Chapter 372: Handwriting

"Fuck! My scalp crawled and my whole body started trembling. I thought, what is going on? In 1990, on a seal strip from a university in Changsha, there was actually my handwriting?"

"No! I definitely didn't misread! I thought, it's impossible for this to happen, but at the same time I was very clear that my intuition about handwriting, a professional instinct from looking at hundreds of thousands of rubbings, would never deceive me."

"Then it must be a coincidence. I studied Slender Gold style; maybe that person also studied this font, so the spirit is somewhat similar."

"I slapped my forehead, finding a hundred excuses for this, like a man who wants to find excuses to explain himself after cheating. In the end I found it ridiculous, knowing these excuses absolutely couldn't fool myself."

"I looked at my watch—it was midnight. Calling Du Juanshan out at this hour was no longer realistic, but there was no way I could sleep tonight. Anyway, that door was outside the archive room and could be seen without a key, so I packed up, grabbed Wang Meng, and set off again for that university to see for myself."

"We took a taxi there. Without Du Juanshan's work ID, the security guard wouldn't let me in. Anyone who's been to college would understand that. I went back to the small shop nearby, bought a pack of Zhonghua cigarettes, easily sneaked in, and returned to the old auditorium from memory."

"All the lights in the school were off, only the streetlights were on, and it was extremely dark around. But I was in a frantic hurry and didn't care at all. I went straight to the underground archive room and immediately looked at the words on the seal strip."

"The handwriting naturally hadn't run away; it was right there."

"My heart was pounding wildly, as if I were about to peek into a women's bathhouse. I hurriedly shone my flashlight on it."

"July 6, 1990, sealed by the XX University Archaeological Research Institute."

"This time I saw it more clearly, and my mind was clear too—every stroke, every line was clear. As I looked, cold sweat slid down my cheeks."

"It really was my handwriting."

"I stood there frozen, almost on the verge of collapse."

"Ordinary people, as long as the time interval isn't too long, can recognize their own handwriting, let alone someone in my line of work. This was absolutely my handwriting—there was no possible excuse."

"How old was I in 1990? Thirteen? Fifteen? Did I know Slender Gold style back then? Hell, I might not have even known about Slender Gold style! What is going on?"

"'For me, everything is over, but for you, nothing has actually begun.'"

"Third Uncle's voice suddenly rang in my ears, and that long-unfelt sensation of splitting headache began to swirl in my mind again."

"I took a deep breath, wanting to dispel these things, and my mind began to reassemble all the fragments. Past experience told me that doing this was useless at such times, and once I got agitated it would be hard to calm down; I had to calm down before the agitation set in."

"I also remembered that in the videotape Wenjin sent, there was a person who looked very much like me, crawling in the sanatorium in Golmud. But at the time she didn't have time to explain to me. Third Uncle once said that they were not simple, and I thought it was just his emotional words, but now thinking about it, it really is suspicious."

"What exactly happened to me? How should this be explained? It seems that there is not just one me in this world, but another me, who nearly twenty years ago, in this place, wrote this seal strip. And around the same time, was filmed in the old house in Golmud..."

"My mind was in a mess, completely clueless. This was even more headache-inducing than Third Uncle's matter. Holding the flashlight, I shone it at the space behind the seal strip."

"Assuming this seal strip was put up by 'me', then obviously there was something to it. At least it could be certain that the 'me' who wrote the seal strip had a connection with this research institute."

"This basement, which they thought no one had entered for decades, not only had someone gone in, but it was also involved in such bizarre matters. I couldn't help but wonder what the situation was back then. It seemed I had to go down and find out what was going on."

"Down below was pitch-black, like a tomb passage. With my painful experience in Golmud, I couldn't help but feel some fear. But then I thought, this was in Changsha city, not far from a community police station—the civilized world has always been reliable; there wouldn't be scenes from a campus ghost story. So I wiped my sweat and, while trying to pry the chain, felt annoyed: if I had known the key point was here, one pack of Zhonghua would have done it—why did I buy two cartons to bribe that Du Juanshan? The iron chain weighed at least twenty jin, was extremely rusty, and made

Then I dismissed the thought, how could it be possible?

Carefully I pulled out the iron chain, set it aside, my hands covered in rust flakes, then tore off the seal. As I walked down, I took two breaths and was choked by the rising dust, tears streaming from my eyes.

The stairs were a total mess, full of old tables and chairs.

Going down, I saw a door just like the one in the archive room upstairs, unlocked. I shone the light inside; it was a room exactly the same size as above, but instead of archives, it was packed with clutter.

After shining around, I couldn't help feeling a bit disappointed—this was not the old archive room Du Juanshan had mentioned, but a storage warehouse. Judging by this trash, it might have been piled here since the building was built, covered in a thick layer of dust.

I swept the flashlight around randomly, pulling up my T-shirt to cover my nose and mouth—the dust was really pungent and uncomfortable. There were messy footprints on the floor, also covered in a layer of dust, obviously made quite some time ago, probably from when the incident happened back then. The footprints overlapped in a single trail, showing two or three people walking unsteadily, going deeper into the warehouse.

Following the footprints, I looked at the surrounding clutter but couldn't tell what those things were. Taking a few more steps deeper, I could barely make out many large wooden crates.

Seeing these crates, I thought of a story: in a warehouse of the National Archives, several wooden crates were found that contained Dunhuang scriptures, shipped there during a payment delivery, but because no one inventoried them in the early days after liberation, they sat there until a move revealed them.

Could there be such treasures in these warehouses too? The scale of the crates was daunting; with just my own strength, it was unlikely I could find out what happened in this floor's warehouse back then. Too messy and too dirty. Even if I found clues, I wouldn't have the strength to move them aside and investigate.

I walked to the end of the warehouse, where the clutter was slightly less. There was a large square crate covered with something. The footprints led straight to that crate. I crouched down to look and saw that they hadn't stopped in front of the crate—the footprints continued under the crate.

"Boss, this crate was pushed in later," said Wang Meng.

That meant they had blocked something off. Given the angle of the crate and the corner, it would inevitably create a gap. What was inside that needed to be hidden? I said to Wang Meng, "Go, push it aside."

"Huh?" Wang Meng's face turned green. "Boss, this..."

"I told you to go!" I said. He had no choice but to swallow his saliva and cautiously push the crate. The crate was extremely heavy; his face turned the color of pig liver before he managed to move it aside. I shone my flashlight—inside the gap behind, there were several large piles of files.