Chapter Twenty: The Stone Roadman

The current situation caught me completely off guard.

The three of us who remained had no idea why Wang Hou and Xian Hongye had disappeared, nor could we fathom what had happened inside the pickup in those brief few seconds.

But there was one thing I believed—one thing I had to believe: Wang Hou and Xian Hongye had certainly not turned into the stones that now occupied their seats. I simply refused to accept that they could have become stone!

But where had they gone? Lost in the bewildering night, I was utterly at a loss.

I looked around, but all I could make out were the vague outlines of shrubs on either side of the old Qi Road, and farther off, some indistinct, statue-like boulders looming in the darkness.

These things only blocked my view, offering no clue about the two missing companions. In the night, I could barely discern direction, let alone venture out to search for them.

Just then, little Ah Si tugged anxiously at my pant leg, urging me, “Chase that way—they went there.”

He stretched out his hand, pointing toward a spot among the bushes and brambles beside the road.

That direction seemed unremarkable at first glance, but with a closer look, I noticed something different: all the wild grass there was flattened, clearly trampled by someone recently.

My mind was in turmoil, and I hesitated, so I turned back to Ah Si and asked, “Are you sure?”

He kept pointing, replying firmly, “I’m sure! The dog was barking that way! It has to be there. I used to get bitten by these beasts all the time—I know their temperament.”

His words made sense and jolted me awake.

We had a dog, and the black dog Dudu had experienced everything that just happened in the pickup. If we followed the direction of its barking, we should be able to find Wang Hou and Hongye.

The thought struck me, and I immediately turned to Zhao Hong, calling out, “Zhao Hong! Bring the dog—we’re going to look for Wang Hou.”

But Zhao Hong didn’t move, nor did he answer right away. Instead, he lit a cigarette and took deep drags, trying to calm his nerves, yet his face grew heavier, more pessimistic.

Seeing his trembling fingers gripping the cigarette, I sensed his inner anxiety and fear.

“Tan Bu’er,” Zhao Hong said very formally, “I don’t think it’s that simple. There have been tales of ghost soldiers in Yimeng Mountain for ages. People turning to stone isn’t a coincidence, and didn’t you just say…”

He didn’t finish, because I cut him off immediately.

“Old Zhao!” I reminded him loudly, “Now’s not the time to discuss this.”

Truthfully, I knew Zhao Hong wanted to tell me things I didn’t understand—perhaps even truths about the situation that I had yet to grasp.

But I couldn’t afford to listen right now.

With Wang Hou and Xian Hongye’s lives uncertain, I had no mind for explanations. As time slipped by, their predicament would only grow more precarious.

In situations like this, searching for them was paramount—I couldn’t focus on anything else.

So I pointed toward the direction of the barking dog and said, “Let’s go find Wang Hou! Whatever you have to say, save it for later… Time won’t wait.”

Zhao Hong opened his mouth but said nothing more. He nodded, understanding my urgency.

In silence, Zhao Hong climbed into the vehicle to fetch the dog. I stood below, watching his portly frame, feeling a deep sense of guilt.

I hadn’t wanted Zhao Hong to get caught up in our troubles, but events had unfolded beyond control.

I knew this search wouldn’t be easy, but I had to take Zhao Hong with me—leaving him alone with the pickup would only make me uneasy.

By this point, we could not afford to split up any further.

So, the three of us, with the black dog Dudu in tow, plunged headlong into the tangled undergrowth, searching desperately for any sign of Wang Hou and Xian Hongye.

I had to admit, Zhao Hong’s uncle’s black dog was remarkable. Though a mongrel, it was keen and intelligent—almost as big as a person, sleek and black as night, its large, jet-black eyes glimmering with eerie blue light in the moonlight.

Unlike us, the dog was fearless, even excited. Zhao Hong had barely freed it from the pickup when it shot off like an arrow, the chain around its neck tugging so hard that Zhao Hong nearly stumbled.

Watching the dog’s vitality filled me with renewed confidence. With it leading the way, at least we wouldn’t get lost. In the darkness, it was like having a pair of eyes that could see through the night.

Zhao Hong, holding the leash, was calmed by the dog’s performance. He even found time to point out, “Black dogs are perceptive! They can see things ordinary people can’t.”

“Let’s hope so,” I replied, uneasy and apologetic. “I shouldn’t have dragged you into this…”

But Zhao Hong only smiled, unconcerned.

He waved his hand and said, “We’re comrades! No need for formality!”

His calm, simple words warmed my heart and made me feel deeply inferior.

That camaraderie forged through sweat and blood in the army—perhaps this was its purest form amid crisis.

And so, Zhao Hong and I walked one behind the other, with little Ah Si sandwiched between us, following the black dog Dudu’s lead as we pressed on through the dense shrubs by the old Qi Road.

Once inside, we realized the scale of the shrubbery was far greater than I’d imagined.

At first, the trees only reached my chest. But as our search deepened, the bushes towered overhead, and the dogtail grass that had once barely brushed our ankles now grew up to our waists.

In a place like this, at night, it would be almost impossible not to get lost. Yet, with the black dog guiding us, our worries were eased. As the search continued, I felt truly grateful—without the dog, we would have been left staring at the empty pickup in despair, or calling Wang Hou and Hongye’s names into the empty mountains.

Soon, the black dog, panting wildly, led us to a small clearing amid the woods.

As Zhao Hong and I burst through the sandy brush into the little clearing, both of us paused, startled.

In the near-circular clearing, under the dim moonlight, stood a stone pillar as tall as two men. Weathered beyond recognition by time, it gleamed pale and ghostly in the moonlight. The stone itself was ordinary, but in our minds, it felt anything but.

Staring at the stone, Zhao Hong and I exchanged glances. We all knew—wasn’t this one of the “stone men” surrounding the old Qi Road? Why was it here? Was this where the black dog had led us?

As one, we turned to look at the dog, hoping the intelligent beast might offer another hint, even though it couldn’t speak.

The black dog kept sniffing; I didn’t know what it was searching for. Yet, in the small clearing, there was nothing but that stone, and I couldn’t see what it had to do with Hongye and Wang Hou’s disappearance.

Just as suspicion gnawed at me, the dog suddenly turned and barked fiercely at Zhao Hong, who was holding its leash.

Zhao Hong seemed to understand, and immediately let go, allowing the dog to rush toward the base of the “stone man.”

Watching the dog, Zhao Hong lit another cigarette and said, “This dog’s been with me a long time—I know it. It knows where to look for things.”

I nodded.

As Zhao Hong predicted, the dog quickly zeroed in on a patch of loose earth beneath the stone.

Its tail flicked, then it began digging furiously.

I didn’t know what it was after, but seeing the dog’s excitement, I guessed there was something in the soil that intrigued it.

While the dog dug, the silent Zhao Hong shuffled over, handing me a cigarette.

I rarely smoked, but the oppressive atmosphere compelled me to relieve some tension, and after those few steps, my nerves and strength were spent—I needed a moment’s rest.

Taking the cigarette, I tore off the filter, lit up, and took a drag.

Zhao Hong watched me rip off the filter, chuckling, “After all these years, still the old habit…”

I nodded, pointing to the unfiltered cigarette. “Learned it from the old squad leader—he said smoking this way lets you inhale less, makes it a bit less harmful.”

“In the army, you always trusted the squad leader, even learned his cooking best,” Zhao Hong said, then turned to glance at the dog digging furiously. He looked back and said, “Old Tan, there’s something I have to tell you. No matter what the dog digs up, you should be prepared.”

I nodded, an uneasy foreboding rising in my heart. I knew Zhao Hong had wanted to tell me something from the start, and it must be related to whatever was buried in the earth.

After I agreed, Zhao Hong took a deep drag, blew out a mouthful of smoke, and gazed thoughtfully at the huge stone in the clearing, saying, “When I was little, my grandmother used to tell me about these ‘stone men.’ They’re incarnations of ghost soldiers…”

“Ghost soldiers?” I asked, pointing at the stone the dog was digging beneath. “You mean the stone men of the Stone Man Hill and the stones on the old Qi Road are all ghost soldiers?”

Zhao Hong nodded, then shook his head, explaining that he didn’t know the specifics, only what had been passed down by elders. In the Yimeng Mountains, every few decades, there would be inexplicable landslides, and after the landslides, there would be gatherings of ghost soldiers.

Expressionless, Zhao Hong said, “Once the ghost soldiers finish gathering, they start ‘fighting.’ The battles of the ghost soldiers harm all living things within miles.”

If not for the earlier strange events, I’d have thought I was listening to a joke.

So I pressed him, “Ghost soldiers fighting? Who are they fighting? How do they fight?”

Yes—who are they fighting? Surely not the traffic police we saw earlier.

But Zhao Hong, looking at me, showed no trace of humor. He continued, “My grandmother said… ghost soldiers fight against things that escape from the mountain during landslides. Every big landslide means some ‘monster’ escapes from the mountains…”