"Yunfeng, please come and take a look." Brother Yu waved the flashlight.
There was a pile of junk piled on the ground in the southwest corner. There was a mess of everything. Brother Yu found an iron plate underneath.
He raised his head and said, "Move away, move aside."
After removing the tatters, Brother Yu and I reached out and grabbed a corner of the iron plate and slowly opened it.
"cough!"
There was so much dust on the iron plate that it fell down when I lifted it, which made me choke and cough.
He shook his head away from the dust, covered his nose with his clothes, and looked down with a flashlight.
Covered under the iron plate is a row of steps, extending downward at a 40-degree angle, which should lead to the underground level. (This basement is still there today. Anyone who works in Xianyang Ermian can go look for it.)
"Move your head slowly, the steps are a bit steep, don't miss the step."
The three of us used flashlights and carefully walked down the steps.
When we got down there, the space suddenly became larger. The area was larger than on the ground. It was just like those air-raid shelters built in Yinchuan before. It was a unique place.
There is a row of small iron doors at the bottom next to the wall. The distance between each small door is five or six meters, and they are all locked.
"Basement level, Warehouse No. 6...No. 6..."
"One...two, Brother Yu, do you see that?"
"I don't know. There's no number on this door. Stand back and I'll open it and take a look."
When he walked to the rusty iron door, Brother Yu repeated his old trick, wrapped the iron lock in his clothes, and started to smash it with a hammer.
"Holy shit, this is such damn good quality."
"I still don't believe I can't break this thing open."
Brother Yu raised his hammer and bang bang bang hit it dozens of times.
"This lock is of good quality and opened."
Pushing open the iron door, we first smelled a musty smell when we entered. The area here is about fifty or sixty square meters. There are hundreds of big sacks piled in piles in the room, and the ground under our feet is full of rotten cotton.
Looking at the hemp bags piled up like a hill in front of me, I couldn't help but say: "Here... Do you need to open all of this? There are at least two layers thick inside."
The piled sacks were partially decomposed, with one head torn off, and what fell out were black rotten cotton balls. No one was handling them. I don’t know how many years of waste they had been hoarding.
After looking at it, he said: "There is no other way. Open it and look for it. The physical Iron Buddha is at least one meter and three meters tall. Let's hurry up."
Has anyone ever picked cotton?
I couldn't even pull the cotton balls off my body, and many of the sacks were torn when I pulled them out. After rummaging through them for a while, I found that my pants and cotton jacket were all covered in rotten cotton, as well as my hair.
The note written by the old lady said it was among the piles of cotton, so we searched for it in the middle. After rummaging for a long time, everything from the thighs down was sunk into the pile of cotton.
"No, no."
"Where is this..."
Suddenly, I felt my right foot hit something hard, much harder than a cotton bag.
I looked at the location, grabbed it with both hands, and quickly dug it down.
Soon, I felt my hand touch a round object, which was very cold, as cold as iron.
As I touched further, I felt like I was touching my nose and eyes again.
I touched it with my hand and immediately shouted excitedly:
