Love on the Turquoise Land

1992, Tang County, Laoniutougang, Southern Shaanxi.

Yan Huanshan left early in the morning, pedaling his bicycle across most of the county to deliver gifts to seven or eight "relevant departments"—both official and unofficial. He had recently taken over a small coal mine in Gangxi, but his qualifications were insufficient, his paperwork incomplete, and his operations severely non-compliant. Without some under-the-table generosity, the mine could be shut down at any moment.

That said, these were the early days of China’s economic revival—and the revival was happening a little too fast. Regulations couldn’t keep up, so connections and favors ruled the day.

By noon, Yan Huanshan had handed out twenty or thirty thousand yuan, but far from feeling any pain, he was downright pleased. With the right connections in place, things at the mine would go smoothly. On top of that, his wife, Lin Xirou, was pregnant. They’d pulled some strings to get an ultrasound, and the doctor said it was a boy.

A boy! A little man! The Yan family would have an heir!

With both career and family thriving, Yan Huanshan was on cloud nine. On his way back to the mine, he pedaled his bike with a carefree wobble, humming along to Teresa Teng’s Sweet as Honey .

From a distance, Yan Huanshan spotted Lin Xirou standing at the mine entrance, her belly slightly rounded.

This wouldn’t do—a pregnant woman shouldn’t be wandering around! In his panic, he didn’t even bother to prop up his bike, just tossed it aside and hurried over. "What are you doing here?"

Lin Xirou, in her late twenties, lived up to her name—pleasant-faced and gentle. She lifted the insulated lunchbox in her hand. "The food at the mine’s canteen isn’t great, so I made you pork dumplings."

Only then did Yan Huanshan realize it was almost lunchtime. A surge of pride welled up in him at having his wife by his side. The bachelors working the mine—or the married men whose wives were back in their hometowns—would never get to enjoy a steaming, home-cooked "love meal" like this.

Carefully, he guided Lin Xirou toward the mine office. "Come on, watch your step, take it slow."

Lin Xirou burst out laughing. "I’m barely showing yet. What are you so nervous about?"

The office was a bit of a mess, its walls plastered with all sorts of "Top Ten" and "Model Worker" certificates—awards Yan Huanshan had secured through networking over the past couple of years.

Lin Xirou glanced at them briefly before looking away. She wasn’t particularly fond of these hollow accolades, but her girlfriends all praised such behavior, saying it showed a man was sharp, resourceful, and adaptable.

When she opened the lunchbox, the aroma of leeks, fresh pork, and aged vinegar filled the air. Yan Huanshan inhaled deeply with satisfaction before digging in.

Lin Xirou sat across from him, pulling knitting needles and a ball of yarn from her bag. As she deftly worked on a sweater, she made small talk. "Still no sign of that Li Ergou?"

Between noisy mouthfuls, Yan Huanshan mumbled, "That bastard… stole from the mine and ran off. Where the hell would we even look?"

Li Ergou was the only thorn in Yan Huanshan’s side lately.

But he wasn’t too bothered. Every mine, every factory had its share of rotten apples. The guy was lazy, always late or leaving early, and worst of all, he spread rumors about ghosts haunting the mine, seriously dampening the workers’ morale. After Yan Huanshan chewed him out, the guy got spiteful, broke into the finance office at night, and made off with nearly ten thousand yuan.

Ten thousand yuan—just thinking about it made his heart ache.

Lin Xirou said, "You’re really not reporting it to the police? Letting a scoundrel like that get away with it?"Yan Huanshan's reply was even more vague: "Why report it? Better avoid trouble when possible."

After all, his mine had too many shady dealings, and he didn't want to invite the police to his doorstep.

Lin Xirou fell silent, lowering her head to knit a few more rows. Glancing up, she noticed Yan Huanshan had stopped wolfing down his food—he was biting his chopsticks, staring out the window.

Following his gaze, she saw a crowd of workers gathered near the mine entrance. She checked the wall clock: half past twelve. The miners should be coming up for lunch.

She started a new topic: "What's the main dish at the mine today? Mutton?"

Yan Huanshan muttered, "Something's wrong..."

Lin Xirou froze and looked out the window again. This time, she noticed the abnormality: usually at mealtime, the workers raced to the canteen faster than wolves. But now, they were clustered in small groups at the pit entrance, shouting excitedly. If you looked closely, you could even see their spit glinting in the sunlight.

Could something really have happened?

Mine owners feared underground accidents the most, and such incidents were never minor scrapes or bumps. Yan Huanshan's heart pounded as he set down his bowl and chopsticks, rushing out the door in a few strides. From several meters away, he bellowed with authority: "What's going on? What happened?"

This was the experience he'd honed over the years: no matter what happened, even if someone died, you couldn't show fear or panic. You had to be fierce, to command the situation with your voice.

The shout had an immediate effect—the clamor died down. Foreman Liu Sanchi's coal-black horse-face was pale beneath the grime: "B-boss, Ergou ain't lyin'. There's... there's ghosts down there."

No deaths. A boulder lifted from Yan Huanshan's chest, and he roared even louder: "Damn it."

By the time Lin Xirou arrived, Yan Huanshan was in the middle of giving the workers an atheism lecture.

"The books say it plain as day—there are no ghosts in this world. Ergou's illiterate, but are you all blind too? Where's this ghost? Bring it out, let me see!"

Changxi, a young worker who'd only just started at the mine, cautiously explained: "We can't call it out. In broad daylight, I heard ghosts melt in the sun."

Oh, so now they were being considerate of ghosts?

Yan Huanshan was furious: "All of you running your mouths—did any of you actually see it? Huh? What's this ghost look like, then?"

Surprisingly, someone answered.

Mao Wang: "It was pale, didn't get a good look. Just flashed by."

Sun Gui: "It made noise. I heard it moaning."

Han Defu: "I brought down two melons—both gone!"

Yan Huanshan sneered: "Even as a ghost, it's still thinking about melons?"

Lin Xirou's mind raced. She tugged Yan Huanshan's sleeve, pulling him aside: "Could it be Li Ergou?"

Born in the '60s like Yan Huanshan, she had received solid Marxist-Leninist education and had always scoffed at superstitions. Hearing about strange happenings in the mine, her first thought was of people.

—Li Ergou had fled in the middle of the night, taking nothing but the white undershirt and black shorts he was wearing. "Pale"—could that be the white shirt? The mine tunnels were pitch black; a white shirt would stand out.

—They'd searched everywhere for Li Ergou. Wasn't it possible he'd hidden in the mine? "Two melons gone"—with no food underground, stealing would be a given.Yan Huanshan caught on immediately and slapped his thigh. "It's him, no doubt about it!"

Now that he had a clear idea, he turned around, his tone even firmer. "Alright then, I'll go down with you to meet this so-called ghost."

Most miners were illiterate and rough around the edges, making it hard to explain materialism to them. The most effective way was to show them the truth—to debunk the "ghost" right before their eyes.

Unfortunately, no one was willing to go down, not even for a twenty-yuan reward.

But that was fine. Yan Huanshan reconsidered and decided that going down alone to drag Li Ergou out would make an even stronger impression. It would show these miners that being the mine owner wasn’t just for show—once he established his authority, giving orders in the future would be much easier.

He rolled his eyes at the group. "Too scared, huh? Just wait. Your Brother Yan will drag it out into the sunlight."

Comparison is the thief of joy. Against the backdrop of the dejected miners, Yan Huanshan, already tall and striking, appeared even more imposing. Lin Xirou felt a swell of pride, thinking her man was truly impressive. It wasn’t until Yan Huanshan’s figure was nearly disappearing into the mine entrance that she remembered to call out, "Don’t go too hard on him!"

Yan Huanshan had spent some time on the streets in his youth and was known for his ruthless fists and kicks. Taking on two or three burly men was no problem for him. Lin Xirou was worried he might lose his temper and end up crippling Li Ergou in the heat of the moment.

Large, well-equipped mines had elevators for descending and mine carts for moving between tunnels. Yan Huanshan’s mine was small and kept things simple—a few sets of makeshift pulleys were set up at the entrance, and everyone went up and down using "monkey bags" attached to the pulleys.

The so-called "monkey bag" was just a burlap sack with two holes cut at the bottom. You’d sit inside it, let your legs dangle out, and then be lowered all the way to the bottom via the pulley. Because of the low safety factor, you had to curl up and stay as still as possible the whole way down, looking like a dumb monkey—hence the name "monkey bag," even though it was meant for people.

Yan Huanshan greeted the guard at the entrance and descended into the mine in a monkey bag.

He had taken over this mine from the previous owner—a secondhand operation. Whatever state it was in when he got it was how it stayed. The only notable thing about it was its depth—it was exceptionally deep.

And precisely because it was so deep, the mine was rife with eerie ghost stories far more than others. For instance, Li Ergou had spread rumors that this mine was the entrance to the eighteenth level of hell and even claimed to have seen green-faced, fanged ghosts. What nonsense! If it really were the entrance to hell, Yan Huanshan wouldn’t be running a mine—he’d be selling tickets to the attraction. With 1.1 billion Chinese people, every last one would come to gawk.

At the bottom of the shaft, near a pile of equipment, Yan Huanshan picked up a pickaxe, grabbed a miner’s lamp, and entered the labyrinthine network of tunnels.

He wasn’t very familiar with the tunnels below, but there was no helping it. Small coal mines didn’t bother with detailed tunnel maps, and manual mining was too unpredictable. Sometimes, if miners sensed danger—like a potential collapse—they’d just prop it up with wooden beams and dig in another direction. Over time, the tunnels ended up looking like they’d been dug by dogs and gnawed by pigs, impossible to map or even remember.

As he walked, Yan Huanshan shouted, "Ergou, come out on your own. Cooperate, and I’ll go easy on you."The tunnel was pitch black, with the miner's lamp swaying left and right, illuminating only a small table-sized area at a time. But Yan Huanshan wasn’t afraid at all—firstly, he was naturally bold, and secondly, what was there to fear from people? As for ghosts, did they even exist in this world?

After walking for about fifteen minutes, Yan Huanshan’s shouts had left his throat hoarse, yet Li Ergou still hadn’t shown himself to confess. Annoyed, he was about to head into another tunnel when he suddenly stepped on something.

It was slippery, making it impossible to keep his footing. Caught off guard, Yan Huanshan yelped as he slid several steps forward on the thing before landing flat on his back with a heavy thud. The fall left him seeing stars, and the glass cover of his miner’s lamp cracked in several places.

It took Yan Huanshan a full five seconds to recover. Holding up the lamp, he scanned the area and quickly identified the culprit—a piece of melon near the stem, no wonder it had been so slippery.

Damn it, which bastard threw this?

Cursing under his breath, he was about to get up when he suddenly froze.

Not far away, at the edge of the dim, flickering light, a pair of feet stood in the murky darkness—slender and pale, clearly not a man’s.

No way, could there really be a woman down here?

Instinctively, Yan Huanshan raised the lamp higher.

He saw a dark figure—a woman, naked and curled up in the corner. Her thick, wild hair covered her face and most of her body, but beneath the tangled locks, her eyes were fixed unblinkingly on him.

Strangely enough, those eyes were nothing particularly special—just brighter, more beautiful, and deeper than most. Yet the first word that popped into Yan Huanshan’s mind had nothing to do with brightness, beauty, or depth.

The word that came to him was "new."

Brand-new eyes, unused, like a baby’s—freshly made.

Yan Huanshan stared into those eyes.

He found he couldn’t move.

The woman began crawling toward him.

September 16, 1992 / Wednesday / Sunny, then cloudy, then heavy rain

It’s 10:30, and Da Shan still isn’t back. The rain outside is pouring, and with just me at home, I’m a little scared.

At noon, I brought Da Shan some dumplings and ran into something funny—the workers were making a fuss, saying there was a ghost in the mine.

What ghost? I bet it was just Li Ergou.

Da Shan went down alone to "catch the ghost." I was looking forward to it, but then I thought, he probably wouldn’t find him—Li Ergou’s done something wrong, so he wouldn’t dare let Da Shan catch him. He must’ve hidden at the first sign of trouble.

Sure enough, I was right. Da Shan came back empty-handed, saying there was nothing down there.

It’s 10:45 now.

The mine work is so busy. Da Shan works so hard. I hope our son is born soon and grows up quickly, so Da Shan can have a capable helper.

Lately, I’ve been thinking of names for our son. I keep flipping through the dictionary and came across a word I love—"pioneer."

"Pioneer, pioneer"—it sounds so nice. To forge new paths, to open up new horizons, to dare to change the world.

Yan Kai, Yan Tuo—both sound great. I really can’t choose between them.

Ah well, I’ll let Da Shan decide.

There’s noise outside—must be Da Shan back. I’ll stop here.

— [Excerpt from Lin Xirou’s diary]