Love Apartment: Tomb Raiding System

Chapter 23: The Tradition of Grave Dancing

“This thing is that special? Is it valuable?” Pangzi’s train of thought was, as usual, bizarre. No wonder he got along so well with Hu Yifei—his logic was truly one-of-a-kind. Was he really prioritizing money over his life?

Still, since they were working together, Chen Yuze figured he might as well share some knowledge as a gesture of goodwill. The memories of the tomb raider he’d absorbed also contained relevant information.

As someone from a family with deep ties to the trade, Chen Yuze knew a fair bit. Seeing the blank looks on Pangzi and Old Hu’s faces—newbies to the craft—he decided to explain. “If you could extract the entire structure intact, it might be worth something. But a single tile? Worthless.”

“Not only is it nearly impossible to remove, but it’s also incredibly fragile. To this day, no one has ever seen a fully preserved example of this burial style. It’s also tied to the Yuan Dynasty’s customs—they were a nomadic people, so grand tombs like this were rare to begin with.”

Pangzi’s interest was piqued. He handed Chen Yuze a cigarette. “Kid, enlighten us. This is our first time doing this—we’re clueless. Mind sharing more?”

Chen Yuze lit the cigarette and exhaled slowly. “Fine, since you’re curious.”

The two leaned in eagerly, looking like kids waiting for a bedtime story. Chen Yuze sighed but obliged. After all, his family had built their fortune on this very craft—how could he not know?

He pointed at the tomb. “The Yuan Dynasty was… unusual in history. Few of their tombs have ever been discovered, and that’s because of their burial customs. The Han Chinese believed in treating the dead as they were in life—luxury in death matching luxury in life.”

“Exactly! That’s why we’re here—redistributing wealth! These bastards lived better dead than I do alive!” Pangzi glared at the tomb as if it had personally offended him.

“Shut up, Pangzi. Let the kid talk.” Old Hu cut him off, motioning for Chen Yuze to continue.

“Right. The Yuan Dynasty was different. They descended from the Khitans and Mongols—nomadic peoples. They didn’t follow Han customs. Yuan and even earlier Liao Dynasty tombs are rare because they didn’t build traditional graves. When someone died, they’d hollow out a large log, place the body inside, seal it, and… that was it. No mound, no marker.”

“No mound? Then how did they bury them?” Pangzi blinked, baffled. The image of grand burial mounds housing emperors and generals was too ingrained in his mind.

“That’s the difference. They were nomads—no attachment to ‘returning to roots.’ They lived on the grasslands, and that’s where they buried their dead. They’d dig a random pit, place the log inside, cover it with dirt, then… let livestock trample over it.”

Before Chen Yuze could finish, Pangzi gasped. “Wait—so they literally danced on the graves?! That’s so disrespectful!”

Old Hu, equally surprised, frowned. “But if they flattened it… how did their descendants pay respects? They’d never find the spot again.”

“They had a method. After trampling the ground, grass would grow over it the next year—impossible to distinguish in the steppes. But while humans couldn’t find it, animals could. They’d slaughter a mother camel or horse right on the spot, drenching the earth with its blood. The next year, they’d bring the offspring. The young animal would instinctively find where its mother died, and that’s where they’d hold ceremonies.”

“You’re kidding!” The two stared at him in disbelief.

Chen Yuze shrugged. “That’s why their tombs are nearly impossible to find. Even their own descendants couldn’t locate them half the time. The young camels might misremember, or the blood might wash away. But this method suited their lifestyle.”

“But why?! Who wants their grave danced on?!” Pangzi couldn’t get past the mental image.

“They lived among wolves. If they built traditional mounds, the predators would dig them up before any tomb raiders could. Leaving no trace meant the dead stayed undisturbed. The mother camel’s corpse was likely left as a decoy—either to mask the scent or to satiate the wolves.” Some of this was speculation, of course. After the Mongols conquered the Central Plains, their burial customs did evolve.

“So, kid… any way to deal with this glazed roof?” Pangzi’s eyes gleamed with greed.

Chen Yuze smirked. “The old masters had methods—though not ideal for us. Still, I’ll share, just in case you encounter this again.”

“The tiles are fragile, and the ‘Flaming Dragon Oil’ inside was imported from the Western Regions—rare outside the Yuan Dynasty. It’s a mix resembling white phosphorus and oil, igniting on contact with air. One trick was to mix the surrounding soil into thick mud, creating an airtight seal. Then, carefully break a few tiles under the mud’s cover. The oil would suffocate before it could burn.”

“But the risks are obvious. One slip, and you’re dead. Plus, it could damage the artifacts inside.”

This method came from the tomb raider’s memories in Chen Yuze’s mind. In theory, it had worked before—but the margin for error was razor-thin.