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墨書 Inktalez
I first established a studio focused on a broad range of Archaeological Culture research. Securing the initial funding was quite a challenge. My savings could sustain me for a while, but it was insufficient for conducting large-scale Archaeology research.
I initially sought help from my parents, who had returned to our Southern Hometown to run a Toy Export business and owned a Toy Factory. During my university years, I rarely saw them, mainly because I was involved in an Archaeological Project that provided subsidies, so I never asked them for living expenses or pocket money. Besides visiting them during the New Year, I would only see them when I had time or passed through my hometown. Businesspeople often neglect family matters, and they seldom called me. It wasn't until I encountered some trouble that they came to check on me. Seeing that I was fit and healthy, like a Calf, they were not worried at all; instead, they were pleased that I no longer had that job and could come help them. They believed it was only a matter of time before I took over their business, which would make things easier for both of them.
However, when I proposed the idea of establishing an Archaeology studio to my parents, they outright rejected it and firmly opposed my involvement in Archaeology again. This abrupt end to my aspirations hit me hard. I never imagined that money would become such an obstacle.
After spending some time in the Archaeology field and gaining a bit of recognition, I decided to seek funding support through my connections.
I adopted a broad approach, compiling information about my studio and its research direction into a booklet, which included an exaggerated personal introduction. I sent this out to potential funding sources that I knew or were introduced to me. Then, I waited for responses.
Perhaps due to my growing reputation, I quickly received a reply from a funding source abroad—a private Asian Cultural Research Institution based in the United States. I had collaborated with them during an Archaeological Activity in the Minjiang River Basin, where I served as the team leader. Although my English was poor and communication was not smooth, my extensive practical experience left a strong impression on them. In their response, they stated they could provide some funding for my studio but required approval over the flow and details of the funds. Additionally, if any Archaeology results emerged, they would have the right to access the data and be credited in the Archaeological Report, as well as send personnel to monitor fund usage. Driven by financial desperation at the time, I agreed to their terms; looking back now, it seems hasty—I should have imposed some restrictions on the details to gain greater autonomy.
The second response expressing investment interest also came from abroad—a European Cultural Institution headquartered in Sweden, introduced by a friend. Their requirements regarding fund usage and Archaeology results were even stricter. With the first round of startup funding secured, my mindset improved significantly as I engaged in lengthy negotiations with them to secure maximum control over fund usage. The American funding required prior approval from them before use, while European funds allowed for simultaneous report submission—essentially a case of doing things post-factum—creating significant differences in timing and freedom. As for the Archaeology results, I believed no one could take those away since entering substantial phases would necessitate involvement from domestic official institutions; this was not something a studio could manage alone.
However, the European funding amount was considerably less than that from the American source; perhaps this was their way of compromising.
The third source of funding came from a wealthy Real Estate Tycoon in China who had a spirit of adventure and was an old acquaintance of mine. We met at Meili Snow Mountain while I was leading an Expedition Team conducting an Archaeology Geological Survey; our camp was already above the snow line. He and several mountaineering enthusiasts passed by our camp thinking we were an Expedition Team and came over to greet us upon realizing we were involved in Archaeology. This did not hinder our conversation; I was even more familiar with the geological structure of Meili Snow Mountain than his Guide and could offer him valuable suggestions. Of course, I recognized his distinctive face marked by experience immediately; he did not hide his identity either—our photo together is still preserved in my album.
While this funding was not the largest amount, it offered the highest degree of freedom and helped my studio through its most challenging initial phase.
Over these years, my studio accomplished several projects; one significant endeavor involved participating in an archaeological excavation of a river valley at Lop Nur, while another focused on thoroughly exploring the Yadan Landform Group where Bunker One is located.
That exploration of the Yadan Landform Group drained all my funds; not only did last year's support run out, but I also had to apply for additional funding just to barely complete it. For the following year, I worked on reconstructing the entire layout of that Yadan Landform Group on my studio's sand table. Only I understood why this needed to be done; I thought that if Xiao Guolin saw it, he would understand my intentions.
In the past few years of work, there had been no gains from an economic perspective, not even a decent Archaeological Report. Yet, the three parties involved had shown remarkable patience, never withdrawing their funding.
My thoughts drifted for a moment before returning to the letter. The last line read: Don’t forget your promise!
How could I forget? I thought silently. But my heart was cold, not because of the promise itself, but due to the context surrounding it.
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We descended through that crevice. As I climbed down, the injury on my arm severely restricted Liu Squad Leader's movements. He had left his gun behind and transferred all the weight to me, making it nearly impossible for him to navigate the steep fissure.
The others followed Zhao Squad Leader down ahead; we had to stick close to the light. Xiao Guolin and Cao Mingzhe didn’t have the stamina to wait on the cliff. I bit down on a penlight with my mouth, one hand gripping the rock above while the other held onto Liu Squad Leader’s harness. His left arm hung uselessly at his chest, unable to exert any strength or even move; he was completely reliant on his right hand and my assistance to make it this far. The inability to switch hands had become his fatal flaw.
I looked at his pale face and mumbled, “Hold on tight.” Releasing my grip on his harness, I fished out a Morphine from my pocket and added, “Take one if you can’t hold on anymore.”
You can imagine how muffled and strange my words sounded with a flashlight clenched between my teeth.
Liu Squad Leader's eyes brightened for a moment before he returned to his usual expression. “It won’t help; that’s not the main issue. My left arm only hurts; it’s really hard to go down with just one hand. I overestimated my abilities.”
His words were calm, rational, and logical. I felt that if I were in such a situation, I would probably have broken down.
"Now, are you planning to tell me something about the Li Squad Leader? Or is there something you want to discuss with me?" I stared at him.
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