Confessions of a Tufuzi: Thirty Years of Tomb Robbing

I lit up a cigarette, and the smoke filled me as if I was back to that night in 1987. I was seventeen years old at the time, standing on the hillside with my cousin, holding a shovel tightly in my hand. The night wind howled, and a few dogs barked in the distance. My cousin lowered his voice and said, "Remember, in our business, 30% depends on craftsmanship and 70% depends on courage. But courage alone is not enough. You must also understand the rules left by our ancestors." That was my first time going to the grave. My cousin is a famous "local master" in Luoyang. The first lesson he taught me was how to use a Luoyang shovel to identify soil layers. As the soil brought out by the shovel head, he asked me to twist it with my fingers: "Look, this is Wuhua soil, which is formed by the natural soil layer being disturbed and then backfilled. The color is messy, including soil and broken bricks from different periods. There must be something underneath." All this... Has just begun