Chapter Sixty-One: The Kanna Family

After returning to the guesthouse, Xiao Huo had already settled into the room next to Gao Xiang’s and carried in both laptops and seven or eight folders from the car. They all shared a hearty lunch together; though the atmosphere was less than harmonious, at least the meal passed safely and without incident.

“What should we do next?” Gao Xiang asked, directing the question to Guan Wen.

With the support of Baoling and Gu Qingcheng, Guan Wen had, without really intending to, become the leader of their small group.

“Sister Gu, I’ve brought some materials. May I show them to everyone now?” Xiao Huo inclined his body respectfully toward Gu Qingcheng.

Gu Qingcheng looked to Guan Wen for approval. “What do you think?”

Guan Wen nodded, and Xiao Huo went to retrieve the folders, handing them out to everyone.

The first page of the documents held a twelve-inch color photograph of a white manor in the Nepalese style.

“This manor is a family inheritance of a friend of mine. The owner, several generations back, was Princess Zhaoge, daughter of one of the great Nepalese lords. The family has a long history—I won’t elaborate, it’s all included in the appendix. My friend has already arrived in Shigatse and is searching for—” Xiao Huo gestured to Baoling, “Miss Baoling here. Previously, a Master Tianjiu sent my friend a secret message, indicating that this lady might be the reincarnation of Princess Zhaoge.”

Baoling’s shoulders trembled as she quickly leafed through the materials.

Before Master Tianjiu attained rainbow body, he had indeed said Baoling was the Princess Zhaoge, but there had been no time for further confirmation.

“With regard to this matter, I have no right to comment,” Xiao Huo continued, “for that family was once among the most illustrious in Nepal; its founder and the Nepalese king were sworn brothers, and every king since has paid great respect to them. Such a family tolerates neither slander nor idle speculation. Moreover, I know little of ‘reincarnation’ and since we are so near Tashilhunpo Monastery, I dare not speak recklessly. Sister Gu, Mr. Guan, my friend is waiting for my call. How do you think we should proceed?”

Xiao Huo spoke with a subtle humility, a stark contrast to Gao Xiang’s usual blunt arrogance.

“I’ll meet him,” Baoling said.

“I’ll go with you,” Gao Xiang hastened to add. He’d hardly spoken during lunch, as if Xiao Huo’s arrival had dealt him a heavy blow.

Xiao Huo kept his eyes on Gu Qingcheng, awaiting her instruction.

Gu Qingcheng exchanged a look with Guan Wen, reading the meaning in his eyes, then nodded her assent. “Have your friend come here. Since this concerns Miss Baoling, it’s best that no one else interferes or comments unnecessarily.”

Xiao Huo smiled. “Sister Gu, my friend has long admired you. As for his name, I doubt you’ll find it unfamiliar—Karna. Do you recall him?”

Gao Xiang blurted out, “Karna? Isn’t he the most renowned tomb expert in Nepal?”

Xiao Huo nodded in confirmation.

Gu Qingcheng tapped the table, unable to hide her surprise. “Him? But if he’s from a noble Nepalese line, how did he end up in tomb exploration? Call him—last time we parted in Egypt, I still owed him a good bottle of wine!”

Xiao Huo immediately took out his phone, dialed, and when the call was answered, said concisely, “Sister Gu agrees. Come and talk.”

Guan Wen leafed through the documents. The family was named Kanna, matching what Master Tianjiu had said in the cellar. The mentioned Karna was fully named Kanna Karna, a direct descendant of the main line. From a young age, he was fascinated by mechanical devices and puzzles. At eighteen, he left home to wander the world, and by chance became a disciple of Harvey, the king of European tomb robbers. After many trials, he eventually became a top expert in the field.

Another attachment in the materials caught Guan Wen’s attention: a series of photographs of keys, featuring an ancient white-bronze key. Judging by the scale, the key was about two inches long and half an inch wide, with four raised prongs spaced sparsely along the blade. Between the second and third prongs was set a piece of red agate. The key was clearly ancient, passed down through several generations; some spots gleamed from years of handling. The agate, about the size of a mung bean, was a pure garnet red, its luster undimmed by time.

Guan Wen looked at Baoling, who was studying the same images.

“That’s the key I lost,” Baoling said. “When we first met in the Jampa Buddha Hall, it was in my bag, but a thief stole it. The thief must have had accomplices, because when I got the bag back, the key was gone. I didn’t know what the key was for, but now it’s clear—it opens a treasure box, also made of white bronze…”

The family elders of Kanna all agreed on the key’s purpose, as recorded below—the key unlocks the treasure box left by Princess Zhaoge. Unfortunately, the key was lost before these records were obtained; who knows when it might be found again.

Baoling sank into deep self-reproach. How strange fate was—if she’d had these materials earlier, she might have treasured the key instead of carrying it everywhere.

“Don’t worry, let’s wait for the Kanna family to arrive,” Guan Wen could only comfort her thus.

At that moment, everyone was seated around the round table, with Baoling and Gu Qingcheng on either side of Guan Wen. Whatever he said would reach both women’s ears at once. The awkwardness of the situation needed no further explanation.

Gu Qingcheng rose, stretched, and said casually, “Xiao Huo, walk with me. Let’s see if your friend has arrived.”

Xiao Huo agreed, picking up one of the files as he followed her out.

Gao Xiang suddenly perked up, shoving the documents across the table with force. “A person like that drops in out of nowhere, and I can tell he’s not to be trusted. If anything is discovered, we mustn’t let him steal it from us and make all our efforts for nothing. Baoling, if the Nepalese bring new information, keep it secret—don’t let him near it!”

A few pages fluttered to the floor, but he ignored them, muttering his complaints.

Guan Wen trusted Gu Qingcheng, and thus her friends; there was no doubt about it. Besides, their venture was at a standstill, prospects bleak—talk of gains and shares was pointless.

“I’ve already given up any hope of treasure,” Baoling said. “If you have other ideas, Gao Xiang, you’d best make other plans and seek new partners.”

She offered him no courtesy, her tone cool.

Gao Xiang’s face flushed, then paled, as he forced a laugh. “We’re friends—you know I’m not one to abandon principle for profit. If you don’t want to hear it, I won’t say any more.”

“It’s not about what I want to hear,” Baoling replied. “Everything is too complicated now; no one can make sense of it. I really don’t want to hold you back.”

Gao Xiang stood up, stamping his foot, still wearing a forced smile to cover his embarrassment. “No, no, you’re not holding me back at all. Once you leave Tibet safely, my burden will be lifted.”

Guan Wen picked up the fallen documents and spread them on the table.

He, too, had heard of the Kanna family. Many Nepalese and visitors to Kathmandu mentioned that ancient clan—a family with wealth, influence, talent, distinction, and a long history, their honor surpassing even that of Nepal’s highest leaders, their reputation echoing through neighboring lands.

Perhaps the family was simply too clever; most of its descendants avoided conventional paths, blazing trails in diverse fields. Karna and Master Tianjiu were prime examples.

The key was that whatever the Kanna family undertook, its members quickly mastered the craft, excelling in every domain.

Twenty minutes later, the screech of tires outside the gate signaled a car’s abrupt stop. Soon, Xiao Huo entered with a well-built, energetic young man.

“They’re here,” Gao Xiang remarked.

Baoling said nothing, silently appraising the newcomer.

He had the typical features of his people: black eyes, high-bridged nose, slightly wavy black hair, and a faint, almost mocking smile at the corners of his mouth.

“Don’t be nervous,” Guan Wen said, squeezing Baoling’s hand under the table.

“I’m not nervous, just confused about the future. If even those legendary figures of the past couldn’t accomplish certain things, how can I? Guan Wen, sometimes I feel heaven is playing a cruel joke on me. Those recurring nightmares, or this supposed identity as the reincarnated princess of Nepal—they’re all…” Baoling’s face was shadowed with sorrow, a sharp contrast to the confident stride of the young man entering.

The young man glanced at Baoling and Guan Wen, but said nothing, instead raising both hands and making a series of gestures like a mute playing finger games.

Xiao Huo, recognizing the cue, discreetly stepped aside.

Guan Wen did not understand the gestures, seeing only the young man’s left hand signaling one, then three, then five fingers, while his right thumb, middle, and little fingers traced counterclockwise circles in his left palm.

“Very well,” Baoling said simply.

“What does that mean?” the young man asked in Chinese.

“It means I saw your gestures clearly,” Baoling replied.

The young man smiled. “Then is there anything I need to ask?”

Baoling shook her head. “I don’t know what you wish to ask. But whatever it is, I doubt I can answer. If even you don’t know the answer, anything I say would be meaningless. So, what’s the point of asking and answering?”

The young man’s smile faded. He probed, “Then do you have any questions for me?”

Baoling considered, then turned to Guan Wen. “Have I ever told you about a dream where I often see a pure black old cat leading a group of kittens through a courtyard? Its eyes are jet black, the vertical slit barely noticeable, very like a human’s… Behind it are twenty-three kittens: one black, three white, five yellow, and fourteen calico. The courtyard is round, with catwalks built along the base and the top of the wall for them to stroll. Each time I see them, I imagine that someday the old cat will lead its kittens up to the top to play. The catwalk at the top is built strangely—from the wall all the way to the main house, so to walk a full circle, the cats must leap from the wall to the eaves, and down the other side. But the eaves are two meters higher than the wall—so how could they…?”

The young man’s face changed; sweat broke out, and his legs trembled.

“Shall I go on? Or perhaps you know nothing of these things, for that age is long past, not of the present. I know the history of Nepalese clothing—the woman who stood guard with a bamboo pole wore not modern dress but an ancient gray coarse cloth jacket. That cloth was woven on old looms, the kind you now only see in museums. At the right end of the eaves was a wooden ladder; the cats could circle counterclockwise along the catwalk, climb the ladder, and descend at the other end—this was the only way round…” Baoling gazed upward, eyes unfocused, murmuring toward the six-syllable mantra hanging above the threshold.

“I have too many dreams—long and short, one linked endlessly to the next. Through the long nights, only these dreams keep me company. Sometimes I can’t tell whether this moment is a dream after waking, or waking after a dream—no one can answer, no one…”

Baoling’s sorrow spread to the young man. Suddenly, he knelt before her and bowed deeply.