Chapter 4: Joining the Group

“Heh, young man, you’re so young—what’s got you so down?”

Wiping my tears, I turned around and was stunned. Wasn’t this the old man who gave me directions at the Panjiayuan Market yesterday? He was the very one who told me that the stall at Baoguo Temple was free of charge.

“Kid, I noticed you selling goods at Panjiayuan since yesterday. If I’m right, did someone steal your money?”

The old man was dressed casually, his temples streaked with white hair, but he looked spirited. At the time, I didn’t think much of it. With red eyes, I nodded and said my sales money had been stolen and that I didn’t want to live anymore.

He shook his head with a soft laugh. “Young man, how much did you lose?”

“Over four thousand yuan,” I replied.

“Heh,” he chuckled, holding up one finger. “Four thousand yuan is called money? Work with me, and in this very amount of time, I can help you earn twenty thousand.”

Staring dumbfounded at that one finger, I asked, “How long? A year?”

The old man shook his head.

“A month?”

He shook his head again.

“A week?”

“Ha! I’m not joking—you can make it in a minute! As long as you’re quick, a few thousand yuan is just a matter of minutes!”

I found it unbelievable. At first, I thought he was a human trafficker trying to trick me into selling a kidney. If it were selling a kidney, no way—I’d rather die. I’d heard that if you sell a kidney while alive, you’ll never have children and your wife will cheat on you for life.

He left me with one sentence before turning away. “Kid, if you want to make it big and ride home in style in a Mercedes, then follow me. But if you want to die over that petty cash, don’t bother coming. That’ll prove I misjudged you.”

Indeed, four thousand yuan was astronomical for my poor family but trivial to him.

This man became my mentor, the one who brought me into the trade.

His path to wealth was tomb raiding.

“Finding the dragon requires careful study of the mountain’s twists and turns. Each layer is a barrier; if the door has a thousand locks, a noble dwells inside.”

From the moment I followed him off the overpass, I was officially in the business.

Not long after, I realized that the old man was right: a few thousand yuan was nothing—mere chump change that could be earned in moments.

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Have you ever heard of the four great clans of tomb raiders? The Gold Touching Officers, the Mountain Movers, the Ridge Lifters, and the Tomb Generals?

In truth, those clans have long vanished into history’s depths. Today’s tomb raiders are divided mainly into two factions: Northern and Southern.

Some jokingly call them the Bold and the Cautious.

The Northerners are daring and wild, wielding their Luoyang shovels to dig anywhere without fear. But they have one flaw—they’re not skilled at exploring water-filled tombs, especially in the southern provinces like Hunan, Guizhou, and Zhejiang. Water-filled tombs are an immense challenge: dry for a thousand years, wet for ten thousand, and half a year neither dry nor wet. Exploring them requires water skills akin to a water monkey, and the deepest ones need professional scuba gear.

No exaggeration, Northerners are mostly land-bound ducks—masters on dry land but utterly helpless underwater.

The Southern faction is often family-based: fathers teach sons, grandfathers teach grandsons. They rarely associate with outsiders, earning the nickname “the cautious faction,” a strategy to avoid betrayal within the trade.

This line of work is a mix of the virtuous and the vile—there are truly formidable figures who can recite burial texts backwards and pinpoint tomb locations at a glance. Not an exaggeration.

Then there are the amateurs who grab a hoe and dig blindly—these are the first to die or get caught.

Those who operate professionally rarely get caught.

Here’s a rough breakdown:

In a six-person tomb raiding crew, the highest-paid is the “Eye Leader,” who scouts and identifies tombs—a technical role. Skilled Eye Leaders are in high demand everywhere.

Then there’s the “Rice Seller,” a code name for the person responsible for converting stolen goods into cash. In some regions, they’re called “Goods Sellers.” This role requires extensive networks, connecting north and south, ensuring that sold items cannot be traced back.

Next are the “Earth Workers,” who dig the tunnels. This requires experience—one probe with a Luoyang shovel can reveal the tomb’s era by the soil layers brought up.

Beneath them are the “Lookouts,” who keep watch and listen carefully. Lookouts are crucial—whether a big job succeeds or fails can depend on them. Some even spend a year preparing, blending into the local community by opening shops or other fronts to gain trust.

Then there’s the logistics person, usually just one, who never enters the tomb but handles equipment procurement and replacement.

Rat suits, diamond shovels, small whirlwinds, gas masks, Luoyang shovels, fire strikers, waterproof flashlights, walkie-talkies, tents, bedding, cookware, toothbrushes, toothpaste—all bought and prepared by one person to minimize exposure and avoid revealing identities.

Finally, there’s a task called “Soil Scattering.”

When I first joined, my job was soil scattering.

It pays the least, but even the lowest share beats regular work by far.

Soil scattering requires someone with an ordinary appearance—someone like me.

I looked plain; no one would waste time watching me.

Conversely, if you’re too handsome or too ugly, you can’t do the job—you might get caught before even finishing scattering the soil in your pocket.

You carry a small amount at a time, pretending to take a walk or walk a dog, quietly scattering the tomb soil along your pant legs without leaving a trace.

Afterwards, the money is quietly divided, and no one notices us.

The old man who brought me in was named Wang Xiansheng, but everyone in the trade called him Boss Wang. Rumor had it he had raided over a thousand grand tombs, from the Han, Qin, and pre-Qin eras to Song, Yuan, Ming, and Qing dynasties—he’d handled almost all periods.

Among the tomb raiders, two tomb types were favored: Han tombs and Western Zhou tombs.

The reason was simple—bronze artifacts and ancient jade were extremely valuable. People often say “nine out of ten Han tombs are empty,” which is true.

Western Zhou tombs were even more impressive.

During the Warring States, nobles were everywhere, and lavish burials were common. If you were lucky enough to find a deep pit filled with bronzes of a Western Zhou prince, congratulations—you and your descendants wouldn’t have to work for generations.

Likewise, Western Zhou tombs are buried the deepest. After Qin Shi Huang unified the six kingdoms and built his mausoleum, mound burials became popular.

Landscapes change with time.

Western Zhou tombs generally lie more than fifteen meters underground, without burial mounds, making them hard to find and harder to dig.

Officially, the authorities prohibit trading bronzes, but everyone knows the bronzes showcased on TV appraisal shows don’t just appear out of nowhere.

Less than one percent of bronzes survive in the world—where do the rest come from?

They all come from our line of work.

Wang Boss took me away from Beijing and told me not to contact the outside world for a while. My first job was in Shunde.

This job was a Western Zhou tomb. Due to severe manpower shortages, I was chosen by Wang Boss to scatter soil.

I was the youngest member of the crew.

Upon arriving in Shunde, Wang Boss handed me a thousand yuan, saying it was a customary entry gift and told me to spend it however I wished, even to have fun with girls.

I was barely over twenty then—too timid to approach women. The money barely covered my food and drink.

I tasted Shunde’s water snake soup, four-cup chicken, pan-fried fish cakes, Yun’an steamed pork, and more—all delicious.

After wandering Shunde for two days, Wang Boss called me over. He said, “Yunfeng, tonight’s the night. Ready? Do you remember everything I taught you?”

I nodded. “Yes. Don’t scatter soil before dawn, when vehicles pass, in parks, or where there are crowds.”

Wang Boss nodded approvingly and asked, “Where do you plan to scatter?”

Thinking it over, I told him, “Near construction sites, demolished houses, woods, and gardens.”

“Ha! Not bad! I haven’t even taught you those spots yet—sharp as a tack!”

“Stay smart and follow us well! I’ll make you the richest man in your village within two years, got it?”

A smile spread across my face, and I immediately nodded in agreement.