Chapter Six: The Basement

"Come in, please. Master is expecting you, follow me!" The one who emerged was a child of about ten or so, dressed as a young Taoist priest, his lips red and teeth white, with a truly endearing appearance.

Wu Ming and Director Baolong followed the little Taoist through the courtyard walls. Inside and outside the courtyard were like two different worlds. Once they stepped within, it was as if they had entered a scene of spring’s warmth and blossoming flowers, with lush trees interspersed among a profusion of vibrant blooms. They meandered along a cobblestone path, winding their way past several classical-style buildings. At last, they arrived at a grand hall at the far end, where the central altar enshrined the Three Pure Ones. Above the hall hung a strange plaque, upon which two large characters were written in gold lacquer: "Virtue and Dao." The calligraphy was bold and vigorous, evoking a sense of profound mystery. Wu Ming was particularly curious that it bore the words "Virtue and Dao" rather than the typical "Hall of Such-and-Such."

"You may go in and wait for a while. Master will be here soon." The little Taoist quietly withdrew from the hall, gently closing the two ancient doors behind him.

Director Baolong, abandoning his usual irascible demeanor, silently offered incense and kowtowed to the Three Pure Ones. He then found a meditation cushion, sat cross-legged, closed his eyes, and held his hands in the Five Hearts Facing Heaven gesture, assuming the posture of one cultivating inner tranquility. Wu Ming waved a hand in front of his face for a long while without eliciting any response; it was impossible to tell if Baolong was truly meditating, merely pretending, or simply had fallen asleep.

Bored, Wu Ming sat cross-legged on another cushion, dozing off. In his restlessness, he slipped into a corner of the hall and furtively smoked a cigarette, thinking to himself, "Forgive me, Ancestors of the Dao, this is not a cigarette but a remedy for boredom." Wu Ming's attitude toward such things was always, "Better to believe than not, but best not to meddle." Whether such things were true or not, whatever their reality, it was safest not to invite trouble.

He finished his cigarette quickly, but Baolong’s master still had not appeared. Growing impatient, Wu Ming wandered idly about the hall, glancing here and there, sometimes reaching out to touch anything that caught his fancy, displaying none of a guest’s restraint—he acted more as if he owned the place.

Soon, Wu Ming found himself behind the statues of the Three Pure Ones, where, to his surprise, a door was concealed in the wall. The carvings and decorations on this door were identical to the patterns in his copy of the Classic of Mountains and Seas. His curiosity piqued, Wu Ming glanced around to make sure he was alone, then slipped through the door. He passed down a not-so-long corridor, twisting and turning, and descended into a subterranean chamber. He supposed he was underground, as he had noticed himself moving steadily downward as he walked.

The chamber was completely empty, floors thick with dust. Strangely, despite there being no lamps or lights, the chamber was not the least bit dark. By rights it should have been pitch black, but Wu Ming could see everything within clearly. Was it that the objects in the chamber glowed of their own accord, or had he somehow acquired night vision?

"Is anyone there?" Wu Ming called out in the empty chamber. "Anyone there, anyone there, anyone there..." The words echoed back from afar, revealing the vastness of the space beneath the hall. He wondered what such a huge underground chamber was for, especially as it seemed to have been long unused and left completely empty, dust gathering thickly on the floor.

Cautiously he moved forward, his footsteps amplified by the profound silence. Having read a number of tomb-raiding novels, Wu Ming knew that sealed spaces could lead to suffocation from lack of oxygen. So he took a lighter from his pocket, struck it, and held it out before him. He wasn’t sure if it would truly warn him of low oxygen, but at least it afforded some psychological comfort.

He pressed onward, and the chamber truly seemed endless, vast beyond comprehension. What startled him most was that, for all its immensity, there wasn’t a single supporting pillar in sight. Even with the most advanced modern technology, such a structure would be impossible to achieve. Wu Ming couldn’t help but marvel at the ingenuity of the ancient Chinese. As to whether this was truly an ancient construction, in his mind he had already accepted it as such. Step by step he walked on; the path seemed to spiral ever downward. How far he had gone, he had completely lost track. Fatigue was overtaking him, and the metal wind-shield of his kerosene lighter had grown so hot it was beginning to glow red. He began to regret wandering so thoughtlessly, for at the beginning there had been walls to guide him, but now, aside from the ceiling and floor, the enclosing walls had vanished; it was as if he were surrounded by boundless emptiness. In other words, he was utterly lost in this vast underground chamber.

No matter which direction he looked, the floor and ceiling appeared identical—a featureless expanse that numbed his senses. He gave up bothering with the thick dust and simply lay down flat on his back. He was exhausted. In this eerie place, with no idea how things might turn out, perhaps it was best to wait for Director Baolong to come looking for him.