Volume One – The Tomb of a Hundred Coffins Chapter Eight – Li Kun

A sliver of sunlight crept into the room at dawn, and the rooster in the courtyard began to crow. I slowly opened my eyes to find that the old man had already folded his bedding and gone out. Every morning, he would head to the park to practice tai chi. At this hour, I would usually have finished breakfast and be on my way to work—but, unfortunately, my job was gone. I sighed, then got up to wash.

After breakfast, my phone suddenly rang. Glancing at the screen, I saw an unfamiliar number. I hesitated for a moment, then answered. On the other end came a hearty northeastern accent, the voice rough and cheerful: “Hey, Lao Liu, guess who I am!”

The moment I heard that voice, a wave of familiarity washed over me. “Well! Li Kun, is that you, you rascal? Still alive, I see.”

“If you’re not dead, how could I go before you?” he shot back.

We both burst out laughing. That was always how our conversations began.

Li Kun chuckled. “Lao Liu, guess where I am right now.”

I teased him, “How could I know? Don’t tell me you’ve come to my place?”

He exclaimed in mock surprise, “What? How did you know I’m in Kazuo?”

I was taken aback, then said with delight, “You bastard, you really did come! Where are you? I’ll come get you right now. And you didn’t even call ahead—wait till I see you, I’ll drink you under the table!”

Li Kun laughed. “Ha, I just got off the bus, I’m at the coach station. Outdrink me? With your tolerance? Don’t make me laugh.”

After a few more jokes, I hung up, threw on my padded jacket, hopped on my old bicycle, and pedaled straight to the coach station.

The ride took about ten minutes. I parked my bike by the road and looked toward the entrance. There, wrapped in a thick cotton coat, stood a burly man well over six feet tall, glancing around expectantly.

Seeing him, I strode over. He spotted me, put down his bags, stared in surprise for a moment, then broke into a grin. He rushed over and swept me up in a bear hug.

The big man before me was Li Kun. We’d joined the army the same year and spent five years together, carrying out all sorts of missions—some of which nearly cost us our lives. Our deep bond had begun on the very first day.

Li Kun was always a powerhouse. In the army, he’d done something legendary: back then, the barracks often played the TV series Water Margin. After watching the scene where Lu Zhishen uproots a willow tree, Li Kun became convinced he could do the same. One day, in the center of the compound, he actually pulled up a willow as thick as a man’s thigh. We all gaped in shock, jaws dropping—just as the company commander happened to walk by. Though even he was astonished by Li Kun’s strength, he still gave him a stern dressing-down.

Though Li Kun got scolded, the tale spread through the army. From then on, a saying took root: “If you want to prove your strength, try uprooting a willow in the compound. If you can’t, keep training.”

I looked him up and down, laughing. “You’ve lost weight, you rascal.”

Li Kun sighed. “Ah, what can I do? You know how it is. My old man is like a Siberian tiger—fierce as ever. He makes me run ten kilometers carrying a tree stump every day. Not even the army trained me this hard! I couldn’t take it, so I came here to escape.”

I laughed. “Your father may be old, but he’s as strict as ever. All right, you must be starving after a whole night on the road. Come, let’s get you something to eat.”

Li Kun nodded, and we soon found a breakfast shop near the station. He ordered a huge bowl of wontons and devoured them.

His table manners were atrocious, but I couldn’t blame him. I’d been the same way after coming back from the army—until my dad gradually broke me of the habit. Clearly, Li Kun’s father still held him to military standards, keeping his body in shape.

In less than two minutes, he’d polished off the steaming bowl of wontons. Patting his stomach, he leaned back in his chair and sighed contentedly. “Full at last. I was starving all night.”

I smiled. “Well, let’s head back to my place.” Li Kun nodded, and I pushed my bike as we walked home together.

When we arrived, my father was just at home. I introduced Li Kun as my comrade-in-arms, and he was delighted.

When my father was young, he’d wanted to join the army, but my grandfather wouldn’t allow it; he was the only son, and times were turbulent—who knew what might happen to a soldier. My grandfather wanted him to learn feng shui and inherit his knowledge. But my father wasn’t interested, so my grandfather gave up on the idea.

What he didn’t expect was that, although my father never studied the “Twenty-Four Mountains of Feng Shui,” I had mastered most of it.

After we got home, Li Kun and I tidied up the spare room. The room my father and I used was too small for three, so we prepared the other one for us to sleep in that night.

By the time we finished, it was already past ten. Li Kun, exhausted after the long train ride and the cleaning, collapsed onto the kang and was soon snoring.

Once he’d fallen asleep, I told my father I needed to go out for a while and would be back soon. He nodded. I took out my phone and called Gao Feng.

As soon as the call connected, a sweet voice answered, “Hello, Liu Jie, are you coming over now? Wait a bit, I’ll come down as soon as I finish up.”

I smiled. “No rush, I’ll head over soon. Just come down when you’re done.”

“Okay, I’ll come find you when I’m finished. Wait for me.” With that, she hung up.

I changed clothes and checked the time—11:10. There was still a while before Gao Feng got off work, so I decided not to ride my old bicycle but to walk slowly toward the modeling agency. What I didn’t expect was that I would run into an old acquaintance on the way.