Chapter 7 Chapter 6 Disturbance

Today's journey is no less than 700 kilometers, passing through Korla, entering the Taklimakan Desert from Luntai, and staying overnight in a desert town. On the original itinerary, we would spend half a day in the Flame Mountain and then live in Korla, but I simplified it.This way, only Hetian and Kashgar have allowed me ample time.Walking this road in ancient times was a bitter journey of life in the leisurely world, only looking forward to arriving at the destination as soon as possible, so there is no leisure to stop and play.If you want to walk the Silk Road again, you might as well experience the hearts of the passers-by back then.

Of course, this is used to say nicely, but in fact, I don't want to waste more time.In the end, I agreed to stay in Hotan and Kashgar for a while, out of consideration for others. People who understand the layout.To set up such a bureau, if you want to start it, it is nothing more than Hotan and Kashgar, so you have to leave some time for people to arrange it, right? Since the game is set, I will enter the game, but I entered the game to break the game. I have full confidence in my intellect. I naturally understand the difference between self-confidence and arrogance. I voluntarily entered the game because I thought that since someone had such a heart, I could hide it once. Do I have to guard against it day and night?Simply enter the game and break the game, clearing it all at once.But after everything has been arranged, I won't rush in. If I really don't make any preparations until the moment when someone else activates it, it will be too long.My approach is to enter the game and then disturb.

The so-called disturbance is to break the original state and make things change unexpectedly by the planner.To put it more clearly, it is to mess up his mind.I don't know which one of the peers is the layouter (of course I don't rule out any possibility, including plural layouts), so I have to disturb everyone. Disturbing Zhongyi is the way men like best.The exchange of bodily fluids can't explain any problems, but it can often cause many problems. If she is the organizer, if such disturbances can't let me find some clues, then I will die.What's more, because she is the most suspected one, I also added the project of nightly psychotherapy dialogue.

The disturbance to Fan Sicong was linked to Zhong Yi.For me, a guy who has fallen into the goddess of his heart, I am afraid that I have been grinding with a small file for a long time.If he is a planner, I am confident that he will become a typical example of a small unbearable chaos. The starting point for disturbing Yuan Ye is his girlfriend, otherwise I wouldn't have the spare time to help him chase women.Now whenever he is free, he tells me about his girlfriend's character background, and analyzes with me what text messages he has sent and what kind of replies he has received, what problems are there, and how to proceed next.If he's the setter (albeit the least likely of the four), then his feelings for his girlfriend and my role in it make him prone to error, especially at the moment when it's scheduled to go off.

And the disturbance to Chen Ailing...has not yet been implemented.Successful perturbation must be based on what the person cares most about. Once it is touched, it will definitely cause the person's feelings to fluctuate to a considerable extent, thereby disrupting his established rhythm.In fact, it is to find a person's weakness.It's interesting, isn't it, the thing that a person cares most about is his weakness. Chen Ailing's weakness, the only entry point so far, is her smoking.These days, I've only seen her smoke twice.Once on the stage, once in the auto repair shop.It's all when I tell the murder scene.Both times she smoked fiercely, violently, and ecstatically.This shows that she has been touched so powerfully that she subconsciously smokes a cigarette to maintain her composure.Often this means trauma, or secrecy, or both.If I can know the reason behind it, then I can certainly find the way of disturbance.She likes to read my novels, like to watch American crime dramas, and she should have the same reason for smoking at the crime scene.When it comes to the judgment of watching American dramas, yesterday I casually said that maybe her husband and children like to watch them, but she didn’t respond. This detail is unusual. In addition to letting me judge her interest in suspense dramas, it also shows that she probably doesn’t. A normal family.All of these, perhaps, form the same loop.

Speaking of which, Chen Ailing didn't smoke when I performed that scene in the Grotto yesterday.If she smoked while I was telling the story of the crime as a behavioral pattern, then there are two explanations for her behavior in the grotto, either I stopped too quickly and her emotions had not accumulated enough to smoke; or , She knew I was talking nonsense, nothing happened in the grottoes, the story in the novel "In Dunhuang" happened in an auto repair shop by the Gobi Desert. Therefore, Chen Ailing's suspicion was second only to Zhong Yi.I have to start disturbing her as soon as possible, otherwise it will be a bit dangerous.

However, today I was bumping all the way in the car. In such an environment, it is difficult for me to have any in-depth communication with Chen Ailing. Private matters leaked out.In front of so many people, no matter how much I can speak like a lotus flower, it is impossible for me to do it. All I can do is chat with her one after another, asking her what American drama she likes, which season and episode of "CSI" or "CRIMINAL MINDS" is more exciting, and which episode is pure bullshit.I didn't have time to pay attention to her in the past two days, and I had less contact with her, and now I have to make up for it.

In addition, when I first got in the car in the morning, I made a few flirtatious remarks to Zhong Yi, which could easily be misunderstood. We had sex again last night.Zhong Yi was obviously very upset, and actually showed a face.But my goal was also achieved, because Fan Sicong's face was much uglier, and he kept looking for topics to talk to Zhong Yi along the way.Knowing that Zhong Yi is having an affair with me, but still working so hard to be the second landlord, how forgiving. During several intervals between parking to smoke and discharge water, Yuan Ye was busy texting, of course he had to ask me for details.The current stage is that Yuan Ye explained that the person who mistakenly sent a text message was an ordinary friend, and the woman kept guessing the specific name, excluding Yuan Ye's friends of the opposite sex that she knew one by one.I said to Yuan Ye, don't do this again, you want something bad.You just reply "Stop making trouble" now, and then deal with it coldly, no matter what she says, ignore her, and don't answer her calls.I held back until tonight, and then sent her a long and sincere letter, trying to kill her with one blow.

He asked me how to write a long letter, I said you remember the main points and format, first write the common memory, and then click a little bit to know that she has been out in the middle of the field, remember not to point out to save face, and the key points should be bitter at the same time, and then continue Shared memory, finally say love her, give promise.Four paragraphs, don't mention about the imaginary other woman, and don't have to answer any questions she asks during the day. We had lunch in Korla, and there was a small twist after the meal. The left front wheel of the car was out of air, and the leak was so fast that it couldn’t be solved by pumping up the gas. We were going into the desert soon, so we definitely couldn’t take the spare tire on top, so we looked for a place to go fix the car.I fell asleep after dinner, leaned on the sofa in the auto repair shop, and fell asleep drowsily after hearing them talk about getting a new tire from somewhere else.

When he woke up, he heard Fan Sicong and Zhong Yi talking about the Luobu village.This is also on the original itinerary, and I ticked it off.I heard him sigh that it would be a pity not to go, and of course I would not let go of such a good opportunity to laugh, so I told him that the Luobu village in Yuli was purely a new tourist attraction. From 1950 to 1970, the Taklamakan Desert expanded rapidly, half of the Populus euphratica forest there was lost, and the people who could no longer live there had all moved away. Now there are no Rob people there to show you. His embarrassed and annoyed expression is wonderful.

Zhong Yi rescued him and asked where the Rob man had gone.I said that they are basically mixed with Uighurs. There is still a group of Rob people near Korla, but they are not maintaining a pure family system. The mixed population ratio exceeds 50%, but it is already the village with the highest concentration of Rob people. Zhong Yi laments that in a few decades, this nation will probably be assimilated and disappear.I said, of course it is unavoidable, such things happen all the time, and there are countless ethnic minorities who have been assimilated by the Han over the past hundred years.Even among the remaining officially recognized ethnic minorities, many of them are Han Chinese in their bones.And the more authentic it is, the less it is compatible with the Han people, the more intense ethnic conflicts there are, and the more vitality it has. The Uighurs who assimilated the Rob people are one of them. Fan Sicong said that since the village is in Korla, don't pass through the door, you have to go and have a look.After a few more years, they will be completely assimilated, and they will lose sight of anything. I saw his eagerness to protect the intangible cultural heritage, holding back to show his cultural depth in front of Zhong Yi, and I was amused, saying that you can’t see much now, basically it’s a Uighur village, a tree house or something Not at all.After thinking about it, I just needed to talk to Chen Ailing, so I changed my mind and said, anyway, it’s okay to go along the way. The car had already been repaired, and they didn't call me when they saw that I was fast asleep.The village is between Heshlik Township and Toblech Township, and some people make a living by panning jade. I visited it once in those years, but after more than ten years, the appearance and temperament of the past are very different. Not afraid to be recognized. In fact, I can’t remember the name of the village, but I only know the approximate location. When I asked for directions nearby, when I mentioned “the place where the Luobu people live”, a young Uighur woman with a mole on her eyebrow said she knew it.The car bumped into it along a dirt road, followed a mountain to the shaded side, and saw a tree growing horizontally from the nearby stream, and vaguely remembered that it was almost at the end of the field.On the nearby slope, there are small Mazars, with earthy gray round tops, like mushrooms.The Uighurs call the grave Mazha, and under this "mushroom" are the people who died in the village over the years. Of course, you can’t drive directly into the village. This is not a tourist spot, and the Uyghur-inhabited area is more or less xenophobic. An off-road vehicle is too aggressive to drive in, and it’s asking for trouble.So he parked the car on the side of the road, and Yuan Ye stayed in the car and watched.When I got out of the car, I smiled at him and said, "Hold on, don't fall short, because you had already replied to the text message when the car was repaired earlier."He said, don't worry, teacher, I will do as you wish, and I will endure until night. Fan Sicong and Zhong Yi dragged behind, and when I arrived at the entrance of the village, I turned around and smiled at him, saying, “Look at it later, Mazar, Guojielou, mosque, and Nang Pit, this place is no different from other Uyghur villages.He said it's okay, just treat it as a Uighur village, and it's also a very good exotic style.I said that you are a drunkard who cares about the mountains and rivers.His face turned red again, probably because he realized that the landscape he cares about has been fully seen by me. The village is located between the foot of the mountain and the middle of the mountain. The entrance of the village is on a higher ground, and the road to the village is a dirt road that goes down gradually. If it rains, it will be muddy, but obviously it doesn't rain often here.The creek that I saw before did not accompany the road, but now I can't see it, and I don't know where it bends. On one side of the road are mainly two-story Uighur buildings, which are made of uniform earth bricks and are next to each other.Along the way, you can see the rich and poor at a glance. Some have yards planted with fig trees, some have open front porches, and some have ordinary wooden doors along the road.On the other side of the road is a cliff, not a steep cliff, the drop is only a few meters, under the cliff... Ha, the stream is there, I heard the sound. The terrain of the village is undulating. The main road entering the village is U-shaped at first low and then high. There are several uphill trails on the main road, leading to the depths of the village. This village is just an ordinary Uighur village, and it looks like it has been lived for generations, with a history of more than a hundred years, but there is nothing surprising to me, I have seen too much.For Zhong Yi and Fan Sicong, they are different. Just like the northerners who come to the ordinary Jiangnan water towns will be particularly fascinated. Of course, the original ecological Uighur villages are very different from the Han villages. Walking in them also has a lot of customs.Fan Sicong took the camera around to take pictures, dragging on and on, which is really strange. Isn't his mission this trip to take pictures of me, a typical example of bringing personal emotions to work.That's good, give me and Chen Ailing more space. The village is not lively, and we haven't seen any middle-aged people in this short distance.Most of the doors of every house were open, and no one could be seen when looking in. There was only one old man in a cap sitting in one house, watching us pass by without speaking.In the small stream next to it, there are two children playing in the open area, but other than that, no one else can be seen. Perhaps the Luobu people in the village still retain some traditions, or they may have been completely assimilated. Anyway, we will never see any way out of it. I walked slowly on the dirt road. It is still the season to wear short sleeves in Xinjiang, but I actually feel a little cold.This is purely a psychological feeling, this village... is empty like a ghost village.Of course, it is not empty, not to mention the old man and children I saw just now, there must be women doing handicrafts in those two-story houses built of mud bricks.But I'm talking about feeling, a cold, empty feeling.As a perverted suspense novelist who is used to writing murder stories and staying at the scene of the murder will feel a different kind of excitement, it is very abnormal to have such a feeling.I think it has something to do with my discomfort. When did this discomfort start? In retrospect, it seems that when the old man in the melon skin hat was looking at me, the discomfort arose. It seemed to be a sound, not only invisible, but even silent, winding and wandering along the road, coming from the yard with the open door, from the fixed eyes of the old man behind him, and from the cracks in the earthen wall Come inside, wrap me up layer by layer.It was buzzing, buzzing, rustling and chirping, coming in from the left ear and coming out from the right, but it kept the body in my head, and at the same time I knew very well that there was no real sound. This is really not a likable village, and I regret coming here. I tried to focus myself on Chen Ailing. We're talking about crime, about murder. When talking about American dramas with her, I feel that she has a different kind of enthusiasm for these things. Every time she talks about the scene, autopsy, and analysis of the motive of the murder, her eyes are brightened like chicken blood.I observed that her pupils dilated at this time, which was a physiological reaction caused by emotion that could not be faked. Reminiscent of the timing of her smoking twice, I was sure it was a breakthrough. I don't believe that she was born to like killing things, there must be shadows from the past.By digging it out, the disturbance to Chen Ailing can be easily achieved. "So there are actually great limitations and uncertainties in profiling. Just like micro-expressions, TV dramas amplify them for the effect. The complexity of human psychology is far beyond the grasp of profilers. , they can sort out a few big lines at most, and they often make mistakes.” "What about you, you judged that the head was hung on the city wall, and the cause of the daughter's death, it feels like it has been profiled. According to you..." "I'm different." I interrupted her: "Mine relies more on the sense of smell." I pointed to my nose: "The sense of a pervert killing people doesn't come from a strict profile, but more from intuition." "Is intuition more reliable?" "It's like a flash of inspiration, like you have entered another person's body and become possessed. This is a kind of talent. If the crime scene still retains the frequency of the criminal's thinking, then the intuition is just right. The result after cutting into the frequency. In my opinion, intuition is a higher level of grasp, and the comprehensive consideration of all explicit and hidden details and clues is more advanced than profiling." Chen Ailing frowned thinking about my words.This kind of plausible nonsense is the most capable of leading people into the ditch. I, too, frowned, enduring a new wave of discomfort. "Did you hear any sound?" I finally couldn't help asking Chen Ailing. "Just now? No. What's the sound?" "Nothing." I shook my head. The phone in my pocket vibrated, and I took it out to look at it, and I couldn't help squinting my eyes. It was a multimedia message, sent from an unfamiliar number.Except for one audio, the content is only four words. it's time. I choose to play audio and hold the phone to my ear.No matter what is in there, I don't want to turn on the speaker for Chen Ailing to hear. It's laughter. Woman's laughter. A string of two or three seconds long female laughter, some crisp, some sharp, some erratic, blended together and blended into a weird tone. Nothing but laughter. I replayed it and replayed it again, listening very carefully.There was no background noise, just a smile, and that laughter, after hearing it a lot, became a little familiar. Illusion, I think.Because I thought in that direction, I had the illusion, and I misled my own psychology.They are clearly two completely different people.Different, that voice is different, never the same person! Chen Ailing looked at me, believing she saw something wrong, but chose not to ask. I put the phone back in my pocket, my heart churning. It's time, it's time.I read it silently several times.Then he woke up and realized that Chen Ailing was still beside him.At times like this, people's first reaction is always to cover up, and I couldn't avoid it, so I wanted to continue the conversation with her just now.He opened his mouth, but forgot what he talked about earlier. I put my right hand on my forehead, and pinched my temple with my hidden thumb, nails digging in. Then I smiled apologetically at Chen Ailing, took two steps away, took out my phone, and dialed it back. Don't run away, I never run away.Whatever that is, hit back head-on. I made enough preparations to punch out, but I hit the empty space. That's an empty number. That number doesn't exist. But it clearly just sent me a laugh. It's some kind of software that can fake a number that doesn't exist to hide yourself, I think. I put my phone back and walked forward slowly as if nothing had happened, as if I suddenly lost interest in talking and wanted to see the scenery of this small village.Anyway, I'm a random person, or to put it bluntly, capricious. Chen Ailing has seen a lot along the way, so she doesn't think it's strange, so she accepts the conversation and walks around to look around. But wait, her eyes glanced at mine... I followed her casual eyes and looked down. It was my hands. I was wrapping my arms around my chest, and I didn't notice my posture at all.This is a typical posture of resistance. The subconscious sense of crisis made me take this defensive posture. This old woman's eyes are quite poisonous. It seems too deliberate to put my hands down now, but after noticing this problem, I keep walking with my arms folded, which makes me uncomfortable from the inside out.Only then did I realize that I would also have such awkward times. It's pressure, the pressure of that text message just now, and the village I live in seems to be constantly putting pressure on me, especially as I walk in, the vague sense of uneasiness becomes more obvious. Is it about to start?Going to close the net?But according to my inference, it should be launched in Kashgar, otherwise it is Hotan, how could it be in this place? Who knew I'd come to this place? I heard movement behind me and looked back, it was Zhong Yi and Fan Sicong. Didn't they lag far behind before, as if they took another fork in the road, and when they came back, I didn't realize it at all. I was distracted.From just now until now, I have been distracted.The irritability in my heart, the ubiquitous pressure, and the vague and dangerous smell in the air all unknowingly trapped me in a cage. It's too dangerous. And it's too abnormal, how could I become like this, this feeling that I can't fully control my consciousness, it's too bad. A laugh came around from the back of my neck and got into my ear. I turned around abruptly. Who is laughing?It wasn't Zhong Yi or Fan Sicong. They were discussing the iron sign hanging in front of a family's house. There were ten stars on it, and it was written in Chinese and Uygur.Yes, that's right, they had been talking about this topic for half a minute just now, and when the laughter came out, Zhong Yi was halfway through a sentence.Just like the brand of Wuhao Family, she said this sentence.When the laughter came out, this sentence did not stop, so of course it was not Zhong Yi who was laughing, nor Fan Sicong, he had no reason to laugh at all, besides, it was a woman's laughter. Some crisp, some sharp, some erratic female laughter. It was the woman in the text message. "Others are easy to understand, but what is that tech star, does that family have any other small inventions?" Fan Sicong asked. "Maybe it's learning technology, or doing farming with technology." Zhong Yi thought for a while and answered. None of them heard the laugh! That laughter is very clear, and it is so clear that it is still echoing in my ears.But none of the three heard it except me. What the hell. Whether there are ghosts in this world, I don't know, and my novels never involve this aspect.In my story, there may be pretending to be ghosts, but to put it bluntly, there are people behind it. But the current situation, if it is explained by pretending to be a ghost, could it be that the three people in front of me conspired to lie to me, and they deliberately said they didn't hear it? This possibility is really not very high.Or some kind of directional sonic emitter so no one else heard it? There is also another explanation, that is, I misheard, there is no such laughter, because I am too nervous.I immediately denied this possibility, I believe in myself, this is the belief that supports me to this day. The temples twitched and twitched, and if I wanted to think deeper, my head would hurt. At this time, I heard another voice. The sound was much more indescribable.Some are like being stuck in the neck when a person sighs, or like an almost rusted iron door being forcibly pulled open, in short, the frequency is high and sharp. Is that from a person?Surprised, I hurriedly looked at the expressions of other people, and they all responded, and this time I finally heard them all. "What's that sound? It's so uncomfortable." Fan Sicong asked. "It seems to be coming from that direction." Zhong Yi pointed to a fork in the road ahead and said. "Go and have a look." Fan Sicong said, stepped forward quickly, passed me, and turned onto the path. I followed closely behind him. The voice just now was very high-pitched and spread far away, so maybe the place where the voice came from was still a hundred paces away. Turning around, I saw a fat Uighur woman standing at the door of her house with her back to us.Hearing the movement behind her, she turned her head, her face was very ugly. She was also drawn out by the strange noise.Asking intentionally, she retreated into the room and slammed the door shut. Going a few steps forward, I passed a porch with a black goat standing inside, looking out, and the atmosphere was a bit weird.Just wondering if the voice came from here, I heard someone shouting behind me.Turning around, I saw that it was the woman who had retreated into the room just now, and opened the door at this time, and leaned out with most of her body.She spoke a jamp with a strong accent, Fan Sicong and the others didn't understand what she was saying. She told us not to go any further, I said. She was willing to talk to us, but of course she turned back to ask what happened. "Don't go there, it's not a good place," she said. I naturally asked where it was, why it was bad, and what was going on with that noise just now.She didn't seem to want to talk about it to us outsiders, but she just said that there was an empty house in front of her, and everyone was dead. I asked again, and this time I changed to Uyghur, so she gave a general idea.There used to be two men in that family, a father and a son, who were both engaged in jade business, but they all died outside in one year, leaving orphans and widows.Xinjiang is sparsely populated, the folk customs are tough, and there are many strange and evil things. Compared with jade, human life is really nothing. I have heard of such things in those years.It is not uncommon for two people to die, but suddenly one day the mother disappeared, leaving a seven or eight-year-old little girl to live on her own, and the neighbors in the village took care of her. After a few days, the little girl disappeared, and it became an empty house . When the mother disappeared, some people said that she ran away with a wild man and left her daughter behind.Later, when the daughter disappeared, some people said that the mother was reluctant to part with her daughter, so she came back and took her away.This is the most logical conjecture, but after all, when the mother and daughter disappeared, no one else in the village saw them. As time goes by, there will inevitably be other rumors involving ghosts and gods.Originally, there were selfish suggestions that it was not a problem to have an empty house, but gradually no one mentioned it, and the house was dilapidated and dusty.Long after the daughter disappeared, some people saw children from doors that were occasionally blown open by the wind. On rainy nights and windy days, some neighbors heard some strange movements.Some people said that the girl did not leave, but lived in that house alone.Last year, the village paid for a mozzarella on the hillside behind the house, which was regarded as a tomb for several people. After that, it seemed to be more peaceful, but today this kind of sound came out again. The Uighur woman might think that we should back off after she said this, but I didn't expect that after I heard it, I would ask which room it was in front of.She looked at me with her eyes, and said that the one with the painting at the door was the one, and then closed the door swiftly. The two of us spoke a long section of Uyghur, but the others couldn't understand it. I was not in the mood to tell the story, so I led them forward. I paid attention to the houses with paintings in front of the door, walked twenty or thirty steps forward, and saw some hanging couplets, brick carvings and door decorations, but there were no houses with any paintings, not even New Year pictures. .After turning the corner, the front became deserted, with only two or three houses, and further back, except for trees and rocks, the roadside was Mazha.There are several small domes scattered on the far slope, and on the mountainside farther away, there is a courtyard-style marijuana surrounded by earth bricks. The dome is sky blue.In the past, only those on such a scale could be called Mazha, which was specially made for sages, but now it has become a general term.I think the mozzarella of the family of four must be among those small earthen bags, but I don't know which one it is. At a glance, there are no paintings in front of the doors of several houses. Thinking back to what the woman said just now, maybe I heard it wrong. But after walking a few more steps, the painting appeared.It's not a painting on the door as I thought, but a mural.This is really rare, at least in this village, it is the only one.On the wall between the door and the window of this family, there is a regular depression, which is the shape of a house, with a trapezoidal roof and a square main body below. The painting is inside the square, which used to be colorful. Now it has faded, under the sunlight, it looks like white flowers from a distance, but when you get closer, you can vaguely distinguish what the painting is. The content of the painting is not unusual. In the center is a blue vase with lush plants stretching out from the mouth of the vase. The top of the vase is a gradient blue, which seems to represent the sky, and the bottom is a vine-like decorative curve.The left and right bottom corners are not exactly symmetrical, but they look similar - I assume they are, since the bottom right corner is a little bit obscured by leaves. "Is it here?" Fan Sicong asked. I didn't answer, I was looking at the leaf. It was a single leaf stuck to the wall, it appeared so unnaturally on the painting, abrupt and stiff.How can there be leaves sticking to the dry earth wall so that it does not fall off? I reached out and peeled off the leaves.There's a tint of brown on the covered screen, and on the leaves... "Blood, is it blood?" Fan Sicong called out. I put the leaves under my nose and sniffed them. "It's blood, still fresh." I said. "Is it human blood?" He asked immediately. Is it human blood who can smell it just like that?Now my heart is ups and downs, as if there is a pot of oil rolling in my head, one by one thought gurgles out and explodes, and whenever I want to talk to him, I reply that it is human blood. Zhong Yi took a deep breath. How could this woman be as virtuous as Fan Sicong? Then I realized that what she was terrified of was not the blood, but the painting.The covered leaves were removed, revealing the lines behind. I thought it was the same twisted vines as on the left, but in fact, it was a face turned sideways. A strange child's face. On the whole, it looks like a small head growing on a vine.The top of this painting is the sky, and the bottom is naturally the earth. This is a child buried in the soil. The body has been fertilized and grown into plants, and a head is left. Thinking of what happened in this room that I heard just now, I can't help but feel a little chill. "It's here." I said, "The voice just now should have come from this house." After a pause, I added another sentence: "This is an empty house, people died one after another a few years ago." "You don't want to go in, do you?" Zhong Yi asked. The door is on the left side of the mural, two ordinary wooden boards, closed, but not closed, I stretched out my hand and pushed it, and the door opened. I stepped out of the sun and into the shadows of the room, taking a slow, deep breath.In my imagination, there are many, many fragments of light, shadow and sound in the room being sucked in by me with this breath, and in this way, I declare to the... whatever it is that is waiting for me, I am coming. It's time, here I come. That feeling is very good. It's really good, the discomfort that was haunting me was relieved a lot when I entered the room. There was an indescribable smell in the air in this room, neither the fragrance of flowers nor the smell of corpses, ethereal, In a daze, it seems that in the unfathomable depths of this room, there is a heart beating and beating. In the dark space, there seems to be thin black hair brushing the back of my neck.However, this feeling is better than the irritability under the sun before, the electric shudder on the skin, but it makes my mind clearer and my attention can be focused. Yes, focus, because here, something is waiting, attracting me. Is it fate? The house is not big, regular rectangular shape.The feet are made of rectangular floor tiles, and the top is a back-shaped four-layered top decoration. This is a common layout of the Uighurs. It looks like gray brick walls on the outside, but the interior is decorated with Very gorgeous.The top decoration here was originally a layer of purple, a layer of yellow, a layer of sky blue, and a layer of orange red, but now it is dimmed. The light passes through the window nearly two meters high, and casts a beam of dusty light.It was obviously extremely dry, but for some reason, it gave birth to a damp and dilapidated cold. This is a hall, two small round stools and two benches surround the rectangular table, and there is a large wooden cabinet against the wall. All these furniture were thrown here and were not taken away by the villagers for their own use, which shows that there is really taboo. There are doors on the left, right and front respectively, two sliding doors.The style of the door is very beautiful, the top of the door is hollowed out and carved, and colored plexiglass is embedded in the door. Ah, I mean, it was originally embedded in the door, but now it is almost broken. Creak creak creak creak creak creak, this is the sound of feet stepping on broken glass. Is it newly broken? There doesn't seem to be any dust on the broken glass left on the door.I looked down, and the debris mixed with the light gray on the ground into a strange messy pattern.If it is really broken, is it related to the strange noise just now?There are also patterns on the ground, like... There is a force pulling my thoughts, but it is disturbed by Zhong Yi's voice. "This place...is uncomfortable," she said. The thoughts that had some clues just now were suddenly scattered. Chen Ailing didn't follow in, she walked slowly and hesitated, maybe she didn't plan to come in.Fan Sicong comforted Zhong Yi, and the two walked into the door on the left together. I chose the right. Like the hall, the layout is clear at a glance, there are no people, and there is no place to hide people. This is a bedroom, the bed is close to the wall, covered with a red cover, there is a red and yellow thin blanket on the bed cover, and a purple quilt is wrapped around one corner.It seems that the owner left that day, really unprepared. The high windows were covered with drapes, making the bedroom extraordinarily dark.I was about to back out, when I caught a glimpse of the hanging part of the bed cover out of the corner of my eye, and my heart suddenly moved.Usually the bottom of a bed with this pattern is solid, but what if it is not? I squatted down, and slowly, lifted a corner of the bed cover. When I lifted it, my heart tightened at the same time, as if there was something vicious hidden under it, and it was about to pounce out as soon as I lifted it. of course not.As I expected, what I saw in front of my eyes were four layers of bricks and a Simmons mattress on the bricks. I shook my head and was about to stand up when I got a heavy blow on the forehead. pain. flustered. When I came in, I could clearly see that there was no way to hide people in the room, so I lifted the bed cover just in case.I have been more careful since I entered the door, and my ears are also alert. Apart from my footsteps, there is no other sound at all!How could someone approach him silently?Impossible, how can walking on the glass slag in that place not make a sound, unless the person who comes is barefoot. Or, not human at all? Such thoughts flashed back in my mind a few times, but in fact it was only a moment.I took the blow, fell to the ground, leaned on the bed with my back propped up on the hands, and looked up—no one, no one. I covered my forehead with my hand and caught my breath in my throat.Maybe...in the dead corner of my sight?I wanted to do a roll to avoid possible further blows, but my body couldn't make a perfect movement, my center of gravity was clumsily tilted to one side, and my shoulder slammed into a hard object. etc. ha? It's... a sewing machine.What I bumped into was a sewing machine sitting next to my bed.I finally came back to my senses, it was the same thing that gave me a slap on my forehead just now, when I stood up, my forehead touched the sharp corner of the sewing machine panel. I supported the bed and stood up slowly, squinting my eyes, staring at the sewing machine. It gave me two hard slaps, but that's not the point at all. How did I not see it before? After entering the door, I thought I had observed the whole situation, but I didn't even notice that there was this machine beside the bed.我蹲下来掀床罩，站起来时撞到面板，这意味着我是挨着缝纫机蹲下的。但我直到撞到，都还没在第一时间反应过来，以为是自己遇袭。 我是自己撞上去的，怎么会体感产生如此巨大的错觉？ 这意味着…… 我轻轻拍了拍古旧的缝纫机，然后走出了这间卧室。 厅堂里没有人，陈爱玲始终没进来，而之前进了另一间房的范思聪和钟仪，这刻也不知道在哪儿，我甚至连他们的脚步声都听不见。四周一片寂静，仿佛我在这一出一进之间，已经身在另一个次元空间里。 我有种强烈的感觉，这儿只有我一个人了。 额头依然在痛。 那股牵引我的力量又出现了，我明白这只是错觉。但我依然顺从着它，选择了正面的门。 推开虚掩的门，一张朱红色的大太师椅出现在眼前，直对着我。这椅子摆放的位置突兀而诡异，仿佛有个透明人坐在上面瞧着我。椅子上几乎瞧不见明显的积灰，仿佛日日都有人坐似的。当然，我想其实灰是被风吹走的。椅子背对着后门，那门敞开着，后院的风直吹进来。 这又是一个厅，或许是饭厅。我没有细看，也没多研究这张扎眼的太师椅，匆匆绕过它，穿门而过，进了后院。 因为我听见了些声音。 嚎叫、低泣、悲歌或若有若无的窸窸窣窣，悬疑小说里于此时此境可能出现的种种声响多不出此数。 但竟是笑声。 浅浅的，女人发出的笑。稍显尖锐，是女孩发出的？ 我走进后院时，笑声就不见了，像是有个女人，在这蔓草荒芜的院落里和我捉迷藏。 我站在门口打量着院子，想了想，又往右移了两步，背靠着墙。院子差不多有两百平米大，一面靠山，左右两侧用土墙围上，葡萄架上有干枯的藤。 笑声又来了。那声音乍起还落，让人听了心里空落落的。这次我捉到了来源，右前方。 我顺着走去，接近围墙处，拔开一蓬茅草，露出个黑森森的地洞。 刚才这两声笑，一定就是从洞里传出来的。 这笑不管是鬼是人，总归没有好意，入洞无疑是危险的，但我已经身在此处，难不成扭头就走？还是回过头去，找齐了其它人，一起下，像个青涩扭捏的娘们？ 那笑声既出，我便已没有选择。人生其实就是如此，看似前后左右都是路，但你却只能往一个方向走。 这地洞实际上是个地窖，下行阶梯极窄极陡，且只能弯着腰，光线随着我的脚步蔓延到七八米深的底部，就再无力往前探伸多少了。 地窖里的温度不会高过十度，甚至可能更低，寒且阴，底下铺了一层麦秸之类的干草，踩上去簌簌声响。这里气候极干，雨水又少，如果在南方一个露天开着口的地窖，不知该潮成什么样了。 这地窖却不是空的，眼前四列架子，延伸入黑暗中，不知多深。当然那只是光线原因，想来不会很深，照所见五六米的宽度，进深应不超过十米。 架子上是满的，每一层上都放满箩筐。照这样的格局，筐里该是葡萄。最后一批葡萄摘下来放入地窖，保存得好可以放到来年春节。正常来说，地窖口是要封起来的，现在之所以开着，怕是当年村里寻人时，特意起开地窖查看，过后没再封起来。 我走下来时，没有特意放轻脚步，如果有人在地窖里，必定能很清楚地听见动静。我在光亮的地方停留了片刻，地窖寂静的连我的呼吸声都放大了许多倍，每一次呼气吸气，都仿佛能带动气流在支架间的通道里来回穿梭。 当视线开始适应这里的光线后，我慢慢地向前走。我没打算用手机的光，已经到了快要见分晓的时刻，我想留着两只自由的手，以应对可能发生的任何变故。 四列架子，三条通道，我选了最右的通道，和我先前刚进后院时选择贴墙站的理由一样，在预感到危险的时候，靠着墙至少能让你有一个比较安全的支点，危险源自墙内的可能性总是最低的。 一步，两步，三步，四步，五步，六步，七步。 我走得慢而小心，感觉手臂上的汗毛都竖了起来。 八步，九步，十步，十一步，十二步，十三步，十四步，十五步。 到底了。 我的步幅远比平时小，如此估算地窖的深度在七到八米之间。两侧的支架上自始至终都入口处一样，全都是箩筐，没有任何异常。 我有些想掏出手机照一下筐里到底是什么东西，但忍住了。 支架并未顶到底，我左转经过中间的通道时没有停留，只是扭头瞧了一眼，两排黑沉沉的轮廓线，直通到入口的那一摊苍白光亮，中间没有阻挡物。由暗处往明处看，总是能更清楚些。 我沿着左侧的通道走回来。 一步，两步，三步，四步，五步，六步，七步，八步，九步，十步，十一步，十二步，十三步，十四步，十五步。 我一步一步从黑暗里走出来，走回到那一曦微光处，没有遭遇任何危险，也没有听见除开我脚步声之外的声响，那笑声藏在这地洞的深处，就是不肯再露头。 但我没有轻松的感觉，我能感受到那引而不发的张力。 还想藏着吗，我已经在这里，还要藏到什么时候去？ 我想我已经足够配合了吧，那行，我就此回去了，我就不信，不管是人是鬼，故意引我前来，能这么眼睁睁瞧着我离开。 我待拾级而上，一抬头，就愣住了。 地窖口有人。 确切地说，我看见的是两只脚，哦，是两只鞋子。 children's shoes. 两只小红皮鞋，再往上，是白色的裙裾。我只能瞧见这些，看上去，好像有个小女孩坐在洞口。 两只脚原本一动不动，也没有发出一点儿声音。但像是能感觉到我的目光，红皮鞋开始轻轻摆动，鞋跟磕在洞口，发出“哒哒”声。 哒，哒，哒，哒。 整个地窖，都像被这声音带动了，隐约发出空空的共鸣声。 然后，那笑声又来了。 来自我背后。 我猛地转身。 笑歇了，而后，传来一声悠长的，女人的叹息。 左侧，左前方，刚才我走过的通道。 然后，黑暗向我扑过来，面前的这方光亮迅速缩小，转眼我就被吞没在黑色中。我扭头，刚好能捕捉到地窖口的最后一丝阳光，然后，一切陷入绝对的黑暗中。 地窖口被堵上了。 我立在原地，睁目如瞎。 我没有马上使用手机，而是抬起手，抚摸着额角。那是先前撞在缝纫机上的地方，还痛着呢，应该磕出了血。 然后我开始笑。 大笑，但无声，我知道不能发出声音，所以很辛苦地忍。我笑得弯下腰，一只手捂住嘴，一只手捂着肚子，哪怕在黑暗深处，忽地幽幽荡荡飘来一句话，也没能让我立刻停下来。 足足半分钟，是的，我想我真的笑了这么长的时间。 那是个女人的声音，和说那句“是时候了”的是同一个人。 I have been waiting for you for a long time. 那声音说。 很久很久，你知道么，你知道的。 听上去很可怖，很多暗示，我感谢那台缝纫机，如果不是它，我还真可能在这里栽个跟头。 从进村开始发生的一系列事情，都在把我往神鬼的路上带。莫明的不适感，从空号发来的怪异语音短信，只有我一个人听到的笑声，让全村震怖的巨大尖锐的异响，后院里时有时无的诡笑，以及刚才地窖口的那裾白裙和小红鞋子。 但那一撞点醒了我。 我进那间屋子时根本没注意到缝纫机，贴得那么近蹲下时也完全将其忽略。这表明我当时处于很不正常的状态，注意力受到极大干扰，已经涣散得不行，失去了正常观察环境的能力。 这种变化是从进“鬼屋”开始的，我明显感觉更“舒服”，之前困扰我的不适感大大减弱。我自以为是身体状态的恢复，其实是进一步中招了。 当然另一种可能是风水学中所谓的鬼屋地缚灵迷了我，但此处如真有鬼神，施了法力把我迷住，怎么会让我撞个缝纫机就解开？ 把虚无缥缈的鬼神排除，我神智受影响的唯一原因，就是药物。 是进屋后闻见的那股子气味。那一定有轻微的扰乱正常思维和认知的效果，吸的多了，致幻怕都有可能。所以即便后来没有听见后院的笑声，我也会立刻走到室外去的。 想明白这些，我才会那么痛快地下到这个地窖，既然用了迷药，那等着我的就必然不是个杀局。 我取出手机，蒙蒙微光只够照亮三尺方圆。 “谁在那里？”我试着让自己的声音微微颤抖，往发声处走去。 是我，你听不出来么？ 这真是个万金油式的问题。 我没有回答，慢慢往那儿走。并不深，只五步就到了。 是左侧靠墙的那排架子，平数过去第二第三个箩筐的位置。 装葡萄的箩筐都不会很大，太大的话下层的葡萄容易压坏。这箩筐只够容纳一个刚出身的婴儿，或者，一颗成年人的脑袋。 又是一声叹息——把我忘了？ “不，没有，当然没有。” 那你为什么要对我做出那样的事情？ 我仔细地听着声音的来源，有些奇怪，不像是某一个点发出的，倒像是一片。靠得这么近了，明明就是眼前传来的声音，却还是确定不了声源。 但我又忍不住想笑，因为她的口气。 这个被村人忌讳的屋子，如果说闹鬼，那么鬼就只能是母女两个人，更多的是那个小女孩，先前地窖入口的那两只脚，企图让我产生联想的，就是屋子里最后失踪的那个小女孩。顺便多说一句，我没深想那穿红鞋的女童下半身是怎么制造出来的，因为太多种办法了。最简单的一种，是用手套着鞋子钻进裙子里。 所以按照逻辑，在这个地下室里和我说话的人，应该是小女孩的鬼魂才对。 可是现在说话的人显然不是啊。 如果我还在浑浑噩噩的状态，根本就体会不出这里面的矛盾之处，现在么，只觉得可笑。 这种矛盾，意味着…… 打住，我对自己喊停，那药物的作用还残留着，我的思路别再跑偏了。盯着眼前的事最要紧。 我伸手拽出一个箩筐。 箩筐不重，一反手里面的东西扑簌簌滚了一地。 我当然不觉得筐里有人，我想，里面多半藏着个高音质的扬声设备。 用手电光照着，我弯下腰细看，筐里果然是葡萄，风干了的葡萄，和阳光下晒干的葡萄外观没太大差别，当然这可不能吃。我用脚在葡萄里划拉了两下，什么都没有。 我又扯出一个，倒出来。 等我拉出第三个筐的时候，那声音再次响起来。 不用找了，你找不到的。 然后，她咯咯咯笑起来。 这笑声在这黑暗的闭密空间里回荡，分明就在眼前，手电的微光却照不见人影。 那声音不是从筐里出来的，而是从筐后的墙里。墙根里。听起来，仿佛是从地里冒出来的一样。 呵，我现在都有这样的错觉，如果没有那一撞…… 是了，如果是墙后发的声，隔着墙，声音摊薄了，才听不出确定的声源点。 我抬手想敲一下墙，看后面是不是空的，却又停住。 这地窖里无光，要安装夜视探头得大费周章从村里拉电排线，所以我更相信是通过某种方式在监听。 我倒葡萄的声音被监听到了，所以才有那句话。如果说我刚才的举动，还能用惊惧下的慌乱行径来解释，那敲墙的动作就显得过于冷静了，她一定会知道，我并未入其毂中。 墙空不空，有时未必要敲才能知道。 我静立在原处，稍稍回想了一下关于储藏葡萄所用地窖的结构。我幼时村中就有人挖过这种地窖。 对了，是夹墙，地窖四壁是要垒夹墙保温的。这种夹墙内的空隙不过二三十公分，通常会塞些锯末棉籽皮，关键是会在墙的四周留出通气口，只要找到通气口，往夹层里面塞个小器械是很简单的。 你找到我了吗，但我找到你啦，找得我好苦，终于让我找到你了。 这话让我心里一怵。 但立刻，我就恼怒起来。 找到我？笑话，这些年我可从没有躲起来过。这般处心积虑，要杀我的话，就痛痛快快地来好了。现在这是要怎样，是要在肉体杀戮之前，先想法子摧垮我的精神吗，那么待会儿是要来一场鬼魂审判吗，打算在精神上把我摧垮之后，再了结我，把一个人杀两遍？ What a pity. 算人者人亦算之。 死，我从不畏惧。但想让我死，得拿出点真材实料，靠装神弄鬼可不行。 我本还没找出你到底是四人中的哪一个，现在你送上门来了。 “出来，你出来。”我喊叫着。 然后我开始笑。 不是之前无声的笑，而是大声的放肆的张狂的歇斯底里的笑。 我当然是在装疯卖傻，假作被药物影响。但笑着笑着，记忆翻涌起来，一张张脸孔一件件往事齐上心头，竟笑得难以自抑。 我竟然会开始写小说，还有了那么多的读者，真是太可笑了；我把那块羊脂白玉时刻挂在胸前，真是太可笑了；这么多年我竟不敢再回喀什，真是太可笑了；我和一个女人上了床却还搞不清楚她是不是你，真是太可笑了；现在你还要装神弄鬼，却输在一台缝纫机上，哈哈哈哈哈哈哈。 “出来啊，出来吧，你藏什么啊，你这么多年，都藏在哪里，在这个地洞里，在这些筐里，和这些葡萄一起风干了吧。” 我踉跄奔跑着，把一筐一筐的葡萄扯翻，轰隆隆撞倒了中间的一面架子，那架子又把旁边的架子推倒，其间那声音还说了些什么，但完全淹没在我制造出的混乱声响中了。 “想要我死吗，想杀了我吗，出来啊，这十二年你去哪里了，你在喀什拉汗王宫地底下生根发芽开花结果，而今又要一个轮回了吗，荷荷荷荷，你知道我的感受？你什么都不知道，你懂什么是死亡吗，你懂什么是罪恶吗，十二年后你真的开始懂了吗，你想要……” 随着一声闷响，我的声音戛然而止。 地窖里重归死寂。 听起来，就像个神智迷乱的人在狂暴发泄的时候，突然撞在墙上，晕死过去。 我倒在地上抽抽，刚才那一通发作半真半假，消耗了我大量的体力，最后我是斜着肩狠命冲顶在土墙上，那隔墙本就不太厚实，竟被我撞得破了个洞，土灰齐下。我的肩胛骨更是痛得像裂开，咬着牙在地上装死。 如果我是那个监听者，现在一定非常郁闷。 在原本的计划里，这个吸了迷幻药物的家伙，应该在漆黑的地窖里被吓得魂不附体，甚至可能看见各种各样的幻象。那变过声的阴测测的话语，紧一句缓一句，可以很好地把握折磨的节奏，这场复仇，可是要精雕细琢的，有大把的手段等着用出来呢。 但现在听起来我像是晕过去了，甚至是撞死了。这是多么不过瘾的事情啊。 如果我是晕了，那么自然醒转之后，就很可能从迷幻状态中解脱出来。要杀我，就得赶紧趁着这时候。 如果我把自己撞死了呢？ 死要见尸！忍了这么多年，布置了这么一个庞大复杂的局，绝不可能为了己身的安全而在此时此刻退缩。哪怕是我在外面，以我这样的变态性格，都不能就此扭头。实际上，性格越是变态扭曲，在这种生与死的关头，行事就越是彻底，走的是绝路，绝不给人机会，也不给自己机会。 我趴在地上，脸蹭着葡萄干，这些黑暗中的小颗粒像小甲虫一样扭动着。我想，我还是被药物影响着呢，只要我心里明白，什么是真，什么是假。 复仇的你呵，站到我面前的时候，曾经纯净的心，比我更变态扭曲了吧。 我可不会让着你。 我摸到撞墙时掉落下来的手机，握在手里，按亮屏幕。借着微光，我昂起头，慢慢地，慢慢地，向前爬。一肘一肘，一膝一膝，那些葡萄甲虫在我的身体下被辗碎。 stand up. stand up. 她喊了两声。我自顾自爬着，小心翼翼，绝不发出一丁点儿声响。 cluck cluck cluck. 你管你笑，我管我爬。 你还记得我的名字吗？ 你不会都忘了吧？ 回答我。 试了几次后，那声音终于沉默下来。 而我也顺着台阶一级一级爬上去，保持着呼吸的平缓，最后在被封住的地窖入口下停住。 堵住出路的是块青石板，事实上我早猜到了，因为先前在外面瞧见过，原本就是用来封窖的。这块板子不轻，总有上百斤，但也没重到盖上了就推不开的程度。在计划中，这块石板的用途本就不是封死出路，只是用来隔绝光线，形成相对密闭空间而已。因为理论上，受到迷幻药物的影响，以及地窖中的神秘声音引导，我是不可能还有理智，想要拼命推开石板逃出去的。 而此时，我也不试着去推石板，只是安静守候。 等待芝麻开门。 等待水落石出。 等待图穷匕见。 我半蹲着，背靠着墙，听着自己的呼吸声。一呼一吸，一呼一吸，仿佛是另一个人发出来的，然后心脏的跳动声也慢慢浮出来。呼吸是风，心跳是雷，风雷交作，让我耳中隆隆生响。 那感觉，和梦魇接近。我把意识集中于一点，拼命挣扎出来，忽然发现，风雷之外，有别的声音。 是手机在响。 瞬时风消雷散。 来电显示是钟仪。 Hold! 接不接？ 不接！ 拜托监听的人别因为手机位置的变化反应过来！对，监听是不能分辨声音方向的，还好。 手机还在响着，一声又一声，漫长的让我越来越焦躁。 轰隆隆隆隆，沙灰俱下，青石板在移动了。外面是……谁？ 一指宽，两指宽，三指宽，阳光从石板移开的空隙间照进来，又被人的阴影挡住，四指宽。 管它是谁。刚才被压下去的焦躁猛地反出来，我深吸了口气，一个冲跃，肩背把石板顶开，探出去的右手叉住一个脖子，把她摁翻在地。 天地在翻转，刺目的阳光、泥土、草、屋子、这些打乱着在我眼前掠过，最后定格在一张脸。 还没等我看清楚，就被一棍抽在脸上。 我被打翻在旁边，耳中轰鸣，不觉得痛，麻麻的又热又胀。我仰天躺在地上，只觉得阳光无比绚烂，一时间手脚俱软，动弹不得。 一张脸移到我的正上方，正是刚才被我的手卡住脖子的那个，现在我看清了，是钟仪。 她看着我，又冲范思聪大叫。范思聪讪讪地把棍子扔掉。 “太对不起了，刚才你这么冲出来，小范他没看清楚是你……大家找你很久了，怎么叫你都没回音。你怎么会被关在下面的啊？” 我眯着眼睛看着她，舌头在嘴里卷动了几下，咧开嘴吐了颗槽牙出来，然后冲她一笑。 “谢谢你噢。”我说。