燥。

especially when the sun’s directly overhead and there ain’t a single fucking cloud to shade you. My back’s practically on fire, and I swear, the dust’s seeped into my pores. Still, I’m digging.

Bare-handed. Yeah, you heard that right. Don’t ask. The shovels we brought are either too big to fit through the narrow entrance or just plain stolen already. Figures. Can’t trust anyone these days, even your own team, apparently.

I’m in this godforsaken hole in the ground near Hami, Xinjiang. The air’s thick with the smell of dry earth and something else… something metallic, like old blood, but maybe just rust. Doesn’t matter. Gotta get the goods out before someone else does, or the element starts getting real picky.

Scratch. Dig. Wipe sweat from my eyes. It’s hot work, hotter still knowing there’s no telling what might be waiting deep down. Old whispers talk about this area. Ghosts, yes, but also treasures. Sounded like a good deal to me. Until the damn grave shifted underfoot last week. Shook the whole camp.