The Mysterious Thousand Coffin Cave

Thirty years ago, in the fields of Lalong Village, Dajiang Town, Guangxi Province. A middle-aged man was toiling away, hoeing the soil, sweat pouring down his face. With each swing of the hoe, the sweat on his face intensified, dripping onto the mud. He stopped, looked up at the sky, then back down at his field. He sighed, drawing out his words, "Just a little more—" and swung the hoe again. The hoe struck something in the mud with a loud thud. Thinking it was a stone, he didn't think much of it and pulled hard, intending to pull it out. But the first pull didn't move the stone. "Why is there such a big stone? Why didn't I notice it before?" He cursed under his breath, increasing the pressure on his hands. The second pull, still no luck. The woman's temper flared instantly. She pulled the hoe from the mud and began digging around the stone. She wanted to first assess its size. After digging half a meter wide and deep, she finally saw the stone's shape. The stone varied in length and resembled a pillar. She wasn't very worldly, but she'd heard from people who had been to the city that there were similar stone pillars in city parks. It looked like a stone bench, for people to sit and rest. Although it was strange to find a stone bench in a field, she didn't think much of it. After all, it was something from the city, and since she'd dug it up, and it didn't seem broken, she might as well take it home. She hastily brushed the mud off the stone bench, carried it to the edge of the field, quickly hoeed the rest of the land, and then carried the stone bench home. Her husband had died young, and she only had one son. Her son usually worked at the market for the production brigade. So, she took care of all the household chores herself. Upon arriving home, the man didn't even enter the main room; he simply placed the stone bench by the door and went into the kitchen through a side door to busy himself. That evening, when his son returned and was eating in the main room, the man boasted to his son about the stone bench he had dug up in the field that afternoon. "A stone stool?" The man, head down, asked, eating. "I came in through the main room, I didn't see it." "How could that be? I was in a hurry to cook when I got back, so I left the stone at the main room doorway," the man said. He then got up and went outside, intending to bring the stone bench in to show his son. "I really didn't see it." Seeing the man leave, the man quickly picked up his bowl and followed. Outside, the man found the spot where he had placed the stone bench was completely empty. "Oh, really? I told you I didn't see it." The man leaned against the doorframe and continued eating. "I definitely brought it back," the man said. He paced back and forth on the ground near the doorway, still unwilling to give up. "You said that stone stool is big, can your son carry it back?" "It's not that heavy." He kept searching, even going to the edge of the house to check. He practically turned the house upside down. "No way, that big stone you mentioned, even I'm not sure I could lift it and carry it home." The man finished his rice and returned to the main room. "Stop looking, it's just a stone. If you want a stone, I'll go to the river and bring one back someday." "Hey, it's over here!" He said, then laughed and scolded his son in the main room, "You dare joke with your mother!" Without waiting for his son's reaction, he went straight to the kitchen. The man blinked, then followed him to the kitchen. Sure enough, the stone stool was placed inside the kitchen doorway. “I told you, the child probably didn’t bring it back.” The man chuckled, glancing at his son. The implication was clear: you moved it to the kitchen without telling me, making me worry for nothing. The son, of course, understood what the man meant and quickly waved his hands, saying, “I really didn’t move it. I went straight into the main room as soon as I got back, you saw it yourself.” “Oh—then maybe I moved it here myself. Getting old, getting senile.” The man chuckled self-deprecatingly. The man didn’t bother to say anything more, but he found the stone bench somewhat strange. So he squatted down to examine it closely. The stone bench looked a bit like a bucket, except the middle was two or three inches larger than the ends. Wiping away the still-present mud, he discovered many intricate patterns carved on it. It was dazzling. “Did you really dig it up from the field?” The man asked the child. "Oh—!" Seeing his son's disbelief, the man reluctantly responded. "There's something like that in the field? Why didn't I find it when I was digging before?" The man muttered to himself. Standing beside his son, the man listened and thought for a moment. Then he said, "That seems right, I never found it when I was digging before—" He paused, as if suddenly remembering something, "Could it be your father buried there?" "My father died a long time ago, maybe." "Maybe he buried him before he died—" the man said hastily, his voice starting to tremble with emotion, as if remembering something. "—I told you, your father was definitely murdered by someone." The man, tired from a long day, quickly stopped the man from crying, saying impatiently, "Alright, alright, it's just a stone stool. Don't overthink it." He then wiped the mud off the stone stool with his hand. "Keep it if you like, I'll wash it for you." He then wrapped his arms around the stone bench, ready to lift it. But the bench wasn't nearly as heavy as he'd expected. Generally, a stone the size of a bucket would weigh fifty pounds, but this bench weighed at most thirty. It was lifted in an instant. "So light." The man said, hefting the bench in his arms. "Who cares? Maybe it's just different stone." The man nodded, saying nothing. He lifted the bench a little higher, preparing to carry it to the well to wash it. But as soon as he lifted it, a strange feeling came from his arms. It felt like there was something inside the stone bench? He tried lifting it a little higher, and immediately felt that the thing inside moved with him! The man blinked hard, sensing something. There really was something inside. Seeing his son standing there, clutching the stone bench, he assumed he was too tired from working all day and couldn't move. So he quickly reached out to help. The man, still not expecting help, was startled by the hand reaching out. He dropped the stone bench, which crashed to the ground. A normal stone, even if dropped from that height, would be fine. Even if thrown from a beam, it wouldn't be a problem. But this stone bench, after hitting the ground, cracked with a "crack!" and then wisps of black steam began to billow out! The man screamed and backed away. The black steam billowed from the stone bench for almost a minute before slowly stopping. The man swallowed hard, staring at the stone bench on the ground, unsure what to do. The man, however, came to his senses. The young man, bold as ever, took a deep breath to steady himself, then picked up a piece of firewood and walked towards the stone bench. Seeing this, the man quickly reached out to grab him, but the man suddenly turned around and said, "Don't you want to know why my father died?" The man was stunned by this inexplicable question. By the time he came to his senses, the man was already beside the stone bench. More than thirty years ago, the countryside still used those round tungsten light bulbs. The dim light shone on the broken stone bench, reflecting a strange, eerie green light! The man wanted to swallow to moisten his throat, but his throat was already parched. But he couldn't care less. With a determined heart, he picked up the firewood and poked it at the stone bench. With a "crack," the stone bench popped open. The stone bench was hollow! He had just felt something... The man's eyes widened, then a chill ran through him, leaving him numb. Behind him, he hadn't seen what had happened, only that the man had forcefully poked the stone bench with a piece of firewood and then stood frozen in place. So he tried to approach to see what was going on. "Mo... Don't come any closer..." The man said, staring intently at the ground. Inside the stone bench where he had just emerged... There was a dark, gloomy thing coming out! It seemed there was definitely something alive inside! Upon closer inspection, the thing looked like human hair. The man stared uncontrollably at the dark hair on the stone bench, frozen in place. The hair was gushing out like an underground geyser. A few moments later, several crisp cracking sounds were heard, and several more cracks appeared on the stone bench, seemingly spreading! Seeing the man frozen in a strange posture, holding firewood, the person disregarded their earlier attempt to stop him and rushed forward. Just as the person reached the son's side, the hair inside the stone bench finally broke free. With a crisp crack, the stone bench split open. Then, a round, dark object rolled out. It rolled directly to the person's feet. If it were just an ordinary object, it wouldn't have terrified the person so much. But it was clearly a human head! The person's face turned deathly pale almost instantly, and they screamed, nearly fainting. The head that had rolled to their feet suddenly stopped, then leaped up, hovering in mid-air right in front of the person! From the toes up, the head was incredibly close to the face. The head was practically face-to-face with the person! The dark, wispy hair obscured the eyes, leaving only a deathly pale face, unrecognizable. The person was completely stunned, staring blankly at the face almost touching their nose. A gust of wind blew in from outside, ruffling the hair on the head. And at that moment, the deathly pale face twisted into a grotesque grin! The person gasped for breath and fainted from fright. That face was all too familiar. It was the face of the man who had been dead for over a decade! The person's fainting spell terrified the man, who frantically tried to revive them by pinching their philtrum, giving them water, and even rushed to the next village that very night to fetch the village's old traditional Chinese medicine doctor. The old doctor sat by the bedside, taking the person's pulse, forehead, and then examining their eyelids. Finally, he asked, "Did you see something and get scared?" Although it was a question, the old Chinese medicine doctor's tone made it sound like an affirmation. "No... No. I don't know how, I just suddenly fainted." The son hesitated for a moment before speaking. To others, this would certainly be considered an ominous sign. The person who experienced this must have done something heinous to deserve this divine retribution. Besides, he had seen the face of that severed head. His deceased father suddenly coming to find his mother—what did that mean? It meant his mother was immoral! If this got out, it wouldn't just be a matter of shame. The old Chinese medicine doctor slowly looked up at him, then took a tinderbox from his medicine box and placed it by the bedside. He said slowly, "Young man, don't lie." Then he began packing his medicine box and walked towards the door. When he reached the door, he suddenly stopped, looked up at the stars, and said, "There's medicine inside. Just blow on it and use the smoke to warm it up." Without waiting for the man to see him off, he walked away. Watching the old Chinese medicine doctor walk away, the man hurriedly grabbed a tinderbox, removed the cap, blew on the flame, and then helped the man sit up to use the smoke. Sure enough, after a few minutes, the man coughed violently a few times and slowly woke up. The first thing the man said after waking up was, "I'm going to die. I'm going to join your father." After saying that, he lay down on the bed and didn't speak again. Seeing that the man seemed alright, the man figured he'd been frightened by what he'd just said. So he let the man rest in bed for a while and went to sit down in the doorway of the main room to cool off. To be fair, it was impossible for him not to have been frightened. However, being a young man and a productive member of the production team, he wasn't sent to keep watch in the fields. Moreover, he'd heard that the field where the night watch was held was next to an old burial ground, and he hadn't seen any will-o'-the-wisps rising from the field during the night. The first time, he was terrified, but after seeing it so many times, he'd become numb. So, just now, as the man fainted, he gritted his teeth, grabbed the firewood in his hand, and swung it at the head. Unexpectedly, the head dodged in mid-air, avoiding the blow. It gave him a strange smile, then turned and hopped away. The man walked to the door, looked up at the sky; after a night of turmoil, dawn was approaching. So he went to the kitchen doorway, picked up the firewood he'd used for the fight, and then sat down at the entrance to the main room. He planned to sit there until daybreak, to see if the head would return.