The Life of a Tomb-Raiding Scoundrel

[Tomb Raiding] + [human nature] + [suspense] + [Period]

My name is Zhao Baogen. I've spent forty years digging in the earth at the foot of Mangshan.

When Liu the Mute died, he was clutching a jade pendant. We had to break his fingers to pry it free.

Sun the Half-Immortal said, “There are no ghosts underground, but there are in people's hearts.”

The day Old Zhao quit the business, he said, “You think you're digging things up. In truth, they're digging you up.”

I've seen bronze swords in Warring States tombs, still gleaming after more than two thousand years.

I've touched the face of a waterlogged Han dynasty corpse. Its skin was still elastic.

I've been buried up to my chest by quicksand, had my leg broken by a falling rock, and been stabbed by an accomplice.

My daughter says, “Your money is dirty.”

My wife says, “How much longer are you going to do this?”

My brother says, “Brother Baogen, was it worth it, living our lives like this?”

There are no heroes or villains in my life, just a bunch of people who can never get enough.

There are no guardians, no aliens, no high technology.

Just a Luoyang shovel, a rope, a flashlight, and the things underground that cannot speak.

This isn't a power fantasy. It's one man's life.

No tomb-raiding talisman, no dragon-seeking secret art.

Just a Luoyang shovel, a rope, and one life.

The bronze swords in Warring States tombs still gleam after more than two thousand years.

The faces of Han dynasty waterlogged corpses still feel elastic to the touch.

In quicksand tombs, people are buried alive up to their chests.

In stone-piled tombs, boulders crush bones.

When it's time to split the money, your own brother might stab you.

When you're caught, no one will take the blame for you.

This isn't a novel. These are real events.

There are no ghosts underground, only people.

[This is my last tomb-raiding novel. I won't write another.]