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墨書 Inktalez
The cardboard box was large and heavy, and Fatty and I were panting as we moved it out of the hotel and tossed it into the trunk of a taxi, which struggled to close its rear lid. Once back at the shop, Fatty and I began discussing our action plan.
First and foremost, we agreed that rescuing someone was the top priority of this operation. However, Fatty still needed to confirm details with his contacts in Myanmar, such as the location and route for crossing the border, as well as who would be waiting for us. This meant we were uncertain about the timing; we had to wait for them to finalize their arrangements before we could enter Myanmar. Since Jack and Xiao Ting had already set off, there was no reason for us to stay home waiting. We decided to head into Guangxi first to search for any traces left by Xiao Guolin there, as it was closer to Myanmar. Having information from Myanmar would expedite our actions.
After making our decision, I immediately booked tickets for an early flight to Nanning the next morning. Once the tickets were secured, Fatty and I went our separate ways to handle our respective tasks. I needed to confirm the remaining model dimensions with the manufacturer of the Sand Table Model. The deposit had already been paid, so I wasn't in a rush to collect the goods; I had higher standards for the dimensions being proportionate. Now, I certainly wouldn't rush them, only asking that they not halt production just because I wasn't there to supervise. I also needed to make a trip to the Cultural Relics management department, where I was well-known; having an introduction letter would be beneficial since it’s always better than going empty-handed.
Fatty contacted a few of his friends; what he was up to, I didn’t know, but I trusted he wouldn’t leak our plans. As I left, I even saw Huang Hai tidying his hair, indicating that there really wasn’t anything valuable left in the shop since he was heading out with Huang Hai.
Fatty seemed a bit hungover from last night; I could still smell alcohol on him during the flight. There were no trains from Nanning to Dongxing, so we had to take a long-distance bus instead. Fortunately, there was a shuttle bus from the airport to the bus station. Fatty and I didn’t bring much luggage, so running back and forth didn’t feel too inconvenient—though the temperature had risen nearly ten degrees, which took some getting used to. By the time we arrived in Dongxing, it was already late at night. Fatty and I stripped down to just our shirts but still felt a bit hot due to the humidity; it was quite different from the coolness of northern regions.
There were many inns around the bus station, so Fatty and I randomly chose one to stay at. The conditions were as expected: a double room with shared bathrooms outside. We barely slept for a few hours before dawn broke. After taking a shower and changing into clean clothes, we rushed out for breakfast. Each of us ordered a large bowl of Old Friend Noodles; while it didn’t look great, it tasted just right. After finishing our meal, we discussed the details of our plan.
First, we needed to locate the post office where Xiao Guolin had sent me a letter and then use that as a center point to search nearby hotels for clues—this was our agreed-upon action plan. There was a challenge here: while we could find reasons to charm individual inns or even slip them some money for their registration records, state-run hotels or guesthouses likely wouldn’t play along; without relevant documents or identification, they wouldn’t show us anything. This meant we might have to seek help from the local police station. Particularly since I had a hunch that if Xiao Guolin came to Dongxing for personal reasons—given its proximity to Vietnam—he might have come here intending to cross borders. If that were true, we should also pay a visit to the exit management office.
Our identities made it difficult to gain support from officials; at least I had my identity as an archaeology researcher while Fatty was just an aimless drifter—his image wouldn’t help at all; it would be lucky if he wasn’t classified among those being targeted by authorities. However, before setting off, I contacted an old colleague whom I had worked with during my archaeology project in Guangxi; he worked at the Guangxi Museum and primarily handled archaeological matters. Although Dongxing doesn’t have a long history as an open port, there has been extensive cultural exchange between China and Vietnam here over time; he had worked in this area and could connect with local police if necessary.
Following the principle of tackling easier tasks first, Fatty and I decided that after locating that target post office, we would initially try our own means to check nearby hotels’ guest records before reaching out for help if we hit dead ends. With a postmark as evidence, finding that post office shouldn’t be difficult; here, two-wheeled and three-wheeled vehicles are the main modes of transport. I flagged down a tuk-tuk and showed him the address on my postmark.
The tuk-tuk driver spoke Mandarin with a strong regional accent: “I know this place; hop in.”
It wasn’t until I got into the vehicle that I remembered I should ask about the fare first—didn’t want him charging me an arm and a leg once we arrived! When I asked about the price, it turned out not too expensive, so I didn’t haggle over it. The roads in Dongxing were mostly newly built and smooth at first but soon turned bumpy as we hit dirt roads; despite this rough terrain, our driver maintained speed which jostled both Fatty and me around uncomfortably—almost causing me to lose my breakfast of Old Friend Noodles!
Finally arriving at our destination, we got out of the tuk-tuk only to be taken aback by what we saw.
The area was bustling but not nearly as tidy as downtown; chaos and disorder seemed to be its theme. We arrived early enough that the post office hadn’t opened yet—which wasn’t crucial since we only needed to confirm its location without needing inside for clues. As I handed money over to the tuk-tuk driver while asking him about this place’s disarray: “What’s going on here? Why is it so messy?”
The tuk-tuk driver replied with surprise: “Aren't you here for goods?”
"What are you talking about?" I asked, confused.
"Smuggling, of course. Don't play dumb; you came here for that," the Tuk-Tuk Driver said, lowering his voice.
I wasn't pretending, but I was genuinely puzzled. What was Xiao Guolin doing in a place like this? Smuggling Cultural Relics?
I shook my head and asked the Tuk-Tuk Driver, "Are there any hotels around?"
"Of course! There are plenty, with various price ranges and services to satisfy you." The Tuk-Tuk Driver winked at me and chuckled.
After sending the Tuk-Tuk Driver away, I began to worry—not about finding clues, but because there were too many unexpected leads. Xiao Guolin definitely wasn't here on official business; it was hard to guess his purpose, but it had to be related to the smuggling activities here. This was a crucial lead that we shouldn't overlook. However, finding his lodging information was equally important, as it could reveal how long he had been here, whether he had companions, and if so, who they were. It could even help trace whom he had met and what he had done.
I glanced at Fatty and noticed he was watching me. "Split up?" Fatty suggested.
"It looks like that's the only option," I shrugged. "I'll check nearby hotels for clues while you investigate the smuggling situation here, focusing on antique smuggling. Keep me updated if anything comes up."
I checked my phone; the signal was strong. But I worried about losing connection if I ventured out of range, so I added, "If we can't reach each other by phone, let's meet back here at noon to regroup and decide our next steps. Stay safe."
"Got it." Fatty snapped his fingers and headed toward the crowded area.
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