Tomb raiding live stream: Starting as the mute Zhang

When the stone pillar completed its 4,380th pulse, "Zhang Qiling" opened his eyes.

He remained seated cross-legged and did not get up immediately.

Instead, place your right hand flat on your knee, palm facing up, fingers slightly spread.

Then, slowly, bend each finger inward, and finally make a fist.

This is a method for calculating time.

Four pulses a day, 365 days a year, that's 1460 pulses.

Now, after completing 4,380 times, subtracting the base number from the first year, it equals the second year's total.

It's been two years.

Zhang Qiling loosened his fist and stood up.

The movement was very light, almost silent, but "Zhang Qiling" opened his eyes the moment he stood up.

The two looked at each other, nodded, and walked to the stone pillar.

Checking the seal has become a ritual.

My palm touched the stone pillar; it was cold and hard.

The pulse came from deep within, steady and calm, just like yesterday, just like last year, just like when they first came in two years ago.

Matsuyama remains unchanged.

"stable."

Zhang Qiling withdrew his hand.

"Um."

Zhang Qiling walked to the back of the stone pillar to pick mushrooms.

Clusters of dark purple mushrooms grew in the crevices, their caps full and their stems straight.

He picked both hands, walked back, and shared half.

Zhang Qiling took it but didn't eat it.

He pulled out a palm-sized stone slab from his pocket—it was one he had knocked off from the base of the stone pillar earlier; it was very thin and the edges were smoothed.

He placed the mushroom on the stone slab, then drew his dagger.

Press the tip of the knife against the mushroom cap and gently twist it.

A circular piece was shaved off, as thin as paper, allowing light to pass through.

He shaved five pieces, arranged them on the stone slab, then picked up one piece and put it in his mouth.

Eat it raw, without adding anything.

Crisp, slightly sweet, with a refreshing, stone-like quality.

This is a new way of eating; I tried it out a month ago.

Mushrooms taste different when eaten raw and roasted. Eating them raw is more refreshing and allows you to taste the natural flavor of the mushrooms.

"Zhang Qiling" watched him finish a slice and then imitated him by peeling one as well.

His knife skills were even more refined; the mushroom slices he produced were so thin they were almost transparent, with neat edges.

Pick up a piece, put it in your mouth, chew, and swallow.

nod.

"Can."

The two of them finished their breakfast quietly.

Five mushrooms—not many, but enough to sustain you until the next pulse.

After finishing his meal, Zhang Qiling wiped the stone shard and dagger clean and put them away.

I stood up and walked to the side of the stone pillar—there, on the rock face, there was a very thin crack, almost invisible.

He pressed his fingers against the edge of the crack and closed his eyes.

induction.

A few seconds later, he opened his eyes.

"It's seeping again."

"How many?"

"A trace."

Zhang Qiling also came over and pressed his finger on it as well.

The two silently sensed the crack and the extremely faint aura seeping from it.

That wasn't energy, nor was it living matter; it was something more ambiguous—like emotions, like memories, like the breath of those "things" deep behind the door.

In the past two years, the cracks have been slowly widening.

It's very slow, so slow that it's almost imperceptible, but it is indeed widening.

The seeping substance, which was initially nothingness, gradually took shape.

Sometimes it's a sound, a very soft murmur, and you can't understand what it's saying.

Sometimes it's a scene, a fleeting shadow, distorted, blurry.

Sometimes it's a feeling, cold, sticky, like something crawling over your skin.

Zhang Qiling withdrew his finger and wiped it on his clothes.

"Soon."

"What?"

"The thing behind the door is about to wake up."

Zhang Qiling stared silently at the crack for a long time.

"How much longer?"

"Eight years, or even less."

The two stopped talking, sat down again, and began to meditate.

The seal is slowly loosening, and what lies behind the door is slowly awakening.

They may not have ten years left.

Outside.

West of Lin'an City, Wushan Residence.

The calendar on the counter has been replaced with another one.

The new notebook with a leather cover has "Year Two, Day One" written on the first page.

Wu Xie sat behind the counter, neither wiping anything nor minding the shop.

He held a piece of wood in his hand, about the size of a walnut, with a fine texture.

He held a carving knife in his other hand.

The tip of the knife rests against the wood and moves slowly.

Wood shavings fell in a soft rustling sound, piling up in a small clump on the table.

He was very focused on carving, his brows were slightly furrowed, and his breathing was very soft.

Carve for a while, then stop, blow away the wood shavings, check the shape, and then continue.

Fatty Wang came in from the backyard, carrying two bowls of noodles.

I was taken aback when I saw him carving something.

"What are you doing?"

"Carving things."

"What should I carve?"

Wu Xie didn't answer, but turned the carved part over to show him.

It's an outline, very blurry, but you can tell it's a human figure.

He stood with his body slightly turned to the side, his right hand seemingly holding something.

"Hey bro?"

Fatty Wang leaned closer to take a look.

"Um."

Wu Xie flipped the wood over and continued carving the back.

The knife tip grazed the wood, making a soft "shh" sound.

"Why carve this?"

"Practice makes perfect."

Wu Xie spoke very casually.

"Ten years from now, when my friends come out of school, I can't be completely unskilled. I need to learn a trade so I can carve something decent by then."

Fatty Wang looked at him, opened his mouth as if to say something, but then swallowed it back.

He placed the bowl of noodles on the counter.

"Eat first, the noodles are going to clump together."

Wu Xie put down the carving knife and wood, washed his hands, and sat down to eat noodles.

The noodles were in clear broth, topped with a poached egg and sprinkled with chopped green onions.

He ate very slowly, taking a bite of noodles and a sip of soup.

He suddenly spoke up halfway through the meal.

"Fatty, what do you think... the guys in there are eating?"

Fatty Wang paused with his chopsticks.

"Mushrooms, right? Didn't I say before that there were mushrooms?"

"Aren't you tired of eating mushrooms after two years?"

"These guys probably don't care about this."

"I care."

Wu Xie put down his chopsticks and looked at the Ghost Seal in the corner of the counter.

The jade seal gleamed warmly in the morning light, and the qilin on it seemed to be alive, staring in this direction.

"When they come out, I'll learn to cook. I'll make a whole table of meat. Braised pork belly, sweet and sour pork ribs, braised beef... let them eat their fill."

Fatty Wang smiled, his eyes a little red.

"Alright, Fatty, I'll teach you. I guarantee I'll fatten them up by ten pounds."

After finishing his noodles, Wu Xie continued carving the wood.

Fatty Wang cleared away the dishes and then sat on a small stool by the door, watching people come and go in the alley.

A floating live-streaming ball hovers outside the window, with the camera pointing both inside the store and outside the door.

There were scattered comments in the live stream room.

"The second year has begun."

"Is Wu Xie carving Xiao Ge?"

My nose feels a little sore.

"Waiting for you to come out"

North City, the old Xie family residence.

The study door was open, and the sound of pages being turned could be heard from inside, hurried and quick.

Xie Yuchen stood on the ladder and pulled a wooden box from the top shelf of the bookshelf.

The box is old, made of rosewood, and the edges are all rounded.

He carried the box down, placed it on the table, and opened it.

Inside were several scrolls of silk, yellowed in color, with traces of insect damage on the edges.

He put on white gloves and carefully unfolded the first volume.

The characters on the silk scroll are very faint, and the ink has almost completely faded, but they can still be barely made out.

It is an older sacrificial text, dating back hundreds of years to those on Eye Island.

Huo Xiuxiu brought in tea and paused for a moment when she saw the silk scroll.

"This is……"

"I acquired it from an old collector in Sichuan and Chongqing."

Xie Yuchen didn't even look up, holding a magnifying glass in his hand.

"They said it was passed down from their ancestors and is related to the Wuxian tribe. It took me half a year to negotiate with them."

"Did you find anything useful?"

"have."

Xie Yuchen pointed to a section on the silk scroll.

"Look here—'The eye is not an eye, the door is not a door. The eye is the pupil of the door, and the door is the eyelid.' This matches our previous guess. The eye and the door are one; the door is the eyelid, protecting the pupil; the pupil is the core behind the door."

"So what is the core?"

It's not written here.

Xie Yuchen continued reading.

"But there is a line that follows—'There is something in the pupil, and a spirit in the thing. When the spirit awakens, the door opens.'"

"spirit?"

"It could be something sealed behind the door, or it could be... something else."

Xie Yuchen put down the magnifying glass and rubbed his temples.

Over two years, he consulted countless materials, traveled to more than a dozen places, and met with no fewer than thirty collectors and scholars.

More and more clues are emerging, but the mystery is also getting deeper and deeper.

"Xiuxiu".

"Um?"

"Tell me, what exactly are those guys guarding?"

Huo Xiuxiu remained silent for a few seconds.

"Whatever it is, we'll have to face it ten years from now."

"yes."

Xie Yuchen picked up the magnifying glass again.

"So, we need to figure it out. The clearer the better."

villa.

The roses in the yard have bloomed and faded, bloomed and faded again, and I've lost count of how many times they've gone through this cycle.

Aning wasn't watering the flowers or maintaining the equipment.

She sat on the sofa in the living room, with several nautical charts spread out in front of her.

It's a nautical chart of the East China Sea, very detailed, with markings of ocean currents, reefs, water depth, and tide times.

On one of the photos, the location of the eye-shaped island was circled in red, and the area around it was covered with small writing.

She is planning flight routes.

Ten years later, they will go to pick up the person.

How the ship should sail, when it should depart, what to do if it encounters storms, what to do if it encounters undercurrents... every detail must be considered.

She looked at it for a long time, then picked up a pencil and lightly drew a line on the nautical chart.

Starting from Donghai Port, sailing south with the ocean current, avoiding two reef areas, we arrive at Eye Island in the third tidal cycle.

The entire process is expected to take three days, with an error margin of no more than six hours.

After finishing her drawing, she put down her pencil and looked at the clock on the wall.

3 PM.

She stood up, went to the kitchen, and began preparing dinner.

Put the rice in the pot, wash the vegetables, and cut the meat.

A soup was simmering on the stove, bubbling away.

The sun is shining brightly outside the window.

Inside the bronze door.

Zhang Qiling awoke from his meditation.

The stone pillar has just completed one pulsation.

He remained seated cross-legged, motionless, only calling out the name in his mind.

【system.】

【Ding. 】

The voice sounded, tinged with weariness.

[Host, what would you like to talk about today?]

"casual."

[Casual conversations are the hardest.]

The system paused for a moment.

"How about we talk about time?"

"What happened to the time?"

Don't you feel that time passes especially slowly here?

I don't think so.

Okay, never mind.

The system changed the subject.

[Those people outside the door have made some new moves today.]

"explain."

Wu Xie is carving a wooden sculpture of you. His skill isn't great, but he's very dedicated. Xie Yuchen has obtained a new silk scroll with some new clues. A Ning is planning a flight route, down to the hour.

Zhang Qiling remained silent.

After a while, he asked.

Are they...tired?

【tired?】

The system thought for a moment.

My body isn't tired, but my mind is. Waiting for someone for ten years is more exhausting than anything else.

"..."

But they will wait.

The system spoke with absolute certainty.

Just like you will persevere. This is the path you chose, and no matter how tiring it is, you will see it through.

"Um."

"Zhang Qiling" opened his eyes and looked at "Zhang Qiling" beside him.

Zhang Qiling was still meditating, his eyes closed, his breathing steady.

But his fingers tapped lightly on his knees, one tap at a time, in sync with the pulse of the stone pillar.

In the past two years, they have become increasingly quiet.

Sometimes, they only say a few words all day.

But without saying a word, a glance or a gesture is enough to know what the other person is thinking.

Zhang Qiling closed his eyes again.

The stone pillar pulsed, one pulse after another.

Like a heartbeat.

It's like a countdown.

Two years have passed.

Eight more years.

The levitating live-streaming ball floated outside the study window of the Xie family's old house.

The camera is pointed inside, where Xie Yuchen and Huo Xiuxiu are buried in a pile of books, with silk books spread all over the table.

The two stood very close, discussing something in hushed tones, their expressions serious.

In the live stream, there were a few more comments.

"Jie Dangjia works very hard"

"These documents give me a headache just looking at them."

"For a reunion ten years from now"

"pay tribute"

The camera slowly zooms out, capturing the night view of the northern part of the city, brightly lit and bustling with traffic.

Meanwhile, in Lin'an, a thousand miles away, the lights at Wushanju were still on.

Wu Xie sat behind the counter, slowly carving the piece of wood by the light of the counter lamp.

Fatty Wang was dozing off at the door, his head nodding slightly.

Further into the East China Sea, Eye-shaped Island lies silently in the darkness.

Behind the bronze door, two people stood guard and waited in the darkness.

Outside the door, a group of people waited in the light, preparing.

There is a door in between.

Eight more years.

[System Note: Host, Year Two. The wood carving is starting to look a bit like you.]