The Keeper of Myths - Chapter 4

When Pei Xueting descended into the tomb, she was wearing a white sports tank top with a black windbreaker over it. Like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, she knocked over all the cameras and, in one swift motion, pulled off her own jacket and tossed it onto the person lying in the Coffin.

“The Special Investigation Bureau’s operational level is far above yours. Who gave you permission to come down here?” Pei Xueting gritted her teeth, coldly staring down the head of the Archaeological Team, her gaze flicking to Si Nan out of the corner of her eye.

Si Nan shivered and desperately signaled to Song Xiaoming, who was standing at the outermost edge, to close the bronze door. Unfortunately, Song Xiaoming was a level-ten social phobic, severely lacking in interpersonal skills-he could barely tell teasing from mockery, let alone understand Si Nan’s signals.

The two rookies stared wide-eyed at each other. Pei Xueting forced herself to listen to the Archaeological Team leader’s rambling for three seconds before, in the next instant, a gunshot rang out.

A bullet crater appeared in the floor of the Bronze Tomb Chamber, landing squarely at the feet of the person sneaking toward the door. The man’s legs gave out in fright, and he collapsed to the ground.

“Confiscate his phone,” Pei Xueting said, her index finger hooked around the trigger, her tone unmistakably threatening. “Until the Special Investigation Bureau has fully taken over this site, no one is to step out of this tomb chamber without permission. Otherwise, who knows whose tomb this will be in the future.”

The Archaeological Team leader was a scholarly type, never having witnessed such thuggish behavior. He turned pale with shock, his lips trembling uncontrollably. “You-you have no authority! This is against regulations!”

“We might not be following the same set of regulations as you,” Pei Xueting shot him a sidelong glance. “If you don’t believe me, you’re welcome to try.”

Song Xiaoming shrank back, not daring to search the man, so Si Nan simply lunged forward and stripped the data cable, power bank, and phone from the man’s person. Song Xiaoming, wishing he could bow in apology, nevertheless quickly unlocked the phone.

The phone screen still showed a failed cloud upload. There was no signal underground. The man had tried to upload a video: the camera panned over a noisy crowd and landed on the person sitting up in the center of the Bronze Coffin.

The angle was tricky, the lighting nonexistent, but the man’s head was bowed, his neck forming a supple arc, ink-black hair and lashes falling, creating a stark, desolate beauty in the eerie tomb chamber.

Song Xiaoming deleted all data related to the video from the phone, making sure it was unrecoverable, then hurriedly stuffed the phone back into its owner’s hand, pretending he’d never violated anyone’s privacy.

Si Nan patted the rookie’s shoulder, comforting him, “You’ll get used to it. The Information Department does this every day-it’s called cleaning up messes.”

“Si Nan,” Pei Xueting suddenly called.

“Yes, boss!” Si Nan grinned obsequiously. “What are your orders?”

“Bring down a set of clothes.” Pei Xueting leaned one shoulder against the Coffin, directing the uninvited Archaeological Team members to squat against the wall with their heads in their hands, ostentatiously avoiding even a glance at the naked man in the Coffin.

The man was unusually quiet, whether due to remarkable composure or a lack of wits was unclear. He didn’t speak, nor did he show any basic human reactions. Only when Pei Xueting spoke did his lashes tremble unconsciously, his gaze flickering toward her.

—

Si Nan was a tall young man; though he usually curled up at his workstation gaming and looked small, standing up he was a towering, mobile barricade. Yet, standing next to the man excavated from the Coffin, he still came up short.

Pei Xueting left Si Nan to watch over the man below and went up to the surface. The first thing she saw was a man sitting in front of a tent. He wore an oversized trendy T-shirt, shorts, and sneakers, his long hair tied in a ponytail at the back. Si Nan, ever flamboyant, had even hung a pair of sunglasses on his nose, treating him like a toy.

“You’re not afraid of the sun,” Pei Xueting remarked, looking at his face half bathed in golden sunlight-a pointless comment.

“I am human,” the man replied.

Pei Xueting dragged a chair over and sat beside him, scrutinizing him from head to toe. It was the first time she’d really looked at his face since he’d woken up. His skin was deathly pale, as if it hadn’t seen daylight in ages-like salt or ice, ready to melt at the touch.

“Maybe you should consider where you were dug up from before insisting you’re human.”

The man said nothing, simply extended his wrist toward her.

Pei Xueting glanced down at the wrist, faint blue veins visible beneath the skin, and pushed it back. “I know you have a pulse.”

Suddenly, the man grabbed a fruit knife from the table and stabbed it into his own wrist. By the time Pei Xueting caught his hand, the skin was already split open, blood welling out.

“What are you doing?” Pei Xueting was shocked.

“My blood is warm. Didn’t you feel it?” The man’s gaze was calm, carrying a certain inorganic chill.

Pei Xueting pressed on his wound, momentarily too stunned to speak. She’d had Si Nan bring him up and left him alone for five minutes, just to see if he’d try to run. Even if he did, she was fully confident she could catch him again.
But not only did he not run away, he waited obediently on the ground for her for five minutes, and stubbornly tried to prove to her that he was human.

Pei Xueting felt a sudden surge of anger, as if she could see Si Nan bouncing around causing trouble for her. Furious, she slapped him on the head, jumped up, and went into the tent. Her hands were stained with the man’s blood, and she wiped a bit onto his brow. The man sat silently in front of the tent, like a child who had done something wrong.

After a while, Pei Xueting came out, cursing as she kicked aside a chair, carrying a medical kit to treat his wounds.

“What’s your name?” the man suddenly asked.

“Pei Xueting,” she replied without looking up.

The man’s cool fingers suddenly touched her forehead, seeming confused. “Why do you have a Heavenly Eye?”

Pei Xueting instinctively pulled back when he touched her forehead, and looked at him in surprise at his words.

Chaotic, fragmented winds sounded in the sky. The man seemed to say something, but it was drowned out by the approaching wind. A massive helicopter, black as a bird, descended toward the ground, sending wild grass flying.

“Your people are here.” Pei Xueting finished bandaging his wrist and said, “Don’t hurt yourself anymore. It’s enough that you know what you are; it doesn’t matter who believes it.”

“Who are they?” The man was asking about the people getting off the helicopter, but his eyes were on Pei Xueting.

“They’re my colleagues, more or less.” Pei Xueting hesitated. She didn’t really know the higher-ups at the Special Investigation Bureau, nor what they would do with this newly awakened man. Her rational mind told her that both the tomb and this man were far from simple, and handing him over was the best choice.

But she felt a faint pang of reluctance.

Maybe it was because this man had just so resolutely sought her trust.

“What did you just say?” Pei Xueting changed the subject.

“I said, my name is Tan Zhen.”

Tan Zhen looked into her eyes. Pei Xueting firmly believed that when adults stared at each other at such close distance, it was either for a kiss or a fight. But in the end, he simply reached out and tapped the spot on her forehead where her Heavenly Eye was.

—

Because Si Nan had involved an ordinary person in the Special Investigation Bureau’s investigation, he was fined half a month’s salary and had to handwrite a ten-thousand-word self-critique to be read aloud at the Bureau’s morning meeting, enjoying a wave of social death.

This harsh punishment scared Song Xiaoming so much that for a whole week, he didn’t dare speak loudly to Pei Xueting, even his breathing was carefully measured.

In the morning, the sunlight was just right.

The blackout curtains in the Action Department were tightly drawn. Bai Yin carefully carried a stack of documents and placed them on Pei Xueting’s desk.

Pei Xueting sat like a lord, both feet propped up on the desk, her back comfortably against the chair. In her left hand was coffee with double syrup, in her right, last week’s Special Investigation Bureau briefing. She glanced over the lengthy report, not seeing a single word about the tomb incident.

She dialed the Information Department Head’s landline. Seeing the Action Department’s number, the anger on the other end erupted through the receiver.

“Can you people in the Action Department be a little more restrained? Stop creating extra work for us!”

“There are only two people in the Action Department. That’s really unfair of you.” Pei Xueting showed no remorse, stoking the other side’s fury to the point it nearly set the ceiling ablaze. “I want to check all information on the name ‘Tan Zhen.'”

“There’s nothing,” the Information Department Head replied harshly.

“You can’t even spare two seconds to brush me off?” Pei Xueting narrowed her eyes, her tone threatening.

“It’s not personal, there really isn’t anything.” The Information Department Head gloated. “I know why you want to check. Last week, we found quite a few photos in the Archaeological Team’s equipment from the northwest… You know, those of us who do psychological suggestion and brainwashing have already filed complaints with the Labor Supervision Department about our excessive workload. Can you Action Department people-”

“Don’t change the subject,” Pei Xueting cut off his endless complaints. “Why is there no information on this name?”

“All I can tell you is that information related to ‘Tan Zhen’ is classified at 3S+, and you don’t have clearance.” The Information Department Head boasted. “Why don’t you just ask Lu Wu directly? If he tells you, you won’t need to come to me.”

Pei Xueting slammed down the phone, nearly smashing the receiver.

At the other end of the office, Song Xiaoming, who was feeding the Merpeople on the stairs, slipped and almost fell into the aquarium, nearly becoming an extra meal for the Merpeople. The Merpeople bared their sharp teeth, ready to eat, but at a glance of Pei Xueting’s expression, they darted into the coral to hide.

Pei Xueting took a deep breath, curses on the tip of her tongue. “That Information Department bunch…”

Xuanwu calmly reminded her, “Every time our actions involve information leaks, they’re the ones cleaning up the mess. Plus, the Information Department just got a new Di Ting, who can even hear when Lu Wu’s constipated for three days. Department Head, maybe you should reconsider your wording?”

“Everyone’s favorite little darling.” Pei Xueting forced herself to swallow the curse, her face dark.

Song Xiaoming shuddered in disgust.

Suddenly, Pei Xueting’s phone rang-it was Lu Wu. With her pent-up anger, she answered with no intention of being polite.

“I’m giving you an address. Come over now,” Lu Wu said in a low voice. “Come alone.”
“You sound just like those kidnappers,” Pei Xueting accidentally let her true colors show again. “Do I need to bring ransom money?”

“If you want to see Tan Zhen, just come over,” Lu Wu ignored her banter.

—

The sanatorium was built in the mountains, a white marble Baroque-style building hidden among lush green forests. Pei Xueting drove there herself, and even the GPS almost failed to locate the place. Lu Wu personally came to the entrance to meet her and led her along a secluded forest path.

She looked up at the colorful stained glass, feeling as if she were inside a kaleidoscope.

“He’s inside. He woke up for a bit just now, but fell asleep again,” Lu Wu stopped at the ICU door, nodding toward the person lying inside.

Tan Zhen was connected to all sorts of tubes, medical devices Pei Xueting couldn’t even name attached to his body, transparent medicine slowly dripping into him through soft tubes. He looked like a pale cocoon, with the spider silk clinging to him slowly draining away his life force.

“I remember the Special Investigation Bureau doesn’t kill people,” Pei Xueting’s tone was a bit aggressive. “He wasn’t like this when he left that day.”

“He was already like this on the plane, scared the pilot half to death. He must have felt unwell ever since leaving the Bronze Tomb Chamber, but kept quiet about it,” Lu Wu didn’t back down, meeting her gaze directly. “The best medical team fought to save him for three days before they managed to stabilize his vital signs.”

Pei Xueting took half a step back, hugging her arms. She wasn’t a doctor, and it was obvious Lu Wu hadn’t called her here to join the rescue effort.

“He’s like this because of you,” Lu Wu said.

A heavy stone crashed down, nearly shattering Pei Xueting’s expression. “What?”

Lu Wu rubbed his temples and said, “I warned you not to open the Coffin.”

“I told you it opened by itself,” Pei Xueting argued. “Even if I did open it, what you just said doesn’t make sense. Was it really better for him to lie half-dead in that Coffin forever? Don’t tell me that state counted as ‘living.'”

Lu Wu was momentarily at a loss for words.

“Even if you say he was saved, or even if he wasn’t, at most it’s just a shift from one kind of conceptual death to another,” Pei Xueting glared at Lu Wu. “Don’t you dare try to guilt-trip me.”

“Fine, I can’t win against you,” Lu Wu admitted defeat. “Shut up and let me rest for two minutes.”

“No,” Pei Xueting replied. “So you admit it, right? There was supposed to be a dead person in that Coffin.”

Lu Wu looked as if he’d been punched, staring at her in disbelief. “When did I admit that?”

“If the worst outcome of not saving him is death, and you didn’t even refute me, that means there was no better outcome for him in the Coffin. So he was supposed to be dead in the first place,” Pei Xueting enjoyed Lu Wu’s stunned expression. “Who is he, and why was he sealed in the Bronze Coffin?”

Lu Wu was silent for a long time, carefully choosing his words. “The Nation-Destroying Celestial Master of the last days of Da Zheng.”

Da Zheng was a dynasty from two thousand years ago. By this logic, Tan Zhen was not just a Sleeping Beauty, but practically a walking fossil.

“If you look into the unofficial histories passed down among Celestial Masters, you can find scattered mentions of him. Most descriptions are like that. Even now, some Celestial Masters with questionable morals regard him as a spiritual leader.”

“As for more details, that’s 3S+ classified. I can’t tell you. You’ll know when your clearance is high enough,” Lu Wu waved his hand. “The reason I called you here is because he wants you to take responsibility for him.”

Pei Xueting was still processing the phrase “Nation-Destroying Celestial Master of the last days of Da Zheng” when this new statement hit her like a ton of bricks.

She was a bit dazed.

“What do you mean?”

Lu Wu rephrased it more gently, “Do you know about imprinting?”

—

“Animals will treat the first creature they see after hatching as their mother and imitate its behavior. Humans often develop special feelings for the first member of the opposite sex they encounter in life…” Si Nan read aloud from Baidu Encyclopedia with great emotion, finally concluding with a flourish, “This is what we call a ‘bond’!”

In the driver’s seat, Pei Xueting gripped the steering wheel, two veins bulging on the back of her hand.

In the back seat, Tan Zhen, still recovering from his illness, sat on a newly replaced soft cushion, with two layers of velvet pads underneath and a thin wool blanket over his knees. He held the hot milk Pei Xueting had bought him, his face still pale, but a faint flush slowly appeared thanks to the warmth of the milk.

“Bond?” Tan Zhen asked at just the right moment, puzzled by the unfamiliar term.

Si Nan glanced at Baidu’s explanation and found it lacking in romance, so he cleared his throat, ready to improvise something himself.

Just then, the traffic light at the intersection turned red. Pei Xueting freed one hand to twist his head back, forcing a smile. “How come I never knew you were so talented? Even ten thousand words of self-reflection aren’t enough for you to show off your literary skills!”

Si Nan shivered all over, hurriedly put down his phone, and shrank obediently into the passenger seat, reciting Baidu’s definition of ‘bond’ in a stiff tone, not daring to spare even a glance at Tan Zhen.

Tan Zhen was oblivious, smiling harmlessly as he held the hot milk.

Footnote:
1. Di Ting(谛听): A mythical beast in Chinese Buddhism, companion of Kṣitigarbha, said to hear all things and discern good from evil.