Chapter 27: The Sacrificed

Led by Sun the Eldest, our group squeezed into the narrow passage. Because it was so cramped, we didn’t use torches; instead, each of us relied on a flashlight, much like soldiers performing a low-crawl during field training. The cypress logs of the *huangchang ticou*—the log-cabin style burial chamber—were covered in thick dust and spiderwebs.

As we crawled, Sun the Eldest, who was leading the way, suddenly stopped.

"What’s wrong, Boss?" Mole asked.

Sun the Eldest turned his head, his flashlight beam blinding me momentarily. I heard him say, "Have you noticed? It’s getting lower. Are we walking downhill?"

Surrounded by wood and previously too tense to notice, I looked down when he mentioned it, and it seemed he was right. The path we had just crawled through had become a slight slope. This discovery puzzled everyone. Common knowledge dictated that *huangchang ticou* chambers were built on flat ground, with the coffin placed in the very center of the wooden structure. Why was this happening? Did it lead further down? Was there something beneath?

"Stop overthinking it. Let’s get to the end first," Sun the Eldest said, continuing to crawl forward.

The further we went, the more unsettling it became. What had been a slight incline was now becoming quite steep. Even though the Sun brothers had worked on many such sites, this abnormal design was likely a first for them, too. I was at the very back of the line, right behind Mole. The space was so tight, and with her wearing jeans, her backside was wiggling right in front of me, which was proving to be quite a distraction.

After about ten minutes of crawling, the space ahead gradually widened.

"Be careful, watch your heads. Don't hit the logs," Sun the Eldest warned, trying to stand up.

It was pitch black inside. Once everyone had emerged, Sun the Eldest swept the area with his high-intensity flashlight. His hand froze in mid-air as the beam cut through the darkness, and as we followed the light, everyone’s pupils dilated in shock.

There was no main sarcophagus, only coffins. Row upon row of them, stretching out in numbers unknown. Some had rotted away, others had collapsed into flattened wrecks, while a few remained largely intact. The scent of cedar was heavy in the air, persistent and suffocating.

Dozens of coffins were stacked together, and there were no obvious burial goods on the floor. This completely defied the funeral customs of any dynasty.

Third Brother frowned. "Boss, with so many coffins concentrated here, could this be a Western Zhou sacrificial pit?"

His question was valid. Aside from the Shang Dynasty and early Western Zhou, such sacrificial systems had largely vanished. Unless it was voluntary, forcing people to be buried alive was a violation of the laws of that era.

Sun the Third’s expression turned grim. He stepped forward to a coffin that hadn't collapsed too severely, though it was slightly crushed. I swallowed hard, keeping my flashlight steady, eyes fixed on him.

"Boss, give me the crowbar," Sun the Third said, his face heavy with gravity.

"Catch," the brothers’ coordination was seamless; the Eldest tossed the small crowbar over. Without hesitation, Sun the Third prepared to pry open the lid.

"Wait a second, Third." The Eldest asked, frowning. "Did you count the coffin nails?"

Sun the Third moved his light to inspect them. "Some parts are too rotted to be sure, but it looks like six."

"Six coffin nails?"

"Be careful, Third. Don't get too close. Six nails are one thing, but I’m worried it might be five."

Mole patted her chest and muttered, "Good, as long as it's not five."

I had learned a little about this later. While ancient funeral customs evolved, some things remained constant for millennia. Burial meant laying to rest in a coffin, and the nails sealed the boundary between the living and the dead. When sealing a coffin, six or seven nails were standard, but fewer than six was considered ominous. Five nails were known as "Soul-Sealing Nails," and four were "Soul-Suppressing Nails." In traditional belief, these were deeply unlucky for both the dead and the living.

Sun the Third was bold; having worked as a grave digger for years, he had seen more coffins than he could count. He didn't seem afraid at all. He wedged the crowbar into the seam, and since the nails had already rusted, he pried it open with a slight effort.

"What’s inside, Third?" Mole asked in a whisper.

"Nothing much. Just some inch-long gold threads and a pile of 'white chocolate,'" he said, gesturing for us to come over.

We walked over and looked. It was true. There were no burial treasures, only a few scattered human bones—the "white chocolate" he referred to—and two short pieces of gold thread. The gold was so minimal it couldn't have been remnants of a jade burial suit.

Sun the Eldest shook his head after looking. "The conditions down here must be good. After 2,600 years, the bones are still here. If this were a pit in the north, finding even a single tooth would be lucky."

"Pardon me," Sun the Eldest said, picking up a human leg bone and tossing it to the head of the coffin. "Huh? What’s this?"

He moved the bone aside and poked around with the crowbar, revealing a large, black, spherical object. Upon closer inspection, it looked like a round stone covered in mud, and the surface was embedded with seeds that hadn't fully rotted away.

"Is... is that a melon seed?" Mole frowned.

"It really is a melon seed. Damn it, bad luck. I know what this is," Sun the Third said, tossing the stone ball away and wiping his hands frantically on his clothes. "This is a 'rear-aperture bead.' In ancient times, it was a torture device. If this tomb owner really is the Marquis of Jiezi, he was no good man. What a bastard."

Sun the Eldest then pointed to the bones and explained his hypothesis. The practice of human sacrifice was actually abolished early in the Western Zhou period. However, when the Zhou Emperor granted land to various dukes, many remote regions continued the barbaric Shang custom of live burial. In those days, women had low social status and made up the vast majority of those sacrificed. The bones in the coffin were likely those of a woman.

Third Brother reconstructed the scene: It was a summer day, three thousand years ago. It was stiflingly hot, and the female weavers hired by the household were resting. The master of the house, feigning kindness in the summer heat, brought over a cart of melons for the women to eat to cool off.

Unexpectedly, the melons were drugged. Once the women fell unconscious, the master had these stone spheres inserted into their rear apertures. Some might have woken up in agony, but it was futile; they were nailed into their coffins, left to die in excruciating pain.

This horrific method of burial originated from the customs of the ancient Yue State. Not only were the beads inserted, but their mouths were stitched shut with gold thread to ensure that nothing would "enter or exit," forcing them to serve their master eternally. The remnants of gold thread were used to sew their lips together.

Even after all that, many of these women were likely still alive, but with their mouths sewn shut, they couldn't scream or even open their mouths to breathe properly. They died in the darkness days later.

It was utterly tragic.