Chapter Sixty-Nine: The Mysterious White Bronze Pillar

When Gu Qingcheng finally stopped her long, piercing howl, not a single pane of glass remained in the window; all had shattered and crashed to the ground. The fresh air from outside rushed in, sweeping away the lingering scent of incense ash and forcefully dragging Guan Wen’s wandering thoughts back to the chaos before him.

“Sister Gu, you scared us,” Xiao Huo said with a wry smile, handing over a bottle of water, half its contents already spilled. No matter the circumstances, he was always composed and unflappable, unshaken even if Mount Tai were to collapse before him.

“I’m sorry. I just couldn’t control my emotions. My lungs and chest were filled with a nameless fury—if I didn’t let it out, it would have rebounded within, causing internal harm. Was it me who destroyed the window? What a shame, what a pity.” Gu Qingcheng’s mood finally settled. She lowered her head, like a child who had done something wrong.

With the window broken, the meditation chamber was utterly ruined. This was fate; no human effort could have prevented it.

Guan Wen could not describe the regret in his heart. The blinding light that had bathed Baoling at sunrise had stunned him beyond words. He believed that, given time, he too would have found enlightenment in this very chamber.

But what’s done is done. There was no point in lamenting now. He heaved a long sigh.

He understood that people could not suppress themselves forever. He comprehended Gu Qingcheng’s feelings, for he once felt the same in the dark pit atop the Cliff of Beheading. Yet, a true hero must remain indomitable, never losing heart even in the face of adversity, always able to maintain their integrity and patience, just as the great Song Dynasty statesman Fan Zhongyan once wrote in his immortal essay, “The Memorial to Yueyang Tower”—to neither delight in external gains nor grieve over personal losses.

“Sister Gu, don’t blame yourself too much. I just noticed that Miss Baoling’s eyes were shining with an indescribable wisdom. She spent the entire night here; whatever enlightenment there was to be found, she has already found it. If she couldn’t, then another ten or even a hundred nights would make no difference. What we ought to do now is head to the library, don’t you think?” Xiao Huo suggested.

“I feel as if a beam of light suddenly illuminated this place,” Gu Qingcheng said, pointing to her own forehead. “When Kale asked us what we seek in this life, I had no answer. Now I do. Our lives have time as their axis and action as their measurement—advancing step by step. There is no need to ask what we pursue; our actions speak for themselves. In other words: Do more, say less. Never be a giant in words but a dwarf in deeds.”

Guan Wen frowned. He wished Gu Qingcheng would summarize her feelings in a single sentence, saving time so they could all hurry to the library together.

“That light came from the east, powerful and distant, stretching from the western reaches of the Chinese mainland all the way to Nepal. In that instant, I understood. The light is a guide, and my entire life has followed its lead up to this moment. I can’t drift aimlessly any longer—I must return to that place…” Gu Qingcheng strode to the window, pointing at the peaks to the northeast.

“And where is that?” Guan Wen asked.

“Lhasa. I must return to Lhasa,” Gu Qingcheng replied with finality. “That is where my soul belongs.”

Her forehead glowed, and her eyes became clear and bright, utterly transformed from the person who had just lost control and wailed.

Guan Wen and Xiao Huo exchanged a smile, both breathing a sigh of relief. As long as they could cross the Zhangmu border and return to their own territory, everything else would fall into place. One Baoling had already pushed everyone to the brink of a nervous breakdown; they certainly couldn’t afford to lose Gu Qingcheng as well.

“Xiao Huo, stay with Qingcheng. I’ll go check on Baoling,” Guan Wen said, heading out as he spoke. He had always thought Gu Qingcheng was strong while Baoling was frail—the former could take care of herself, while the latter needed his protection. That’s why he felt at ease leaving the ravaged meditation chamber.

The globe in the library had been restored, and Baoling stood before it, studying the English names of the countries marked upon its surface.

“Is there anything unusual?” Guan Wen asked Kale.

Kale, leaning against the wall, lowered his voice. “Nothing… She’s just been staring at the globe.”

A globe is a common sight anywhere on earth—be it a simple cardboard teaching aid or the priceless golden globe in the British Museum, its essential purpose is the same: to depict the planet we inhabit, whole and complete. Every globe strives for accuracy and clear borders, never confusing the learner.

Suddenly, Baoling placed both hands on the sphere and, with a sudden force, spun it counterclockwise.

Kale muttered in surprise, “It’s not a toy. What’s the point of spinning it over and over? She’s already done it three times…”

Baoling stepped back, leaning forward and listening intently before speaking: “There’s something inside.”

The sphere was still spinning, the colored patches representing continents and oceans blurring into swirling ribbons of color, both dazzling and strange. Only the most precious items were allowed in the library, and this globe was crafted with exquisite skill. Its axis turned so smoothly that as it spun at high speed, only the sound of wind could be heard.

“How could that be…” Kale drawled, his face full of disdain. It was no wonder—he and Gu Qingcheng and Xiao Huo had stood outside the meditation chamber all night, their legs aching, eyes blurry, spirits utterly spent. Come morning, what they longed for most was a few hours of sleep; they had no patience for Baoling’s musings.

“What is it?” Guan Wen asked.

“I’m not sure yet. But if we take it apart, we’ll know, won’t we?” Baoling replied.

“Take it apart? Surely not! Every item in this villa is a treasured memento, a relic of Princess Zhao Ge. If we break open the globe, it will just become worthless junk!” Kale protested, his breath reeking of alcohol.

Guan Wen smiled. “It’s already been abandoned here—by definition, it’s already junk. Kale, I believe Baoling is onto something; she must have a reason for wanting to open it. Haven’t you always wanted to uncover the secrets of the Palace of Summer? We’re here to help you. Don’t lose sight of that.”

Kale considered this, then grinned drunkenly. “Yes, yes, I forgot—it was me who contacted Xiao Huo and invited you all here. Fine, I’ll fetch an axe, I’ll get the axe…”

He left, pushed open a side door, and soon returned with a short-handled battle axe gleaming coldly. He staggered up to the spinning globe and brought the blade down with all his strength.

Guan Wen was ready for this, pulling Baoling back to avoid the shower of wooden splinters that burst from the globe.

Even half-drunk, Kale’s martial skills were formidable; his single blow was more than enough to cleave the globe in two. One half spun off, crashing into the bookshelf and sending its topmost volumes tumbling to the floor. The other half remained on the stand, revealing a cylindrical white-bronze core, about a foot long and half a foot in diameter.

Kale stared, then dropped the axe and seized the white-bronze cylinder, laughing madly. “There really is something inside! There really is!”

Stories of ancient towers hiding treasures and secrets passed down through the generations were old clichés, but this was only a white-bronze cylinder, not gold—hardly worth much. Besides, the Kanna family was fabulously wealthy; they paid little heed to such trinkets.

The crash drew Gu Qingcheng and Xiao Huo as well. Xiao Huo reacted instantly, helping Kale steady the white-bronze cylinder so it wouldn’t fall.

“What’s engraved on it?” Gu Qingcheng’s sharp eyes caught the faint relief carvings on the cylinder.

Guan Wen glanced at it and immediately read the two place names at the base: Pengtang Jiqu Monastery and Tsari Xinaozhuoma Monastery. The script was in traditional Chinese, written in a fine, forceful hand.

“It looks like the writing from the ‘Map of Suppressing Demons in Tibet.’ Qingcheng, look—those are the names of two monasteries, both found on that map.” Guan Wen reminded her.

According to historical records, a king and two princesses built the Pengtang Jiqu Monastery on the right palm of the demoness. Pengtang is a place in central Bhutan; Jiqu is the name of a river that runs through the southwest corner of Lhozhag and flows into Pengtang in Bhutan. The monastery stands on the banks of the Jiqu River in Pengtang, said to have been designed and built by a famous craftsman invited from Tokharistan.

As for the Tsari Xinaozhuoma Monastery, built on the left sole of the demoness, it is located in present-day Ladakh, which was once under Tibetan administration.

Xiao Huo and Kale gently placed the white-bronze cylinder on the desk by the window.

The five present were all well-read; no explanation was needed for them to recognize that the surface of the cylinder bore a simplified version of the “Map of Suppressing Demons in Tibet,” with not a single monastery omitted—though the naked rakshasa demoness herself was not depicted. On the left cross-section of the cylinder was a line of Nepali script; on the right, a narrow elongated keyhole.

Kale immediately read the inscription: “By royal decree, the soul and blood of Princess Chizun of Nepal seals this…” Princess Chizun? Could this be the very seal left by the princess who married into Tibet a thousand years ago? Then again, who else could it be? There was never a second Princess Chizun in Nepali history. But how could her seal end up here? This keyhole… this keyhole…”

He caressed the bronze cylinder, the muscles in his cheeks twitching nervously. At times he muttered to the ceiling, at others he bent low, peering into the keyhole with wide eyes. The slot was only half an inch wide; no naked eye could discern its internal mechanism. Yet after repeating this act five times, he suddenly sprang up and dashed out, his drunkenness gone in an instant.

Kale was among the world’s foremost tomb raiders, his skill at unlocking mechanisms ranked in the global top ten. Whether it was the golden thread locks of the ancient pyramids or today’s most advanced American pulse-timed locks, none could defeat him. “I’d wager he went to fetch his toolkit—he’ll be back soon.” Even in the face of this discovery, Xiao Huo remained as calm as ever.

Gu Qingcheng nodded. “Agreed. That’s likely what he’s doing.”

She and Xiao Huo were both well-versed in the ways of the underworld and understood such matters thoroughly.

Inside the globe, aside from the bronze cylinder, there was nothing of value—just wood, alloy ribs, plastic fillers, and the like. This great sphere had sat in the library day after day, and if not for Baoling’s discovery today, who knows how many more years its secret would have lain hidden.

Gu Qingcheng produced a digital camera and snapped photos of the bronze cylinder from every angle, documenting the find.

When Kale returned, brandishing a yellow deerskin toolkit, Baoling finally spoke, “Don’t bother. You won’t be able to open it. The keyhole is sealed—not just mechanically, but with a complex metaphysical binding. Without breaking the seal, no matter how advanced your tools are, it’s as futile as scratching an itch through a boot.”

Kale ignored her, tossing the toolkit aside and cracking his knuckles, warming up.

“Kale, you really should listen to others—” Xiao Huo began.

“Others? Since I entered this profession at eighteen, I apprenticed under five masters, and never once listened to anyone’s opinion but my own. Now I stand here alive, while all five rest in their tombs. A true warrior is never swayed by others…” Kale replied with a cold laugh.

“Still, there’s something odd about all this… But if you insist, go ahead. This belongs to the Kanna family—it’s your call.” Xiao Huo shook his head and quietly left the library.

Warm-up done, Kale impatiently pulled two six-inch silver picks from his bag and worked them into the keyhole, manipulating them repeatedly.

All locks work on the principle of pins blocking the movement of the core. If the locksmith can feel out the positions of the pins and push them back into place, the core will turn freely. No matter how many pins are inside, a master like Kale could find them all, working with three or even more picks at once. All he needed was enough time.

Baoling turned to Guan Wen and gave a nod. “The air in here is terrible. Walk with me outside, would you?”

They went downstairs and out the front door, standing on the now-parched lawn.

A sleepless night had left Baoling looking wan, her eyes webbed with bloodshot veins. Her mood was low—one might even call it despair.

“Do you remember the white-bronze key I lost the first time we met? Now I know: that key was for this lock. In truth, even before opening the globe, I knew the bronze cylinder would be useless to me, because I lost the key. It’s a complicated cycle—I guessed the ending but lost the beginning. Had I not lost the key, I wouldn’t have met you; without meeting you, there would have been no journey from Tashilhunpo Monastery to Lhasa, from Lhasa to the thousand-year walnut cellar, from the cellar to the cliff pit at Mount Niseri, from the pit to today’s Palace of Summer estate…”

She trailed off, but Guan Wen could imagine the rest: If not for the estate, there would have been no epiphany in the meditation chamber; without the epiphany, they wouldn’t have discovered the bronze cylinder inside the globe. Only by finding the cylinder did they realize how regrettable it was to have lost the key.

“No one can see both ends of life, and you were robbed when you entered Tibet alone—it wasn’t your fault.” Guan Wen could only offer this comfort. He too remembered the circumstances of their first meeting; it was the beginning of all that followed.

Tashilhunpo and the Palace of Summer were worlds apart; the key was gone forever. Self-reproach would only cause more pain, serving no purpose.

“A dead cycle… a cycle with an end but no beginning…” Baoling sighed softly.

“Say, since the bronze cylinder bears the seal of Princess Chizun, could it really have been left by the princess herself?” Guan Wen changed the subject.

“Yes. The insight I gained in the meditation chamber was to open the globe and uncover the secret within the bronze cylinder. But now…” Baoling could only answer helplessly.