Madmen don't keep diaries

Chapter 404 403 The Owlman's Roots
Ye Liushuang's face darkened: "This is a matter for us Owls, it's none of your business—who exactly are you?"

"I'm here to make friends."

Feng Xiuhu answered sincerely; he had indeed held this idea at the beginning.

But when Ye Liushuang heard this answer, he was clearly stunned.

As if thinking of something, Ye Liushuang's expression softened slightly: "Making friends is fine, but you have no right to interfere in the affairs of the Owlmen."

"I never intended to get involved."

Feng Xiuhu shook his head and stood up: "Maybe I came too early. Whatever, you have to stumble and fall to understand the truth."

He turned and went out. Ye Liushuang did not stop him. He regarded Feng Xiuhu as an idler who came to inquire about the strike. There were quite a few people like this recently. There were even reporters interviewing people in the village building today.

Lin Laiji and Hua Changgui were still guarding outside the door. When they saw Feng Xiuhu come out of the house, they quickly moved closer and looked at Feng Xiuhu expectantly: "So? Does Brother Ye agree?"

Feng Xiuhu shook his head: "We couldn't reach an agreement. Your Brother Ye thinks three silver plates are too many. He will only accept nine strings of cash at most, not even one copper bead more."

Lin Laiji and Hua Changgui were stunned: "What kind of logic is this?"

Feng Xiuhu smiled and said, "There are many profound reasons behind this, but unfortunately your Brother Ye can't figure it out."

With a wave of his hand, Feng Xiuhu took his leave.

But he did not leave the village building.

Having come all this way, Feng Xiuhu wanted to take a closer look at this "magical" architectural complex—regardless of its aesthetic appeal, such a complex and massive village of buildings was certainly unique enough.

So he took the elevator to the very top of the village building.

The highest point of the village tower is a platform built around the mast of a ship. There are many such platforms, which are connected by trestle bridges.

Walking along the pier allows Feng Xiuhu to have a panoramic view of the entire Mianlupu area.

As mentioned earlier, the village buildings are built along the edge of the island, and the whole is located on the east side of Mianlupu, resembling a wall.

Therefore, when Feng Xiuhu stood on top, he could see the entire view of Mianlupu when he looked to the west, but when he turned around and looked to the other side, he discovered that there was a small island to the east of Mianlupu.

However, this island is smaller and lower in elevation, and there are no people to be seen on it, nor is there even a single bridge connecting them.

Feng Xiuhu walked along the pier to its northernmost end, where there was no road ahead.

He looked north and saw two islands in the distance across the river.

The island on the left is vast and its entirety cannot be seen, but it is filled with chimneys, wide roads, and long lanes. Occasionally, you can see workers in uniform walking by—it is probably Iron Anvil Reef.

Looking further to the right, the island on the right is much smaller, and there are no buildings on the island. The most striking feature is the jagged boulders that cover almost the entire island.

A noise suddenly came from beside my feet.

Feng Xiuhu looked down and saw someone lift the wooden planks below the platform, and an old owl-man climbed up the ladder.

He held a small, pitted pot in his calloused hands, which contained freshly cooked vegetable porridge that was still bubbling away.

When the old owl saw Feng Xiuhu, he was also taken aback.

But he didn't show much surprise. He just glanced at it and climbed up as if nothing had happened. Then he sat down at the vent of the platform and waited for the porridge to cool down.

"From the newspaper, right?"

The old owl-man struck up a conversation, pointing down below: "You've come to the wrong place. If you want to find out about the factory, you should go down—most of the people living up high are old men and women; you won't get any information from them."

Feng Xiuhu asked curiously, "Why is it arranged like this?" The old owl grinned, revealing a mouthful of rotten teeth, "Why so many whys? This is how the owls have always been—we used to live in the trees. When we were attacked by jackals, wolves, tigers, and leopards, the young and strong could stay below to defend ourselves in time; and if we encountered natural disasters beyond human control, the young and strong could be the first to escape."

Feng Xiuhu said thoughtfully, "I thought high places were for warning, but I didn't expect them to become retirement homes here."

The old owl glanced at him: "That's from your perspective. Think about it, if you were in the forest, what could you see if you were standing on a treetop? Nothing but leaves."

Upon hearing this, Feng Xiuhu suddenly realized—he had overlooked the fact that the owl-men used to live in the forest.

In the time it takes to say a few words, the temperature of the porridge in the pot has dropped, and a layer of paste-like rice oil has formed on the surface.

The old owl stirred the food a couple of times with a spoon, then squatted down and began shoveling food into his mouth.

The wind was much stronger up above, causing the platform to sway slightly. The owls were already used to it, but Feng Xiuhu instinctively held onto the mast post.

The old owl glanced over and said, "If you can't stand, sit down. There's nothing to see here. The ground is muddy and the sky is gray smoke. I don't know what those reporters are after. Do they think factory laborers can really reveal some secrets?"

Feng Xiuhu sat down as instructed: "I am not a reporter."

"I can see it."

The old owl shoveled a mouthful of porridge: "Reporters aren't as free as you. They're always in a hurry, walking in a hurry, talking in a hurry, and they go straight to the point as soon as they open their mouths, as if they want to get to the bottom of things."

Feng Xiuhu asked curiously, "Are you a worker too?"

The old owl shook his head: "I don't want to be a laborer, and besides, factories won't hire an old codger like me."

Feng Xiuhu became even more curious—this was the first owl he had met who didn't yearn for a factory. Even Miao Gensheng and others in the choir had expressed envy for owls who worked as laborers.

"why?"

Feng Xiuhu tentatively asked, "As far as I know, working in a factory is almost the only way out for the Owlmen."

The old owl sighed: "Because young people these days have forgotten their roots."

"The night is our paradise. We should be gathering and dancing under the moonlight, not locked up in dark and damp factories to work."

His words reminded Feng Xiuhu of the scene he had seen in the Dream Forest.

"Dreamland..."

Feng Xiuhu muttered to himself.

The old owl murmured, "That's right, that's what my grandmother said too. Our roots are in dreams."

His thoughts drifted away, and he was momentarily lost in thought: "Grandma said we can see our deceased relatives in our dreams, and I did see her, but I haven't had a dream like that for many years..."

"Young people today have come to regard this as a legend to comfort children, but I know that my grandmother did not lie to me."

Feng Xiuhu said, "I believe it."

The old owl suddenly came to his senses and realized that he had said too much.

He chuckled dryly twice: "Actually, I don't remember very clearly either."

If this matter were discussed further, it would be related to the so-called "evil god," so Feng Xiuhu understood his reluctance to talk about it.

So Feng Xiuhu stopped talking about it. He pointed in the direction he came from and casually asked, "Why is that island to the east an isolated island? There isn't even a bridge there."

The old owl looked back and said, "That's Locked Mist."

(End of this chapter)