Zhang Enpu sighed and said, “Son, you don’t understand. In feudal society, many families considered it an honor to sacrifice their children to accompany nobles in death. A large number of these kids were sent by their own parents. Those who were rejected by the selection process were scolded by their parents, who believed they had brought shame to the family. But if a child was chosen, the parents would be overjoyed, walking down the street with pride while others looked on with envy!”
“Holy ancestors of Liu Dashao! These people are so damn ignorant! Even tigers, fierce as they are, won’t harm their own cubs. How could humans be so heartless? These parents must have had their hearts eaten by dogs! They’re worse than beasts!” Liu Dashao ranted furiously.
Zhang Enpu smiled slightly and said, “That’s why I say humans are the cruelest and most dangerous creatures in this world!”
“Hey, come look at this! What is it?” Tian Guoqiang pointed at the circular plate held above the head of the mercury-preserved child corpse.
Everyone gathered around. Liu Dashao shone his flashlight on a small hole beneath the plate.
A very thin wax thread extended from a tiny hole at the center of the bronze plate, disappearing into the child’s head.
Everyone exchanged puzzled glances and turned to Zhang Enpu for an explanation.
Zhang Enpu leaned in closely, picked up the wax thread, examined it carefully, and suddenly exclaimed, “This is the Heaven’s Gate Candle!”
What? Heaven’s Gate Candle? What a strange name.
Zhang Enpu pointed at the wax thread and said, “Look here. One end of this thread is connected to a candle, while the other has been inserted into this child’s head. If I’m not mistaken, the child’s skull has been hollowed out and filled with wax.”
Upon hearing this, Liu Dashao thought of a watermelon without pulp and felt a wave of nausea. He couldn’t help but vomit again.
Tian Guoqiang said, “Master Zhang, I think we should leave now. This mercury child corpse gives me the creeps.” As he spoke, he walked forward on his own. Suddenly, he screamed and began to fall.
Liu Dashao reacted quickly, grabbing his wrist just in time.
“Grab me! Oh my God! Pull me up!” Tian screamed in terror.
Tian was now dangling in midair, the cold wind howling up from below. His lower body was swallowed by the dark abyss, leaving only his arm, held by Liu Dashao, and his pale face visible.
“Quick! Help me!” Tian shouted desperately while clinging to the edge of the platform.
Zhang Enpu rushed over and helped Liu Dashao pull Tian back up from the dark abyss. Tian collapsed on the ground, panting heavily. He kept slapping his chest, exclaiming, “Oh my God! I nearly died! I nearly died!”
Bai E’Lai approached and asked, “What happened?”
Zhang Enpu pointed to the darkness ahead and said, “There’s no path anymore!”
“How can that be?” Bai took a step forward, but Zhang quickly held him back, saying, “Be careful!”
The four were now standing on a platform at a corner, but there was no path ahead—just like a cliff’s edge. A foul, sharp wind blew up at them, making it hard to keep their eyes open.
Liu Dashao muttered to himself, “Damn, the wind is so fierce. This abyss must be bottomless.”
Tian, having narrowly escaped death, was too terrified to move around anymore. He sat there, dazed and still recovering from the shock.
“Master, there’s no way forward. What should we do?” Liu asked Zhang Enpu.
Zhang looked back at the stone steps they had taken and then at the darkness ahead, murmuring, “Impossible! There must be a path! We must have missed something. Where did we go wrong?”
“Hey, Big Liu, turn off the flashlight to save power. There’s a candle on the child’s head. Why don’t we light that instead?” Bai suggested.
“Right! The candle!” Zhang snapped his fingers excitedly. “That’s the key! Quick! Light the candle!”
Seeing Zhang’s excitement, the others realized there might be hope. They quickly took out a match and lit the candle on the child’s head. They had expected the half-burned candle might not light after all this time, but to their surprise, it ignited instantly. However, the flame emitted an eerie bluish glow. Even more puzzling was that despite the strong wind, the flame remained perfectly still. Liu Dashao was reminded of a Tang Dynasty poem his teacher once taught him: “Lonely smoke rises straight in the desert; the setting sun is round over the long river.” Now, it was more like: “The candle flame stands straight in the ancient tomb!”
“Quick, look! There’s a path ahead!” Tian, still sitting on the ground, suddenly shouted in amazement.
Everyone turned and saw a long stone staircase extending downward from the platform. They were stunned—the path hadn’t been there moments ago, and Tian had nearly fallen to his death. Now, with the candle lit, a long staircase had appeared out of nowhere. Could it be the work of ghosts? The thought sent chills down Liu Dashao’s spine. The staircase was too inexplicable, making him shudder just thinking about it.
“Strong, go check if the steps are solid,” Liu suggested.
“Like hell I will! Why don’t you go test it yourself?” Tian had learned his lesson and wasn’t falling for Liu’s tricks again.
No one dared to test the staircase lightly. If it turned out to be an illusion, one misstep would mean certain death. To verify its solidity, Liu turned his gun around and tapped the steps with the butt. The metallic clang reassured them. “Looks like the steps are real!” However, even Zhang couldn’t explain why the staircase had appeared only after lighting the candle. They decided not to dwell on it—perhaps it was an optical illusion or an ingenious ancient mechanism. The world was full of mysteries beyond comprehension, and sometimes it was better not to overthink things. After all, being too perceptive could rob life of its meaning, hence the saying: “Wisdom in ignorance.”
As Liu took his first step forward, Tian suddenly shouted, “Wait!”
The shout startled Liu, who quickly pulled his foot back. “What now?”
Tian said, “You only tested the first few steps. What if the staircase disappears halfway? We’d all be doomed!”
Though clearly shaken, Tian had a point.
Zhang explained, “From what we can see, the candle is likely the mechanism. As long as it stays lit, the staircase should remain solid.”
Tian argued, “What if the candle suddenly goes out?”
His question left everyone speechless. They finally decided that Liu and Bai would go ahead, while the others stayed behind to protect the candle. Liu glanced at the blue flame, which showed no sign of extinguishing. If it were going to go out, it would have done so already. Still, with all the strange things they had encountered, it was hard to be certain.
Liu asked Bai if he was ready. Bai took a deep breath and nodded. He turned to Tian and said, “I know you’re the leader of Hushui Village. If I don’t return, please take care of the two orphans I’ve been raising. It would be my last favor to ask of you.”
Tian said, “Don’t worry, I’ll do my best for the kids.”
Bai patted Tian’s shoulder. “Good buddy, you’re a true friend!”
Tian patted him back. “Go safely.”
Bai nodded solemnly and stepped onto the eerie staircase.
Liu and Bai moved slowly, step by step. Every few steps, they tapped the path ahead with their gun butts to confirm solidity before proceeding. Their progress was painfully slow, like two snails inching forward.
After what felt like an eternity, they looked back and realized they had only descended a dozen steps. Tian was still shouting from above, “Liu Dashao, Bai E’Lai, hurry up! Don’t worry, I’ve tested the candle—it won’t go out!” As he spoke, Tian puckered his lips and blew at the flame, saying proudly, “See? I told you it wouldn’t go out!”
Liu and Bai were horrified. If that idiot actually blew out the candle, they were all doomed. They quickened their pace, cursing Tian in their hearts. Bai muttered, “If I get back, I’m giving him a beating he won’t forget!” Liu nodded, “I’d kill him myself!”
About ten minutes later, they looked back and saw only faint shadows of Tian and Zhang far above. Liu waved his flashlight to signal that it was safe to follow.
After walking for what seemed like forever, they reached another corner. Both stopped in their tracks when they saw another mercury-preserved child corpse on the platform. This one was a little girl, her two pigtails still slightly upturned. She was in the same posture as the boy—kneeling, hands raised above her head, holding a bronze plate. Half a candle sat on the plate, with a thin wax thread extending from a hole beneath the plate into the girl’s skull. The whole scene made the girl look like a giant candle.
Liu sighed, “Poor kids! I can’t imagine what those ancient rulers were thinking, using human candles. How twisted!”
Soon, Tian and Zhang joined them and saw the girl’s corpse as well.
Liu peered ahead and saw only darkness, like a cliff with no visible path. He lit the candle on the girl’s head. Strangely, as soon as the flame ignited, stone steps appeared below the platform. He tapped them with his gun butt—clanging sounds confirmed their solidity. Now they were certain—the Heaven’s Gate Candle was the key mechanism controlling the staircase.
The eerie blue flame flickered. Suddenly, Bai said nervously, “Look behind us!”
The three turned and saw the upper candle had gone out, and the steps they had walked on moments ago had vanished, replaced by swirling black winds.
Now, they had no choice but to keep moving forward.
They continued on this ghostly staircase for nearly an hour. Along the way, they passed six corners, each with a mercury-preserved child corpse—alternating boys and girls. Three boys and three girls, each with a Heaven’s Gate Candle on their heads. Liu was deeply unsettled. “Whoever built this tomb must have been a genius. If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I’d never believe such a thing could exist.”
He calculated their descent. Each section of stairs was about ten meters, totaling nearly a hundred meters after six sections. Adding the earlier drop from the dam, they were now over a hundred meters underground. At this depth, they were practically beneath the riverbed.
As they walked, they came upon an arched stone gate, about two meters wide and three meters tall. There was no actual door, but in the center of the stone wall hung an octagonal copper mirror. Drawn in blood on the mirror were patterns—likely talismans to suppress evil spirits. Liu had seen rectangular, square, and round mirrors before, but never an octagonal one. The mirror shimmered faintly, though no light source was visible in the underground depths.
He turned to Zhang and asked, “Master, what does this mirror mean?”
Zhang replied, “This is called a Soul-Returning Mirror. It’s placed here to suppress evil spirits. Judging by this, the main burial chamber must be just beyond this archway.”
Hearing they had reached the main chamber, everyone felt uneasy. Zhang reassured them, saying there was nothing to fear—perhaps only an old “zombie,” which wouldn’t be a problem.
Tian asked Zhang what a “zombie” was. Bai went further, asking if zombies were edible and whether they had pork inside.
Zhang waved his hands and said, “No, no! ‘Zombie’ is just a slang term. It means a corpse that has come back to life—what people call a ‘jiangshi’ or ‘hopping vampire’!”
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