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墨書 Inktalez
As the dawn broke through the clouds, Old John was squatting on his doorstep sharpening an axe. The clinking sound of iron against the whetstone startled the sparrows nesting under the eaves, and he squinted at the bustling crowd in the square—twenty or so strong men were tugging at the toppled bell tower, its exposed steel reinforcing bars glinting like fine silver in the morning light.
"Keep going!" A piece of frayed rope flew in from the side, and Tom from the Blacksmith Shop wiped his face with a soot-stained hand. "The beams at West Street Granary need reinforcement." His leather apron was still stained with black blood from a battle three days prior, now a badge of honor. Somewhere in the crowd, someone blew a wooden whistle, startling crows perched on the clothesline into flight, scattering a few gray feathers in the air.
Lily tiptoed over the scattered bricks, her blueprints rustling in the wind. Her father stood before the crystal mine gesturing animatedly, sunlight filtering through his graying hair and casting speckled shadows on the rock wall. "The magnetometer shows energy fluctuations stabilizing at 7.3 hertz." As she unfurled the blueprints, wet ink smudged her sleeve. "If we use a layered filtration method..."
"Like sifting wheat bran?" Old Robert suddenly interjected, this former shepherd now often found squatting at the laboratory entrance. His rough fingers traced the precise grid on the paper. "I bet using a birch frame instead of a steel one would be lighter." He pulled a baked potato from his pocket and handed it to Lily, its charred skin releasing a warm aroma.
As the sunset bathed the barn in honeyed hues, flames reignited in the bronze braziers of Central Square. Aunt Martha squeezed into the crowd with a freshly woven wool blanket, threads still dangling from her bamboo needle. "I propose we open public baths every Wednesday!" Her booming voice made the flames flicker wildly, and several older children took advantage of the distraction to bury roasted sweet potatoes in the ash.
When the school bell rang for the seventh time, little Anna was on tiptoe reaching for a copy of Mineral Atlas on the top shelf. Dust coated its dark green cover, and she sneezed, startling an orange cat napping on the windowsill. "Look at this!" Her desk mate Billy suddenly held up a hexagonal crystal; sunlight passing through it cast rainbows onto the blackboard. "The teacher said this is called double refraction..."
Lily stood at the corner of the corridor, lost in thought as she watched the shifting light and shadows in the classroom. The sound of her father's cane echoed behind her, tapping out a steady rhythm on the stone floor. "Your mother always said..." Before he could finish his sentence, a gust of night wind swept in carrying distant accordion melodies, blending with snippets of Greensleeves and the scent of freshly brewed beer from the barn.
When the first winter snow blanketed the experimental fields, Crystal Energy Station was able to supply power to thirty households. On the day Tom converted his forge into radiators, aromas of long-forgotten apple pie wafted from the tavern. Old John hung copper wind chimes from the barn roof; whenever a north wind blew through them, their tinkling would startle thieving sparrows, prompting laughter and scolding from women drying vegetables as they waved their bamboo poles.
On New Year's Eve, Lily stood atop the rebuilt bell tower. Below her lay twinkling lights; every window was adorned with ice patterns cut by children’s hands. The square resonated with a duet of drums and harmonicas as snowflakes danced through the air against her flushed cheeks. When twelve chimes echoed down from above, shaking loose icicles from eaves, she suddenly recalled her mother’s last words—the ancient fable about embers and stars slowly unfolding within countless refracted halos of ice crystals.
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