later… but what exactly did you think the monster—the phosphorescent beast—was a fake of?”

“I thought they had probably applied phosphorescent chemicals to a dog or wolf.”

“Whether it’s a dog or a wolf, we’ll soon uncover that bastard’s true identity... Look! Look—the Uyghurs have opened the beasts’ cages!” When they looked, the group split into four directions and stood before five cages, throwing the doors open simultaneously. They barked harsh commands. “Hss! Hss! Hss! Hss! Hss! Hsss—”

However, the wild beasts—the lions and tigers—did not emerge readily. But in the next instant, from the five cages emerged wild beasts—jet-black creatures resembling beasts—roaring forth all at once, surrounding the Uyghurs and pressing in to seize them. The zoo grounds transformed into a battleground where Muslims and police officers grappled. The ones who emerged from the cages were police officers.

“Let’s go.”

With that, Rashinu slowly turned toward the gate. "This settles everything." "We'll leave the rest to the police."

Rezard did not say anything. He simply followed along in silence.

Amid the police officers’ shouts, the Muslims’ roars, and the barks and cries of birds and beasts that turned the zoo into a battlefield, the two exited through the front gate into the town without looking back. The town showed no signs of disturbance. The citizens seemed to be asleep. At that moment, a car suddenly appeared from the side. Several police officers were inside.

“Stop!” Rashinu halted and raised one hand to signal.

“Where was the monster captured?” As Rashinu said this with a laugh, the police officers also began to laugh, “In the middle of the road to the prefectural office. ...No—it’s an outrageous monster.” “Rezard, take a good look. This is the true identity of the monster.” Rashinu pushed Rezard aside.

Inside the car lay a human wearing an Oriental dog’s pelt, deep in slumber. Rezard stared at that face,

“This is Director Etigurai!” “That settles the monster’s true identity—very well, gentlemen. Now transport the monster to the hospital without delay.”

The car revved with a roar once more and sped away as if gliding down the street.

“Let’s go, Rezard. Well then, goodbye… I’ll visit your house tomorrow. Then I’ll hear your story. Since I’m sleepy tonight, I’ll take my leave.” Rashinu turned sharply and strode off into the side street.

Five

The next day, Rashinu, Rezard, and the artist met in Rezard’s room. Sure enough, the splendid spring sun poured into the room along with the fragrance of southern European cherry blossoms. “While listening to Madam’s story, I began to find Director Etigurai suspicious, so…”

In a somewhat embarrassed voice—one tinged with shame over his mistaken assumption yet devoid of fervor—Rezard proceeded to explain his interpretation to Rashinu.

“I thought to investigate myself, but given that it’s you, Mr. Rashinu, Danchon and I speculated that you must have already gone to the zoo ahead of me.” “Indeed, it turned out that you were the one who called—but I never could have dreamed that Etigurai would don a dog’s pelt himself and dash all around Madrid to reach the mayor’s window.” “It was because I thought this way—both the Mayor and Etigurai are explorers.” “However, the Mayor was a wealthy man who was elected to his position.” “When Etigurai came to visit him, the Mayor enthusiastically mediated to secure him the zoo director’s post.” “He sometimes provides financial assistance too.” “That seems excessive for ordinary friendship.” “Perhaps there exists an unspoken web of interests between them… In other words, could Etigurai have known the Mayor became wealthy by unearthing ill-gotten treasures during his expeditions and, in exchange for silence, obtained his prestigious position?” As I pondered this, Madam mentioned that a new maid arranged by Etigurai had swept away paper scraps from the Mayor’s study—ah! Those scraps must be a map or document tied to those treasures. They likely had the maid steal them to blackmail the Mayor—and as for that monster, they probably coated a zoo dog or wolf with artificial phosphorescence and paraded it before him to startle him, all part of their scheme. Thus, the phosphorescent monster must connect to those ill-gotten treasures somehow. Since the Mayor had seen it, this bizarre vulnerability might mean he had no choice but to submit to their demands. And given that he screamed “ROV,” “lake,” and “buried city” upon seeing it, those treasures must have been unearthed near Lop Lake in Xinjiang’s Lop Desert. And since he also cried out about “terrifying lion-dog statues,” the monster might relate to such statues at a shrine revered by residents near that lake’s shores.” “In any case, I concluded Director Etigurai was undoubtedly behind it all—but I never imagined he himself would be the monster.”

“The fact that you saw through all that just from listening to Madam’s story shows glimpses of your genius, you know.”

Rashinu nodded cheerfully but “To tell you the truth, I too—honestly speaking—had suspected Etigurai just like you did until I investigated the zoo.” “I was certain he was the culprit.” “By the way, I considered one extra thing beyond your line of thinking.” “I thought that while this was a phosphorescent monster, there must surely be some superstition tangled up in it—so I rushed to the library and looked into native superstitions spread around Uyghur regions. And sure enough, there was no shortage of them.” “The descendants of Uyghurs still lingering in those regions—though mixed-blood with Turks—regard phosphorescent lion-dog statues as their divine idols. It’s written here that anyone showing disrespect to shrines housing such statues would incur terrible divine punishment. Following that were two or three recorded examples of such punishments.” “Those who steal shrine treasures—they shall hear the barking of lion-dog statues and contract a malignant fever.” “Those who steal temple sutras—they shall witness the form of lion-dog statues three times, and on the third time lose their lives… and so on.”

“So—is Director Etigurai descended from Uyghurs?” I had wondered at the time. In any case, I rushed off to the zoo in a great hurry. When I hurried to meet the director first thing, he turned out to be a splendid Spaniard. And unfortunately, he had a serious illness. Moreover, the illness was a mental disorder. He was gripped by a delusion of persecution. Then, when I met the maid, she appeared Turkish at first glance yet had something Chinese about her. However, she was mixed-blood after all. I casually tossed a gold coin from a distance. Then, the maid spread her legs apart and bent at the waist to catch it. I realized it was a man, you see. When catching a thrown object, a woman would close both legs, you see. After that was exactly as you closely witnessed last night. Those Uyghurs—though not just them—generally speaking, the more ignorant a person is, the more they possess such mysterious powers; they are, in essence, sorcerers. It might be hypnotism, but in any case, through a kind of sorcery, they transform a human’s very mind and physique into that of a beast… The one they targeted was the director. The director was by no means a villain. He was nothing more than a scholar. Scholars are like fools. They’re inflexible yet honest. That’s where those bastards took advantage.

Moreover, since the director was the mayor’s friend and thoroughly knew the layout of the mayor’s house, it turned out to be convenient. So those bastards used sorcery—a kind of curse, so to speak. They bound the director’s will, injected their own in its place, slipped him into that elaborately crafted animal pelt they’d prepared in advance, and then set him loose—that’s what happened. Thus, they threatened the Mayor. Since he had even stolen the sutra, the Mayor must have certainly known about the superstition surrounding those lion-dog statues. It was only natural that he was startled upon seeing the phosphorescent lion-dog statues. Moreover, the Mayor had heart disease. If he were to see such lion-dog statues not just once but two or three times, he might suffer a heart attack. And so he might have really died… It was a close call. And so those bastards were planning to withdraw after last night. As a parting shot, they planned to release wild beasts and have them devour the hated citizens of Madrid—since they were Orientals who harbored racial hatred for all Europeans—before making their exit. “Fortunately, I noticed just in time and immediately called police headquarters, secretly summoned officers, persuaded the gardeners, and had the wild beasts released from their cages beforehand—so it turned out all right—but had I not done so, the citizens’ peaceful slumber would surely have been shattered.”

“But through what expedient did that Uyghur man come to know the director?” “Why should that matter? That’s precisely where scholars reveal their foolishness. Actually, I made a brief stop at the hospital before coming here. When I chanced upon Mr. Etigurai and questioned him about that very point, his explanation proved rather intriguing—it appears that while strolling through town one day, he encountered a young female beggar soliciting alms.” “Upon observing her features displayed a curious blend of mixed heritage that aroused his scholarly interest, he brought her directly home to serve as a maid. Later, at his friend the Mayor’s insistent urging, he relinquished her.”

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

Rezard involuntarily muttered. “How about it?” Rashinu looked at the painter. “If you were a novelist, you could write quite a good novel.” “Mysterious, ethereal, and extremely intriguing material.” “It would make an interesting fantasy painting.” “Shall I paint an oil painting of a beast-like human emitting phosphorescence as it runs away?”

“How about a title like ‘Beast-Human’?” Rashinu had said with a laugh.

It was a splendid spring afternoon.

Part Two: The Ancient Capital of the Desert

Six

(The following is an excerpt from the memoir of the Chinese youth Zhang Jiaoren.) Dusk invaded even the room. The flowers of the potted crocus on the desk began to droop their heads as if sleepy. Shadows had formed around the forehead of the bronze statue of Vasco da Gama placed atop the bookshelf. The concave areas of the plump folds in the hanging curtain dividing the adjacent room took on a subtle hue reminiscent of amethyst.

Even the gaudy golden frame of the oil painting hanging on the wall seemed unable to shine garishly within the twilight room’s murky purple air. The glass tools placed here and there, pewter dishes, celadon vases—all lay in hushed stillness, as if bound in a light slumber’s dream during this moment without lamplight. The moon was already up in the sky, but the sun had not yet set. It was neither day nor night. It was a truly beautiful moment where night and day melted together.

I sat in the dining room chair, trying to savor this moment of twilight 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 peacock’s cries, the high-pitched, sharp metallic cries of parrots also reached my ears. Likely spilling from the winter roses entwined around the window’s outer wallboards—a sweet, languid yet tender floral fragrance that lured the heart of whoever smelled it into distant memories wafted through the open window. Lured by that floral fragrance, my heart abruptly returned to my homeland home I had left behind three years ago.…

The evening bell began to toll. It was the prayer bell tolling at the mosque. Even though it was winter, how warm Madrid in Spain was! It was no different from early autumn. Not only had there been no snow, but not even a drop of rain had fallen for an entire month. It was only natural that the high-pitched tone of the mosque’s bell resounding through the parched December sky would be so clear. However, the divine toll of the bell would no longer be heard from tomorrow onward. Tomorrow, I would bid farewell to this country as well. Having bid farewell to this profoundly exotic Spain—a land that seemed to gather East and West into one while embracing African climes—tomorrow I had to set out for the desert.

The Lop Desert of China’s Western Regions! There I was going to set out. The desert was calling me. Whenever I heard that call, any lingering nostalgia for Spain would vanish without a trace! How long had I waited for that call until today... The scent of winter roses wafted again. The visage of my homeland home I had left behind three years ago once more came into view before my eyes. My memories now returned fondly to that house.

China’s Guangdong Province, Shanghua Street. There was my house. Though it was called a home, my father and mother had perished long ago, leaving only my younger sister living a lonely existence with an elderly maidservant as her sole companion. My parents became victims of the revolution and were killed by Yuan Shikai’s army. And our family assets were confiscated; most of our house was burned down. At that time I was fifteen years old. And my sister was eleven. My sister and I were saved by a loyal servant couple. After returning to the scorched remains of our house and burying our parents’ corpses, we siblings exchanged our former glory for a life of extreme poverty. South China’s foremost merchant family—South China’s most prestigious household—we siblings became remnants mocked by society and abandoned by surviving servants; we barely clung to life through the care of that elderly servant couple who had helped us. Before long the elderly servant man died from his bullet wound; we two orphans now had to rely solely on his widow. Until that moment I had truly been nothing more than a pitiable noble scion—a spineless young aristocrat—but then I shuddered with resolve. I took up the sword. I joined the revolutionary party. I placed myself under Sun Yat-sen’s banner.

“Huanglian!” I said one day—the very day I had resolutely stood up—and revealed my resolve to my younger sister. “Let me be free. “Let me go to war. “Our parents’ mortal enemy is Yuan Shikai. “We cannot let him live! “That man is the Republic’s mortal enemy! “If left unchecked like this, he’ll surely become emperor. “How could we live under an emperor who’s such a scoundrel? “He’s a scoundrel and traitor! “A man like Cao Cao.” “He’s no Cao Cao whatsoever. “He’s rather Wang※—that grass radical over ‘奔’! “What became of the Han Empire when they enthroned Wang※? “Imagine how the people suffered through those scorched-earth tribulations! “Yuan Shikai makes Wang※ look virtuous by comparison! “Moreover, he slaughtered our parents. “I mean to join the revolutionary army and destroy him. “Please let me go. “You’ll surely grow lonely if I leave. “When I imagine your loneliness, my resolve falters—yet no personal matter can outweigh our nation’s crisis.”

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

Then my sister smiled—though her eyes were filled with tears—and nodded at my words.

“There’s no need to worry about me.” My sister had said gently. “I will stay here forever with the old woman and keep watch over the home.” “And I will pray to God so that your resolution may be fulfilled.”

With these kind words from my sister, my resolve grew even firmer. After sufficiently entrusting my sister’s care to the old woman, I left home. In Commander Sun Wen’s camp, I was initially a standard-bearer. However before long of my own volition I took on military intelligence duties and secretly infiltrated Beijing to observe my mortal enemy’s movements. President Yuan’s power was so immense it could knock birds from the sky making direct approach impossible. Even so I patiently observed his movements. Thus as stars shifted and things changed many years flew by. Indeed Wang※ took off his hood and revealed his ambition. He attempted to be hailed as Emperor Yuan. China suddenly stirred like boiling water in a cauldron with cursed voices calling for Yuan’s defeat resounding through every corner. It was Dr.Sun Wen himself who bearing the people’s hopes sounded war drums against Yuan across four hundred provinces; his demeanor brave and popularity remarkable as if Liu Xiu—who destroyed Han-era Wang※—had reappeared in this world.

Around that time, I had changed my name and status, becoming a lowly servant who took up residence as one of the guards at President Yuan’s palace. And so I waited for an opportunity to assassinate both my country’s and my parents’ mortal enemy.

It was late one night. The hazy spring moon illuminated the trees and lake within the palace gardens, rendering the entire landscape as though veiled in a thin gauze robe, while lamplight spilling through heavy drapes from palace windows towering here and there tinged the flowering trees and shrubs of the garden with a dreamlike hue—truly, the grounds had become nothing short of an illusory realm. I absentmindedly left the guard post and wandered deep into the palace gardens. The surroundings were wooded and quiet. There was no one to reprimand me.

“A desolate solitary warbler cries in the apricot garden; a lonely lone dog barks in the Peach Blossom Spring—” At that time, I recited Liu Changqing’s poem in a moderate tone as I walked further into the depths. Come to think of it, there really was a warbler singing sleepily in the flower garden. A dog was barking in the distance. “The mad willow catkins dance following the wind; the frivolous peach blossoms flow chasing the water—” By the time I recited Du Fu’s poem, I had crossed the floating bridge over the lake toward the island. Having crossed the bridge and ascended onto the island, I walked quietly toward the pavilion set among the flowering trees.

At that moment, the hoarse voice of an old man came from within the pavilion.

“Who comes there?” “Nay, it matters not who you are.” “Be my conversation partner—come now, sit down here.”

I was slightly surprised but proceeded inside without hesitation. A stout, small-framed old man clad in shabby garments was sitting on the edge. Because the shadow of the large magnolia flowers fell across the old man’s face, his features were indistinct; but he kept his eyes firmly shut as though deep in thought, not moving a muscle. I also sat down on the edge. Thus, the two of us sat facing each other in silence for some time.

Then, the old man opened his eyes and fixed them on me, “What do you think of this landscape? Groves and springs, palaces, flower gardens, an isolated island—the hazy spring moon illuminates them all. The sound of a flute comes drifting… Don’t you find it beautiful? Though from the look of you, you still appear quite young. You might be indifferent to things like natural scenery’s beauty…” “I think it’s a beautiful scene. It is not majestic, but splendid. Rather than natural, it is artificial and represents the pinnacle of craftsmanship.”

“You are quite the critic.” “Indeed, it is precisely as you say—a landscape rich in artifice.” “Don’t you wish to own a garden like this?” “I think I want to own it, and I also think I don’t want to own it.” When I said this, the old man laughed with a hoarse voice, “You are quite the sarcastic one.” “By the way, I should like to hear an explanation of the meaning behind those words of yours.” “There is no particular meaning to it, but those who possess such gardens are none other than royalty.” “The meaning of possessing such a garden is to become royalty.” “For a man to be born and become royalty is both remarkable and as desirable as can be, but once one becomes royalty, it may prove neither as enjoyable nor as delightful as it appeared from the sidelines.” “If being royalty would bring neither enjoyment nor delight, then there would be no point in becoming a king who owns such a garden.” “It is because I think this way.”

Then, the old man stifled a laugh, looking amused, “You appear to be a disciple of Laozi; you seem a man of serene detachment.” “It’s rather troubling for someone barely twenty to be so serenely detached.” “It seems you were softly reciting poetry when coming here—but given your lack of worldly desires, surely you hadn’t memorized Du Xunhe’s 『贈僧』 (‘To a Monk’), had you?”

“No,” I replied with a laugh, “I’m not familiar with that poem by Du Xunhe. What I recited was Du Fu.” “If you don’t know it, then I’ll teach you—for me, it’s a memorable poem.” The old man’s words carried authority. Not only did they possess an unfathomable depth, but they even carried a pressure that pressed upon those who listened. I gradually came to admire this old man. And I doubted.

Who was this old man? Is he a government official or perhaps a provincial official? He didn’t seem like an ordinary person—yet because shadows from magnolia blossoms still fell darkly across his face in thick patches，I couldn’t make out his features clearly.

At that moment, the old man softly recited Du Xunhe’s poem with deep emotion. “What use are paths of profit and fame? A hundred years are but a lamp’s short flame before the wind. One fears only failing to attain clarity as a monk—for if one attains it, all else yields to monks. There now—this is Du Xunhe’s poem.” “I wouldn’t call it a masterwork, but for me, it’s a poem of memories.” “One fears only failing to attain clarity as a monk—indeed, when I was young, I read this poem and set my life’s purpose.” “In truth, when I was young, I too was just like you—indifferent to thoughts of fame and profit.” “Whether one is a commoner or a king, a person’s life remains the same.” “If one were to become a king or noble, the hardships would instead multiply.” “I used to think being a commoner seemed rather carefree.” “However, when I saw this poem, I truly thought as follows.” “Even if one were to abandon worldly life and become a monk, they would never attain peace of mind—so if one were to remain a commoner, their heart would surely be even less satisfied.” “No matter what position one may occupy, the human heart finds no peace.” “If one’s heart remains equally unsettled regardless, then given the fortune of being born human, it might as well be interesting to resolutely put oneself to work and undertake a great enterprise.” “That is the true aspiration of a man!” “In other words, this is what I thought.” “Thereupon, I thought. ‘Shall I pursue wealth and status? Or shall I become a king? No—I will conquer both!’” I thought greedily in this manner. After that, I endeavored. Twenty years, thirty years, forty years—I charged forward like a workhorse. And I, who was once a beautiful youth, have unwittingly become such an old man, even afflicted by a fatal illness, with what little life remains having dwindled away.

Indeed, I had gained all the fortune and prosperity a man could desire, yet the more I acquired, the more I found myself assailed by an insatiable longing for greater heights—leaving me without a single day of tranquility. And enemies I had. Murderous blades, poisoned draughts, and pistols surrounded me from every direction. The vengeful spirits of those I had wronged clung to me day and night, robbing me of peaceful slumber. Wealthy though I was, as a wealthy man alone I craved still vaster riches. Small ambitions beget great ones; great ambitions spawn the mightiest of all. Every human mutilates body and soul in service to ambition. I stood as its finest specimen. Thereupon, this thought came to me: Why had I resolved thus when reading Du Xunhe’s poem? Had I taken monastic vows instead of making such resolutions, might I have found some measure of serenity? Now these were but futile lamentations indeed. Circumstances beyond my control dragged me onward. Too late now to become a monk. I had become circumstance’s puppet, lurching forward with blind recklessness indeed. My sole consolation in this wretched state was that each night I would alter my form, withdraw from all human company, slip into nature’s bosom, and wander at leisure indeed. Yet even this solitary pleasure could not long endure. "For I am gripped by a mortal illness and must soon die."

The old man paused in thought for a moment but continued speaking in a solemn tone. “I might die as soon as tomorrow.” “I might die even while saying this.” “Therefore, I have a request for you.” “No—rather than a request, I urge you.” “That’s right—I urge you.” Having said this, the old man took out a small box from his pocket and placed it before me, “This I bestow upon you.” “Go home and open it.” “Your future destiny will surely be determined by this.” “If you find it beyond your capacity, you should reverently bury it in the earth.” “This is an object bestowed by heaven.” “It was first bestowed upon me.” “I tried to make something bestowed by heaven my own.” “But now it’s too late.” “My allotted time has been set, and there is nothing I can do about it indeed.” “Therefore, I hereby transfer the fortune that came to me once again from myself to you.” “It’s the same as being bestowed by heaven.” “However, no matter what kind of happiness it may be, to obtain it, one must first face hardships.” “If you seek to fully grasp the happiness contained within this box, you must inevitably face hardships.”

“If you fear those hardships, then abandon that happiness—bury the box in the ground… But you may find it strange that I would pass such an important happiness box to a stranger like you whom I’ve only just met—yet this is not strange at all.” “To speak truthfully, I have not a single ally to whom I would wish to entrust this box.” “Every person surrounding me without exception is an enemy.” “They are wolves clad in sheep’s clothing.” “Thus I shall transfer this marvelous fortune to a stranger like you.”

The mysterious old man stood up gracefully from the edge after saying this. Then, paying me no heed, he left the pavilion and began walking away. For a moment I stood transfixed, watching his retreating figure, until I regained my wits and called out to him from behind.

“Old man!” I whispered. “Please tell me your name—who exactly are you?” Then the old man turned back,

“The most unfortunate man in this country! “That is precisely this very I!”

“The most unfortunate man in this country?” “Are you saying that’s you, sir?” “People in the world say the opposite—that I am the happiest person in this country.” “I simply can’t understand…” I watched the old man. “All the palaces and gardens here are my possessions… Both heaven and earth across the four hundred provinces are now under my control.” “I am such a person indeed.”

I continued scrutinizing the old man under moonlight that had broken through the clouds, but then—startled—I leapt up.

“You…!” “That’s it!” “I see now!”

“I am a lonesome man! A man without a single ally.” The old man muttered this in a low voice, then quietly began walking away. He crossed the floating bridge. I watched his retreating figure. I watched him for a long, long time.

The retreating figure of the Republic's sworn enemy, the retreating figure of my parents' foe. With arms folded, I watched Yuan Shikai's receding back. Why didn't I pounce on him? Was it obligation for receiving the handbox? No—absolutely not. Was I cowed by the President's dignity? No! Precisely the opposite! I had been utterly struck by Yuan Shikai's lonely form.

……I took up the handbox. A crude iron handbox! I examined it under the moonlight. Though there was nothing strange about it—truly nothing strange at all—from this shabby handbox would emerge a bizarre parchment so uncanny it could sway my very destiny...

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

After that—as for what I did—I left Dr. Sun Yat-sen’s faction, temporarily returned to my own home, and reunited with my younger sister and the old woman. And then I left home once more and embarked on a journey around the world.

The purpose of setting out on the journey—? Even if I were to explain, no one would likely believe me. It was simply too outlandish a tale. In short, I had embarked on a journey around the world to search for a pair of crystal spheres—one male and one female—guided by the text written on the parchment inside the handbox. Thus, the moment I found those spheres would be when my fortune would open—indeed, I was supposed to become a billionaire overnight.

Truly, I traveled through the countries of the world for three years. When I ran out of money, I would work; when I earned enough, I would move on. Having traversed nearly all of Asia, America, and Europe, I arrived in this Madrid of Spain three months ago. Like many Chinese people, when it came to cooking, I had considerable confidence. Whenever I finally ran out of money and had to work, I always became a cook. In the same way, upon coming to Madrid and seeking a connection, I became the cook at this inn. And I waited for an opportunity. The opportunity to cross over to Africa… But now Africa had completely vanished from my sight. The sphere was discovered nearby. And I headed toward the deserts of the Western Regions in pursuit of that sphere. I headed there with them. With their expedition party—

My heart pounded with both joy and anxiety. However，courage did not wane. What courage could possibly wane? What exactly was this anxiety? Was it because I feared those two—Detective Rashinu，who could be called the leader of their expedition party，and Detective Rezard，who could be called the sub-leader? Truly，they were undoubtedly sharp and perceptive individuals，but I did not fear them. What did I have to fear? Let them be the ones to fear me!

Gentlemen, members of the expedition party! You had best guard those spheres of destiny with utmost care. For there exists a Chinese youth who seeks to seize that sphere when opportunity arises. As your cook, I dare warn you gentlemen: do not let your eyes stray from that Chinese youth named Zhang whom you yourselves employed...

A peacock cried out. A parrot squawked. The scent of winter roses drifted through the air. After the sun had set, the evening glow dyed the sky red. The next day would likely bring clear weather. I would bid farewell to this cafeteria too. I decided to head back to the cook’s quarters and pretend to pack.

Tomorrow I would head to the desert. The desert was calling me... (Memoir excerpt ends...)

7

“What do you think of that woman?”

Rashinu whispered in a low voice. “I had noticed her before—she’s a stunning Turkish beauty. I’d love to paint her as a model.”

Danchon, “the painter who doesn’t paint,” also whispered this in a low voice. Rashinu clicked his tongue slightly but gave a wry smile. “You’ve been wanting to paint for ages now.” “You keep saying you want to paint, want to paint, but you haven’t painted a single thing.” “That’s why everyone gave you that ridiculous nickname—‘Danchon the Painter Who Doesn’t Paint.’ You still haven’t painted that ‘Beastman’ piece you were so enthusiastic about.” “You really are a slacker… But putting that aside—don’t you think there’s something odd about that woman over there?”

“What do you mean by ‘strange’?” “If that’s your reply, then you clearly don’t grasp what’s peculiar about that woman over there. Listen—take a good look. Right now she’s looking down like she’s engrossed in the newspaper, but she’s not actually reading it. She’s watching us.”

“Why would she be watching us?” “Who knows? I don’t get that part.” “It’s mysterious precisely because I don’t understand.” “Where on earth did that woman board this train from?” “I believe it was from Chelyabinsk.”

“How on earth do you know such a thing?” Rashinu asked with a hint of suspicion. “There’s a reason I know,” Danchon said nonchalantly. “I thought I’d buy some postcards, so when the train stopped at Chelyabinsk, I promptly got off. As I stepped down onto the platform, someone bumped into my chest. When I quickly looked up, there stood a Turkish beauty. ‘Pardon me,’ she said in French, her face reddening. A redcap carrying her luggage stood behind her. That’s why she boarded at that station.”

“Hmm, that woman bumped into you?” “She certainly bumped into you?” “Actually, she bumped into me too.” “Before we stopped at Kurgan station, I thought I’d have a smoke and went to the smoking car.” “It was when I passed by her.” “Suddenly she stood up and bumped against my waist.” “At that moment I distinctly felt nimble fingers working—” “Around my trouser pocket.” “It must’ve been accidental contact.” “A young woman that beautiful would never stoop to pickpocketing.”

“…………” Rashinu did not respond. Pretending not to look, he fixed his gaze intently on the mysterious woman sitting in a corner of the train reading a newspaper.

Through the extreme cold of December Siberia, the massive international train, resembling a centipede, plowed through the howling blizzard as it raced toward Omsk. However, the interior was warm. In the warm interior, passengers wearing coats of their preferred styles sat in their seats talking, their fur collars firmly fastened. Since these were first-class compartments, no matter whom one looked at, they were mostly cultured gentlemen and ladies, and their conversations were refined. A married couple speaking loudly in nasal Moscow-accented voices; a pale, sickly-looking girl of eighteen or nineteen sat silently listening beside them. A terrifyingly well-fed old man who appeared to be a jeweler was holding onto a handsome man of noble bearing sitting before him and recounting the story of a black diamond purportedly discovered in the Pamir Plateau. Beside them, a Chinese merchant smoked Yunnan tobacco in an amber pipe, puffing leisurely with complete indifference to his surroundings. When the patrolling attendant came over, he would hurriedly hide his pipe. A burly, corpulent forty-year-old man—likely a landlord from Little Russia—had been silently gazing through the glass window at the sunset-lit wilderness with intense focus for some time, but soon took out playing cards from his pocket and began divining alone. An old man—likely a Mongolian noble—accompanied by five retainers drew an oval-faced Chinese beauty of marriageable age close to his side, and they ate sweets together amicably. The five retainers watched this scene with expressionless Oriental eyes, rather with polite attentiveness. A group of Turkistan people were noisily arguing in a far corner of the passenger car, as if some mishap had occurred. In the corner where the group of Turkistan people could be seen to the left, there was the woman in question with Turkish-style beauty. She wore a voluminous, extremely luxurious large fox fur coat that hid her entire body, yet through the coat, one could discern her physique—resilient yet slender, delicate yet supple, a magnificently superb body. What stood out most strikingly was that hat. It was a crimson Turkish-style hat, from which strands of jet-black hair escaped down to her neck. She had charm that practically radiated. Yet she had sharp steel-like eyes; a nose not Roman but Greek in form, so exquisite it could make one tremble; and her mouth—though a commonplace description—was quite literally like a rose. Adorably small purple shoes, well-shaped slender yellow gloves…

She placed the newspaper on her lap and tilted her head slightly to one side, then opened the lid of the basket beside her and took out an apple. Then she took off her gloves and peeled the apple. The exposed wrists were sunburned to a dusky bronze! “Look,” Rashinu said to Danchon. “She’s undeniably a suspicious woman.” “Such beauty and such attire—” “No matter how you evade the truth—she’s a court attendant.” “She’s the most excellent court attendant in the Turkish Emperor’s harem.” “You might even call her an imperial consort.” “But look here! The color of those hands!” “It’s exactly the color of a laborer’s hands… And that’s when I realized.” “She’s not just any woman.”

“So you’re saying she’s a pickpocket? That charmless beauty?” Danchon said discontentedly. “She doesn’t seem suspicious to me. She must be a traveler. That’s why she’s sunburned.”

“There’s no way only the wrists would be sunburned.”

“Turkish women always hide their faces with veils in every situation,” “That’s why their faces and necks remain unburned while their wrists get sunburned.” “I see,” Rashinu smiled. “That explanation might hold water, but why does she keep looking our way so intently?” “There shouldn’t be a single man handsome enough here to catch her attention.”

“The idea that she’s looking this way must be your misperception.” “I don’t see it that way at all.” “Very well,” Rashinu said with heightened emphasis, “we’ll consult Rezard’s opinion.”

He looked around the train car, but Rezard—his fellow private detective and junior—was nowhere to be seen among the seats. At the far window sat Dr. Maharayana—the old scholar and central figure of their group—dozing with a kindly smile that belied his status as one of only fifteen Uighur language scholars said to exist worldwide, his head nodding repeatedly. Beside him was only Carlos, an adventure-loving medical scholar accompanying them who managed the group’s hygiene, but Rezard remained nowhere in sight.

Rashinu grew somewhat uneasy. This was because Rezard was carrying on his person the sealed iron case containing the crystal sphere that served as the group’s protective talisman.

Rashinu stood up from his seat. However, just then the door to the connected neighboring passenger car opened, and Rezard appeared from there, so Rashinu sat back down in relief.

Rezard frowned for some reason and came over to Rashinu’s side, then put his mouth to his ear and whispered. “What do you think of the cook? That Chinese man named Zhang?” “Is there something unusual?” Rashinu inquired quizzically.

“He has a map.”

“A map⁉” Rashinu’s eyes widened. With those eyes fixed on Rezard, he said, “Give me a more detailed account.”

“Now…” Rezard began. “Since we’d soon arrive in Omsk, I went to check the tools in third class. That Zhang fellow I’d ordered surveilled was intently examining something before a tool stack.” “When I approached and peered over his shoulder—” “It was a Western Regions map!” When I barked “Zhang!”, he leapt up like a spring trap and stuffed it into his coat. “Even when I growled ‘Show me the map!’, he stubbornly refused.” “I pressed him point-blank—‘Why have this map?’ His excuse? ‘Since fate granted me membership in your expedition westward, I wished to assist fully—thus procured this map.’” “‘Where’d you get it?’ I demanded. He answered airily: ‘The Western Regions are Chinese soil—maps come easily to us Chinese.’” “Plausible enough—yet if so innocent, why refuse to show it?” Rezard paused before concluding: “Given these circumstances, I deem this Chinese man dubious. Should we not dismiss him outright at Omsk?”

“Dismissing him might be acceptable, but we’ll lose access to delicious meals.” Rashinu smirked and said, “By the way, is Zhang’s map completely identical to our Western Regions map?” “I only caught a glimpse and cannot state it with certainty, but it appeared to be identical.” “The Western Regions map we possess is a field-surveyed reproduction map authored by Dr. Hedin with no comparable counterparts—but given that he possesses it, the cook is undoubtedly suspicious.” “Either he copied our map or went all the way to Sweden to meet Dr. Hedin and receive the map directly from him—either way, it’s hardly ordinary…… Our group’s actions—that is, this remarkable undertaking of ours to systematically and thoroughly probe the untrodden Lop Desert—have gained global renown alongside ‘The Second Beast-Man Incident,’ and the world knows full well how precious the secret-enshrouded crystal sphere is.” “And people of the world also know that we are guarding that precious sphere.” “That’s why we’ve been taking such precautions—changing its keeper every night—to prevent our sphere from being stolen by the wicked people of the world. The only reason we go to such lengths is because thieves are fearsome creatures.” “We should unhesitatingly keep suspicious people at bay.”

“Since the train will arrive in Omsk around 5:00 AM tomorrow morning, let us inform him of his dismissal there.” “Very well.”

Rashinu nodded. Then, after eyeing the Turkish beauty with renewed suspicion, he whispered to Rezard. But Rezard saw no villainy in that fair countenance. His mind raced instead with schemes to seize the Western Regions map from Zhang the cook—how best to confiscate it after delivering tomorrow’s dismissal notice.

However, in reality, they could not dismiss Zhang the cook. Not only could they not dismiss him, but they were actually saved by him. The reason being that before reaching Omsk, around exactly midnight that night, a terrifying incident occurred in the train car that attempted to wipe them out—one which Zhang swiftly came to rescue them from.

The incident was as follows――

As the night deepened, the weather grew increasingly worse, and a blizzard came roaring against the train windows with a sound like raging waves. The passengers closed the glass windows and even firmly lowered the shutters, continuing their lively chatter while enjoying the steam’s warmth. Then, before long, they gradually ceased their conversation. And so, as everyone began to feel drowsy, more and more people headed to their berths. Rashinu also began to feel drowsy, so he stood up to head to the berths. Strangely, his body felt utterly limp. “This is strange,” he muttered as he hurriedly surveyed the room. Dr. Maharayana, Rezard, and even Danchon were all soundly asleep with their heads leaning against the wall panels, completely unconscious. Upon closer inspection, all the passengers were innocently asleep. They certainly seemed to be asleep. However, strangely enough, they all had their eyes wide open. Were they actually awake? Even so, they made no movement. At that moment, Rashinu suddenly realized that a scent—reminiscent of smoldering Eastern incense, evocative of death—had been permeating the sealed train car, filling it entirely. He intuited something. He hurriedly reached for the window to escape the peril, but by then it was too late. In an instant, his vitality drained away; his limbs stiffened like rods, and with only his eyes remaining wide open, he collapsed onto the seat. However, his consciousness remained clear. He could see everything clearly. The passengers, the luggage, and the windowpanes as well.

However, he couldn’t move even a single finger. Moreover, he could hear sounds clearly. The sound of the train’s wheels plunging forward, the snow battering the window… At that moment, Rashinu heard a woman’s laughter from the corner of the compartment. He barely managed to look toward the corner where the laughter had originated. A woman stood there with a mask covering her mouth and nose. She wore a red Turkish hat, yellow gloves, a fox fur coat, and purple shoes. In her right hand, she held a bronze Japanese incense burner. Though the burner was exceedingly small, the ink-like smoke rising from it carried a potent odor. The woman looked around the room. Then she placed the incense burner on the seat and strode briskly over. Without the slightest hesitation, she ran up to Rezard. In the same manner and without pause, she stripped off Rezard’s jacket. Then she stripped off his waistcoat as well. Tearing through his underwear, she dragged out an iron case wrapped in a belly band. She discarded the belly band onto the floor, brought the case before her eyes, and examined it closely; seeming finally satisfied, she concealed it inside her coat’s inner pocket, let out her first sigh of relief, then went straight to the neighboring room’s door and grasped its handle. However, before she could twist it, the iron handle clattered and the door was pushed open from the other side. The woman staggered back two or three steps. What had been thrust before her nose was the muzzle of an automatic pistol. The woman staggered again. Then from the doorway appeared a man—a cook-attired Easterner—Zhang Jiaoren.

“Put your hands up, Miss!” Zhang said in flawless French. The woman’s face turned pale. And she obediently raised her hands. Gripping the pistol with one hand, Zhang used his free hand to search through the woman’s coat and swiftly extracted the iron box.

“Well, we’re done here—now then, Miss, you must be terribly disappointed, but that’s a bit too optimistic of you.” “However, your method was truly skillful.” “To think of paralyzing people by burning the powdered small bones of the Fengfeng—a poisonous fish found only in the freshwater lakes of Kurukuge in western China—as incense, you truly were ingenious.” “Those who know such secrets must be limited to either Taoist believers in China or people who have traversed the western regions.” “How you came to know that—well, I shall not inquire.” “If someone like me hadn’t existed, the method you employed would have been a splendid success.” “My presence must have been quite the misfortune for you… The train has begun to slow down, hasn’t it?” “The train shouldn’t have reached Omsk yet.” “So it must be a coal supply issue.” “Anyway, this works out well for you.” “Come on, hurry up and get off, Miss.” “You are far too beautiful to hand over to the police.” “And you are an Easterner.” “And I am also an Easterner.” “Why don’t we sympathize with each other?”

Zhang moved aside and opened the exit door for her. Then the woman leapt down to the platform like a cat. And just like that, she blended her form into the blizzard's darkness.

From the darkness came the beautiful sound of a woman’s laughter.

“O beautiful Chinese nobleman! “Today you’ve won, but someday I’ll be the one to prevail. “Let us meet again in the desert… For I am the desert’s daughter. “There an old man awaits us. “Farewell! Farewell!”

Truly, that voice was beautiful. Zhang stood still like stone, tracing the echoes of that voice. Like one who had just discovered love.

They were still asleep in the train car. Smoke was rising from the incense burner.

8

(The following is an excerpt from the memorandum of the Chinese youth Zhang Jiaoren.)

We stayed one night in Omsk. Early the next morning，we left the hotel and went out to the banks of the Irtysh River. With a course spanning twenty-three hundred miles，the grand flow of this great river could perhaps be described as continental in scale. The party boarded the steamship. They were bound for Semipalatinsk.

Both banks were the vast Kyrgyz steppe, and in the area where smoke rose, their settlements must have been located. We stayed two nights in Semipalatinsk. From this point onward, we would proceed by land. The route to Tarbagatai had nothing but bald mountains. The plateau stretching as far as the eye could see continued in undulating waves. Here and there were lakes, and the water of the lakes was frozen. A procession of horses, camels, and carts—our party kept moving across that plateau on and on and on. From Tarbagatai onward lay Chinese territory where desert-like features began emerging. We hired several Nogai handlers for our camels before advancing toward Urumqi. After reaching Urumqi came Turpan—in both cities we finalized our expedition preparations. We sold off every horse while acquiring countless camels. We packed ice blocks into bags alongside ample provisions. We stored specialized equipment in sealed wooden crates. Additional hires from Nogai,Kyrgyz,and Turkish groups expanded our ranks. Our full company numbered thirty souls at last count. Finally we plunged into desert territory.

Day after day, we traversed the desert.……

We had already been camping there for ten days. How long would we continue camping? Let us keep camping forever. I hoped for that. I would not leave this land. Until I claimed the beautiful,mysterious Turkish Beauty as my own,I absolutely would not leave. This area of the Lop Desert—bordered to north and south by the great Altun Tagh range and smaller Kuruktag hills—seemed to lie at its very bottom. Whichever way one looked,there was nothing but a boundless sea of flowing 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,the water was undrinkable. It contained a large amount of salt. Standing dead forests stood like white bones in one or two places,wild sheep walking around them while coughing. The beast crying out on a distant dune was indeed a wild camel. They must have feared us. Night after night,coyotes would gather in countless packs,yet fearing the firelight they did not approach. When we fired a shot they hastily hid themselves.

There were also several rivers flowing. However, that water was undrinkable. It still contained salt. These rivers, marshes, and ponds were truly bizarre creatures that constantly changed their locations. Moving lakes, shifting marshes, rivers and ponds that vanished without a trace—truly, everything in this area was steeped in mystery and strangeness. One night, a subtle music suddenly came drifting down from the sky above. The voices of numerous men and women laughing too. But of course, no figures could be seen. The music also vanished like the wind. Then again, on another night, the ice blocks and camels were stolen. Both the ice blocks and the camels were as precious as life itself to us. Everyone was utterly terrified. And then they maintained strict vigilance. Then on another night, an object with mysterious characters carved into a wooden surface was thrown into the tent. When Dr.Hakugen saw it, his complexion changed and he began to explain.

“This is none other than Uighur language.” “Who on earth wrote this?” “Though the ink traces are still fresh...” Then he translated the text.

"Defile not the spirit of the desert. If you do not offer up your most revered tribute and depart, the spirit of the desert shall bury you—"

Suddenly Rashinu burst into laughter. “Now we’ve nearly uncovered its true nature! There’s no need to worry anymore. We’ll just leave it be quietly. Before long, I’ll catch that mischief-making spirit of the desert.”

However, Dr.Maharayana—superstitious as was common among Indians—remained deep in anxious thought for some time, “All things possess souls.” “The desert too must have a soul—and considering this, perhaps this spirit belongs to the ancestral homeland of the Turkish tribe called Loulan who established a kingdom here millennia ago.” “If that’s true, we must enshrine it.” “What exactly would we enshrine?” Rashinu laughed even more heartily. “There’s absolutely no need for concern.” “Just wait—I’ll catch that blasted spirit for you all to see.”

These confidence-filled words swept away the anxiety that had been plaguing the natives’ hearts until then.

Even before a wooden piece inscribed with Uighur had been thrown into our tent—though it remained unclear who was placing them there—papers written in French with feminine handwriting had repeatedly found their way into my coat pocket. The first paper read as follows: "O Chinese nobleman of shared Eastern heritage, place your steadfast trust in this humble one: seize the crystal ball guarded by that Spanish fool and come to my dwelling." The second letter stated:

Please make up your mind quickly. Clutch the seized crystal ball in your hand and escape northeast through the desert. Travel approximately six miles on foot. If you do this, you should reach a village. A Lop people's village standing in the desert! The population numbers about two hundred, with a drinkable spring welling up. Lush evergreen trees flourish. Fish dwell in the marshes, and waterfowl hide among the reeds. The residents are all good people. They excel at music and theft. They possess many legends. Their leader is an old man nearing seventy. Known as the Desert Elder, he resembles a wizard sustained by several legends, prophecies, and superstitions. The villagers' houses are gray earthen structures, but only the Elder's house stands wooden and painted crimson. Come to the crimson house. That is where I am.

O lovely Chinese nobleman. Believe this humble one’s words. Are we not comrades of the Orient?

The third letter came last night. It bore the following words.

“I command you! This time you must carry out the plan. Yet surely you doubt me. To dispel your suspicions, I shall reveal my true identity. I am Elbi, second daughter of a Turkish general named Pinan. I was raised in the imperial court, where I served as chief maid to the Empress. One night, the Emperor hosted a banquet for newly appointed court ladies. Five ladies sent from various lands sat with melancholy faces—the youngest among them, a seventeen-year-old Persian girl with eyes swollen from weeping, caught my notice. When the feast ended and the ladies withdrew to their chambers, I obtained the Empress’s permission to visit them. Entering the splendid room of that pitiful girl, I found her sobbing upon her bed. After dismissing her attendants, I comforted her and asked her story. She told me she was the beloved daughter of a renowned Persian silk merchant, brought to Constantinople by her parents one month prior. Yet she had been abducted in daylight, sold to a high official who presented her to the Emperor. The girl pleaded: ‘Please help me escape! Here—take this handbox passed down through generations of my family. My parents said it holds an ancient parchment inscribed with forgotten words, and that keeping it close wards off all danger. I give it to you now—save me!’ Moved by pity, I vowed to help her escape.”

I pitied her. So I told the maiden: “I will help you, so you need not worry at all.” The next day, I boldly took her out of the palace in my carriage. Fortunately unchallenged, I brought the carriage to the British Embassy, entrusted the maiden to the ambassador, returned to the palace, and casually opened the iron handbox she had given me—only to discover within it a parchment inscribed with ancient Uighur script revealing Lop Desert’s secret mystery. Thereupon I clutched the box and immediately fled the palace. This was driven less by fear of my crime in aiding the Emperor’s court lady to escape than by astonishment at the immense value of the secret written on that parchment. Afterward, guided by clues in the Uighur language, I journeyed to the desert—thus it came to pass. There I obtained this desert’s female crystal ball. Therefore, should I acquire the male crystal ball, I could carry both spheres and—as the parchment instructs—float a boat upon Lop Nur Lake twenty-four miles from our village, drifting down to the underground city built below. And when we reach that city, these two spheres shall work a miracle, unveiling to us the hiding place of immeasurable treasure.

O fellow Easterner and Chinese nobleman! Take the male crystal ball. With me, shall we search together for those riches that the Uighur people—the first ancestors of the Turkish nation—secretly hid at the time of their kingdom’s fall? The Desert Elder, who possesses the female crystal ball, will guide us to the lake.

You must surely find it strange—how I was able to read the difficult Uighur script, the Uighur language written on the parchment—but there is a reason for it. As I wrote in my letter earlier, the Uighur people are indeed the earliest ancestors of the Turkish nation. Those of sufficient standing in the Turkish court can generally read at least the basics of Uighur. The characters written on that parchment were exceedingly simple.

When I read the third secret letter, I finally made my resolve. I resolved to steal the crystal ball. Ever since the train incident, Rashinu and his team had come to trust me completely—so much that they eventually entrusted me with the iron box containing the crystal ball. In other words, they had accepted me as one of their comrades. Stealing the crystal ball proved simple. One night under a full moon's glow, I achieved my goal and fled to the verdant oasis where the Turkish Beauty dwelled. Evergreen trees, a spring, a native hut; fish swam in waters while birds sang among branches. The greenland appeared hospitable. Amidst the evergreens stood a small shrine. Two stone komainu guardian statues faced each other at its entrance. The Desert Elder and Turkish Beauty brought me to the shrine and commanded me to worship. Being non-religious, I complied—bowing three times toward the structure.

The Desert Elder said to me, “Young man, this is our god. This is the god of us Lop people. And the Lop people are Uighur people. From ancient times thousands of years ago until today, the only Uighur people who have remained pure without mixing with the blood of other races are us Lop people. We pure Lop people have gathered in this lush greenland, enshrined our sole guardian deity Ara in the shrine, revered the guardian lion-dogs cloaked in Ara the Great God’s phosphorescent light as divine incarnations, and lived here for thousands of years. However, several years ago, a Spanish expedition attacked the Lop Desert, destroyed the shrine of our god, and made off with part of the sutras, the parchment, and the male crystal ball stored in a box—vanishing without a trace. Our fury reached its peak; we swore revenge to our god and sought out the whereabouts of the Spanish expedition’s leader. And when we unexpectedly heard that their leader held a high position as the mayor of Madrid, the Spanish capital, we leapt for joy with delight. Therefore, we sent an assassination squad to Madrid. And through ingenious means, they first recovered the sutras. And then another group—also dispatched from the desert—the second assassination squad, thrust the tip of a dagger deep into the Mayor’s chest. The Mayor, however, did not die. Not only did he not die, but he resolved to entrust the crystal ball and parchment to a private detective named Rashinu, organizing an expedition to investigate the desert’s secrets—Rashinu’s party refers to this second assassination attempt as the ‘Second Beast-Man Incident’—When we heard rumors that an expedition had been organized, we devised a plan to intercept them en route and seize the crystal ball, dispatching Elbi to meet them at the train. Though your interference ultimately caused this plan to fail, since you—the very one who interfered—have become an ally and seized back the crystal ball stolen by the white people to bring it to the lush greenland, I bear gratitude rather than resentment… But tell me—you are Chinese. For what reason did you join the white people’s expedition?”

The old man looked at me curiously. So I told him my own story up to that point. The old man listened silently,

“Can you read Uighur?” “How did you read the parchment in the handbox that Yuan Shikai gave you?” “The iron handbox contained both the original text and its translation.” “It might have been that Yuan Shikai’s faction summoned a Uighur language scholar and secretly had them translate it.”

The Desert Elder nodded in understanding and after that said nothing more.

The next day, we left the house. We walked twenty-four miles over two days to reach Lop Nur Lake. A small animal-skin boat prepared by the natives was already floating soundlessly and quietly by the lake’s shore. The three of them jumped aboard it. Skillfully, the Desert Elder rowed. The Desert Elder began to speak as he rowed. Elbi translated the Desert Elder’s words into French and relayed them to us. I could only listen intently.

“According to legend,” the Desert Elder said. “Thousands of years ago, this incident had been prophesied. The male crystal ball was to be seized by white people and retrieved by those of yellow race. And according to another legend, once the crystal ball passed to white hands, it must be cleansed in Lop Nur Lake’s waters together with the remaining female ball. That’s why we placed both balls in the box and brought them here. By one final legend, he who retrieves the lost ball shall receive Ara the Great God’s blessing—gaining sight of Uighurs still living underground, journeying to their city, and through the dual balls’ miracle discovering where ancient Uighurs buried vast wealth. Now we float upon Lop Nur Lake as foretold. A miracle is sure to appear.”

The Desert Elder solemnly declared this and then gazed intently at the lake water. Glistening under the midday winter sun, the lake—spanning about one ri in circumference—lay calm and clear, its waves still. 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 Desert Elder took out two boxes and poured lake water over them. And began to praise the Great God. “Ara, Ara, Il...” he chanted fervently. The lake water began to swirl into a vortex without so much as a ripple. At the vortex’s center was the boat. The boat began to spin rapidly. Then one bank of the sand dune crumbled away before our eyes, opening a cave-like hole in its place. The water flowed into the hole. Before we knew it, the boat was swept in. Abruptly the surroundings darkened until not a single ray of sunlight remained visible. Elbi clung to me. The Desert Elder prayed in the darkness.

“Ara, Ara, Ara, Ara, Ara, Ara, Il…” The boat plunged onward through the underground waterway like an arrow… (memo continues below)

Nine

“I can’t see Zhang anywhere!”

Early in the morning, Rezard shouted out. Both Dr. Maharayana and Rashinu were startled by the voice and leapt to their feet. The faint light of the desert dawn shone into the tent.

They first searched for the iron handbox that contained the crystal balls, but not even a trace of it could be seen. The thirty members of the party split up to search for Zhang, but his figure was nowhere to be seen. They all despaired, sighed, and then fell into silence. “It was my mistake to trust him,” “But there’s no taking it back now.” Rashinu’s voice was melancholy. “Who the hell is he?” “He can speak French and English, is skilled at cooking, and has courage.” “He had a map of the Western Regions—he wasn’t just some rat after all.” Rezard’s voice trembled tearfully. Even the usually cheerful Danchon was silently staring at the ground.

However, since continuing like that indefinitely showed no sign of Zhang emerging, once again the whole group stood up and resumed their search for his whereabouts. This time, they divided into multiple teams and set out simultaneously in every direction.

Rashinu, Dr.Maharayana, and their party of eight formed a single group and set out to search in a northeast direction. After traveling only about one ri, they unexpectedly came upon a village. Evergreen trees grew thick and lushly green; a spring gushed forth from the ground. In the village stood a single shrine, with two lion-dog statues flanking it.

"Ah, so this village shrine must be where the Mayor discovered the crystal ball and parchment," Rashinu thought. "But I never imagined there'd be a green area this close by. No doubt Zhang fled into this very spot." Having reached this conclusion, he forcibly detained the natives and questioned them through the doctor's interpretation. "Yes, he came fleeing here," sneered the native. "And he just now set out toward the lake," relayed Dr.Maharayana.

“Where is this lake located?”

“Ten *ri* to the south.” Rashinu and the doctor exchanged glances and smiled upon hearing this. Because they had grasped a clue. They took two or three natives as guides and immediately headed south. On the way, they spent one night and arrived there around noon the next day. The lake water was clear, its waves calm and unfrozen. On the shore, a single animal-skin boat floated lightly on the water. Rashinu and the doctor went to the boat and checked inside. Two iron handboxes lay empty in the boat. And next to them was a notebook. On the cover were six clearly written characters—“Memorandum, Zhang Jiaoren.”

Dr. Maharayana read aloud from the memorandum's text. For the first time, the two men came to understand what manner of person Zhang truly was. The passage describing how an animal-skin boat carrying three people—borne by water flowing from an opened cave on the lakeshore—had likewise drifted into that very cave left Dr. Maharayana and Rashinu astonished. So great was their astonishment that they tore their gaze from the notebook to scan the lakeshore. Yet no such caves gaped open along any shore. Upon the memorandum's final page lay written words to this effect.

What a marvel of civilization that beneath the desert lay such a vast, bustling ancient city standing exactly as it was built, and that the Uighur people—long vanished from history—were alive and working vigorously there! It was a marvel—yet no dream. The three of us were at that very moment receiving an unprecedented welcome from the citizens of that metropolis. Ah, the beauty of that metropolis—it was not a beauty of the modern age. It was the beauty of heaven—ah, the wonder of that metropolis could not be expressed in letters or words. And finally, we had solved with utmost ease the mysterious enigma concerning the vast treasure entangled with the crystal balls. It was the citizens who had told us. We planned to leave the underground city and head south in the near future to obtain that wealth. A new boat had been prepared, and a new notebook had been readied. This old animal-skin boat, this tainted memorandum—they had become useless to me. I would entrust them to the waters of Lop Nur Lake flowing back through the underground waterway and send them to those remaining in the desert. Farewell to Dr. Maharayana, His Excellency Rashinu, Danchon, and Mr. Rezard! Goodbye, goodbye!

It was a strangely warm day. Yet the sky hung overcast. And not a whisper of breeze stirred. The expedition team, finding no further purpose in lingering amidst the sands, set about preparing their departure.

Dr. Maharayana and Rashinu walked side by side, strolling aimlessly through the desert as they conversed with deep emotion. “Despite having gone to the trouble of summoning you all the way from India, the expedition has ended in failure,” said Rashinu. “And I feel terribly sorry toward you as well.” “No, no,” denied the Doctor. “No consideration is necessary for me, I tell you. It is rather you who deserve pity. You must have been sorely disheartened, but this too is a matter of fate.”

“Even so, Doctor—can there really be a city underground?” “When it comes to deserts, one cannot say such things are entirely impossible.” After thinking for a moment, Dr. Maharayana continued, “The desert is civilization’s graveyard, I tell you. In realms inhabited solely by the dead—though such places exist even in the world of the living—people may mistake those in suspended animation for corpses and carry them to burial. Just so, a desert storm may rage one night and entomb a metropolis built upon the sands within hours; yet even as it’s buried away, who can say it does not persist alive beneath?”

“On the other hand, I’ve read in some book that a sandstorm may blow sand up in a single night and bring a buried city back to the surface in an instant—do such things really happen?” “Such things are said to occur.” Dr. Maharayana nodded several times.

Had these words formed an omen? Indeed, that very night, an unseasonal storm raged until dawn. Before their eyes emerged a stone marker atop the sand dune. When Dr. Maharayana sonorously read the Uighur script carved upon it, Rashinu, Rezard, and Danchon all listened with bated breath. Our nation shall perish. Christians are our enemy.

Great wealth must not be buried in the sand. It must be sent to the southern island nation of coconut trees. The form is that of an inverted butterfly. Descendants are numerous in the northern regions. Write the contents on three parchments and send them throughout the lands of Asia; record the interpretations on one pillar and two crystals.

"The form is that of an inverted butterfly; descendants are numerous in the northern regions…" After some time had passed—having spoken thus—Rashinu stared in thought. Then, suddenly turning around, he dashed back toward the tent. He took out a world map and began examining it closely. “Gentlemen, I’ve got it. “It’s Australia!” Rashinu energetically declared.

“Look at this shape of Australia—it’s exactly like an inverted butterfly. There are many islands in the northern seas. Therefore, that means there are many descendants. It appears that when their nation faced ruin, the ancient Uighur people sent their entire fortune to the South Seas and hid it somewhere in Australia. And they recorded that matter in the crystal balls and the stone marker. Then they apparently wrote cryptic messages on three parchments and sent them throughout Asia. Thus they devised this scheme: if wise people of later generations questioned the parchments’ writings, came exploring the desert, and either unearthed that marker or obtained two crystal balls, they could discover where the vast fortune was hidden. Probably that Chinese man Zhang is one of those fortunate sages who obtained a parchment. And he must have luckily acquired both crystal balls here too. But with heaven’s aid, we too have found that stone marker. We and Zhang are evenly matched now. We’ve no more business in the desert. The stage has shifted to the South Seas—so let us cross the desert, make for China proper once more, then press onward to the South Seas!”

With evident delight, Rashinu looked around at everyone after saying this. Everyone’s faces were brimming with such overflowing joy that they seemed about to burst.

The desert, all the while, glittered like a phantom.

Secret! Secret!

The desert glowed in the morning sun as though concealing every secret.

Part Three: The Society for World Conquest

10

Beijing’s spring was passing away. The world had already become one of verdant foliage. After a desert sand-blowing storm had ephemerally scattered all blossoms across the ground, flowers vanished from this world. Only in the inner garden of the Forbidden City did peonies bloom resplendently in yellow and red. Even the few potted roses placed in the audience chamber of the Presidential Residence had wilted, their color and luster gone.

At Number 10 Yanraku Street, quite near Central Station, stood the Yanraku Hotel, towering imposingly beneath the verdant foliage of its grove. In one third-floor room of this hotel, a guest had been staying for quite some time.

The guests were a man and a woman. The man, judging by his features, appeared to be a young nobleman not yet thirty years of age from southern China, his bearing carrying an air of dignity. However, as for the woman on the other hand, while she was undoubtedly Asian, she did not seem to be born in China. She rather had the appearance of a noblewoman from the Near East—perhaps Turkey—and her demeanor was exceedingly graceful; yet there was an awkwardness about her, as if she had not yet grown accustomed to life in Beijing. The sharp-tongued hotel pageboys remarked on the strange pairing of the two, saying it was like mating a Guangdong chicken with a peacock born in Turkey.

The two were on excellent terms; they stayed together when in their room and went out together whenever they left. However, they seemed to spend most of their time holed up inside discussing matters, with the room’s lock always fastened.

These days, Beijing was in turmoil. High-ranking government officials were frequently assassinated. And not once had the criminal ever been apprehended. Moreover, their methods of killing were ingenious. Or rather than ingenious, it was bizarre. To give one example: One bright afternoon, a capable squad leader from the Police Department was walking along the bustling Nanzih Street with two subordinates. From the huts on both sides of the street came the boisterous sound of the opening gong mingling with flutes, drums, and small cymbals, reaching a clamorous intensity. A signboard vividly depicting a strangely beautiful youth in a crimson robe with a chest ornament, holding a spear, hung on the front of the hut. The title appeared to be *Shō Kōgai* ("Capturing the Red Child"). The squad leader and his subordinates walked leisurely through the chaotic alley—past groups of men coming and going from restaurants, the twang of a fiddle drifting from a wine shop, and open-air vendors hawking counterfeit "Zhou dynasty tripods" and "Song dynasty inkstones."

Then, suddenly, the squad leader let out a pained shout.

“Someone’s dragging me away!” “Someone’s dragging me away!” “I can’t see anything, but someone’s dragging me away!” “Someone’s calling me from afar!” “I can’t tell who’s calling me, but—!”

While screaming, the squad leader dashed through the bustling district of Nanzih Street in broad daylight, swift as lightning. Strangely enough, even as he ran onward in that manner—bending his entire body backward like a bow as if resisting the invisible force dragging him—the force proved stronger, and in the blink of an eye, his figure vanished into the crowd. Moreover, the next day, his corpse was ironically discarded at the entrance of the Police Department. The corpse had not a single wound on it. There was no indication of crushing. Yet there were no traces of poisoning nor evidence suggesting suicide. It was merely a corpse. Not only were there no wounds—the corpse had not been plundered either. Not only was his official uniform intact, but not a single coin had been stolen from his pocket. And on the face of the corpse lay an expression of "surprise," yet not the slightest trace of "bitter regret."

Those who were killed in this mysterious manner and had their corpses exposed on the main thoroughfare were not limited to the squad leader. As previously stated, not only were high-ranking government officials killed, but influential members of the Min Party were also murdered in Guangdong in the south. Then again, in the north, Zhang Zuolin’s officers and soldiers were killed. Every single person was dying in exactly the same mysterious manner of being killed. That is to say, an unseen entity would drag them—via an unseen force—toward where an unseen voice called out. And their whereabouts were lost. And the next day, they would almost certainly expose their corpses on the main thoroughfare.

As these bizarre murders continued to occur with increasing frequency, from the mouths of Beijing’s children came to be sung the following poem. Ancient trees encroach upon heaven as the sun has already set. How many true heroes are there under heaven? Who now claims lordship o'er this tower?

The Great Leader comes! The Great Leader comes! The Great Leader comes! Starting from Beijing, this poem spread even to the countryside. Throughout every corner of the Republic of China, it came to be sung—unconsciously from children’s mouths, like a habitual refrain.

The elderly men knowledgeable about ancient matters tried to decipher the meaning of this incomprehensible poem by comparing it to the past, but they could not understand what it meant.

Eleven

It was a night of the bright moon. Along Jinquezi Street, the phoenix trees standing tall and straight by the road bore beautiful purple flowers that bloomed in temple bell shapes, visible even in the dim light of night. In the gardens of every house, pomegranate flowers like flames strung themselves as beads beneath the gnarled shadows of old plum trees, and from moonless corners where no light reached, phosphorescent glows flickered—newly born fireflies took flight.

Along Jinquezi Street’s serene moonlit path—stylish and quiet—a man and woman pressed close together now passed by in hushed silence.

They seemed to be whispering something, but perhaps not wishing to disturb the serene silence of this early summer night with its famed moon, their voices remained subdued. The time was nearing twelve o'clock. Perhaps because of this, the only people coming and going along the streets of this peaceful residential district were men and women. The sound of the two people’s footsteps alone echoed rhythmically. At that moment, from far down the street, the voice of a seemingly drunken man chanting a poem could be heard. Moreover, as the voice drew nearer, the lines of the poem became somewhat clearer to discern.

Ancient trees encroach upon heaven as the sun has already set.

……… "The Great Leader comes! The Great Leader comes! The Great Leader comes!"

The poem was that same incomprehensible one popular in Beijing. The drunken man chanted that poem as he gradually approached the two. Looking closer, the drunken man appeared to be a laborer, with filthy mud clinging repulsively here and there to his rumpled traditional Chinese garment. He was an old man past fifty, his face bright red from drink. “Well, you’re both here together.”

Upon seeing the man and woman, the drunken laborer let out a shrill cry and planted himself in the middle of the road; however, without hurling any abuse, he instead moved to avoid them and staggered past—but as they passed each other, he bumped his shoulder against the man’s. At that moment, the laborer whispered.

“Be careful, Zhang Jiaoren!”

The man who had been whispered to jerked convulsively upon hearing it and froze mid-stride in the street. “Be careful, Zhang Jiaoren!” “Ten steps.” “Twenty steps.” “No—maybe thirty steps…” The laborer whispered again before lurching away unsteadily. Zhang Jiaoren stood transfixed, his gaze locked on the laborer’s receding form. His thoughts churned in disarray, eyes sharp with wary doubt.

"What did he say to you? That unsettling Chinese man?" The woman accompanying him asked this while watching him with a puzzled expression. Zhang Jiaoren remained silent, his suspicious gaze still fixed on the laborer's retreating figure. Then he suddenly turned to face the woman and said, "'Be careful, Zhang Jiaoren!'" "That's what that laborer told me." Zhang Jiaoren furrowed his brows and repeated, "'Be careful, Zhang Jiaoren! Ten steps. Twenty steps. No—maybe thirty steps...'" "That's what that laborer said."

“What could that mean, I wonder? And how come that laborer knows your real name?” “Why he knows my real name—I can’t make sense of it at all. As long as they know my real name, they must certainly know yours as well.” “Hongyu, Hongyu—so this is my real name, huh? I don’t mind if my name gets known or something like that.”

“Having my real name known isn’t particularly painful, but why it was revealed—what sort of person that laborer who knows it truly is—that’s what I find puzzling.” “Speaking of mysteries—the laborer said ‘Ten steps.’” “Twenty steps.” “No—maybe thirty steps…” “The meaning behind those numbers is what truly baffles me.” “What could they really mean?” Hongyu pondered briefly before suggesting: “Why don’t we test it? Ten steps.” “Twenty steps.” “Thirty steps.” “Let’s walk exactly as he instructed.”

There, the two stood side by side and walked resolutely along the quiet path where fireflies flitted—ten steps, twenty steps, thirty steps—steadily pressing onward. And when they finally reached the thirty-step mark after counting each one, sure enough, an incident occurred. The incident in question was none other than this.

Just as they reached that point, Hongyu suddenly let out a pained voice, “Someone is pulling me away!” “Even though I can’t see anything, someone’s pulling me away!” “Someone is calling me from afar!” “I don’t know who’s calling, but…!”

With this cry, she dashed into the thoroughfare like an arrow. Zhang Jiaoren's astonishment defied description. For a time he stood rooted in the street watching Hongyu's receding figure, then with a hoarse shout gave chase. Not wishing to lose sight of the fleeing pair, yet another man set off in pursuit from behind.

It was the laborer from earlier. Through the ghostly pale, moonlit streets that resembled the depths of the sea, the three of them ran and ran and ran and ran, until finally they vanished from sight.

Twelve

The subsequent life of Zhang Jiaoren, who had lost Hongyu, was miserable. If he wasn't sitting still in his room at the Yanle Hotel consumed by grief, he was wandering through Beijing's streets day and night searching for Hongyu. To find Hongyu's whereabouts, he had naturally filed a missing person report with the police headquarters immediately, but they wouldn't take it seriously. Not only did they ignore him—they even said 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." "There have been such cases even within this Police Headquarters where squad leaders lost their lives."

For these reasons, the police headquarters handled the case with cold indifference and made no attempt to search for her whereabouts. For Zhang Jiaoren, Hongyu was both a partner in work and his one irreplaceable precious lover. That he had lost Hongyu must be said to have dealt him a tremendous blow, both mentally and materially. And of course, for him, the psychological impact was immeasurably greater than the material loss. Were Hongyu never to return to him, his very character would undoubtedly undergo complete transformation because of it.

"The woman who abruptly appeared and seized my heart had just as abruptly vanished." "But even had she vanished completely, the wound she carved within this chest would not readily disappear." "And yet truly—what manner of mysterious creature was this Hongyu?" "To have crossed paths with such a woman—what calamitous fortune was mine." The more these thoughts churned within him, the more feverishly Zhang Jiaoren burned to reclaim Hongyu anew. Thereafter he redoubled his search efforts, combing through Beijing's labyrinthine streets and beyond with desperate frequency.

Thus months passed until it became a season when oleanders and globe amaranths bloomed crimson, and the midsummer climate turned into one where the voices of singing courtesans in taverns instead induced drowsiness.

One night, Zhang Jiaoren, drawn by some unseen force, quickened his steps toward Jinquezi Street where he had once lost his lover. Though only a month had passed, the pale purple paulownia blossoms and flame-like pomegranate flowers had mostly scattered. In the gardens, hibiscus flowers now bloomed faintly pale beneath the moon. "The flowers may have changed," he thought, "but the trees and moon remain exactly as they were then. And yet how utterly my own heart has transformed!"

Zhang Jiaoren walked along the road in the Chinese manner, sunk in contemplation as he trudged onward. After walking like this for a while, he absentmindedly raised his face and peered through the darkness ahead to see a man and woman walking briskly some distance ahead, side by side in an intimate manner. Though it was only their backs, though seen in the dark of night, no matter how he looked again at the woman among them walking ahead, her figure was unmistakably Hongyu’s.

Zhang Jiaoren involuntarily called out loudly from behind.

“Hongyu! Hongyu! Oh, Hongyu!”

Then the woman turned around. And she laughed, baring her teeth, but continued walking steadily onward. The face of the woman who turned around and laughed was undoubtedly Hongyu. When Zhang Jiaoren realized this, his heart pounded with joy, and he started running to catch up with her. But no matter how he ran, the strange thing was that the distance between them always remained about five ken. Moreover, no matter how Zhang Jiaoren ran, the man and woman ahead made no effort to match his pace, continuing to walk leisurely as always.

Zhang Jiaoren’s body gradually grew more and more fatigued. Now even breathing became difficult. And yet Zhang Jiaoren continued to run with all his might. And so he continued to shout her name repeatedly.

“Hongyu! Hongyu! Hongyu!” he… However, the woman made no further attempt to turn around. Clad in Chinese-style clothes and accompanied by a corpulent old man, she was led by his hand and walked away leisurely. Then, at that moment, from ahead, a huge automobile came driving up to the old man. Seeing this, the old man raised his hand and signaled the automobile to stop. And waiting for the automobile to stop, he helped the woman in and settled her, then finally boarded himself.

At that moment, Zhang Jiaoren finally reached the side of the automobile and, in one fluid motion, leaped onto it. The automobile began to move at once. The door snapped shut.

“Hongyu!” With a choking shout, Zhang Jiaoren called out while looking around inside the automobile.

Inside the automobile, there was not a single human figure! “What the hell is this?!”

Like a man possessed, he let out a choked scream and immediately lunged at the door, but it—apparently locked from the outside—didn’t budge an inch. At that moment, the electric lamps that had been lit inside the automobile suddenly went out, and instantly the vehicle’s interior was plunged into darkness.

The automobile shrouded in darkness drove on and on under the moonlight.

13

The automobile shrouded in darkness drove on and on under the moonlight. Zhang Jiaoren sat on the cushion in the dark interior of the automobile. Though astonished by the unexpected turn of events, he steeled his resolve without panic and closed his eyes to await his fate. Uncertain of where or how it was going, the automobile drove swiftly onward. At some point, both windows were closed shut - no matter how he strained his eyes, he could no longer glimpse anything outside. Things can only happen as they are meant to. If I was prepared to have my life taken from me, there would be nothing left to surprise me. Go ahead - take me wherever you want!

He had been thinking in this manner when a bizarre incident occurred—one that would rattle even his steeled soul. And it happened none other than inside the automobile. For even as he sat there on the cushion with such resolve, he began sensing a presence—someone else in this pitch-black automobile. That is to say, on the cushion across from him, someone seemed to be sitting. Zhang Jiaoren shuddered. And he involuntarily let out a cry.

“Who’s there?!” Sure enough, a muffled chuckle came from across the darkness as he spoke. “Scared, Zhang Jiaoren?” asked a voice laced with mockery. “Neither scared nor surprised. Who are you?” “Not scared? How brave. But you will be soon enough.” “Asking who I am?” “Well now—who exactly am I?” “Who I am doesn’t matter.” “I’ve come bearing a mission from someone far greater than myself. All I need do is fulfill it.”

The unseen man on the opposite side laughed once more after saying this. Zhang Jiaoren felt anger welling up more intensely than fear. "You came here on a mission!" Zhang Jiaoren bellowed. "Then why don't you hurry up and fulfill that grandiose mission of yours!" "In that case, shall we get on with fulfilling it?" "For your sake, it would be better to take our time rather than rush." The man opposite laughed again. "There's no need for such consideration. "If you're going to take your sweet time, then I'll just have to speed things up on my end!"

“And how exactly do you plan to ‘hasten events’?” “By leaping at you—that’s how! I’ll beat you down—that’s what!” “How bold of you to be brave.” The unseen man laughed that unpleasant laugh again without any pretense of shame, then shifted to a more formal tone. “Mr. Zhang Jiaoren, extend your hand straight ahead. There should be something hanging in the space directly before you.” “That is my mission.”

Zhang Jiaoren wordlessly thrust out both hands. 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 courage did not waver. Defiance surged within him. "So you're saying this is the mission." "In other words, it's a murder mission." "I had a feeling it was something like that." "Rather than calling it a mission of murder, it would seem 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. “Mr. Zhang Jiaoren, take whichever of the two blades you prefer.” “I’ll take the remaining one as my weapon.” “Then shall we not cross blades inside this automobile?”

"I have no intention of fighting a duel for reasons I don't understand." Zhang Jiaoren declared.

“But that’s impossible!” The man opposite intimidated him. “I must follow my mission—I have to duel you.”

“You follow your mission—then go ahead and kill me. “And then 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 dagger. “A duel for reasons I don’t understand—I absolutely refuse to engage in that, I tell you.”

In Zhang Jiaoren’s words, a resolute determination was evident. Perhaps cowed by that resolve, the man opposite fell silent. The car’s interior was eerily silent and oppressive. The enormous automobile, bearing the two in its oppressive confines, drove on and on through the midnight-dark roads.

Fourteen

At that moment, the voice of the unseen man spoke up in a polite tone. “Mr. Zhang Jiaoren, farewell. I have seen your resolve.” “That is an admirable resolve.” “Most people would have lost consciousness by this point.” “Otherwise, they grab a dagger and start slashing wildly.” “In the end, they still end up fainting from terror.” “And then they die just like that.” “They have no choice but to toss the corpse from the automobile into the street.” “That police squad leader was among those who ended up as corpses.” “And yet you have boldly refused my demand and sit there with perfect composure.” “You are a hero.” “Your nerve has thoroughly impressed me.” “And thus, my crucial mission has been fulfilled naturally because of that.” “You have indeed passed through the first gate with true magnificence.” “As for the second and third gates, I have no knowledge of them.” “Mr. Zhang Jiaoren, farewell!” “We shall meet again somewhere, someday.”

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

In the sky, a wan moonlight shone as brightly as midday. Bathed in moonlight, the automobile’s hood glistened like silver. There wasn’t a single person on the streets. Down the deserted street, the automobile raced onward.

“To the ends of the world it may go! “I don’t care what happens to me!”

Zhang Jiaoren muttered irritably in the darkness. Then, at that moment, the monstrous automobile—having raced relentlessly as if finally exhausted—gradually began to slacken its speed. Then, at that moment, from ahead came a sound like a solemn gate opening—a creak——. And apparently, the automobile had entered through that gate, its speed slackening even further. Before long, it came to a stop.

Suddenly, the automobile door opened. Outside the automobile was also pitch dark.

Zhang Jiaoren nimbly leaped out of the automobile without hesitation.

Thus did Zhang Jiaoren escape from the terrifying “Death Automobile,” but thereafter, upon him occurred strange incidents even more dreadful than that deathly vehicle—one after another. And what’s more, all within that very same night. And regarding that incident, Zhang Jiaoren wrote in his own memorandum as follows.

(From Zhang Jiaoren’s Memorandum)...I stepped out of the automobile, but the surroundings were too dark to do anything. This seemed to be inside a building. As proof, no matter where I looked, neither moonlight nor starlight could be seen. And the building appeared vast. No matter how far I walked in any direction, my hands never touched planks or walls. How lonely I must have been standing there in that building! The automobile that had brought me had vanished without a trace. Even had it remained nearby, this darkness would have concealed it completely. The boundless true darkness finally began to unsettle my fearless heart. How desperately I yearned for sunlight and human voices! I stood trembling yet resolute in the blackness. Then unexpectedly, I noticed a faint rose-colored glow drifting toward me from nowhere. I looked around. What utter incomprehensibility! There at my feet—where only darkness had existed moments before—now gaped a circular hole less than two meters wide, vomiting forth rosy light! My chest throbbed violently under curiosity’s whip. I crept closer and peered into the hole. A spiral staircase plunged vertically downward from its maw. At the stairway’s end appeared to be a chamber where brilliant lamps blazed like noon. And from within came singing voices... as though many merry people gathered there.

I was utterly astonished and could not tear my eyes away. What a striking contrast! What an incredible sight! The place where I stood was enveloped in darkness—devoid of human presence and utterly terrifying. Yet in that underground room below, lamplight, singing voices, and merriment seemed to overflow. After some deliberation, I resolved to go to that room. Though the terror of darkness gnawed at me, I thought it more meaningful to descend and confront whatever horrors lay below than remain vacantly rooted aboveground—even should greater terrors await me there.

Thereupon I rose to my feet and set foot on the spiral staircase. And then I steadily descended the vertical staircase. When about ten minutes had passed, I finally discovered that I had arrived at the underground room.

Three sides of the room were walls. From the center of the ceiling, a chandelier directed countless light bulbs downward, brightly illuminating the room. There were no apparent decorations, but in the center stood a single round table upon which lay a sheet of paper bearing a blueprint. And there was yet another thing—a giant statue of an old man clad in Chinese-style clothing, imposingly positioned at the room’s entrance.

Fifteen As I looked at the statue, I came to understand whose bronze likeness this was. It was none other than Yuan Shikai, long since deceased. I pondered why Old Yuan's statue had been placed here, but found no logical explanation. The statue of Old Yuan stood not only here but also at the very center of the cross-shaped corridor. Before discovering this central effigy, I had explored every corner of that bizarre underground mansion. Corridors branching like spider legs! On both sides stretched rows of room doors. I knocked on several doors. No answers came from within. Yet despite the silence, lively voices suggested many occupants. These boisterous voices carried slurred, drunken tones as if their owners were intoxicated.

Then, still undeterred, I tried knocking on two or three more room doors, but again there was no response. All that could be heard was a jumble of muddled, slurred voices. From one room, I could clearly hear someone chanting a poem. Ancient trees pierce the heavens; the sun has already sunk. How many true heroes exist under heaven? Who claims lordship in this pavilion? The Great Leader comes, the Great Leader comes, the Great Leader comes. "So that's the poem they're chanting." Without giving it much thought, I kept walking steadily forward. And then I came before Old Yuan's bronze statue placed at the center of the corridor's crossroads, where I looked up at the figure and stood motionless.

Then, suddenly from the statue's shadow emerged a Chinese man. When I looked closer, the man turned out to be none other than that filthy old coolie who had appeared on Kinshukushi Street. He remained drunk today too. He walked unsteadily and precariously. "Oh!" I let out an exaggerated cry of surprise. But without so much as a glance my way, the old man began swaying toward the right—only to whisper once more at that moment.

“Keep moving forward steadily! Go on!” “Zhang Jiaoren!” “Left! Left! Keep going left!” “Lift the curtain at the end…” Having said that, the old coolie pressed himself against the statue’s shadow. Where he had vanished to now—no matter how I searched, his figure remained nowhere in sight. Resolved to adventure, I obeyed the coolie’s words and hastened my steps leftward again and again. After walking for over twenty minutes, the long corridor reached a dead end where a room stood. The door stood half-open, its interior brocade curtain’s hue faintly discernible. Without a shred of hesitation, I thrust aside the curtain and slipped smoothly into the chamber.

Ah, the dream-like appearance of this room! What a truly dream-like small room! What faintly perfumed the room was the sweet smell of opium. What dimly illuminated the room was the pale purple light. That seemed to be coming from the ceiling. Illuminated by the pale purple lamplight coming from the ceiling was a single faintly visible bed. A maiden in white lay upon it, serenely partaking of opium. When I saw the maiden’s face, my astonishment and joy were beyond the power of brush or words to express. The maiden was Hongyu—the very person I had been seeking. ……I ran up to the bed. And then I embraced Hongyu.

“You are Hongyu! Ah, Hongyu!”

As for the words I had managed to utter, they amounted to nothing more than these two brief phrases. Having let out just this much, tears streamed from my eyes like a waterfall. Then she—Hongyu—opened her eyes sleepily, stared intently at my face, and smiled strangely. Then she closed her eyes once more, but soon began to speak quietly. Her dreamlike tone of voice... “……I know you. “Zhang Jiaoren... right?” “That’s right… I faintly remember.” “And that I met you in the desert too!” “And then—yes!—that time we suddenly parted on Kinshukushi Street… That was so very, very long ago!” “Five years, ten years, twenty years—and during that time, I loved you!” “And you... me too... But it’s too late now!” “Of course!” “I belong to someone else now, you know.” “So let’s give up and become strangers… I don’t want you to cry, hey… Let’s just smoke opium instead.” “Smoke opium and smoke and smoke and smoke, and let’s forget our tears, shall we?”

“Hongyu! Hongyu!” “Ah, Hongyu!” “You’re drunk on opium!” “Your true self is paralyzed!” “Or if there truly exists someone who defiled your innocent self, then reveal that person to me!” “That’s right—reveal that person to me!”

I pressed her insistently in a nearly frantic, trembling voice. However, even when told this, Hongyu continued her delirious utterances.

Sixteen “You must know already.” “A strange poem has been spreading from Beijing to the countryside lately.” “Do you know its meaning?” “‘An ancient tree invades heaven as the sun sets’—this comes first.” “It means—listen—in China’s glorious past like heaven itself, an old tree spread its branches until sunlight could no longer penetrate.” “Then that sun finally set.” “The ‘sun’ means civilization... Next comes ‘How many heroes remain under heaven?’” “That line means exactly what it says.” “It declares there’s not a single hero left in such a China.” “‘Who claims mastery of this pavilion?’ That’s the third line.” “The ‘pavilion’ means none other than this underground mansion.” “The very place where we stand now.” “This is an opium den.” “But more importantly—the secret society’s main headquarters.” “You’ll ask what society I mean.” “What kind of secret society?” “I’ll tell you.” “A terrifying society plotting world conquest... And its leader—oh yes—that magnificent leader summoned me here! To him I devote all my love!”

“Who the hell is that bastard?! “Where the hell is that bastard?!” I inadvertently shouted. Hongyu’s delirious words wounded my heart so deeply.

Then, in the same tone, she told it to me.

“You must know that person.” “At the very least, you should know that person’s statue.” “A statue⁉ What kind of statue?” “It was standing in the hallway, wasn’t it?”

“That’s Yuan Shikai’s statue!” “That was his name long ago, wasn’t it?”

“Yuan Shikai was supposed to have died ages ago!” “The world may say that, but in truth, he is still alive.”

“A dream! A dream!” “Nonsense, it’s a dream!” “No such thing exists! “No such thing exists at all!” I tried to rebuke Hongyu in a furious, vehement voice, but found it impossible. For in that very instant, a distant siren’s wail shattered the basement’s silence. Then two more blared! Three more followed! Suddenly a tumultuous clamor erupted. Shouts of anger, desperate pleas, a woman’s weeping... then the sharp crack of a pistol! The metallic clatter of drawn sword scabbards! The police had apparently stormed the premises.

Without uttering a word, I hoisted Hongyu onto my shoulder. Then I ran out of the room. I dashed down the long corridor, veering right and left. The blazing firelight was blocking the corridor ahead. The basement seemed to be raging with flames. Choking on the smoke, I nearly collapsed in the corridor. 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 voice. Enveloped in smoke and treading through flames stood a Chinese man. He held two pistols in his hands, glaring straight ahead—none other than the filthy old coolie I’d encountered on Jinquanzi Street and before the statue! Though dressed as a laborer, when he tore off his fake beard and eyebrows, his true features revealed him to be none other than Rashinu, the Spanish star detective I’d betrayed and abandoned in the Lop Nur Desert! What words could I possibly muster? I burned with shame. Instinctively, I bowed deeply. Then I looked at the left wall. There it was—a single button.

When I pressed it, part of the wall became a door that creaked open inward; the moment I leapt through the gap with Hongyu in my arms, the door snapped shut.

In the pitch-darkness, I climbed the stairs with Hongyu in my arms, ascending upward with all my might. Having climbed the stairs to the end and finally emerged above ground, I found myself unexpectedly in an empty well in the garden of someone else’s house on Jinquanzi Street. And already, dawn had broken.

……(End of Memoir――)

It was the next day. In the Security Division room of the Republic of China Police Agency，fourteen or fifteen high-ranking officials surrounded Detective Rashinu，listening intently to his account. “After extensive analysis under those circumstances，I concluded that this phenomenon of an invisible force pulling people via unseen threads was simply hypnosis. With that hypothesis established，I proceeded accordingly.” “One evening while walking along Jinquanzi Street，I encountered a Chinese youth of aristocratic demeanor and a Turkish beauty strolling moonstruck toward me. I immediately recognized that one had fallen into a trance，so I discreetly issued a warning.” “This was because I already knew that young nobleman.” “True enough，after walking thirty paces，the Turkish beauty began running in that characteristic manner.” “The startled nobleman gave chase.” “Naturally，I followed suit.” “Though the nobleman collapsed midway，I continued pursuing her to the end.” “And what do you suppose happened? After racing all over Beijing，she returned straight to Jinquanzi Street!” “She then dashed into an abandoned pottery factory at the street’s edge.” “I followed her inside.” “A hole suddenly opened in the ground—stairs leading underground—which we descended.” “There we found an alarmingly vast and elaborate opium den.” “I conducted thorough investigations.” “I even secured architectural plans of that den.” “Through this，I identified its operator—a man called Yuan Gengsheng.” “He proclaims himself the reincarnation of Yuan Shikai.” “He’s reportedly establishing opium dens worldwide to corrupt humanity，boasting ambitions of global conquest while deluding the masses.”

“The reason such an elaborate opium den remained undetected until today was their meticulous vetting of all who entered or exited. Even when Yuan Gengsheng—the leader I mentioned—abducted people through hypnosis, he would test their mettle en route. Cowards were forced into self-hypnotic suicides and ruthlessly dumped on streets, while only the boldest were brought in. That’s how they preserved their secrecy.” Having finished his explanation, Detective Rashinu produced a cigar, lit it, and began puffing with evident satisfaction.

“Regrettably,” said Rashinu, narrowing one eye slightly, “we let slip through our fingers none other than the crucial leader Yuan Gengsheng. This was my failure.” Having said this, he gave a wry smile.

Part IV: Shanghai Night Tales

17

In a room at the England Hotel in the centre of Nanjing Road, the main thoroughfare of the British Concession in Shanghai, Detective Rashinu and his friend Danchon, "the painter who does not paint", were talking while smoking cigars. "Oh ho... So she's truly that much of a beauty?" "By the way, are you saying you want to make that beauty your model?" "It's all well and good to make her your model, but judging by your past behaviour, even if you had the finest model imaginable, you - being Danchon 'the painter who does not paint' - wouldn't actually paint her. That makes it rather pointless." "Or will you start painting from now on?"

“Of course I would paint her. “If such a stunning beauty were to stand on the model stand, my brush would just start moving on its own.” “You keep harping on this ‘beauty’ business, but listening to you, one would think this marvel hides behind a veil and never reveals her face.” “Though I’ve never seen her face, I can discern her beauty through her physique. “For a form so extraordinarily exceptional, it would be falsehood itself if it weren’t matched by equally exceptional features. “There’s no doubt she’s a beauty.”

“I see. As a painter, you must be well-versed in such matters.” “By the way, you say that marvelous beauty handed you a letter—don’t you find that a bit odd?” “Of course I think it’s strange.” “In other words, it’s precisely because I found it strange that I told you about it…” “It was precisely because I noticed your odd behavior and questioned you that you confessed this matter. Otherwise, you would have stayed silent and let yourself be lured by that beauty’s letter to go alone to the park’s music hall tonight without fail.” “Truly, I must say your behavior today has been utterly bizarre.” “You, the brutish one, are primping yourself.” “Smoothing your hair with oil, dabbing perfume on your handkerchief, fidgeting restlessly and constantly checking your wristwatch.” “That was hardly the behavior of a sane man... On any ordinary day, that might pass.” “As you well know—after we crossed the western deserts and came all the way to China’s capital to search for a buried treasure vault—the most important member of our party, Dr. Maharayana, contracted a local disease and couldn’t leave Beijing. While nursing him, we were asked by the Beijing Police Agency to assist with the Yuan Gengsheng incident, needlessly wasting days in the process.” “Even so, after Dr. Maharayana’s illness had finally healed—albeit imperfectly—no sooner had we come overland to Shanghai than the doctor fell ill again.” “Since that too has finally recovered, isn’t tomorrow the critical moment when we finally set sail for the South Seas?” “If you get all worked up over that, anyone would have to ask questions.” “It’s precisely because you asked that I told you.” “You wouldn’t have told me of your own accord.”

Though a faint smile lingered at the corners of Rashinu’s lips, his sharp eyes blazed with accusatory light. Danchon gradually lowered his head, blushed like a child, and had been listening in silence all this time—but at that moment, he abruptly raised his eyes. In those eyes floated an expression both troubled and pleading, so comically innocent that Rashinu nearly burst into laughter. He barely checked himself and declared sternly:

“Then you must go to the park’s music hall tonight to listen to music, exactly as that beauty specified in her letter to you. However, I won’t let you go alone. Of course, I’ll be keeping out of sight—but I’ll accompany you. Then we’ll see whether you succeed in convincing that beauty to model for you, or whether she captures you, strings you up by your heels, and makes you spill everything—let’s observe this romantic battle unfold. What a ridiculous spectacle this is!”

Having said this, Rashinu stood up. “If I recall correctly, the music begins at eight o’clock.” “Until then, you’ll have to endure and stay in Dr. Maharayana’s room or such. When eight comes, you may go out.” “In the meantime, I’ll take care of my own business.” “Though my business is merely strolling about town.”

Rashinu left the room. Then he left the hotel and walked toward Xiancheng.

Eighteen

Even Shanghai—sometimes called the "New York of the East" or "San Francisco of the East"—had its Xiancheng, a walled city area of old Chinese streets where decay, stench, and filth filled both roads and interiors, so repulsive that people with sensitive nerves detested even approaching it.

It was into this filthy walled city that Rashinu was walking. However, Rashinu did not attempt to head straight for his destination. He walked leisurely from the British Concession where he was, along the Huangpu River, toward the French Concession. Along his route lay the busiest streets in the concessions—namely, the Huangpu River waterfront and Suzhou Creek, their buildings lined up side by side, their thoroughfares standing in orderly rows. The streets were teeming with people. Carriages and automobiles rang their bells and raced down the wide road. The windows of three- and five-story buildings were all thrown open, revealing the neat figures of clerks busily at work. Golden signs bearing names like Shanghai Cotton Company and Guangdetai Cotton Ginning Factory—their inscrutable characters hanging from the eaves of houses—glittered in the sunset. Turning right onto Jiujiang Road, proceeding to the end of Fujian Road, and only then did Rashinu slowly set foot into the French Concession.

Compared to the bustle of the British Concession, the French Concession was somewhat quieter, yet refined and stylish in compensation. It was a street scene befitting the strolls of ladies accompanied by gentlemen, a young man who resembled an actor with a large diamond ring adorning his finger, and noblewomen wearing jade-adorned hats with jewels studded at the tips of their shoes. Rashinu walked quietly while sharply surveying his surroundings, focusing all his attention through his ears as he strained to catch a particular song. Yet no singing reached him. Footsteps, voices, laughter, and the clatter of objects could be heard everywhere he went—but the melody he sought remained absent from the cacophony. Having traversed the entire French Concession, Rashinu hesitated briefly before abruptly making a wide detour into the American Concession.

The American Concession lacked the elegance of the French Concession and the discipline of the British Concession; it was simply chaotic, surpassing prosperity to become downright noisy. Among the people walking through the streets, there were Indians and there were Turks. Hungarians ceaselessly puffing cigarettes, dark-complexioned Nubians, Japanese of modest stature, and quick-tempered Mexican merchants—all pressed by the might of gold—walked about with frantic desperation. The grand buildings of consulates and banks lined the streets, while warehouses, piers, post offices, and the like were arrayed everywhere. The Chinese merchants, the true owners of Shanghai, swarmed everywhere in the American Concession as its most cunning traders.

Rashinu walked leisurely while gazing at the scenery to either side, listening to the sounds rising around him as he steadily advanced forward.

But still, despite his fervent wish to hear it, that song remained out of earshot. Thus he passed through the American Concession with disappointment. And this time, quickening his pace, he resolutely pressed onward toward his destination—Xiancheng.

The streets gradually grew quieter. And the filthiness of the road made Rashinu narrow his eyes in disgust. When he came before the city wall separating the inner and outer city, as was his habit, he stood for a while in admiration, gazing at it. The city wall stretched thirty shinarri in circumference, constructed from stacked bricks and tiles, with formidable buttresses erected every half-chō along its parapet. Cannons first installed during the Long-Haired Bandit Rebellion still remained on the buttresses, but their barrels had rusted a bluish-black to the point of being nearly unusable. Tall grasses along the city wall grew thick and untrimmed by human hands, and the sparse red and white wildflowers blooming there lent a rustic charm. In ancient times, during the Warring States period, this had been the long-preserved castle of a man called Lord Chunshen, who was celebrated by the people of the world for keeping three thousand retainers. The castle had seven outer gates. All outer gates led to the old city district within the walls, and the Daotai yamen was located inside Dongda Gate. The county magistrate's yamen office was located at the center of Xiaodongmen.

At sunset—the signal to cut off traffic between the streets inside and outside Xiancheng's walls, separating the old district within the county city from the new district beyond—Rashinu hurried through one of the outer gates as dusk approached. The narrowness of the streets within the city walls made it impossible for two people to walk abreast. The deeply rutted road ran with flowing pig blood and cow fat, forming small gutters nearly everywhere. The stench from sewage buckets—mingling with aromas of onions, Sichuan pepper, mustard, and other vegetables favored by the Chinese—combined with thick smoke filling the air until it numbed people's sense of smell. From hovels like small boxes came infants' wails, women's shrieks, and the thwacks of bamboo sticks—all blending with stray dogs' barks crowding the alleys into a murderous chorus.

The streets were teeming with people, and everywhere Chinese people with exaggerated voices and gestures engaged in their back-and-forth of "Give in!" and "I won't!"—in other words, doing business. Everyone seemed busy. Weaving through those busy crowds, seemingly carefree young men wandered about while singing little ditties. Upon closer inspection, each and every one of them was a strapping young man in the prime of their lives. Moreover, they weren't even trying to work, instead walking about while singing songs. The song they were singing was precisely the one Rashinu had been wanting to hear.

Ancient trees encroached upon the heavens as the sun sank below. "How many true heroes exist under heaven?" "Who here claims mastery of this hall?" "The Great Leader comes! The Great Leader comes! The Great Leader comes!"

As they sang this song, the young men poured their strength into the final refrain of “The Great Leader comes! The Great Leader comes! The Great Leader comes!”, chanting with such fervor that it seemed they were waiting for that very Great Leader to majestically ride in from somewhere and reveal himself at any moment.

Rashinu walked slowly while pretending not to look or listen, observing their behavior. Then he cursed inwardly.

“Hmph, let them sing their fill—‘The Great Leader comes! The Great Leader comes! The Great Leader comes!’ indeed! What kind of Great Leader he might be—I’ve got his number figured out proper. No matter what bastard comes knocking, this nose won’t bat an eye. I’ll collar any scoundrel who shows his face. Anyone who gets in our way—Tom, Dick, or Harry—I’ll toss ’em all into hell’s cauldron without so much as a by-your-leave!” Rashinu then wandered aimlessly around the city for a while longer before making his way to the banks of the Huangpu River.

The Huangpu River, flowing northward past Xiancheng and the three concessions standing on its eastern bank, ran yellow and murky—yet spanned two hundred ken in width, its abundant waters bearing countless merchant ships, warships, and Chinese junks as it coursed toward the Yangtze River. The conspicuously large factories all stood on the eastern bank of the river, their giant chimneys and steeply sloped roofs densely crowding the sky. The clatter of heavy cranes in motion, beast-like whistle blasts, and leisurely Chinese-style calls reverberated through the soot-filled air. From the Oriental Shipyard’s factory came the sound of hammers, and from the isolated dock of the Dongjia Shipyard on the opposite shore came the sound of steam boilers.

Rashinu walked along the riverbank toward the American Concession, listening intently. Before long, the sun—like a scorched cannonball—spun round and round as it sank below the horizon of the plain, and soon the surroundings grew dark. From the distant direction of the county city, the creaking sound of gates being locked resounded with such solemnity as if announcing the end of the day, but along with that noise, workers emerged from factories here and there like swarms of ants. They exchanged weary greetings before scattering in all directions. After that, it became eerily quiet, and even the light of fire that suddenly spilled outdoors from two windows of a factory apparently working night shifts only made the desolation feel more profound.

The surroundings were eerily quiet. At that moment, from the water’s surface beneath the riverbank where Rashinu walked, a vigorous singing drifted up. It was that very poem again. Ancient trees encroach upon the heavens as the sun sinks below. ……… ………… The Great Leader comes! The Great Leader comes! The Great Leader comes! Rashinu frowned slightly and peered down at the water’s surface. A massive Chinese ship floated there, unlit, where the faint stirring of twenty or thirty shadowy figures caught his eye. Rashinu’s heart pounded as his eyes snapped wide open. He stealthily concealed himself beneath a willow’s shade and fixed his gaze on the scene. The singing from the ship soon ceased, plunging the surroundings back into silence. Then from the opposite shore—over two hundred ken away—the same chant drifted faintly across the water to reach Rashinu’s ears. When this song too faded, a solitary blue light abruptly flickered into existence within the darkness. Like a wandering soul, the blue lamplight swayed left and right before vanishing back into the void. Then from the Chinese ship at his feet emerged an identical blue light, swaying five or six times midair before extinguishing completely.

“Hmph, that’s some kind of signal.” Under the willow shade, Rashinu inadvertently muttered this and continued walking slowly while keeping a watchful eye on the Chinese ship’s movements. Then the Chinese ship shifted its hull imperceptibly, as though it hadn’t moved at all. The dark river surface rippled quietly as it slid stealthily toward a small pier a little over a hundred meters away. When the ship reached the pier, the Chinese men inside climbed onto the dock one by one. When over twenty figures had clustered on the pier like a blot of ink, a single large black box was lifted from within the ship. The figures on the pier simultaneously thrust their hands forward to receive the black box. Then once again, shadowy figures streamed out from within the ship and climbed onto the pier. Supporting a box on their shoulders and surrounding it, they walked with pious reverence as though bearing a sacred palanquin before a deity.

"Well, I just can't figure this out." Rashinu crossed his arms over his chest, made a grimace, and muttered. Then he emerged from the shade of the willow and gave chase to the palanquin, but upon remembering something and glancing at his wristwatch, he ceased pursuit.

It was ten minutes to eight! He alternated his gaze between the palanquin and his wristwatch, remaining still in thought for a while; then, as if having reached a decision, he swiftly turned his body around and broke into a sprint.

He ran toward the park.

At the confluence of the Huangpu River and the Wusong River stood the Settlement Park. To the north and east it faced water, while to the west it looked toward the British Concession. On the grassy hill within the park that faced the water stood the music hall. The dazzling electric lights illuminated the entire perimeter of the music hall so intensely that even the moles on the faces of the assembled audience members stood out vividly.

**XIX**

The music had already begun.

It was an Italian band—from their braid-studded outfits to the conductor’s bearing forming a rather dubious ensemble—but whether owing to their billing as “Italians,” the audience had amassed in a teeming crowd. The audience consisted entirely of Europeans without a single Chinese person. This was because a signpost declaring “No Chinese Admitted” stood imposingly at the park entrance. Rashinu mingled among the spectators and quietly surveyed his surroundings with keenly observant eyes. “The Painter Who Does Not Paint” His purpose was to locate Danchon. Danchon’s figure stood about ten ken to Rashinu’s left. The new hat and white tie—this boldly dressed-up appearance struck Rashinu as comical. Danchon—inherently possessing a rustic comicality—wore a nervous gaze, utterly indifferent to the music while restlessly peering about in hopes of discovering the beauty; it made for an altogether peculiar sight.

While suppressing his amusement, Rashinu kept watch over Danchon’s movements. At that moment, when Danchon’s eyes—which had been darting about restlessly—suddenly fixed on a particular spot, Rashinu muttered “Oh?” and turned his gaze in that direction. Sure enough, there was a woman there. Leaning against a pillar of the music hall was a European beauty in pale blue attire, her face concealed by a black veil, strolling gracefully with a slender figure. “Oh?” Rashinu involuntarily muttered again when he saw the woman. This was because the veiled woman looked unmistakably familiar.

"Hmm, where on earth did I become acquainted with that woman?" Rashinu tugged at the threads of memory in his mind for an instant, but he couldn't recall.

All the while, on the music hall’s stage, the awkward music continued. And the audience listened patiently in quiet attention. A serene, quiet scene of utter peacefulness steeped in exotic atmosphere. Rashinu kept straining his eyes, alternately watching the veiled woman and observing Danchon’s movements. He stood ready to give chase at any sign of suspicious behavior. Then from nowhere came a beast’s shrill cry. “Kee-kee! Kee-kee!” pierced the air. The crowd remained absorbed in the music, paying no heed to the animal’s sharp calls. They kept listening quietly. Only the veiled woman reacted—her body convulsed violently upon hearing that sound. As though compelled by the creature’s shriek, she suddenly slid through the crowd toward Danchon.

The veiled woman and Danchon pressed their bodies together and attempted to slip out from the audience's circle. Having noticed this, Rashinu likewise quickly parted through the crowd and emerged into the brightly lit square. When he looked straight ahead, the veiled woman and Danchon were heading toward a shadowy area thick with trees without so much as a sideways glance. Keeping a moderate distance between them, Rashinu followed after them. The sharp beast's cry—it was the cry of a mythical ape—could once again be heard from beyond the trees, past the iron fence on the pedestrian path outside the park at that hour. Guided by the cries, the veiled woman and Danchon slipped out through the park's rear gate. They quickened their pace and ran south along the pedestrian path. Three or four times now, the cries of the mythical ape came from ahead. Rashinu likewise broke into a run and chased after them.

After running some distance like this— From the shadow of a large, dark building, a Chinese man darted out like a leopard stalking its prey. Like a vigorous young man, his muscles were robust and his steps light as he chased after the couple. Rashinu was slightly startled and stared at the Chinese man, but

"Ah! That's him—that man!" He involuntarily muttered this. The moment he did so, he understood in a flash who the veiled woman was. The veiled woman and Danchon began accelerating their pace. They ran as though dancing. As if luring them onward, the shōjō's cries echoed repeatedly from ahead—sometimes sounding nearby, other times emanating from far away.

Even Rashinu's body—unacquainted with fatigue—had finally begun to grow somewhat weary. But of course, he had no intention of abandoning this pursuit. As they ran, he too ran like the wind.

How long had they been running like this? The place where countless merchant ships and sailboats floated on the Huangpu River—their masts and smokestacks dimly towering in the distant darkness—was where an unforeseen commotion erupted like lightning when the group arrived.

Twenty Just as they reached that point, the Chinese youth ran up and, as if overcome with yearning—or perhaps consumed with anxiety—shouted something while pulling the veiled woman into an embrace and planted a fierce kiss on her mouth. Then the woman, overwhelmed by shock, became as still as if she had fainted—or perhaps, depending on one’s perspective, like someone awakening from a nightmare and clinging to her guardian beside her—remaining motionless in the Chinese youth’s arms. The one startled was Danchon; as if their sweet romance had been violated, he—unlike his usual self—suddenly raised his fist and lunged at the Chinese youth. Just as combat was about to erupt between them, the shrill roar of a mythical ape resounded right beside their ears.

Then, from the darkness, twenty to thirty figures surged forth and enveloped the three. And at that moment, they even surrounded Rashinu, who had rushed over.

And thus began an incomprehensible struggle there. The twenty to thirty figures did not utter a single word. They continued their work in utter silence. They snatched the woman from the Chinese youth's arms. Five or six of them restrained the youth as he lunged forward in anger. At that moment they carried out a large pitch-black box and placed the veiled woman inside it with their hands. Seeing this, Danchon lunged at the box like a swooping bird. Then over ten of them pulled Danchon away from the box. In the commotion, the box's lid came off. And behold! Inside the box sat a mythical ape as large as a calf—tightly bound with iron chains—imposingly positioned by the pillow of the veiled woman who lay unconscious!

The lid was immediately closed. They hoisted the box and ran off toward the Huangpu River. The Chinese youth, who had been mercilessly knocked down in the street, staggered unsteadily to his feet upon seeing this, but— “Hongyu! Hongyu! Oh, Hongyu!” He collapsed again with this cry and lay completely motionless. He seemed to have lost consciousness. Next to him, who had lost consciousness, Danchon also lay collapsed in an undignified heap, having passed out.

Now then, what had become of Rashinu? He too lay unconscious on the street—but his unconsciousness alone was feigned. No sooner had he seen the mysterious group haul out the black box than he deliberately let himself be beaten down by them to observe their movements. The moment they departed, he sprang upright in the roadway. Without hesitation he dashed to Danchon’s side but, finding no danger there, raced instead to the Chinese youth’s prone form. Pressing close to his ear, Rashinu bellowed, “Hey—snap out of it, Zhang Jiaoren!” Seizing the young man’s wrist, he checked his pulse—faint but steady.

“All in all, this one wasn’t in danger.”

Rashinu muttered and stood up, thought for just an instant, then in the next moment quickened his pace and ran toward the Huangpu River.

When he reached the banks of the Huangpu River, Rashinu concealed himself in the shade of a tree and stared intently at the miraculous phenomenon in the river, his eyes gleaming with astonishment. On the water’s surface floated a Chinese ship. On its deck lay that black box resembling a coffin. Surrounding it, their group stood like statues. At the stern was placed a single lamp emitting a blood-red glow. They fell completely silent, their eyes fixed on the river’s downstream as if awaiting something. On the distant opposite shore as well, blood-red lights burned with an eerie intensity. The terrifying lights and the red lights here seemed to signal each other.

The surroundings fell utterly silent; even the sleepy blue lights dotting the masts and prows of merchant ships moored at various piers and basins now appeared dimmer. A clock tower somewhere faintly announced nine o'clock in the evening. The group aboard the Chinese ship remained quiet and silent. They were still gazing downstream. Rashinu, who was hiding in the shade of a tree, did not even attempt to move from his position. He watched their movements.

How many hours passed like this? Each time, the clock tower's clock rang out with an ominous sound. Thus, when the clock had drearily finished striking three times at 3 a.m., a ship appeared from downstream, parting the darkness. Though small, it appeared to be a swift merchant vessel. The speed of the merchant ship gradually began to slow. Continuing at a slow speed, it overtook and passed the Chinese ship, but when it had gone just about ten meters past, a strange phenomenon occurred. The reason for this was none other than— As the merchant ship advanced, the Chinese ship also began to move quietly, approaching the merchant ship’s side. Moreover, two Chinese ships—that is to say, those very Chinese ships that until just now had been far in the distance, showing only their lights—were also approaching.

As soon as the two Chinese ships pressed snugly against the merchant vessel's hull, a rope ladder was swiftly thrown over. With simian swiftness, their group swarmed aboard the ship. A sudden eruption of furious roars! Seven or eight pistol shots! Figures clashing in chaotic combat! The raid concluded in less than five minutes of struggle. Crew members lay collapsed on the deck like beads on a string. Overlooking them stood a white-haired nobleman encircled by numerous subordinates. In the lamplight held aloft by his underlings, his dignified bearing stood out clearly. He wore a Chinese robe embroidered with a coiled dragon and bore a crown upon his head—a slightly plump frame with somewhat short stature, piercing eyes beneath tightly pressed lips. Ah! Could this be the visage of Yuan Shikai—the former president, nay, former emperor of China?!

The merchant ship swung its stern around. And with extraordinary speed, it turned back the way it had come. Thus, a transport ship vanished into the darkness. Some time later, when a motorboat from the Water Police Station patrolling the waters happened to approach that area, they found two ownerless Chinese boats floating adrift on the waves. Finding this strange, they investigated but found nothing of note. Of course, the black box was no longer there.

Twenty-One

Having witnessed everything, Rashinu immediately turned back from there and returned to the scene of the struggle. Then Danchon alone still lay collapsed while unconscious, but Zhang Jiaoren's figure was nowhere to be seen.

"So it appears that bastard alone revived and hid himself somewhere." Rashinu made an unimpressed face as he thought this, but unable to abandon Danchon there, he dashed toward town at full speed to find an automobile for transporting him to the inn.

In the first-class cabin berth of a British steamship on the Borneo route lay Danchon—the “Unpainted Painter”—his entire body wrapped in bandages and wearing a pitiful expression as he stared fixedly at the mouth of Rashinu, who sat facing him while chattering away cheerfully. Rashinu continued his explanation. “You see, I had known all along—even before you revealed that there was a noblewoman tempting you, Danchon the Unpainted Painter—that not just you but all of us were being targeted by Yuan Gengsheng’s faction.” “As for how I knew—well, there was someone who told me.” “Who could it be but the folks from the Beijing Police Department.” “In other words, they sent me a coded telegram informing me that Yuan Gengsheng’s gang—who resented me for exposing their opium den at the Beijing Police Department’s request—had followed me to Shanghai with the intent to settle their grudge.” “When I saw that telegram, I instinctively thought this.” “No—rather, if they’ve truly pursued us to Shanghai, their aim isn’t to harm someone like me. I thought this: their true purpose must be to seize from our hands the objective we harbor—needless to say, our goal of journeying to the South Seas to seek the buried treasure. Revenge against me would hardly occupy their thoughts.” “Well, the reason I thought that,” he continued, “is because I discovered they possess nearly the same level of knowledge as we do about the treasure buried in the South Seas.” “As for where I discovered it—none other than their opium den.” “As for how I came to know this at the opium den—it was none other than because I discovered, in the women’s quarters of that very den, a beautiful Turkish girl named Hongyu who called herself the Desert’s Daughter.” “As for why Hongyu had become a prisoner in such a place—it seems she was drawn there by Yuan Gengsheng’s sorcery.” “Once one falls under his sorcery, even Hongyu must act in accordance with Yuan Gengsheng’s will.” “So I believe Hongyu told Yuan Gengsheng the location of the buried treasure when questioned.” “Well, if that’s indeed the case, then everything else falls into place naturally.” “First and foremost, they intended to skillfully capture one of us to extract more detailed information about the treasure’s location, which is why they marked you as their target.” “The veiled woman you tried to make your model was a decoy.”

“Even so, I never expected that veiled woman to be Hongyu.” “I didn’t know at first either… Hongyu should have been safe after Zhang Jiaoren rescued her during that opium den raid, but it seems she was taken back by Yuan Gengsheng’s sorcery afterward.”

“I never expected not only Hongyu but even Zhang Jiaoren to come rushing out.”

Danchon, still holding his head as if in pain, said in a groaning voice: “Truly, that man is pitiable. But he’s a likable fellow. He has courage unbecoming of a Chinese man—there’s something rather intriguing about him.” With a faint smile, Rashinu said: “He must have rushed out there to reclaim Hongyu. It seems Zhang and Hongyu are lovers, wouldn’t you agree? But never mind that—Zhang Jiaoren won’t stay silent and do nothing as things stand. He’ll likely push into the South Seas to compete with us. Zhang’s rivalry isn’t what’s fearsome—the true challenge lies with Yuan Gengsheng. Even under cover of night, their bold seizure of a steamship on the Huangpu River was an admirable maneuver—worthy of respect from foes. And their methods carried that Chinese-style absurdity—quite entertaining.”

“What means did they employ?” “They tied two Chinese boats together with a rope, stretched it underwater, and waited for their prey to get caught—that was their method.” “Indeed, the steamship got caught.” “The steamship, still snagged on the rope, kept plowing forward.” “As it advanced, the two Chinese boats drew closer.” “Finally, they pressed tight against both sides of the steamer’s flank.” “Once stuck fast like that, those boats wouldn’t easily break free from the steamer’s belly while being pulled by the rope.” “Then they hooked a rope ladder.” “Clambering up it like katydids, they leapt onto the deck.” “They blasted off five or six pistol shots.” “That settled their business.” “From what I saw, Commander Yuan Gengsheng must’ve been in the Chinese boat opposite where I stood.”

“But still—for what purpose was Silver Fur inside that box?!” Danchon suddenly widened his eyes and cried out fearfully. “That one?” Rashinu nodded. “I was surprised by that too.” “But I realized later—it was a sorcerously transformed orangutan.” “And it serves as Yuan Gengsheng’s proxy, you see.” “In other words—Hongyu’s watcher.”

“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 a hypnotist.” “But I was mistaken.” “He appears to be a Daoist fangshi.” “A fangshi uses evil beasts as his proxies—that’s the principle.” “By applying sorcery to such beasts, he strips away their animal nature and instead imbues them with his own will, transforming them into extensions of himself.” “This self-transformed beast then becomes his kusa-kanmuri (grass radical over tai plus yo).” “Therefore, Silver Fur acted as Yuan Gengsheng’s substitute.” “It was Silver Fur controlling Hongyu.”

Chapter Five: The Tailed Human Species Guarding the Treasure Vault (Part 1)

Twenty-Two

“When I read in the newspaper that your ship had been sunk by Chinese pirates near Labuan Island—why, my heart still races at the shock of it! But when you yourself sent a telegram saying everyone had landed safely, my joy was beyond words. And so I came rushing here without even taking proper provisions…”

Having crossed over to the South Seas long beforehand as the vanguard of this expedition team, Detective Rezard—upon seeing Detective Rashinu’s telegram—drove a car from Sandakan, the capital of Borneo where he had been staying while awaiting Rashinu’s group, and had just now arrived at the rubber plantation in Cook Village where Rashinu and the others were taking refuge. “Thank you for coming so promptly.” With no sign of fatigue in his demeanor and in his usual energetic tone, Rashinu first expressed his gratitude. Then, in his characteristically businesslike tone, Rashinu recounted the general course of this incident.

“...I’ll explain the details later, but when our ship reached the waters off Labuan Island, a vessel suddenly emerged from the island’s shadow and attempted to open fire.” “The ship appeared to be a merchant vessel, but since the muzzles of one cannon each at the bow and stern were glinting, it was immediately recognized as a pirate ship.” “They fired two or three cannon shots and then signaled for us to stop.” “Even if we had tried to flee, their ship appeared impressively swift, making escape impossible.” “Reluctantly, our vessel came to a stop.” “The pirate ship steadily drew closer.”

The passengers broke into panic. Wailing, roars of anger, voices praying to God! The pleasant voyage had transformed into a hellish scene in the blink of an eye. "After all, even pirates wouldn’t kill us if we stayed quiet and cooperative." "I steeled myself with the resolve that surrendering our valuables might save the ship. After conveying this plan to Dr. Maharayana and Danchon, I stood quietly on deck watching the approaching vessel. Something about its silhouette seemed familiar, so I raised my binoculars." "Then it struck me—I should have recognized it!" "That’s the Dutch steamship Yuan Gengsheng’s gang seized on the Huangpu River!" Damn it! I shouted. No time to hesitate! Lives hung in the balance. I ran toward the stern’s dinghy with Dr. Maharayana, Danchon, and Dr. Marshall in tow. We had to try escaping. With this thought, I loaded everyone into the dinghy, lowered it overboard, and jumped in myself. "Row!" At my command, they pulled at the oars with desperate strength. "The pirates swarmed our ship—plundering everything before ruthlessly scuttling it—but by heaven’s mercy, they never spotted our dinghy." Free from pursuit, we rowed onward. Yet no matter how far we went, no trace of land appeared. Night fell.

“Even when dawn broke, we still couldn’t see land. As for our disappointment then... With hunger, scorching heat, and parched throats, everyone was completely spent.” “Before long, night fell again.” “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, there had been no way to exert any strength.” “Before long, I dozed off.” “I didn’t remember how many hours I’d slept—must have been quite a while.” “When I jolted awake and looked ahead—there stood a rubber forest bathed in morning sunlight like a towering wall!” “Without thinking, I leapt to my feet.” “So I shook everyone awake and brought the boat ashore.” “Where there’s a rubber forest, there must be a rubber plantation.” “If there’s a plantation, there must be people.” “With finding them now our top priority, we pushed through the woods and indeed reached the plantation’s front.” “The joy of that moment nearly made us shout in triumph.” “‘Under these circumstances,’” he concluded, “‘we’ve been living under the plantation owner’s protection until today.’” “‘When we learned Sandakan was less than thirty miles away by motorcar—a road connecting it to the plantation—we had the clerk send you a telegram late yesterday. That you came so quickly must hearten everyone.’”

Rashinu slowly stood up, went to the window, and peered outside, but “Everyone went outside earlier saying they were going to check on the rubber forest, but they should be back soon.” Having said this, he sat down on the sofa and lightly closed his eyes as if contemplating future adventures.

The interior of the log cabin-style building was quiet for a while. The midday sun streamed through the window from the tops of the rubber forest, casting speckled patches of golden light upon the wooden walls of the room. Birds of the South Seas, unlike any ever heard before, flew from the forest into the square, singing in crystalline voices as they glanced sidelong toward the window—their song seemed to comfort the patients lying within the room. From various places in the forest, the rustic songs of native maidens collecting rubber sap also resounded. A melody imbued with the mournful tones of a nation’s decline, yet lively and expansive….

Twenty-Three

At that moment, Dr. Maharayana opened the front door and entered, but—seemingly unaware of Rezard’s presence—hurriedly addressed Rashinu. “Do listen to the song! The song of the native maidens!”

“I have been listening to it since earlier...” Rashinu replied magnanimously. “So what do you make of that song?”

Dr. Maharayana’s tone was serious. “I’m afraid that’s a difficult question to answer." “I am a Spaniard, not a Borneo native, so I can’t even understand the lyrics of the song.” “Ah, I see,” Dr. Maharayana frowned. “This was my mistake… Then I shall translate it for you.” “The lyrics are quite simple, so...” Then, Dr. Maharayana proceeded to translate the natives’ song in a sing-song tone. Long, long ago, in ancient times, Two giant birds dwelt

“Shall we not create humans?” When one giant bird said this,

"That sounds splendid." The other one also said this. The very first thing they made was It was a great great tree. The second thing they made was It was a hard hard stone. "You can’t make humans from trees!" "You can’t make humans from stones either!" "Shall we make them from water and earth?" "That sounds splendid."

That which was made from water and earth Was our ancestors, the Honorable Humans! Earth piled up and became a mountain. Water accumulated and became a lake. Protected by mountains and lakes, Our ancestors dwelled. Surrounded by lakes and mountains, The ancestral treasure was kept. Having finished translating, the elderly doctor looked directly at Rashinu and spoke in an earnest tone. “Protected by mountains and lakes, our ancestors dwelled. Surrounded by lakes and mountains, the ancestral treasure was kept... What do you make of this song’s meaning? Don’t you think there’s a vein connecting the objective of our upcoming treasure vault expedition and the one implied meaning contained within this song’s lyrics? ......”

Then, at that moment, Rezard—who had been silently standing next to the doctor until then—interjected from the side. “I believe there is indeed a great deal… Actually, I too have been told many times by the Borneo natives stories that carry the exact same meaning as this song’s message.” “In other words, precisely for this reason, we postponed exploring Australia and prioritized Borneo instead. After several consultations via letters and telegrams with Mr. Rashinu, we privately agreed between ourselves to first land at Sandakan en route to Melbourne in Australia and explore Borneo’s interior by any means necessary.” “Not at all—for us, the natives’ songs and legends can never be dismissed as nonsense.” “First, my objective—to discover the great treasure said to have been hidden by the Lop people, desert dwellers who lived thousands of years ago, at the time their nation fell—is already something grandly legendary, in the manner of an old tale.” “Moreover, since we currently have no definitive clues regarding the discovery, if we don’t at least use the natives’ legends or folk songs as one clue, we’ll have no starting point…”

Dr. Maharayana looked at Rezard’s face in surprise, but— “Oh, you’re Mr. Rezard!”

“It’s excellent that you’re unharmed, Doctor.” “You were supposed to be in Australia?” “Indeed, I was in Australia as well.” “However, due to those circumstances I just mentioned, I had come to Sandakan City in Borneo some time ago.” “I see,” the Doctor furrowed his brows, “so you’re saying you’ll explore Borneo before Australia… I had no idea.”

“To maintain absolute secrecy, I haven’t mentioned it until now.” “Then our being attacked by pirates and taking refuge in Borneo wasn’t such a loss after all.” “It must be heaven’s blessing.”

The three laughed merrily and heartily. From within the forest, a maiden’s song could still be heard peacefully. In the midday light, the treetops shone like gold.

24

At the entrance of the Borneo Government Office, people gathered like a mountain. The southern sky was perfectly clear, and the morning sun glittered brilliantly. The birds singing from their hiding places among the palm leaves also seemed to celebrate today’s departure. A car quietly parted the spectators and slid forward. Inside the car, Rashinu, Danchon, Dr. Maharayana, and Mr. Marshall sat in their seats with faces brimming with vigor, perfectly composed. In their efforts to get a good look at this brave expedition team, the crowd pressed around the car. On the government office balcony, the Governor and Sandakan City's dignitaries were lined up holding bouquets. On the road, police officers stood lined up, loudly controlling the crowd. National flags were erected at the gates of every house, and from the tented squares at every street corner came the sound of a band.

At that moment, the Governor threw a bouquet into the car from the balcony above while praying for the expedition’s success and the team members’ safety. Following suit, the dignitaries rained down the bouquets they each held in their hands. The band began playing a march. The crowd of spectators let out a roar. Amid the chaos where sounds, colors, and human faces intermingled, the car slowly began to move. Once out of the city, the car charged forward at twenty miles per hour. Their destination was the forest. In that forest, Rezard waited while guarding various expedition tools. Thus the car pressed onward until passing noon that day, when several white tents came into view gleaming in a distant rubber tree forest. As the car drew closer, cheers welcoming the party could be heard from within the forest. Surrounding the pure white tents, bronze-skinned natives swarmed like flies. Among them stood a young gentleman in starkly white summer attire, waving his hand to look out—undoubtedly Rezard.

The car sounded its horn, gradually slowing its speed as it drew closer to the forest. And when it came to a complete stop, the car was surrounded by a crowd of natives so dense that movement was impossible. They all raised their hands in unison and let out strange cries to celebrate the safe arrival.

Rashinu’s party alighted from the car and pushed through the natives as they followed Rezard toward the tents. The scene within the forest was filled with liveliness and bustle, as if an army had camped there. Horses and water buffaloes grazed on grass while constantly swishing their tails to prevent small insects from gathering. Natives burned fires, all of them nearly half-naked with straw sandals on their feet, stamping the ground in a pattering manner as they conversed in the Bornean language and occasionally burst into loud laughter. Natives drew their bows, letting arrows whiz toward the depths of the rubber tree forest—at which moment a South Seas hawk plummeted like a bullet from the grove above. Natives maintained their weapons, blew copper flutes, and raced one another.

As if presiding over dozens of tents, an enormous tent stood imposingly tall at the center, and Rashinu’s party entered it. Rashinu looked around his surroundings and then posed a question in an official tone. “Have the natives not had a single escapee?” “They’ll start to trickle away eventually, but not a single one has escaped so far.” Rezard also replied in an official tone.

“So that makes a total of a hundred men?” Rashinu gave a slight nod. “None of the expedition tools have been stolen, I trust?” “I’ll proceed with an inspection for now.” The examination of equipment filling two tents commenced. One shelter contained weapons systematically arranged—seventy rifled barrels, ammunition cases holding ten thousand rounds, fifty-kanme gunpowder crates, a single small-bore cannon, sectional boats in five parts, twenty automatic rifles, innumerable pickaxes, axes, shovels, saws, bugles, national flags, and endless sundry implements... The adjacent tent stood heaped with provisions like a mountainous cache. Hidden among these lay boxes containing thousands of ornamental beads, garish-hued garments, and countless playthings—tools for pacifying primitive tribes. Not one weapon or supply item showed signs of pilferage.

That night was spent there overnight, and the next day, the expedition team finally set out for the interior. They departed energetically along the bank of the Bambaiya River, whose width spanned approximately two hundred meters. The fifty-strong native army—composed of various ethnicities including Achin, Malay, Zangibari, and Mahomedan—took the lead; following behind them advanced a group of white men; and bringing up the rear, a baggage unit solemnly pressed forward under the guard of another fifty native soldiers. The great forest, untouched by human footsteps for hundreds of years, covered the sky in such density that even daytime grew dim as twilight. Through weeds, dwarf bamboo, ferns, and katsura trees towering taller than a man’s height, a party of people and horses writhed forward. If the vanguard unit cleared a path by chopping down live trees with axes and saws, broke rocks to open fields, filled rivers to build bridges for the convenience of the rear unit, then those in the rear strove to keep vigilant watch to avoid attacks from cannibal tribes like the Dayak and Makiri. When the vanguard unit beat drums, the rear unit would beat drums as well; when the white unit blew trumpets, the native army would blow trumpets too. And from time to time, they would raise war cries to prevent wild beast attacks. All the white men rode horses, and even among the native army, only the chieftains were mounted on Borneo ponies. They waited for dawn to advance the army and made camp while the sun was still up. They sent out scouts and established sentries to prepare for sudden attacks. Their day’s journey was a mere two ri; with one hundred ri remaining to their destination, this would be a journey of approximately two months. Moreover, whether there truly was a treasure vault at their final destination remained unclear at this point. Moreover, there was another matter weighing on Rashinu and his group’s minds. Could it be that Yuan Gengsheng’s faction of pirates had also landed on this island, heard the natives’ songs and legends, deduced the location of the treasure vault, and organized their own expedition to head inland in search of it? If they had gone, they should have had far greater advantages than our white expedition team. This was because it was customary for Borneo natives to show goodwill toward Asians. By taking advantage of the natives’ goodwill, might those Asian pirates not choose a shortcut to penetrate the interior and achieve the discovery of the treasure vault a step ahead of us? This was precisely what Rashinu and his group feared. Therefore, they drove the native army to press into the interior as quickly as possible. However, no matter how much they drove them onward, they could not traverse the rugged path choked with thorns any faster.

25 As they pressed onward, each time they arrived at a native village—that is, at a village—they would bring out decorative beads and toys to show them and exchange these for provisions. They traded rice, vegetables, chickens, eggs, chili peppers, plantains, cocoa, and the like. The natives of the village did not show as much hostility toward them as they had imagined. They brought out stored food supplies and exchanged them without hesitation. And they hospitably entertained the party by holding a native-style banquet. Wearing helmets adorned with feathers and donning necklaces of human teeth, gripping polished spears in their hands, they descended into the banquet grounds and performed a triumphant warrior dance with fierce valor. However, there were also tribes that occasionally showed hostility toward the party. When they reached Bambaiya Lake at the source of the Bambaiya River, suddenly poisoned arrows were shot out from a reed thicket. Five or six of the allied natives were struck and collapsed to the ground. Startled by this, the allied natives all retreated at once but soon took careful aim with their rifles and unleashed a volley. As they peered through the gradually dissipating smoke toward the lake, they saw approximately fifteen or sixteen canoes fleeing in frantic disarray. There appeared to be numerous casualties. The allied natives, gaining momentum, attempted to pursue the enemy along the shore, but Rashinu did not permit it. He feared there might be an ambush. Upon examining their wounded, they found all injuries to be shallow, but as the arrowheads were coated with deadly poison, the injured writhed in agony. And they gradually weakened. Dr. Marshall racked his brains and devoted himself to the wounded, but only two of them breathed their last that night. After burying the natives' corpses, the group pressed onward. When they arrived at a village, strangely enough, the settlement was empty. Not a single native was in sight.

Not a single native was in sight. There, reassured, the party set up their tents in the village clearing, decided to make that their lodging for the night, and each prepared to sleep. Around what seemed to be midnight, suddenly flames erupted all at once from the village houses, and the party realized for the first time that they had fallen into the natives’ trap. The flames continued to envelop the tents, assailing them from all directions. Through the rising sparks, poisoned arrows came raining down like a downpour. The ignorant natives, terrified of the fire, did not even attempt to extinguish it and were trembling. The horses, water buffaloes, and Borneo dogs—all livestock brought from the city to carry luggage—fearing the flames, severed their reins and attempted to charge into the fire. Precisely because the allies possessed gunpowder, the degree of danger was immense. When the flames began burning through the tents, the gunpowder would explode. If the fifty-kan gunpowder box were to explode all at once, the lives of over a hundred expedition members would be blown to smithereens!

Rashinu, Rezard, Dr. Maharayana, Danchon, and Mr. Marshall could only stand helplessly staring at the raging flames, unable to do anything. The crackling of flames spreading through palm and rubber trees as tree oil sputtered, the rumbling collapse of burning huts, and the enemy’s war cries churned the primeval forest’s night—untouched by axes for millennia—into a battlefield. At that moment, from among the four chieftains, the Zanzibari chieftain came running up panting heavily, seized Dr. Maharayana, and began speaking rapidly.

Dr. Maharayana interpreted... "The chieftain says that if you give him a hundred decorative beads, he will make peace with the enemy natives, put out the fire, and bring them to meet you." "If decorative beads can secure peace, we’ll hand over two hundred—no, three hundred of them!"

Rashinu joyfully shouted this. Dr. Maharayana interpreted this. Then the chieftain whirled around, clambered up a nearby coconut tree to look down upon the enemy natives, and from there began roaring loudly. Strangely enough, arrows then ceased coming from the enemy side altogether. Soon after, the flames weakened bit by bit until they died out. The danger had completely passed. Not only had the danger departed—they had gained fifty new allies. This occurred because the tribal natives who had been enemies until now proposed selecting fifty able-bodied men to join the expeditionary force, which Rashinu immediately permitted. Those tribal natives were in fact Zanzibaris. Thus they promptly accepted their own Zanzibari chieftain's proposal and effortlessly achieved peace.

The 150-member expedition departed the village the next day and continued their journey into the interior.

The endlessly stretching great forest! Mountains and rivers within the forest! Bottomless swamps and crocodile-infested streams! Pressing onward deeper and deeper, they advanced for a full month until they crossed beyond British territory and entered Dutch lands. And so they continued pressing on, their targeted destination now drawing near.

At that moment, they clashed with a large tribe of the hardy Dayak people. Several minor skirmishes were fought. The cannibalistic Dayak Tribe proved even more ferocious than the rumors had suggested. The allied natives, fearing them, did not attempt to advance. The moment they caught even a glimpse of them, they would throw down their weapons and flee. If reprimanded, they would flee the party out of fear of punishment. More than ten had already fled. When fleeing, the natives would steal guns and decorative beads as they escaped.

One night, a song suddenly drifted over from the enemy position. It was unexpectedly that very poem. Ancient trees pierce the heavens as the sun sinks below. How many true heroes exist under heaven? How many here in this tower are true masters? The Great Master comes! The Great Master comes! The Great Master comes! Hearing this poem, Rashinu said bitterly: “Just as I feared—it seems Yuan Gengsheng has tamed the Dayak Tribe and cleverly turned them to his side.” “With those pirates now allied with them, breaching that Dayak stronghold won’t be easy.” “We’ve no choice but to build a solid fortress on our end too.”

And thus, preparations for a prolonged war between both armies finally began.

26

(Zhang Jiaoren’s Memoir) …Where should I begin? My mind was in chaos. How was I to explain? I was utterly lost in a fog... Even retrieving Hongyu—who had been taken—from the opium den through Detective Rashinu’s kindness and bringing her back to the Yanle Hotel had been but a fleeting moment of joy. One day before my very eyes, she leapt from the window and vanished once more. She had been lured into Yuan Gengsheng’s heretical cult and made a victim again. From that moment on, I became a madman. The reason I had come down from Beijing to Shanghai pursuing Yuan Gengsheng was to reclaim Hongyu. Yet no matter how I searched, Hongyu’s whereabouts remained unknown. I finally resigned myself and resolved to depart for the South Seas. I resolved to seek out the treasure vault. Having exhausted all my funds, I found myself completely penniless at that juncture. After much deliberation, I resorted to my usual specialty and secured employment as a cook aboard a British ship plying the South Seas route. On the eve of our scheduled departure—finally set for the morrow—I found myself walking along the coastal road beyond the park’s fence. From within the park’s music hall drifted the sound of wind instruments. The rustle of wind through fresh leaves stirred the park’s tree-lined paths. It was an exceptionally tranquil night.

As I casually walked past, a veiled young woman hurried away in the opposite direction. Though her appearance had changed, how could I ever forget her! That was unquestionably Hongyu. My subsequent actions now strike even me as utterly foolish... I suddenly lunged forward and grabbed Hongyu in my arms. A large European man who had been pursuing her from behind abruptly intervened. ...Then countless figures burst from the darkness, knocked both me and the European down, and tried forcing Hongyu into a box. ...From that box emerged a massive orangutan! When I revived from unconsciousness, everything lay deathly silent around me - only that European man remained collapsed like a corpse. With my minor injuries allowing movement, I dragged my exhausted legs into the steamship's cook quarters and sank into profound sleep.

The voyage proceeded remarkably smoothly. We passed through the Taiwan Strait without incident and soon arrived in Hong Kong. The voyage was once more resumed, heading southeast into the South China Sea. Keeping the Philippine Islands to our left, we gradually drew closer to Sandakan, the capital of British Borneo. The voyage had been safe thus far. However, when the ship happened to approach the vicinity of Labuan Island around noon, a great disaster suddenly occurred. That is to say, pirates—Yuan Gengsheng’s ship—sank the steamship.

I jumped into the sea. Into waters teeming with sharks and predatory fish. Yet I swam on unmolested for what felt like hours. Then a dinghy materialized beside me as if conjured by the waves. Working my exhausted limbs like rusted machinery, I hauled myself aboard. No survivors greeted me—only crimson flesh fragments staining the hull. There lay scattered: an oar, a revolver, bullets, a fountain pen, and notebook—all blood-smeared relics. Some poor soul must have commandeered this craft fleeing pirates. Only to be gunned down mid-escape—their corpse now fish food while I inherited their leavings. A grim exchange, but fortune favors survivors! Scanning the horizon revealed neither pirate sails nor our sunken steamship's silhouette. I exhaled relief through salt-cracked lips and took up the oar. Nightfall came swift—that velvet thief of visibility. Starvation and exhaustion conspired to drag me under. Sleep now courts death! Yet even this knowledge couldn't stop oblivion claiming me—a siren song I lacked strength to resist.

……How many hours must I have slept…… Someone was rubbing my entire body. Though delicate, rough hands were rubbing my entire body. The pleasant tactile sensation soothed my body, paralyzed by fatigue and pain. It seemed my consciousness was gradually returning. I tried desperately to open my eyes—to see the kind soul who had cared for me—but my heavy eyelids only grew heavier, and I could do nothing about it. Even so, I tried. And finally, I opened my eyes slightly and tried to look around. Then, at that moment, the hand that had been stroking my body stopped. No matter how much I looked around, there was no sign of anyone who could have been that person. But there was one strange thing here: a large shelter made of palm leaves to protect me from the sunlight covered my body. And there were footprints in the sandy ground. They were barefoot human footprints. The footprints continued all the way to the great forest behind the coast. When I looked at the shore, there was a moored boat floating in the water, and inside lay the pistol and fountain pen, just as before. I crawled there and retrieved those items, but I could no longer even crawl. I rolled onto my stomach on the sand like a log and sank 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. Putting a palm-leaf hat on my head, fastening a pistol and bullet belt around my waist, and concealing the notebook and fountain pen beneath my underclothes, I entered the forest.

Above all else, I proceeded forward relying on the footprints to find my benefactor who had revived me, but upon entering the forest, they were obscured by weeds, and I could no longer track them down. The weeds stood tall and overgrown, reaching above head height, and the forest interior was dark as night. The tall trees stretched rapidly skyward; leaves upon leaves thickly overlapped, creating a green canopy that spanned several blocks or even miles. A primeval stillness dwelt within the forest. No birds sang, no human figures were present, and even the wind, blocked by the wall of leaves, did not blow into the forest depths.

Overwhelmed by nature’s solemnity，I stand there in a daze. What on earth should I do? What am I supposed to do now? Thinking this，I shudder at my own terrifying fate.

Twenty-Seven

As I stood bewildered in the forest, wondering which way to go, another miracle appeared before me. As if saying "Come this way!", hadn't the tall grass been cut down to form a path here?! "This must be the owner of the footprints." I thought this immediately. Without a moment's hesitation, I walked along the path deeper into the forest. How many hours must I have walked? My body had grown as limp as cotton. I couldn't take another step. Even while imagining how wild beasts' fangs or venomous snakes' teeth would sink into me if I collapsed here, I could do nothing about it. I plopped down onto the fern-covered ground. Sleep immediately came over me. I seemed to have fallen asleep. Even in slumber, I felt hands touching my entire body - delicate yet rough palms maintaining constant contact.

I had no idea how long I had slept. When I opened my eyes and looked, it appeared to be morning; through the thickly layered canopy of leaves, two or three streaks of sunlight shone like golden threads. The various leaves in the forest swayed in the morning breeze, dancing up and down as if they were delighted. And by my pillow, fresh fruits had been placed. After finishing breakfast with those, courage filled my body. Slowly, I stood up and attempted to resume my journey through the forest. At that moment, when I casually looked around, a huge Borneo tiger lay dead in the weeds right beside me, pierced through by a poisoned arrow. I involuntarily leapt up. With every hair on my body standing on end, I trudged to the side of the carcass.

“Last night, when this brute tried to make me his prey and attacked, that unseen benefactor must have shot him dead with a poisoned arrow.” My heart swelled with gratitude until I thought it might burst. I became consumed by the notion that I wouldn’t find peace unless I discovered this benefactor by any means necessary and poured out my heartfelt thanks. I pulled out the poisoned arrow and examined it closely. It was a native’s bow and arrow. The arrowhead’s tip was thickly smeared with amber-colored poison. Keeping the arrow as a memento, I carefully held it while advancing aimlessly. Just like yesterday, a narrow path had formed through the weeds. When the morning wind died down, the forest fell silent again, not even sunlight penetrating clearly now. The grass grew taller still. The towering trees thickened until I couldn’t imagine where they might end. No state could feel lonelier than my current predicament. Yet believing my guardian watched over me constantly from somewhere, I felt neither loneliness nor fear. I let my imagination run wild about this benefactor. Given the poisoned arrows, it had to be one of the island’s natives. But recalling those delicate hands that had stroked me, it didn’t seem like a man’s touch. Then could it be a native woman?

"There's no reason a native woman would go out of her way to protect a Chinese youth like me." As I thought this, my desire to catch even a single glimpse of my benefactor burned ever more fiercely. When noon arrived on the third day of my forest journey, the trees began to thin out slightly. I emerged onto a hillock where faint traces of blue sky and sunlight could finally be glimpsed through the canopy. Three oak trees stood atop the hill's crest, their branches supporting a wooden hut weathered by storms some six meters above ground. A sturdy rope ladder hung beneath it - conspicuously new compared to the aged structure. I climbed the slope and studied the hut carefully. Its construction suggested it had been built long ago for hunting dangerous beasts, though clearly abandoned now. True to its purpose as a hunter's shelter, every detail spoke of defensive preparation: three gunports spaced at regular intervals along each plank wall, a rusted but solid iron plate serving as its front door.

Just to be safe, I called out toward the hut several times. Of course, there was no response. So I resolved myself and slowly began to climb the rope ladder. Inside the hut, as expected, there was no sign of human habitation. It echoed hollowly. Large tropical spider webs 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. The inner small room appeared to be a bedroom, with tattered bedding laid out.

"It seems five brave hunters had shut themselves inside this hut to hunt Borneo tigers, orangutans, and Malayan wild boars, firing their rifles through the gunports." "Having obtained plenty of game, they must have abandoned the hut as it was and departed for somewhere." "Judging from the state of the plank walls weathered by wind and rain and the dust accumulated on the floor, it seemed the hut had been built three years, five years—or even earlier." While thinking this, I still surveyed the room. Then, although I hadn’t noticed until now, on the table in the corner of the room, fruits were piled high, and even drinking water was served in a bowl made from coconut shells. I was slightly startled and opened my eyes wide, but even so, I immediately realized—

“That invisible benefactor must have sent lunch,” I thought. There, I sat on the wooden chair and enjoyed 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 hung there moments earlier had vanished entirely. I stood frozen, unable to even form a coherent thought. “What in the world happened here?” My voice echoed pointlessly as I scanned the room. “This can’t be real!” There at my feet lay the palm rope ladder, neatly coiled. “Who pulled this up? It had to be the ‘benefactor’! But why would they do this?”

“What on earth could they mean by this?”

I thought for a while. A beam of light began to glisten whitely within my chest.

"That's it!" I slapped my knee. "This must be their riddle telling me to inhabit the hut! They cleared weeds to forge a path, guided me here, then withdrew the ladder—no other interpretation holds... If they mean for me to stay, then stay I shall. It seemed serviceable enough for shelter while evading wild beasts. Better to remain here than wander directionless through these woods."

I suddenly made up my mind and began cleaning the room. Then, I hung the rope ladder myself and headed into the woods to gather dead grass—intending to make bedding with it—parting the weeds as I went. It took that day and the next—two days in total—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 to me, but there was no telling when that might stop. If I didn’t focus on supplying my own food and drinking water, I would face hardships… Having arrived at this conclusion, I began earnestly searching every day for the locations of fruits and springs.

I thought to myself like this… "Considering they built such a sturdy hut for hunting wild beasts, there’s no way they would have abandoned it after just ten or twenty days." "They must have holed up in this hut and lived here for a month or two—no doubt about it." "They might have holed up there for six months or even a year." "During that time, would the hunters have lived off the food and water they brought from the city?" "Five hunters’ provisions for a year!" "That was quite something." "It would be impossible to store such a massive amount of provisions in this hut." "So what did they do?" "In my estimation, they must have been procuring food and water from the forest near the hut!" "So I'll find it in the forest too."

Fortunately, this idea of mine was soon substantiated by fact. In a forest no more than half a mile away, I had found both. Namely, the spring and the fruit trees……

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

28 The orchard I discovered had large coconut palms, betel nut palms, pineapple trees, and banana trees, their branches bending under the weight of half-ripe fruits that hung down to the ground. At its center, an artificial spring piled up with stones on all sides gushed forth. Though covered with moss and leaves, the jade-like water showed no cloudiness. When I scooped it into my palms and drank, it proved to be unusually soft water imbued with an aromatic fragrance and natural sweetness.

After finding the orchard and spring, I suddenly felt reassured, and anxiety no longer accompanied my daily life. For someone like me who followed a vegetarian diet, not being able to eat fish or meat caused little hardship—evidently my discovery of the orchard had been observed by that “Unseen Benefactor,” who consequently stopped bringing fruits and fresh water. Instead, one day they stealthily brought me a native-style bow and arrows. They also provided flint and steel. Thanks to this, I became able to hunt birds and beasts thereafter, roasting their meat over fire to savor it. How I must have craved but a pinch of salt at that time! Having none, I would squeeze fruit juice to soak the meat before eating it sparingly.

My daily life mirrored Robinson Crusoe’s exactly. In the hut, I maintained a journal. For breakfast, I ate three bananas, a fig, and a quarter of a coconut. Until noon, I sat pondering various matters. Then I would go hunting—fastening a pistol and cartridge belt around my waist, gripping a native-style bow in hand, carrying a quiver on my back as I entered the forest. While hunting, I persistently sought that “Unseen Benefactor.” Wondering where this benefactor dwelled and hoping to discover his native tribe, I wandered freely through the woodland. After half a day’s hunt, I returned to the hut while daylight lingered and began preparing dinner. At night, I soaked wicks in animal oil to draw faint light from them.

Even if I lit the lamp, there wasn’t a single book at hand to comfort my heart! What can I say about this loneliness! If I called it loneliness, then everything was steeped in loneliness. The sound of the storm sweeping through the forest, the leopard howling on the hill, the fox growling in the thicket. ……

One night, when I peered through the gunport, a leopard was desperately scratching at the hut's door. Because the trees in this area were sparse, moonlight streamed through the gaps. Illuminated by that moonlight, the leopard's form showed soft fur with vivid spots as it diligently sharpened its claws with gentle, childlike hands. I watched for a while before kicking the door from inside, causing the scratching sound to abruptly cease. After a moment's contemplation, I tiptoed out of the hut and descended the hill along the tree trunk. Then I entered the forest.

Among the beasts living in the forest, the goats and small monkeys grew quite accustomed to gathering around the hut every day. And they would receive food from me and happily eat it. At first, the small birds that had been afraid gradually grew accustomed until eventually they fearlessly fluttered in through the gunport into the hut—doing cute, bird-like pranks such as dropping droppings or pecking at the chair backs—and would then return to the forest through the same gunport. One day, I caught a goat and tried milking it. Then pure white opaque milk filled three coconut shell bowls. It was exceptionally delicious and made for a splendid drink. I had no shortage of tobacco. Wild tobacco plants grew everywhere, providing excellent shredded tobacco. When I packed my handmade pipe with it and puffed away without reserve, I was truly happy. What was rather annoying was the orangutan. From the fork of a distant tree, it would peer out and keep watch for two or even three days; if I aimed my bow at it, it would startle, hide in the shade of leaves in a fluster, but after a little while, it would peek out again. As was customary for a jealous beast, whenever he saw the small monkeys playing with me, he would seethe with envy and let out an eerie howl in an attempt to intimidate them.

After walking about a mile through the forest, there was a river where reeds grew thickly. There were several crocodiles there lying in wait for prey. One day I went hunting toward that river with my friends—that is, accompanied by goats and small monkeys. Soon we reached the riverbank. My friends and I walked noisily along that bank. Then a vigorous young male goat that had been before me went down to the river to drink. At that instant a brown log raised its head. The moment its jaws snapped open, half the goat's body flew into its mouth like a ball. What I had thought was a log turned out to be a crocodile; it sank into the depths with a splash before I could react. On another occasion I was walking through marshlands with my companions once more. Reeds and pampas grass grew densely there, reaching twice a man's height as they swayed toward the sky. My monkey and goat friends, apparently finding the marshes novel, ran ahead of me while chattering noisily. But suddenly their chatter was severed as if a thread had been cut.

Twenty-Nine

Along with that, from the direction of the marsh came a mournful beast’s howl. And then something seemed to part the pampas grass and slide toward the marsh. I hesitated for a moment, but the next instant, I was running frantically toward the marsh. Because I thought my friends would surely be taken by the crocodile again. However, I hadn’t run even twenty yards when I involuntarily froze in shock. In the face of such overwhelming horror, my body erupted 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.

A python that had swallowed a large deer whole was writhing through the weeds before my eyes, parting them in two as it raced toward the marsh! My friends, the goats and small monkeys, must have stopped their chattering. Even I couldn’t utter a sound. When the python had completely sunk into the marsh, I finally regained my senses. For the first time, I screamed and started running away from the marsh as fast as my legs could carry me. Then all at once, both the goats and monkeys came running after me, screaming like mad.

As for the terror I felt then, it can be understood from the fact that I broke out in a fever that night and could not venture outside the hut even once for two full days. Truly, this was the first terror I had experienced since birth.

But soon after that came the "unimaginably bizarre incident" and the "great anthropological miracle". Compared to those bizarre incidents, that terror might hardly be called fear. "A great anthropological miracle!" As for exactly when it occurred—it was about ten days after I witnessed the python devouring the deer. On that day, I had shut myself in the hut, puffing away on tobacco. Outside the hut, goats, monkeys, and song-loving little birds were chattering noisily and incessantly, as if trying to summon me. With not a breath of wind, the forest stood eerily silent.

Without responding to their calls, I remained in the room indefinitely. Then their voices were abruptly severed like a cut thread. Whenever voices ceased thusly, it always meant their fearsome enemy was attacking them. What could be attacking them? I strained my ears. At that moment came a strange cry from the distant forest. It was an unearthly voice I'd never heard since settling in these woods - a scream resembling that of a young woman fighting off an assailant, yet more mournful still. I leapt from my stool and peered through the gunport facing the forest. What did my eyes behold? A colossus! A colossus! No - a monster! A jet-black anthropoid ape nearly eight feet tall came hurtling through the branches like lightning - a solitary beast with bloodshot eyes fixed on its prey, yellow fangs bared and clacking as it charged. Its most striking feature was a long tail moving with hand-like dexterity. Not only did it wrap this tail around branches to support its weight, but sometimes swung it to smash through obstructing trees - splitting even sturdy trunks cleanly as if struck by a woodsman's axe. A tailed anthropoid ape! Chased by this creature while screaming in flight was a young native woman. Her long hair streamed behind her as she ran, eyes wide with terror fixed on my hut, powerful bronze limbs gleaming white in sunlight. Bird feathers wrapped about her waist fluttered like palm fronds; her figure straining forward as she ran held beauty rare even among her people. Pursued and pursuer soon burst through the forest, rounded the hill, and emerged into a clearing.

The tailed anthropoid ape released its tail from the tree branch and leapt to the ground like a ball, then chased after her—clenching and unclenching its fists, occasionally pressing their tips against the earth while thrusting its bull-like shoulders forward as though dancing. Driven into a corner by the relentless tailed anthropoid ape, the young native woman’s legs gradually grew sluggish from terror. And as if knowing I was inside the hut, she raised both hands toward it and began repeating those sorrowful death throes over and over. Lured by the maiden's cries, my heart stirred into action. My paralyzed hand regained its freedom. I grabbed my pistol, kicked open the hut door, and climbed down the rope ladder to the hill. Then, without a moment’s hesitation, I ran toward the maiden. When I had thus shielded the maiden behind me and steadily aimed my pistol at the ferocious form of the tailed anthropoid ape, my courage did not waver.

My sudden appearance seemed to startle the tailed human, for he halted momentarily. But in the very next instant, he emitted a thunderous roar and lunged at me like a gale. Just as his hands were about to make contact with my body, my pistol discharged. And not merely once—three shots in rapid succession.

30 The mountainous body of the tailed anthropoid writhed and fell to the ground. Then the flock of goats, small birds, and monkeys that had been hiding until now emerged noisily from the forest while chattering. Surrounding the anthropoid ape, they all began circling around it. They circled while raising shouts of triumph as though performing a victory anthem.

I turned around to look for the native girl behind me. The maiden, perhaps because all her previous terror had vanished at once, stood with both hands hanging limply at her sides as she watched the anthropoid ape. But upon seeing my face as I turned around, she lunged at me with all the fervor of a South Seas native, wrapping her powerful arms around me, pressing her face against my chest while trembling violently and clinging tightly. It was undoubtedly an embrace of gratitude, but she squeezed me with such overwhelming force that I nearly screamed. The maiden seemed to notice this and relaxed her arms' strength, but instead began covering every inch of my body with her lips. I let my body yield to her actions and stood perfectly still, but my gaze involuntarily darted to her face as she kissed me fervently. How could I scorn her face as that of a savage woman! What exquisitely proportioned features! This maiden alone lacked the thick lips characteristic of natives. Were they not thin and taut like those of Europeans? And how red their color was! They looked as if crushed coral had been applied. The high, prominent thick nose and large passionate eyes resembled those of Europeans more than South Seas natives.

After her passion had subsided, I attempted to converse through gestures about various matters. The results of what I learned were that "my invisible benefactor" was her; that there existed a native village four miles away within the forest; and that this village was now in the midst of battle, with white men among the enemy forces making them formidable opponents.

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

On that day, the native girl and I departed heading toward the village. Along the way, I continued to elicit various things through gestures. What surprised me most was that there were Chinese people like me in the native village. Moreover, it was a large number of people—and these many Chinese people were siding with the natives of the village and fighting against an invading army led by white men.

In any case, thinking everything would become clear once I reached the village, I hurried along the treacherous path. Through gestures, I learned why this beautiful native girl—who had no connection or obligation to me—had saved me. The moment she saw me—that instant she glimpsed my half-dead figure lying unconscious in the shoreboat—she, like a true maiden of the tropical South Seas, had fallen in love with my pitiful form. Thus she saved me; had she not done so, she would have devoured my flesh instead—or so it was conveyed. She recounted this horrifying matter through candid gestures with complete composure. The human-flesh-eating Dayak Tribe! However beautiful she might be, her native bloodline was undeniable. I pondered this deeply. Being loved by this terrifying savage woman felt like the greatest agony imaginable. Yet she was my life's savior. Facing her burning passion, I couldn't bring myself to douse it coldly as duty demanded. But I have Hongyu. Hongyu! Hongyu! Ah, Hongyu! Where could Hongyu be? Even while living like this in the forest—not knowing whether she lived or died—I had never once forgotten her! As long as breath remains in me, I will find her without fail!...

What am I to do with this savage woman’s passion and sincerity toward me! She always walked ahead of me with cautious steps. This was 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 natives' village after spending nearly ten hours on what was merely a four-mile journey, it was already approaching midnight.

The midnight full moon hung in the sky, and under its hazy moonlight lay an area where hundreds upon hundreds of thatched huts stood clustered together—this was the natives' village. The interior of the village was in an uproar, likely because they were engaged in battle against the invading army. I hid myself in the shade of a tree and observed the situation in the village. It appeared that bonfires were being lit in various places—rosy flames rose to the heavens while pallid smoke billowed upward. The shouts of the natives, the sound of arrows being loosed, and even the reports of rifles could be heard.

What astonished me was that amidst all those chaotic noises, I could clearly hear voices speaking impeccable Chinese. What surprised me even more was vividly hearing that poem I had heard in Beijing. Ancient trees encroached upon the heavens as the sun sank below the horizon.

…………

The Archfiend comes! The Archfiend comes! The Archfiend comes!

"Yuan Gengsheng's gang of pirate scum must be over there!" I immediately thought this. The blood in my body flared up with an involuntary surge of vengeful fury.

Thirty-One No sooner had war cries roared up from the forest far beyond the natives' village than drumming resounded in response from within it, and even women and children emerged into the square as if performing a victory dance—kicking their legs skyward while bathed in rose-colored flames. The native maiden had been standing by my side until then, but no sooner did she glimpse the village scene than she too began kicking her legs skyward and dancing like one possessed. While pulling me along, she started running toward the village. As we drew nearer, what was unfolding in the square became clear.

In the square stood a single stake with a person bound to it. He appeared to have been captured in the forest just moments before, fresh cuts on his cheek streaming with blood. His pristine white clothes hung in tatters, leaving his skin plainly visible. The savages danced a victory circle around him. I looked at the prisoner's face. That face—it couldn't belong to Mr. Danchon! There was no mistaking it—the captive was none other than Mr. Danchon, the Spanish painter who had explored the desert with us! The instant I realized this, I connected the invading force of white men fighting the natives to Detective Rashinu and Rezard's expedition team.

"So the Spanish expedition team has already come this far? Still, how on earth did Mr. Danchon end up a prisoner of the natives? Do Detective Rashinu and his team not know he’s been captured? I owe the expedition members a debt of gratitude. Above all, Detective Rashinu once saved my life. When I strayed into Yuan Gengsheng’s opium den searching for Hongyu, it was none other than the great detective Rashinu who showed me the escape route. Now Danchon the painter—one of Detective Rashinu’s companions—is about to have his life taken by these natives. Having witnessed this with my own eyes, I must rescue him as a matter of duty. But how? How can I save him?"

I stood still, lost in thought. The native maiden saw this, hurriedly stopped her dancing hands, and began gesturing to me. “There’s nothing to worry about.” “Since you’re my savior who rescued me from the Tailed Human Species, our tribe’s people will surely welcome you.”

The meaning conveyed through her eager gesturing was as follows. Yet I remained motionless. Still lost in thought, I stood frozen. Then she gestured to me once more in this fashion.

“If you’re feeling uneasy, I’ll go to the village first and tell them about you.” Still I remained silent. The maiden tilted her head slightly and studied my face, then suddenly whirled around and ran toward the village. It was likely to inform the villagers of my presence here. When cotton blossoms momentarily obscured her fleeing figure, I made an instant decision and dashed back the way I’d come. With Yuan Gengsheng’s crew in that native village, capture would mean certain death. That terror drove me.

However, by the time I fled, the opportunity had already been lost. The shouts of natives pursuing from the village direction could be heard approaching moment by moment from behind. I had mistaken the direction and simply ran around recklessly. Suddenly, a shout in Chinese came from the thicket ahead. Yuan Gengsheng’s gang must have gotten ahead of me. Behind me, the natives were giving chase. The tips of their spears glittered in the moonlight, and the crests of helmets adorned with bird feathers peeked above the shrubs.

I was cornered. From then on, I was more frantic than reckless. I drew the pistol at my hip and fired rapidly at the natives. I must have indeed shot and killed two or three of them. Abandoning the startled, fleeing natives, I burrowed into the thicket like a rabbit. How or where I had walked, I couldn’t tell, but as the surroundings grew faintly bright, I gasped in surprise and looked ahead—there it was, spread out before my eyes: the familiar square of the native village, illuminated by bonfires. And the unfortunate Mr. Danchon remained tied to the stake, but there were no natives to be seen in any direction.

I was driven by righteous courage.

"This is the chance to save Mr. Danchon!" There, I parted the weeds and approached the square. However, at that moment, something turned my attention elsewhere. From the grove's shadow far to my side came a woman's voice—laughter bearing uncanny resemblance to Hongyu, my unforgettable lover—ringing out joyfully. Following it came a beast's cry that sounded equally delighted.

I stood rooted to the spot as if struck by lightning, listening intently to that laughter. Again and again, the woman's voice and the beast's cry could be heard. It seemed the woman was playing with the beast. I directed my attention to all directions, steadied my pounding heart, and crept toward the source of the voice.

Thirty-Two Illuminated by the bright full moon, the backyard of the natives' hut lay visible as clearly as if held in one's palm. On the garden's ground - white as if frosted - a giant orangutan crowned with silver fur leapt skyward like an otter. A girl wrapped in white lightly clapped her hands as if to amuse the orangutan. Moonlight fell upon her upturned face, making her features stand out in vivid relief. There was no mistaking her - it was Hongyu! Forgetting all surrounding circumstances, I ran forward.

“Hongyu!”

I screamed and tried to embrace her with both hands. Then Silver Fur came running and interposed itself between us. The creature glared at me with bell-like eyes and tried to shield Hongyu behind itself.

“Who are you!” Hongyu asked in a voice as beloved as in days of old. “You ask me who I am?” “I’m Zhang Jiaoren!” “I’m Zhang Jiaoren!” Yet Hongyu gazed at my face without any trace of emotion,

“Mr. Zhang Jiaoren? Who could you be? ……Ah, yes! I’ve finally remembered. There was such a person, long, long ago… I met them in the Lop Desert, stayed with you until the peonies bloomed… And when the paulownia flowers bloomed, I ran away from you. But when I was finally discovered and taken back from my beloved, beloved opium den to your place, how sad I felt… Then I ran away again. That’s right—from your place… I have a lover. A dear, dear lover! Now, Silver Fur, go ahead and jump! My lover is you! Now, Silver Fur, go ahead and jump!”

Thereupon, at her command, the demonic beast Silver Fur leapt into the air again and again, fluttering lightly each time.

In the sky hung a full moon; on the ground crouched a monster; and a goddess-like lover stood clad in white... The location was a savage land—the cannibalistic Dayak tribe’s village... ……My head spun dizzily. Am I going to go mad?! All the while thinking this, I clenched the pistol in one hand and trained its muzzle on Silver Fur…… ……After that, I myself cannot clearly remember what I did. In any case, I was fleeing with Danchon while being pursued by the natives. Who untied Danchon’s ropes? (Of course, it must have been me.) But even how I managed to untie them—that too I cannot clearly recall. What I do remember is firing the pistol. Who on earth did I shoot? Did I shoot at Silver Fur? For what purpose did I shoot Silver Fur? Because I thought it was the evil beast that had beguiled Hongyu. How could I possibly explain why I thought that way! It was just pure intuition! The bullet from my pistol unfortunately did not hit the evil beast. I had merely startled it. The startled beast leapt up and grabbed Hongyu’s body. And then it nimbly climbed up the tree. Still clutching Hongyu carefully, it lightly leapt to another tree. In this manner, moving from treetop to treetop, it vanished into the woods. After that, we never met them again…….

Danchon and I ran without saying a word in the direction where the natives’ voices couldn’t be heard, as far as our strength would take us. And when we had completely exhausted our strength and collapsed together, the night was already breaking into dawn. The threats of wild beasts or venomous snakes held no fear for us in our exhausted state. Thereupon, we fell sound asleep.

Around noon that day, I finally found a hut. For a while, both of us remained silent. Both Danchon and I stayed quiet, sitting limply on the wooden chairs. How long had we been silent? Still, Danchon finally began to speak in a weary voice. Through Danchon’s account, I learned that the expedition team had built a combat fortress in a rubber forest one mile from the native village where they were barricaded, and that they planned to launch a full-scale attack by setting fire to the village either today or tomorrow morning. Moreover, I had discovered one more thing about the expedition’s objective. According to his story, ten miles southwest of this hut stood a steep mountain with a lake at its base. It was said that precisely at the bottom of this lake lay hidden the great treasure vault of the Lop people we had long sought.

“This is a recent discovery, but it seems Dr. Maharayana heard this from a Dayak native prisoner—that the treasure vault at the bottom of the lake is guarded by primitive people called the Tailed Human Species, you know.” “They’re a ferocious people, you know. Even the notoriously violent Dayak Tribe apparently fears the Tailed Humans and avoids approaching them.”

“As for the Tailed Humans, I saw them.”

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 the natives in the first place?” “Well,” Danchon said with a wry smile, “since Mr. Rashinu and Rezard gave me that nickname—‘Danchon the Painter Who Doesn’t Paint’—I thought I’d try to restore my honor by painting some scenery of this island. So yesterday I took my canvas and went strolling around the woods, only to end up stumbling into the natives’ village.” Danchon laughed nonchalantly.

That evening, they saw plumes of smoke rising high beyond the woods. The native village that had been set ablaze was probably causing the fire. When night fell, tongues of flame fluttered into view in the sky.

The birds and beasts of the woods, frightened by the firelight, gathered at the base of the hut. A wild boar dug into the soil with its snout, trying to hide itself within. Squirrels climbed up and down tree trunks, chirping shrilly all the while. Mountain doves wheeled through the sky; even when they plummeted downward in unison, they immediately soared back up again. A leopard was growling in the shadow of a rock, and a water buffalo was trembling in the pampas grass.

The flames spread ever wider. Having completely burned through the village, the flames appeared to have shifted to the forest.

A great conflagration in the South Seas primeval forest! Deer, rabbits, and reindeer used their proud swift legs to flee from forest to forest. Flocks of small birds formed a massive flock and sailed through the vast ocean of the sky. A large contingent of zebras ran off toward the marsh, their manes waving.

The flames were gradually drawing closer. The smoke enveloped the hut.

I grabbed the pistol and handed Danchon the bow and arrows left by the native girl—no sooner had I done this than we leapt down from the hut and fled downwind, blending in with the stampeding beasts.

33 Terror-filled human screams could be heard from behind. Before we could even turn around, Dayak tribesmen dashed past us like soaring birds, not even holding weapons in their hands. Of course, even if they noticed us, they made no move to attack. They seemed frantically focused solely on trying to escape, escape from the flames. The flames were now right upon us. The depths of the forest blazed scarlet, as though crimson had been spilled throughout. The heat was stifling, and sweat cascaded down my back like a waterfall. Even amidst this great danger, I found myself thinking such things.

We must not flee with the natives. We must not go in the direction the natives are heading. As is their barbarian custom, their hearts might change at any moment. Even if we were fortunate enough to escape the deep forest and emerge into a grassland, if attacked by natives there, we would still lose our lives. We absolutely must flee in the opposite direction of where the natives are escaping.

I called out to Danchon.

“Southwest!” “Southwest!”

Then Danchon shouted back. "The fire's already reached that way!" "Shut up and follow me!" "Shut up and follow me!"

With that, I changed direction southwest and began running like a madman. Danchon followed behind. When I surveyed the area, the entire southwestern expanse indeed formed a sea of flames. Yet within this fiery ocean stretched a dark streak like a lone waterway—likely a narrow valley. To reach it required a wide detour. But would the fire overtake us before we arrived?

Even so, there was no other way.

Entrusting our fate to luck, we began that great detour. It must have been divine protection—just as we reached the valley, the fire arrived there too.

In the valley flowed a river. Before all else, we immersed our bodies in its waters. Swimming quietly downstream along the bank this way, the path ahead shone bright as day - so bright we could see each other's eyelashes. How many hours did we spend being carried by the current? When the once-swift river's flow had completely diminished, we crawled ashore and hastily surveyed our surroundings. Though firelight still glowed, the blaze itself now lay far behind. Bathed in rose-colored radiance, an otherworldly aura seemed to hover over the lake's surface encircled by stone cliffs on all sides. Before our eyes stretched a lake like a vast mirror!

“The lake!”

"The lake," I murmured. The voice was trembling dreadfully.

Then Danchon also spoke. “The lake! That’s right—it must be that lake!” At last, we arrived. To the lake concealing the treasure vault!

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

34

Dawn began to break over the untamed lands.

Danchon and I stood in silence by the lakeside. The dawn's cold assailed our bodies, so we shuddered violently. The sky gradually took on hues. Gray, pale yellow, rose... The primeval forest encircling the lake awoke from its dream and began to stir. Leaves whispered to leaves, branches swayed with branches, and trunks rubbed against trunks to raise voices like phantom birds. The wind blew past like war arrows. A flock of birds clustered like clouds soared left and right across the rose-colored sky as if in competition. The lake water too gradually began to take on color. Leaden gray, bluish gray, pale yellow—and as it gradually turned peach, when the sun rose over the primeval forest, it shone a deep crimson.

This isolated world—surrounded by plateaus, covered in forests, and filled with lake water—thus became fully daytime as night ended and the sun rose. This isolated realm was quiet, as if there had never been any such terrifying mountain fire—where had that dreadful blaze from the previous night burned off to? However, to me, this secluded realm had come to seem all the more terrifying precisely because of its excessive quiet. If only we could hear a leopard’s cry or see a wild boar emerge from the forest—then a sense of reassurance that we were indeed on the South Seas' island of Borneo would naturally arise in our hearts. The surroundings were so quiet that it instead gave rise to a sense of terror.

It seemed Danchon too had been struck by the same terror as I, for he was surveying our surroundings with suspicious eyes when suddenly he jabbed my arm and whispered in a hoarse voice. "Look there! That face!" For some reason, the word "face" pierced through me like ice at that moment. I made my eyes dart and sent my gaze racing frantically toward where he pointed.

Face! Face! Human faces! And not just one or two. Dozens of human faces were staring at us without blinking from between the trees in the thicket. Those were unmistakably human faces. They were undoubtedly human faces—but if those were human faces, what bizarre faces they were! Compared to an ordinary human face, 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 a massive hammer, presenting an appearance of brutish ignorance. In contrast, their lips swelled viscerally, protruding beyond their noses. The deformed nose—with flaring nostrils and no bridge whatsoever—stretched and contracted between the eyes and mouth like some rubber-crafted toy.

Due to extreme fear, I instinctively tried to cling to Danchon. “Monsters! Monsters!” “No—they’re natives!” I couldn’t help but groan, but when I saw the foremost of those natives—whom I had mistaken for monsters—leap nimbly from the thicket onto a tall tree trunk and swiftly climb toward the treetop, I realized they were neither monsters nor natives, but an unexpected anthropoid species: the tailed humans. “Pithecanthropus! Tailed humans!”

Once again I groaned, widened my eyes in sudden disappointment, and looked all around to see if there might be a savior somewhere. Then Danchon, who was on the verge of fainting from the same terror, gripped my hand tightly and let out a frightened cry. "A hundred! Five hundred! A thousand! Those Tailed Human Species bastards are swarming in from all sides!"

Indeed—now that he mentioned it—the tailed humans surrounding us from between the trees, the shade of thickets, and the hilltops had gathered like a black cloud, their snake-like tails erect above their heads, and were now closing in on us inch by inch. The green forest, the crystal-clear lake, this world as beautiful as a painting—all at once transformed into a hell of terror with the emergence of the tailed humans. However, I resolved that no matter what it took, I had to escape from their terrifying claws and fangs. Even so, how could I have escaped? Should I charge into their group, grapple with these creatures, and try to break free from their midst? But could there be any hope of fighting and defeating forest primitives weighing fifty kan? There was absolutely no hope of that! Then should I jump into the lake, swim across, and escape to the opposite shore? However, even if we reached that shore, the forest there would still harbor more tailed humans! Then how could I escape? How could I possibly escape?

Without wasting a single moment, I had thought through to this point. And at last I reached an impasse. All the while, the ferocious Tailed Human Species approached us step by step with the cunning characteristic of savages. When the distance between us and them had narrowed to about eighteen meters, they all stood up at once. What magnificent physiques they had! If they had no tails—and no fur covering their bodies—they would make brave and splendid warriors... They suddenly began dancing around us in a circle. With the two of us at their center, they first swirled leftward in circles, then turned rightward, swirling left again then right once more—spinning endlessly like a great whirlpool churning through water.

Thirty-Five “This is their scheme!” By the time this thought formed, we had already been swept into their vortex and plunged into a hypnotic trance. ...Green... endless sky... apish faces... their shrieking... lakewater... sunlight... hairy hands... countless hairy hands lifting us from the ground. They bore us through emerald woods... deepening green... Fading sunlight... then abruptly—an old man materialized before us. What an intellectual countenance! What majestic white hair! Leading the apes, the old man sprinted ahead. Doubtless commanding them. A deity? A prophet? A savior? God deliver us! ...The forest plunged into darkness. Sunlight pierced through anew. Green walls undulated. Where are they taking us?...

That was from long ago.

We now had to trace back roughly thirty years.

At that time, a young man walked across the island of Borneo. He was a British zoologist versed in archaeology; this youth named Johnson—ever true to his English blood—overflowed with adventurous spirit. Through deep study of both archaeological and zoological theories, he had become convinced that humans bearing enormous tails must inhabit either Borneo's southern seas or the great forests of Iran's plateau. Thus resolved to verify his theory's validity, he determined to test it firsthand. Gathering several comrades, he first explored Iran's plateau from the Persian approach. Yet there they encountered no trace of any tail-bearing human species. His companions—disheartened—returned straightaway to Britain, but Johnson alone held firm to his resolve and crossed over to Borneo by himself.

He had spent many days avoiding attacks from tribesmen and perils of wild beasts and venomous snakes to finally reach the interior, yet not a trace of the Tailed Human Species could be seen. Even the supremely confident Johnson could no longer cling to his theory under these circumstances. The so-called Tailed Human Species was nothing but a shallow delusion of his own making; he had no choice but to resign himself to the fact that such creatures did not actually exist anywhere in the world, no matter how thoroughly one searched. He was utterly disheartened and found himself at a complete loss for what to do. To avoid the dangers of wild beasts, he built a hut atop a tall rubber tree. Inside it, he pondered for days, but he found it regrettable to abandon this place as it was and leave. Resolving instead to remain in this land—for even if there were no Tailed Human Species, many other rare animals teemed here—he at last decided to study them. And so he first set about repairing the hut he lived in. And then he discovered food and drinking water near the hut and made improvements to them. For weapons to protect himself, he had nothing but a single pistol with some ammunition and a Western-style sword—and so began Johnson’s life in the depths of the tribal wilderness, night after night trembling under the pale moonlight at the roars of tigers, the growls of leopards, and the fearsome howls of wolves that came swarming to attack.

Years passed—one, two, three, four, five—and time marched on. He became familiar with nearly all the birds and beasts living in the forest and studied almost all of them. For him, tigers and leopards ceased to be frightening. His inherently robust physique was tempered by the frontier climate and honed further through grappling with wild beasts; through competing with the ape tribe, he became terrifyingly agile. By this time, he completely rejected his previous theories about the existence of the Tailed Human Species and no longer even considered them—but he, that is, Johnson himself, became a complete savage, indistinguishable from the anthropoid apes themselves. When running through the forest, he could move as swiftly as the wind, traversing from branch to bough to trunk. He could leap from the tops of high treetops down to bushy clearings below and handle his body so lightly that he sustained not a single injury.

What a delightful life this was! What a primitive life this was! This is precisely the life of our ancestors—the very life of anthropoid apes themselves! Natural food, natural drink, natural play, natural sleep—here existed no vanity whatsoever. And no ceremonial pomp whatsoever. Compared to this, that European social life I once lived in the past was like a prison. I wholeheartedly exult. This forest life...

Johnson truly came to think this way and not only did not fear life in the tribal wilderness—he loved it. And he resolved never to return to the vain, pretentious social life of Europe or such places. He loved birds and beasts and even tamed crocodiles. Through the cries of birds and beasts, the movements of their eyes, or the twisting of their limbs, he could discern their emotions. And he could discern what they demanded and what they disliked. He tirelessly fulfilled their demands. In return, they also performed various tasks for him.

Thirty-Six

It was a clear day when he left his hut and sat atop a small hill.

Suddenly, from the forest ahead came the cries of birds and beasts, and at the same moment, a tiger burst through the thicket. What emerged from the same thicket in pursuit of the tiger’s trail was—a Tailed Human-Ape beyond all expectation, and his astonishment upon realizing this defied description. He suddenly leapt up and advanced toward the anthropoid ape. A piercing roar! A fierce snarl! ……Even the formidable anthropoid ape was kicked in the chest by Johnson and went rolling.

Several days after this incident, on a certain day, Johnson—who had always been at the hut—was nowhere to be seen. And it grieved the countless birds and beasts that had grown close to Johnson. By this time, Johnson had already stepped into a primordial paradise adorned with primeval forests and lakes, using a captured anthropoid ape as his guide.

Years upon years passed by.

In Paris and London, tens of thousands of people died and were born into this world.…… Of course, even in the South Seas' wilderness, pineapples bore fruit many times over, and fig blossoms fell many times over. And elderly civet cats and injured crocodiles died. Many years passed by.

A youth became an elder in due time. Blond hair turned white in due time. 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, atop the rubber tree still stood a hut built of wood. ...Around this time, in the primordial paradise beautifully adorned by lakes and primeval forests—that is, the dwelling place of anthropoid apes—there lived in perfect peace an old man among them: an unmistakably European man who was served by their group as though he were an ape-king himself.

The interior of the rock cave was dark. A single candle made from animal fat burned dimly, merely casting a faint light upon the two of us and the old man; the sunlight streaming in from outside did not reach this far.

Danchon and I had been taken captive by a mysterious old man who claimed to be king of the Tailed Human-Apes and brought into a rock cave—hearing this legendary history directly from his own lips left us utterly astonished! But we were exhausted. So it seems we fell into a deep sleep during his storytelling.

By the time we finally awoke, it was already noon the next day. We obtained the old man's permission and decided to exit the rock cave.

A flood of sunlight! The glimmer of green leaves! And the unfathomably deep ultramarine hue of the lake’s depths! Dazzled by those colors, we stood motionless for a time. What came from within the thicket were the voices of the apes. Even those today seemed like calm human voices. The two of us went to the lakeshore and once again wandered there.

“Mysterious lake! “Mysterious lake! Mysterious lake!” I couldn’t help murmuring this and turned to look at Danchon’s face. “That’s right,” Danchon also murmured, turning to look back at my face. “The two of us were the first to discover the mysterious lake. So this time, we have the right to be the first to explore the lakebed... The Lop people’s treasure vault—vast treasures must be hidden at the bottom.” Danchon’s voice trembled like a bowstring from emotion. I silenced him with a gesture and kept watching the lake in silence. At that moment, the waters before us swelled up like mountains on either side, then collapsed instantly as a hill-like mass emerged from within. The instant I perceived this—from algae-strewn waters ten ken away from that underwater mound—something fluttered into view with a sharp spray: a serpentine face resembling a python.

“Thunder Dragon!” burst from my lips in an astonished voice.

At that moment, while Danchon was pointing at the distant forest with his finger, “A giant lizard is flying!” Danchon said in a voice filled with terror. Exactly as he had said, a giant lizard measuring twenty feet in length was flying from tree to tree like a dragon, flapping the wings attached to its shoulders. And parting the thicket beside it, an animal resembling a cross between a jackal and an elephant—measuring some forty-eight to fifty-four feet in length—was wildly shaking its two horns as it chased after a field mouse. That was indeed a dinosaur. Both the Thunder Dragon and the dinosaur were animals that lived on Earth hundreds of thousands of years ago; like anthropoid apes, they should have all perished in that ancient past hundreds of thousands of years prior. And yet for them to have inhabited the depths of Borneo alongside anthropoid apes and survived into the twentieth century was nothing short of a global marvel.

Danchon and I, our souls utterly daunted by this marvel, fled from the lakeshore. And so we returned to the rock cave.

37

Even within the society of ferocious anthropoid apes, several unwritten laws were observed. They must never commit violence against females not their own. To stand united against enemies other than anthropoid apes; to gather and store food in one place rather than devouring it all at once... These were the principal laws. The enforcer of these unwritten laws was their king—the old man—and the apes cowered in fear of the punishments he imposed. The lives of the anthropoid apes were ones of extreme freedom and vitality. They lived among the trees, slept among the trees, and played by leaping from tree to tree. Their daily sustenance came from nuts, roots, birds, and beasts; they labored diligently to gather abundant provisions. The primeval forest extended ten ri in every direction around the lake—this great woodland spanning ten ri formed the very kingdom of the anthropoid apes. In this vast forest they bore children, raised them, and multiplied across hundreds of millennia—transcending Darwinism to sustain their primitive way of life from ancient times through this very day. Yet why did they possess such long and robust tails? There was nothing particularly mysterious about this. Doubtless they had used those tails vigorously across hundreds of thousands of years. Thus their tails developed such splendid form. Here was demonstrated the great truth that utilization breeds development.

One day, Danchon and I were wandering through the forest. While following our trail, a great number of anthropoid apes crossed from tree to tree, following along endlessly. Perhaps wary of us being unfamiliar with navigating the forest, they would occasionally take the lead and point out directions. As we proceeded, the forest grew increasingly dense until even sunlight could not penetrate. At the sound of our footsteps, foxes and rabbits fled in panic; a civet scrambled through thorns to tumble frantically into the same hole where a lemur had hidden; long-armed monkeys playing in groups screeched all at once and scattered from branch to branch.

When a massive gorilla suddenly appeared before us, we stopped in our tracks out of terror. However, there was no danger at all. The anthropoid apes were protecting us... Sure enough, from above our heads, the apes fluttered down just like bats. And a desperate struggle ensued between them and the giant gorilla, but before even ten minutes had passed, the gorilla was torn into three pieces. When we came to a large swamp where the forest opened up and sunlight streamed in, we encountered yet another beast from the previous century. It was an animal with a towering frame that appeared to be about eighteen meters long—its back entirely covered in a horned tail and possessing a long neck—using that tail and hind legs to toddle along while standing upright. As soon as it noticed us, the creature leaped into the water and vanished from sight. The two of us quietly walked along the swamp’s edge. Screech! Hearing a screech and something crying sadly in the treetops, we casually looked up to gaze at the branches. A fish resembling a shark—about eight shaku long with bulging eyes and elongated fins—was climbing the tree trunk with its fins while emitting sorrowful cries.

We wandered on still further. We crossed a muddy river teeming with crocodiles, traversed a wetland swarming with duckbills, and wandered aimlessly wherever our feet took us. Once again the forest came to an end, and in the far distance ahead, sand dunes became visible as the tropical sun blazed fiercely, flooding the area with light—a somehow divine otherworld unfolded before us. Baptized in this deluge of light, upon the sand dune ahead stood a small shrine; as if guarding it, stone-carved guardian beasts sat before it with flames wreathed around their shoulders—gazing upon that scene, I suddenly recalled the image of the same shrine I had seen in the green oasis of Lop Desert.

“Oh! Could this be the same— "—that shrine in the Lop Desert and this shrine deep in Borneo’s interior are one and the same!" My chest quivered with emotion as I stood rooted like a nailed post, staring fixedly at the shrine. Then occurred a mysterious incident that heightened this awe within me still further. The anthropoid apes that had been protecting us from the treetops until now scattered down from the branches upon seeing the shrine and—like humans—prostrated themselves in distant worship.

Ah, how should I liken such zeal and piety? Shall I compare it to ancient Buddhist devotees who fervently believed in sacred Buddha statues and poured devotion into their prayers? Yet why would anthropoid apes know how to worship from afar? Did someone teach them? Or did they learn it naturally? And what exactly lies enshrined within that shrine! Their deity? Treasure? And is that massive hill merely piled sand? Or could something lie concealed within its depths?

"Mystery!" "Mystery!" "In short—Mystery!" "Just like the lake—pure mystery!"

I murmured inwardly and surveyed my surroundings. Then I noticed that this entire area—encompassing the sand dunes, of course—was low-lying.

38

Cared for by the anthropoid apes and the old man, we spent ten days. One morning, the clamor of anthropoid apes resounded ominously all the way to the rock cavern. And then, unexpectedly, the sound of cannons reached us from across the lake. We leapt up in shock.

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

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

“It’s Detective Rashinu’s party!” Danchon cried out joyfully. "But..." I hesitated. “It might be Yuan Gengsheng.” The two gazed intently.

The anthropoid apes—sensitive to danger—appeared utterly terrified by the cannon fire, fleeing deep into the forest without a single one showing itself. Danchon and I stood rooted in place, continuing to gaze intently. Due to the considerable distance, we couldn’t discern whether it was Yuan Gengsheng’s faction or Detective Rashinu’s unit. However, before long, after the group fired blanks once more to observe our situation—likely concluding there was no danger—they gradually drew closer, and thus we were finally able to determine who they were.

——They were our allies——

Passionate greetings were exchanged between both parties as they marveled at their miraculous reunion. Then they competed to recount their experiences up to that day. Through their accounts, we finally learned how that terrible wildfire had started. The cause turned out to be the cannonball they had fired to rescue Danchon—who had been captured by the savages—which struck the savages' settlement and ignited their thatched huts. They recounted fighting the savages amidst that magnificent inferno of blazing hellfire. After finally subjugating the savages completely, they had relentlessly pursued Yuan Gengsheng's faction to Borneo Island's northern tip and annihilated them there—or so the story went. Yet regrettably, Yuan Gengsheng alone had managed to slip through their grasp.

In this brutal massacre, our allies had also suffered considerable injuries, so they left some of the seriously wounded in the savages’ settlement, and only those who were uninjured and robust had come this far.

“Even if you were to betray us, no matter how desperately you tried to flee from us—we don’t harbor the slightest ill will toward you.” “Isn’t that right, Mr. Zhang Jiaoren…” Ever-magnanimous Detective Rashinu declared this with a buoyant laugh, vigorously seizing my hand. In that instant, my face truly burned crimson with shame. “Not only that…” The great detective scrutinized my countenance intently, “we offer heartfelt gratitude for your chivalrous valor in delivering our comrade Danchon from those savages’ vile grasp.”

Having said this, he even bowed his head politely to me.

The two of us were sitting on a fallen tree at the lakeshore, talking with each other. Danchon, intending to introduce the anthropoid apes and the old man to Rezard and Dr. Maharayana, had led everyone into the forest earlier and apparently still hadn't returned.

Thus, the surroundings were quiet.

The lake shone with placid brilliance. The dinosaurs, thunder dragons, and Tracodons had apparently been startled by the cannon fire and showed no sign of emerging from the water. The reflections of trees, the drifting clouds—all were mirrored in the water. A breeze must have stolen past, for ripples tangled across the water’s surface. But once more everything grew quiet again, and the lake shone with a golden hue. Mystery! Mystery! Truly mysterious! What an extraordinary mystery it would be if the Lop Nur people’s treasure—that vast wealth—truly lay buried beneath this peaceful lake’s surface, within this ordinary body of water! Mystery! Mystery! Truly mysterious! Moreover, we who had gathered at the lakeshore were now attempting to unlock this valuable mystery.

If the mystery had remained a mystery, we could have become wealthy individuals. Yes—magnificent tycoons!

I was lost in such fantasies while gazing at the lake.

Then, Detective Rashinu began to hum something under his breath. ………… Guarded by mountains and lake, Our ancestors dwell, Surrounded by lake and mountains, Ancestors' treasure is entrusted here.

Suddenly, Rashinu stood up. And solemnly declared:

“Let’s set a boat afloat on the lake!” “There’s a boat made of hide!” “And let’s see the lake’s bottom!” “Let’s take the first step in probing the lake’s secrets, no matter what!”

Thirty-Nine

The expedition team left me behind in the barbarian lands and turned back along their original path. The expedition members—particularly Detective Rashinu—had fervently urged me to accompany them, but I refused to agree. As for why I refused—that involved a reason belonging solely to myself.

As the expedition group finally left the lakeshore and entered the deep primeval forest, the Tailed Humans—who had remained unseen until now—began poking their hideous faces out from among the trees and grasses, chattering noisily. And the elderly zoologist—who had hidden himself away somewhere with the anthropoid apes—had also returned to the rock cave before anyone noticed.

I had been staying in the barbarian lands with Danchon until now, but when Danchon too disappeared into the primeval forest with the expedition group, I became literally all alone. So when I spoke of friends, they were things like an old man resembling a prophet, Tailed Humans with caudal appendages, and the lake-bottom monster Tracodon—friends if you could call them that, though all remained distant beings. I was still spending my days as before with the old man in his rock cave, but since this recent incident occurred, even he no longer showed me the same goodwill as before. Therefore, I resolved to find my own dwelling outside the cave. After prolonged deliberation, the old man finally acquiesced to my request and permitted me to build a hut. Under his orders, the Tailed Humans constructed my cabin atop a tall tree in the woods overlooking the lake. The anthropoid apes—relying on brute strength—snapped massive green timbers with resounding cracks and shredded iron-strong vines like thread, completing my shelter in less than half a day. What pleased me most was being able to ponder undisturbed in my hut—free from interference by either elder or ape—and I sat there all day contemplating the plan I absolutely intended to execute henceforth. It was precisely because of this plan that I had refused Detective Rashinu’s entreaties and remained alone in these barbarian wilds.

However, before setting down my plans in this memorandum, it seemed proper to first record why the expedition team abandoned this land and departed. It was on the day following their appearance before us that Detective Rashinu directed his team to launch a leather boat upon the lake to survey its depths. The folding hide craft could accommodate eight men. No vessel better suited for lake exploration existed. Lightly it floated upon the waters, buoyant as a swallow in flight.

Detective Rashinu, Mr. Rezard, Dr. Maharayana, Dr. Marshall, Danchon the painter, two natives, and I boarded the boat. Detective Rashinu—worried that the Thunder Dragon at the lake’s bottom might raise its head and capsize the boat—ordered the native forces gathered onshore to periodically fire cannons. Of course, these were blank rounds; Detective Rashinu aimed to intimidate the timid Thunder Dragon with the noise and keep it submerged indefinitely at the lake’s bottom.

Amid the resounding booms of cannon fire, our boat was launched and began rowing toward the lake. As we advanced, we peered through water goggles into its depths—the underwater realm, with its peculiar aquatic plants and deformed fish, looked just like May in full bloom above water. The primeval forest blocked the wind, leaving the lake's surface unrippled—its waters a thickly transparent azure as if blue vitriol had dissolved within. Near shore, the water mirrored the grove perfectly, showing treetops swaying violently in the storm. With each stroke of our oars, a wake streaked silver across the surface where sunlight struck it. Countless waterfowl floated near the lake's center, showing no sign of moving even as our boat approached.

We reached the center of the lake. There, we stopped the boat for a while and observed the state of the lake bottom. However, with mere water goggles, we could never have ascertained what lay in the depths many fathoms below. Swaying water plants, swimming fish—only those could barely be seen.

This time, intending to survey the lake’s perimeter along the shore, we rowed the boat toward that bank where the native forces had gathered. The natives were firing blank rounds skyward almost ceaselessly. The eerie cannon blasts reverberated through every object in the untrodden mystical realm, returning as tree spirits. When our leather boat had approached to within about eighteen meters of the shore, it suddenly stopped moving. And in the very next moment, the boat instead began speeding backward, retreating further and further away.

How astonished we were by this unexpected event! Though half in doubt, we continued rowing toward the shore, putting all our strength into the oars. This time, without retreating backward or advancing forward—maintaining a distance of eighteen meters from shore—the leather boat began rapidly swerving sideways along the bank as if circling the lake. At that moment, Rashinu’s sharp voice pierced our ears. “Look at the water!” “Look at the water!” “Look at the water!”

We all looked at the lake surface in unison. The lake water was churning violently!

Forty The emerald lake waters, which until moments ago hadn't shown even a ripple, now churned madly like stampeding horses with white foam flecking their surface. And mysteriously, the water formed a gigantic whirlpool swirling around the lake's center. Our boat was caught in the outermost ring of that whirlpool. Carried by the current's force, the boat raced along the lakeshore. As we sped onward, the native forces onshore chased after us from behind, each shouting sharp cries of astonishment. Yet they couldn't match the water's power—in moments, the distance between our boat and them grew vast.

By the time our boat had circled the lake once, it was racing through the second ring of the whirlpool while tilting slightly toward the center. We made every effort to escape the whirlpool, but like ants trapped in an antlion's pit, we could do nothing. The boat tried to pass before the native forces stationed ashore. At that moment, the natives all shouted together and threw a palm-fiber rope toward us, but it only grazed the bow before falling uselessly into the water. Before we realized it, we had entered the whirlpool's third ring. The water raced in circular paths, sometimes swelling high only to crash down low with waves in the next instant. When our boat rode a wave and surged high into the air, I swiftly turned my gaze toward the whirlpool's center. The entire area was shrouded in white foam that resembled thousands of white horses tossing their manes in frenzied dance - yet at that foam's heart gaped a bluish-black hole nearly half a cho in diameter, toward which all the lake's water rushed headlong. The hole took on a funnel-like conical shape; rather than plunging straight down like a waterfall, the incoming water swirled round and round this funnel formation before quietly disappearing into the earth's depths.

I had managed to observe all this during the brief moment our boat lingered at the crest of a wave, so by the time the wave collapsed into a valley and our craft plunged straight into that watery chasm, the whirlpool's maw had already vanished from sight. All through this interval, drawn by currents ever advancing toward the vortex, our vessel continued swirling round and round through the lake's expanse. When my gaze drifted absently shoreward, an ochre-black formation loomed cliff-like in the distance. Where lakewaters normally lapped against sandy banks now stood a ten-foot precipice backed by primeval woods. This stark transformation meant but one thing - vast quantities of water had been siphoned into subterranean depths.

We could not even begin to fathom how long we had drifted across the lake's surface—but just as our boat, ensnared by the whirlpool, was about to plunge into the watery maw gaping at the lake's heart, whether by divine providence or some such miracle, the chasm abruptly sealed itself. The great vortex ceased its churning, and the lake's surface once again shone like a mirror drinking sunlight. For the first time, we rallied our strength and rowed with all our might. When we clambered onto the shore where the native forces were stationed, we felt as though reborn from death itself.

The lake’s water had decreased by more than two-thirds of its volume. Water plants streamed across the surface like banners, while several dinosaurs and Thunder Dragons lifted their massive heads from the water and gazed in our direction. There wasn’t a single waterfowl. The water near the shore reflected the forest, while the water far from the shore, steeped in the sky, lay perfectly serene and clear.

The magnificent yet terrifying spectacle of that whirlpool was nowhere to be seen no matter where one looked. The water had indeed decreased, yet pregnant with dreams from time immemorial, it lay solemnly still. We exchanged glances without uttering a single word. Even the heroic Detective Rashinu could only gaze emptily at the lake, his sunburned dark face bearing nothing but astonishment.

Thus we stood on the lakeshore for some time. At that moment, upon the lake's surface unfolded once more the same miracle as before. Near the lake's center a bluish-black hole abruptly manifested itself, toward which all waters of the lake came swirling and rushing.

What a spectacular sight! What grandeur! Could there truly be such a stark difference between viewing it from within the lake's current and gazing out over it from the shore?!

……Beneath my gaze, the lake’s water churned as if dragged by some unseen entity—the outer ring of the whirlpool raised towering waves, while the inner ring spun with the crystal-clear swiftness of a top……Unnamed deformed sea beasts, gigantic water buffaloes, and Tracodons thrashed wildly, churning foam as they resisted the vortex’s pull, yet overwhelmed by its power, were swept into the bluish-black water hole—that funnel of death—inching closer with each passing moment……At the maw’s edge, colliding torrents crossed blades, raising dense clouds of vapor that birthed a rainbow so brilliant in sunlight it scorched the eyes……Crowned by this wreath of prismatic light, the bluish-black funnel seized the cascading waters. Like wine poured through a funnel spiraling toward its vessel below, the captured liquid raced along the hole’s inner surface with relentless speed—whirling downward in tightening coils until swallowed by darkness……。

Forty-One ……Now, a water buffalo was thrown into the hole, tumbling head over heels. The water’s force immediately seized it and swirled it round and round along the hole’s inner surface in a funnel shape. The creature appeared unable to even struggle; with all four legs held high, the water’s force proved too violent for it to sink deeper, leaving its entire body exposed on the surface as it continued its deadly dance directly beneath the rainbow’s floral wreath—until gradually, swept by the current downward and ever downward, it vanished from sight in an instant. One after another, various beasts—just like the water buffalo before—after being violently churned in the whirlpool, would without exception fall into the water hole, then similarly swirl round and round in a funnel shape until they were eventually drawn into the earth’s depths…… And around the edge of the water hole, clouds of steam rose and drifted as a rainbow glittered brilliantly. ……Before our eyes, the water decreased, the surrounding shores towered high, and the lakebed gradually became exposed.

In the memorandum I write, not a single falsehood is recorded. To the memorandum that records no falsehoods, I indeed wrote the subsequent spectacle as follows: ……

Before long, the lake water completely dried up, and the whirlpool too had vanished at some point. What remained was a massive crater of volcanic rock encircled by dense primeval forest. In scattered puddles, small fish splashed about while water weeds clung to the rocks. Gravel had settled across the bottom, yet scarcely any mud could be seen. Several dinosaur carcasses lay half-buried in the gravel, scattered here and there. We—alongside the native forces—descended to the drained lakebed and began exploring independently.

We hurried our steps toward what we presumed to be the lakebed near where the whirlpool had occurred, but there was nothing but a massive boulder approximately 109 meters in diameter—no trace of anything resembling a hole. We had dynamite brought in and attempted to shatter the large boulder as a precaution, but all that happened was rock fragments flying everywhere—the massive boulder refused to budge.

And just where had all the lake water flowed away to? And where had all the giant beasts vanished to? The sky stretched brilliantly azure and the forest stood solemnly, yet our questions remained unresolved. Each and every one of them stood in silent stillness, able to do nothing but survey their surroundings.

Dr. Maharayana, with the superstitious gaze typical of Indians, alternated his scrutiny between heaven and earth when he abruptly declared: "It’s divine wrath!" "It’s a divine miracle!" "Because we defiled this sacred ground, the Heavenly Emperor has manifested this dreadful miracle to display His displeasure!" Then Rashinu retorted in a clinically detached tone: "It cannot be divine wrath." "Nor could it be any miracle." "They—the apes—must have engineered this mischief." "This isn’t a miracle—it’s trickery."

“No, no—that’s absolutely impossible!” Dr. Maharayana retorted, growing agitated. “What else could it be but a miracle? That such a deluge vanished before our very eyes can only be divine intervention! How could those apes—mere beasts—wield such miraculous power? Unless—can you account for the water’s disappearance?” “The rock,” Rashinu countered coldly, “this monolith right here! The water drained through it.” “Then shatter the stone,” challenged Maharayana, “and show us your proof!”

“As you can see, even after applying dynamite, the massive boulder shows no sign of breaking. If we could just shatter this large rock—we’d immediately know where all that water went.” “No, no—the fact that the rock won’t shatter is precisely the divine will!” The two men’s argument spread through the natives like a bolt of lightning. The superstitious natives agreed without hesitation to the superstitious doctor’s theory.

This action by the natives ultimately swayed the majority, compelling Detective Rashinu and his party to leave the area along with everyone else. Following their original plan to head for Australia, they turned back toward Sandakan to undertake their third expedition.

I remained in the uncharted region, but my life there was quite inconvenient and lonely.

I spent the entire day cooped up in the cabin thinking about the plan. The plan was none other than this: It was to search for the water's whereabouts, in agreement with Detective Rashinu's opinion.

I thought as follows―― The lake water had dried up because there existed a mechanism designed to drain it; this was neither mystery nor miracle. Then what reason could there have been for draining the lake water? That, I concluded, was a trick meant to demonstrate to the expedition team members that the Lop Nur people's vast wealth was not concealed within the lake.

Then just where was the lake water being stored? This very matter was one of the crucial plans I had resolved to uncover through any means necessary—for it seemed that by learning the water’s whereabouts, the location of the Lop Nur people’s vast wealth might naturally reveal itself as well.

I resolved first and foremost to venture into the forest inhabited by the tailed humans and test my theories. Yet strangely, the apes kept constant watch over me, refusing to let me visit the forest depths. And naturally, the old man of the rock cave appeared to strongly disapprove of my forest expeditions.

There, I thought—

"Before anything else, I must make those apes my allies." Though I say this, I hadn't initially considered how to tame them, but eventually I devised a plan. I decided to lure them with delicious food. Though half-human, they lacked knowledge of cooking techniques. This was exactly what I exploited.

One day, as usual, I was smoking rabbit meat at the stone stove in my cabin. When it was completely ready, I thoroughly soaked it in fruit juice and left the cabin.

Forty-Two In the forest, a multitude of apes were going about their lives, but when they spotted me, they called out to each other warily. Since I only knew simple words from the ape language taught by the old man, I turned to the first ape I encountered and— “Grilled meat. Eat!” I declared briskly in their tongue before hurling the smoked meat I’d brought. The ape initially examined the morsel lying on the ground, then snatched it up with one hand and bit into it. Whether startled by the refined flavor—so unlike raw flesh—he clung to the meat as he bolted toward his companions, chattering animatedly. All at once, the apes fixed their glittering eyes on me, and I shuddered involuntarily beneath that piercing gaze.

The next instant, hundreds of apes surrounded me three or four layers deep, thrusting out their hands and staring fixedly at me. After throwing the mere piece of meat I held into their midst, I fled in terror to the treehouse. My plan succeeded, and from that time onward, whenever the apes caught even a glimpse of me, they would thrust both hands forward to demand smoked meat. One time, I fashioned a large basket woven from vines and filled it to the brim with smoked meat to embark on my first expedition. However, before we had gone even ten chō—about one kilometer—all the meat in the basket was completely exhausted. Once the meat ran out, the apes bared their fangs and threatened me. They drove me back to the hut without hesitation. And so I had to return to the hut once more in vain.

Thus several days passed.

The lake remained empty. The water in the puddles had completely dried up as well, and most aquatic plants had withered. Hunting the inexhaustible rabbits and foxes proved easy enough, and smoking or grilling their meat required little effort—yet I agonized over how to transport it all to my target destination deep within the forest. Should provisions run out mid-journey, those ferocious apes would surely drive me back to the hut without ceremony again. This tormented me.

But as the old proverb says, "Necessity is the mother of invention"—before long, I discovered a way to overcome that difficulty. The solution was to build a cart.

How simple it was! However, when I thought of it this way, it seemed an exceedingly simple matter—but the hardship I had endured before arriving at this idea was no ordinary thing. The moment I conceived this idea, I leaped for joy in delight.

I employed the apes by using grilled meat as a reward. They would do anything according to my commands. Their claws were saws, and their fangs were axes. And their tremendous arm strength could be likened to a motor. As expected, in less than half a day, a splendid cart had been completed. Having a particular reason in mind, I also had a one-person raft manufactured. Two oars also… It was a fine morning. Having heaped the cart with grilled meat and laid the raft atop it, I boarded the raft and set out on my second journey, making a single ape push the cart.

The apes gathered from all directions, pressing in tightly around the cart and staring at me with suspicious eyes. At that moment, I hurled a handful of grilled meat toward the rear. Simultaneously, sharp cries erupted from the ape horde, followed immediately by combat. They were fighting each other to seize the falling pieces of grilled meat. Originally, they had never quarreled among themselves over food. This was because their world—this vast primeval forest—contained an inexhaustible supply of provisions, allowing them to freely obtain whatever they required. There had been neither need for natural competition nor cause for conflict. Yet when I appeared and cast forth—with my own hands—this mysterious food they had never before tasted—grilled meat— a food both exquisitely delicious and strictly rationed, conflict became inevitable. This was precisely my design—to advance the cart while they fought over the spoils.

Grilled meat—competition—combat—advance!

Through the great forest where sunlight could not penetrate, the cart pressed onward with vigor. And as morning turned to noon and then approached evening, I arrived at the edge of the great forest. Coming to the edge of this forest was my sole purpose. And this edge of the forest was where I had once gotten lost and come with Danchon before. And at that moment, I saw! An ochre-colored plain! That there had been a single embankment within that ochre-colored desert! And on top of that embankment, there was a shrine guarded by two lion-dog statues!

Forty-Three

And now I was trying to gaze out at the desert again from the same shrine location. However, when I emerged from the forest and cast my eyes forward, it became seared clearly into both eyes—the desert, embankment, and lion-dog statues were all submerged in water, with only the shrine’s roof breaking through the surface to glisten. Truly, there was now a lake brimming with water where the desert had been.

But I was not surprised—rather, it was something I had anticipated. I jumped onto the cart, grabbed all the grilled meat available, and scattered it in every direction. Leaving behind the apes’ cries and the clamor of their struggle, I floated the raft onto the lake. Then, gripping two oars, I nimbly leaped aboard and began maneuvering it forward. The raft advanced steadily. The apes lined up along the shore, roaring terrifying cries and shaking their fists in threatening gestures, but the floodwaters between us seemed to leave them powerless to act. The raft advanced steadily, cutting through the water toward the shrine entrance. My chest swelled with anticipation, my heart pounding violently.

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 drifted to the side of the roof protruding above the lake surface, I noticed a single dugout canoe moored there. Strangely enough, there was a square hole in the shrine’s roof large enough for a person to enter, and a vertical ladder was attached.

The moment I beheld this, I felt as though I had already solved nine-tenths of the mystery. What hesitation could I have! I moored the raft to the stern of the dugout canoe and clambered onto the roof.

And then I descended the ladder. As I went down, the sunlight filtering through gradually faded until complete darkness enveloped me, yet still I had to keep descending. Secretly counting the approximate number of rungs in my mind, I continued downward. "Ten... twenty... thirty..." By the time I reached this count, the ladder had already ended. Unaware, my foot sought the next rung only to slip through empty air, sending me plummeting headfirst into the void.

And then I had lost consciousness. My consciousness seemed to gradually return. An old man holding a candle stood before me—though this was likely a hallucination—countless jewels glittered around him. Golden helmets, golden armor—illuminated by candlelight, they shone resplendently as if a heavenly rainbow had descended, and even the scent of incense wafted through the air. "What a beautiful hallucination this is!" Half-regaining my senses, I muttered this under my breath.

“What an impressive old man—he looks exactly like that zoologist living in the rock cave… Hallucination, please don’t fade away.” I muttered again as I struggled to sit up. The noble old man gravely moved his bearded mouth. “Have you come to your senses, Zhang Jiaoren!” I barely managed to reply. “Who might you be?” “I am the Old Man of the Rock Cave.” “The zoologist gentleman?”

“Indeed. And you might also call me the king of the Kingdom of Apes.”

I looked around. Everything around me shone with reverent brilliance—golden plates in the far corner, Persian carpets atop chests. A life-sized Buddha statue adorned entirely with gold was propped up bare against the wall. In both eyes of the Buddha statue were set diamonds that reflected the candlelight, streaming violet light.

“Where on earth is this place?” “This is an underwater basement!”

“This is the treasure vault, I presume?”

“Verily, it doth. The Lop people’s treasure vault, this is.” “What?! You mean the Lop people?!”

“You might also call them Uighurs.” “You mean... Uighurs?! “—Then I’ve finally accomplished my purpose!” The Lop people’s treasure vault! "The Lop people’s treasure vault!"

“However, I had already discovered it before you could.” “It was I who transferred the treasures with the apes from the perilous lakebed to this underground desert chamber.” “So does that mean you were also the one who created the whirlpools and drained the lake’s water?” The old man smiled silently. “Even so, why haven’t you revealed this treasure vault to the world and put it to use?” “Because I simply do not desire it.” “There are forty rooms underground, every one of them packed full with all manner of jewels and precious metals.” “Hundreds of millions? Tens of billions? Converted into modern currency, it could easily buy two or three continents...”

Forty-four

The old man continued quietly.

“’Tis a fortune of staggering proportions,” “Now, when we speak of today’s world, is it not one obsessed solely with material things?” “If one were to bestow such vast wealth upon that world, nations would even go to war over disputes of ownership for those treasures.” “’Tis that I fear.” The old man fell silent after saying this. To me, the old man’s words rang so utterly true that I said nothing more after that. The old man took a candle himself and walked ahead of me, showing me each of the forty rooms built underground one by one.

A mystical and ethereal treasure vault, as if from a fairy-tale world, unfolded before my eyes. Its immeasurable value captivated my gaze, and I couldn't help but sigh. I had found it! The treasure vault I'd been searching for! The great nation of Uighurs that had built a country in the Lop Desert of western China thousands of years ago—when their state was conquered by Christians and faced destruction—had hidden an incalculable fortune on a southern island of coconut palms! This was the treasure I had now discovered!

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

Thus I came to live in the rock cave with the old man once again. It must have been that the old man had given them orders, for from then on I was no longer watched by the apes. I could literally walk freely through the forest, and if the old man was king of this land, then I held the position of vice-king. My life was secure and my future brimmed with hope. The reason I say this is because the old man would tell me these things as if they were his mantra.

“I am very old.” “I shall die ere long.” “Then you yourself shall be king here.” “Since you have become king here, you shall be the owner of all treasures in that underwater basement!” “You may dispose of them as you see fit.”

However, the old man did not seem likely to depart this world easily. Vigorous enough to surpass men in their prime, even when dashing through forests, he proved more agile than the apes themselves. I too, imitating the old man, often raced through the forest and strived not to fall behind them.

Thus half a year passed. And then a year passed. One day the old man called me and handed me various keys. He even explained how one could freely manipulate such vast quantities of water within a single day. It was an exquisitely ingenious mechanism that amply demonstrated the advanced state of the old man's scientific thinking, and when I came to understand it, my reverence for him had grown deeper than ever before.

The old man grasped my hand.

“You shall be king here from tomorrow onward.” “Love them well.” “I shall take my rest now.” Having uttered these words, he gently closed his eyes. When day faded into night and moonlight bathed the heavens, the old man departed this world in tranquil peace.

The next day we prepared a new coffin for the old man. We waited for nightfall and buried him upon a small hill. Even the usually boisterous apes remained solemn that evening. The moon shone in the sky. Night birds cried in the forest. The apes writhed around the grave marker until late into the night. Before the burial mound I declared to the apes: "In place of the old man, Zhang Jiaoren shall become king of this forest!" "It's because I'm smarter than any of you!"

The apes bowed their heads and listened attentively to my words. I descended the hill there. The apes walked reverently, protecting me. Thus beginning this day, I became fully the king of this land. The apes continued living cheerfully in the forest as they always had and seemed to have forgotten about the old man. They obligingly obeyed my every command. I decided to test my newly bestowed power and, following the old man’s teachings, used one of the keys. Then the massive boulder at the site of the dried-up lake silently lifted up, and from the enormous hole that had formed behind it, water came bubbling and surging forth. Swelling rapidly until full, the vast expanse of the lake spread out once more before our very eyes.

The apes, upon seeing this, ran out from the forest, stood at the lakeshore, and began performing their bizarre dance. Here peace had returned once more to the Ape Kingdom as of old, while the forty vaults storing vast treasures—crowned by desert sand dunes at their peaks and maintaining their secret entrance near the shoulders, guarded by lion-dog statues at that mysterious shrine—glittered and glimmered beneath setting suns and rising dawns, promising eternal mysteries as they slumbered under my dominion.