Cruel Heart

After about an hour, we arrived at Sanlitun Village. This was the starting point for our wilderness adventure, where we would rest for the night. The next morning, we would set off from here to traverse 300 kilometers of primitive forest over fifteen days to reach another village. Along the way, we would pass through five small settlements where we could replenish our food and water supplies. Adding weight to this expedition, and much to the excitement of He Yunkai, this robust man, was that this long wilderness adventure was unprecedented in the history of university expeditions for not having a local guide. This meant that whether the fourteen of us could make it out of the dense jungle would entirely depend on ourselves. Although each of us had brought mobile phones and all sorts of useful gadgets, and Liang Yingwu even had a borrowed double-barreled shotgun, in this place where birds and beasts still reigned supreme, one couldn’t say it was foolproof. However, Liang Yingwu and I were not particularly worried. We had an official, detailed map, and last year a university expedition team had traveled the same route, meticulously mapping it out. Liang Yingwu had obtained a copy of this map, so there was no fear of getting lost. As for wild animals, generally, all carnivores, unless extremely hungry, wouldn’t attack humans, let alone a large group like ours. In the worst-case scenario, Liang Yingwu’s shotgun was not to be underestimated. Moreover, although Liang Yingwu didn’t mention it, and I didn’t ask, I didn’t believe that someone from the X organization like Liang Yingwu wouldn’t have one or two high-tech gadgets at hand, or at least carry communication devices more reliable than mobile phones. Therefore, not hiring a guide was merely a means to enhance the students’ sense of adventure. The school had already arranged for lodging and food with Sanlitun Village in advance. As soon as the car arrived, the village head and several elders were already waiting at the village entrance, along with a group of children and a few villagers watching. These elders, likely highly respected in the village, had white hair and deeply lined faces, making Liang Yingwu and me look like mere lads, not to mention the students. They had waited for who knows how long, and we felt quite apologetic. By then, it was getting late, and after a long journey, everyone was famished. The village head, aware of this, after a brief greeting, led us to where dinner would be served. There was no dedicated restaurant in the village, but in the large open space at the center, a bonfire had already been lit, with all sorts of wild game skewered on iron forks. The aroma wafting over made our eyes pop and our saliva flow uncontrollably. No chairs were needed; everyone sat on the ground. Besides the barbecue, dishes were continuously brought in from all directions of the village. It seemed the village head had assigned tasks, and many villagers were cooking at home. I knew the school would certainly provide some money to the village, which I estimated wouldn’t be much, but for this village, it would be a significant income. Unlike restaurants in Shanghai, the dishes here, though not as refined or seasoned as those in big city eateries, were all-natural, genuine wild game. The meat was a bit tougher but fresh and fragrant. There was also a large pot of wild mushrooms just picked from the mountains, stir-fried with pheasant, which was so delicious that even now, recalling it, I find myself salivating, despite the eerie and dangerous events that followed. Thirty to forty villagers participated in this “banquet,” which was a rare treat for them as well. Although wild game was often hunted near Shennongjia, it was usually sold at the market outside, and seldom kept for personal consumption. During the meal, the villagers spoke a lot to us, but most of the time, we could barely understand their heavily accented Mandarin. In such a noisy environment, it was as good as local dialect to us, and we felt too embarrassed to ask them to repeat everything, so we just nodded and smiled. However, on the students’ side, Lu Yun seemed to understand some of it and began translating between the two groups. He Yunkai and Zhu Zili started toasting with the villagers, drinking the village’s homemade liquor which had a strong alcohol smell. After a few rounds, He Yunkai was already swaying, while Zhu Zili seemed to handle it well, which was quite surprising. Someone asked which parts of the route were particularly interesting or scenic. It seemed that besides enduring the hardships of the expedition, everyone wanted to appreciate the natural beauty of Shennongjia. A few hunters who often roamed the mountains began describing the terrain, pointing out where there were streams, waterfalls, open spaces, or narrow paths. They also shared some legends related to the landscapes, mostly romantic tales, which were quite touching. Suddenly, a clear child’s voice from the side said, “And there’s the People’s Cave.” The child’s Mandarin was much clearer than that of the adults. I looked over to see a boy of about six or seven, with his mouth open and a strange expression on his face. Usually, when children mention places, it’s where they often play, but his expression now seemed almost panicked, as if he had just done something wrong. “What’s the People’s Cave? Is it a cave? Is it fun?” Yuan Qiudong asked with a smile. “Ah Bao, what are you talking about!” A robust man next to him scolded, quickly getting up, striding over to Ah Bao, lifting him by one arm, and spanking him with his other calloused hand. The other children turned pale, not daring to say a word. My brow furrowed, not because Ah Bao was being hit — that was a family matter, and I didn’t want to interfere, and besides, Ah Bao was only getting a few smacks for a verbal slip. What puzzled me was that Ah Bao’s father also seemed nervous while hitting him, not stopping after more than ten spanks. Ah Bao looked dazed, not crying or speaking. The People’s Cave, what exactly is this place? From this scene, it seemed almost like a taboo not to be mentioned.
“Stop it, stop it, you’re going to hurt the child. Forget it, he hasn’t done anything wrong.” Several girls, unable to watch any longer, stepped in to stop the beating. “Tianjin, that’s enough,” the village chief spoke up. Hearing this, Tianjin, Abao’s father, gave three more hard slaps before finally letting go of Abao. As Abao’s feet touched the ground, he stood there in a daze for a moment before bursting into loud sobs. “Cry, what are you crying for? If you dare to talk nonsense again, I’ll break your legs,” Tianjin shouted. A woman, presumably Abao’s mother, came forward and led him away. I glanced at Liang Yingwu; this ‘human cave’ seemed far from simple, and the villagers were clearly superstitious about it. It was better not to ask. However, the college students weren’t as cautious, their curiosity piqued by the strange event. “Excuse me, what is this human cave?” He Yun asked. “Well…” the village chief looked troubled and after some thought said, “Children just say things without thinking; there’s really nothing interesting there.” “If Abao says it like that, it means he often goes there to play. How can there be nothing interesting?” Liu Wenying, one of the young people, asked without hesitation. Speaking of which, I should be considered young too, but being with these college students, the psychological gap was indeed significant. This might be related to my previous strange experiences; having been through life-and-death situations a few times, one matures quickly, regardless of age. “Bah, he often goes to play? That would be seeing ghosts,” Tianjin scoffed. The village chief gave a wry smile, “It’s not just Abao; no one goes there to play. I really don’t know why he said that just now; it’s quite strange.” This only fueled the students’ curiosity even more, and they all started asking questions, indicating they wouldn’t be satisfied until their curiosity was quenched. Liang Yingwu had no choice but to ask the village chief. Upon Liang’s inquiry, the students immediately looked at him with gratitude. I chuckled to myself, thinking he truly understood the art of teaching; with this move, he had won many hearts. Relationships in the X organization must be complex, and these little tricks would make these young ones obedient. Seeing Liang speak, the village chief couldn’t hide the truth any longer. According to their original planned route, after about half a day’s walk, there was a small mountain called Baojia Mountain, and halfway up, there was this human cave. This cave was on an almost vertical cliff, a place where a child could never reach, let alone play in without tools even for an adult. So, Abao was definitely lying earlier. At such a young age, he deserved the beating for lying. However, I wondered if Abao was really beaten just for lying. The beating was not light; you could tell Tianjin had used some force. Not just Tianjin, but from the village chief to the elders, everyone’s expressions were unnatural. Of course, I didn’t ask that out loud. Almost immediately, someone suggested visiting the human cave the next day. This proposal was met with enthusiasm from the other students, but the village chief’s expression changed, “You can’t go there; it’s not a place to visit.” Just as I thought. The village chief sighed and began to explain, “None of us have ever been to that cave. It’s been passed down that it’s a place of misfortune, where calamity befalls anyone who enters, so no one dares to go.” But this reason was hardly convincing to the curious students who had received years of scientific education. However, the village chief and the elders seemed very firm, and most students tactfully dropped the subject, except for He Yun, who insisted on seeing it the next day. Seeing the worried look on the village chief’s face, Liang Yingwu had to tell He Yun to stop talking.