The drive back to Xi’an would normally take two days, but with matters weighing on his mind preventing full concentration, Yan Tuo stretched it to three.
On the second evening, the car entered Shaanxi Province. On the map, Shaanxi’s outline resembled a kneeling terracotta warrior. Yan Tuo felt he had entered through the warrior’s toes, heading toward his destination in the pelvic region.
The highway was both busy and lonely—busy with endless streams of vehicles, lonely for those driving alone. He followed the navigation, occasionally glancing up at the directional signs at highway splits.
During one of these glances, he noticed a sign pointing to: Yutang County (62km).
Yutang County.
Something stirred in Yan Tuo’s heart, and before he could fully decide whether to make the trip, his steering wheel was already turning in that direction.
Around eight in the evening, Yan Tuo’s car climbed Lao Niutou Ridge.
This was where his father, Yan Haishan, had first established himself—his first coal mine.
Now it was as desolate as a graveyard. Not just the mine, but the entire Lao Niutou Ridge was abandoned, easily reminiscent of the American Gold Rush—when prospectors came, followed by saloons, restaurants, prostitutes, and various supporting facilities, a small city arose, but when the gold ran out, the crowds retreated, leaving only desolate abandoned mines.
The closure of Lao Niutou Ridge’s coal mine wasn’t because the coal was exhausted, but because mining was no longer economically viable. Later, as the de-capacity policy for coal production deepened, coal mines were eliminated in large numbers, leaving more and more abandoned mine shafts. Yan Tuo had read related reports—by 2020, there were about 12,000 abandoned coal mines in China. The whole world was discussing the resource utilization of abandoned mines, some suggesting industrial tourism, others proposing underground hospitals or deep earth science laboratories. While these discussions were lively, such excitement would never reach a small place like Lao Niutou Ridge.
The iron gate to the compound was closed, its bars rusty and dust-covered. The iron slogan plate at the top hadn’t completely rotted away, with three characters remaining—”High,” “Shift,” and “Home”—jutting toward the sky.
“Happily go to work, safely return home.”
Yan Tuo sat in his car, staring absently at the iron gate. Though people couldn’t enter, car lights could penetrate from afar, illuminating the flat ground behind the gate.
Initially, Yan Haishan had ridden a Flying Pigeon bicycle through this iron gate daily. His mother had also frequently come and gone here. Even Yan Tuo had vague memories of the place: learning to walk on that flat ground behind the gate, tottering unsteadily, miners gathered around cheering “Little Tuo, keep going,” Uncle Chang Xi holding a lollipop like a carrot before a donkey, leading him step by step forward.
Of course, the woman who would later become his “Aunt Lin” was there too.
Yan Tuo turned the car around. As the headlights turned, the mining site darkened, and soon Lao Niutou Ridge sank into darkness, like a grave hiding secrets.
The car entered Yutang County town.
The county town was no longer its old self—streets, high-rises, and commercial districts were all newly built, too new for anyone seeking nostalgia.
Yan Tuo parked by the roadside and walked into a food street.
At the entrance was a shop called “Chang Xi’s Sour Soup Dumplings.”
Yan Tuo lifted the curtain and entered. The shop wasn’t large but was clean and tidy. Though past regular meal times, it was still about seventy percent full.
Liu Chang Xi, the owner, stood behind the cashier, head down in concentration, not even noticing the new customer, probably doing accounts.
Yan Tuo went over and tapped the counter: “One bowl of sour soup dumplings, pork, and cabbage.”
Liu Chang Xi hurriedly looked up: “Oh, okay, please sit inside… Little Tuo?”
Yan Tuo smiled, watching Uncle Chang Xi’s surprised and delighted face. Uncle Chang Xi had aged, his temples graying, though not yet fifty.
Liu Chang Xi was overjoyed, staring at Yan Tuo repeatedly: “My, you’ve grown taller.”
Yan Tuo: “How could that be? I was this tall last time.”
His last visit was two or three years ago, at an age when he couldn’t really “shoot up” anymore, but Liu Chang Xi still felt Yan Tuo had grown bigger somehow. Perhaps it was because he had aged and shrunk. His lips trembled for a while before adding: “You look more like a man now.”
Shortly after Yan Tuo sat down, the sour soup dumplings arrived, along with several cold dishes and an iced Feng soda.
Liu Chang Xi left the business to his staff to accompany him: “Staying this time?”
Yan Tuo picked up a dumpling and ate it: “No, just passing through.”
He looked around the shop: “Business is good.”
Liu Chang Xi smiled, his face full of wrinkles: “Yes, you know, before I was just a street vendor, always being chased away, suffering. Much more comfortable after getting to this place. You won’t believe it…”
He lowered his voice and made an “eight” gesture with his fingers: “Made over eighty thousand in net profit so far this year.”
Yan Tuo nodded: “That’s good, nice to be stable now. Uncle Chang Xi, you should find someone, and live a good life.”
Liu Chang Xi froze.
At that moment, he felt the passage of time most keenly: this little kid, who seemed just recently to have sticky hands from lollipops, crying for him to “wash hands” with soap, was now maturely advising him to “find someone and live a good life.”
Liu Chang Xi laughed it off: “I’m an old man now, who would I find?”
Yan Tuo lowered his head to get more dumplings: “Don’t wait for my mom anymore, she won’t wake up. Besides, even if she could wake up, her heart is full of my dad.”
Liu Chang Xi was caught off guard, frozen in place.
He felt extremely awkward, the secret he had kept for years was suddenly torn open and laid bare. He didn’t know how to respond, but fortunately, Yan Tuo was considerate—he kept his head down eating dumplings, occasionally sipping soup, never looking up to meet his eyes, giving him time to compose himself.
Liu Chang Xi swallowed hard, watching Yan Tuo’s crown and his shoulders moving slightly as he ate. When his face was less stiff, he asked casually: “How’s your mom doing lately?”
Yan Tuo finished eating and wiped his mouth with a napkin: “Same as always. The doctor says if they let her choose, she might prefer to die quickly rather than linger like this. I’m done, Uncle Chang Xi. I’m taking advantage of you—I won’t pay.”
Liu Chang Xi smiled perfunctorily: “What payment?”
When he saw Yan Tuo getting up to leave, he finally reacted: “Leaving already?”
Yan Tuo: “Yes, told you I was just passing through.”
Liu Chang Xi hurriedly got up to see him off. At the door, he was stopped by staff asking about something, and couldn’t see him out. He could only call out to Yan Tuo’s back: “Give my regards to your mom!”
Yan Tuo didn’t turn around, just raised his hand above his head in acknowledgment, meaning: I know.
Because of Liu Chang Xi’s message, when the car entered Xi’an the next noon, Yan Tuo visited the care facility.
This was a highly private and upscale care/rehabilitation facility for vegetative patients. Previously, they used card access for visits, but after someone stole a client membership card to sneak in, they changed to card plus fingerprint access.