Chapter Three: The Internship Begins

The sun had already climbed high when its rays managed to reach the small thatched hut deep in the mountains. Song Nianqiang felt the warmth on his face, so comfortable that he was even less willing to wake up. As for the hefty fellow sleeping next to him, unless someone roused him, he could easily sleep for three days and nights without issue.

The air was crisp, and birds chirped merrily in the trees. Reluctantly, Song Nianqiang opened his eyes, only to be met by blinding sunlight. Instinctively, he shielded his face with a hand, withdrew his stinky foot from atop the fat man's belly, and nudged him several times. “Hey! Get up already!”

He yawned, fished a knockoff cell phone—bought for a hundred silver coins—from his pocket, checked the screen, and suddenly shot upright. “Crap! Fatty, wake up! It’s already eleven-thirty; our internship starts at twelve!” If they were late, Song Nianqiang had no doubt that the cranky old teacher would mete out the most severe punishment.

The fat man smacked his lips, rolled over, and ignored Song Nianqiang, continuing his dream-filled slumber. This made Song Nianqiang grit his teeth in frustration. He sprang up and landed a solid kick on the fat man’s backside.

A blood-curdling shriek, as if a pig were being slaughtered, rang out from the hut, sending all the birds in the nearby trees fleeing in fright.

With hair disheveled and expressions frantic, the two of them rushed to the meeting spot arranged with the old man. The old fellow glanced at his Rolex. “Not bad, you’re pretty punctual—only three seconds till noon!” He eyed the two of them, both doubled over and panting, and asked in puzzlement, “What happened to you two? Out all night in the wild? There aren’t any girls here except female ghosts!”

“Old pervert!” Song Nianqiang and the fat man retorted in unison.

Laughing, the old man declared, “Alright, enough rest. Time to begin! Follow me!” With that, he strode into the school, and the two young men followed, mystified as to what he was up to.

“That’s it!” The old man pointed at a door. Song Nianqiang followed his gaze and saw, embedded in the cliff face ahead, a pitch-black door. Above it hung a plaque inscribed with three large characters: “Cave of Life and Death.”

“The old man sure knows how to joke!” whispered the fat man, and Song Nianqiang wholeheartedly agreed. “Seriously, teacher, you’re really pulling our legs!”

“Who’s joking with you? That’s where today’s training takes place. Now get up there!” The old man’s sudden seriousness carried an air of authority. Song Nianqiang looked at him with pitiful eyes and edged sideways, honestly contemplating escape, though he hadn’t yet found the chance.

“You’re not going, huh?” The old man’s eyes widened.

“We never said we weren’t going! We’re just getting ready!” Song Nianqiang protested, innocent as could be, and sidled back to the fat man’s side.

“Qiangzi,” the fat man muttered so only the two could hear, “if I could take that old man in a fight, I’d knock his teeth out for sure!”

Suddenly, a loud, unmistakable fart echoed through the air. Song Nianqiang and the fat man exchanged glances, then turned in unison to look at the old man standing behind them.

“What are you staring at? Never heard a fart before?” the old man said, entirely unfazed. True, there was nothing particularly shameful about it.

“Melodious tone, smooth finish—what a fart!” Song Nianqiang quipped, then dashed ahead in case the old man took offense at his comment. The fat man, though heavyset, was surprisingly quick. “That’s so unfair!” he called, chasing after Song Nianqiang.

The old man watched them run and roughhouse, his laughter heartfelt. He, too, had once been young, had had a childhood friend, but fate was fickle and now only he remained, growing old in solitude, guarding his lifelong friend’s grave.

The two soon reached the foot of the cliff. Fortunately, it wasn’t very high—about the height of a five-story building. For country kids like them, scaling it was child’s play.

“Fatty, I’ll go up first, you follow right behind me,” said Song Nianqiang, testing his grip and finding it firm enough. Fatty nodded in agreement.

Song Nianqiang was a few months older than Fatty. Though he usually looked indifferent, when it mattered he always took the lead as a big brother should. So Song Nianqiang blazed the trail, and Fatty climbed up behind him.

They quickly reached the top. Standing atop the cliff, Song Nianqiang let out a loud yell—after all, they were in the wild and had no fear of disturbing anyone.

“Qiangzi, there’s a path over there!” Fatty pointed to a small trail beside the cliff.

“What?” Song Nianqiang looked where Fatty indicated.

“Damn it! That old geezer could’ve told us! He just wanted to see us struggle!” But it no longer mattered—they had made it to the top regardless.

“So, are we going in or not?” Fatty always deferred to Song Nianqiang at critical moments.

“Of course we’re going in!” Song Nianqiang replied, then pushed open the pitch-black door.

Behind the door was a small room, fully stocked with flashlights, food, and water. On the supplies was a label: “Provisions.”

“Looks like it’s all for us. Wonder what’s ahead,” Song Nianqiang mused, stuffing the food and water into a bag on the floor and slinging it onto Fatty’s back.

Grabbing a flashlight, he opened the other door and shone the beam inside, finding a winding path stretching into the darkness.

“Let’s go! Time to put last night’s training to the test!” Curious by nature, the two young men weren’t about to be scared by some gloomy cave.

Song Nianqiang led the way, Fatty close behind. Soon, they arrived in an underground forest where all the trees were pitch black, creating an eerie, chilling atmosphere. With no other path forward, they had no choice but to make their way through the woods.

The flashlights barely pierced the oppressive darkness, as if the trees themselves absorbed the light. Even at their feet, only a faint glow showed the way; any attempt to shine further ahead was swallowed by the gloom. After three weeks of daily ghostly encounters, they had grown braver, but even so, the black woods made their hearts race.

A sudden, unsettling rustling sound made their skin crawl and nearly scared them out of their wits. The noise was more grating than fingernails on glass. They tried to spot the source, but the flashlights were useless, so they could only steel themselves and press on.

The black forest seemed endless. Hunger gnawed at them, and still, there was no end in sight. At last, Fatty couldn’t take it anymore.

“Qiangzi, I need to eat. Are you hungry?” He plopped down on the ground, uncaring of what might be beneath him. When hungry, nothing else mattered—he’d eat first and worry about the rest later.

“Alright! Let’s eat before we do anything else!” Song Nianqiang was already starving; they’d rushed out at midday without so much as a sip of water, and now he was parched and famished.

“At least the old man has some decency—good food!” Fatty mumbled, his mouth full.

“Yeah, this beef jerky is damn good!” Song Nianqiang agreed. Even their water wasn’t ordinary bottled water, but a special drink reserved for the nation’s top athletes.

After eating and resting, they continued on their way.

“Two days—it’s been two days in here,” Fatty complained. Their supplies were almost gone, the flashlights nearly dead, but over these two days, their courage had grown. Now, wandering this black forest felt like strolling through their own backyard—they paid no mind to the strange noises, and slept each night as soundly as pigs.

“It’s time,” the old man murmured, sitting in a bright, spacious room and watching the two of them on the monitor. Smiling, he addressed the technician.