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墨書 Inktalez
PS. Here is today's update. By the way, it's the 515 Fan Festival, and everyone has 8 votes. Voting also comes with rewards, so I sincerely ask for everyone's support!
Unknowingly, it was already April, and Qiluo Ling still hadn't found that portrait, nor was there any news about the ancient sheet music.
At eight in the morning, she had breakfast with Choi Jae-sun.
"Tomorrow morning, I need to go to Hongkou District for some errands. There seems to be a church there. If you have time, you might want to take a look," Choi Jae-sun said. "I think you would be interested."
"Why would I be interested?"
"Because it was built by Jews in Shanghai during World War II."
"You mean it's a synagogue."
"Yes, Jews are very devout and respectful of their faith—Judaism. Wherever Jews live, they build their synagogues, even if they only stay for a few years."
"Then I'll go take a look."
The next morning, Choi Jae-sun drove her near the church and left to attend to his business.
April was on the verge of the plum rain season, and the streets of Shanghai felt damp. She got out of the car and saw a brown sign on the road with white letters; a bent arrow pointed to the right: Shanghai Jewish Refugees Museum.
Qiluo Ling followed the sign and arrived at a small street. The houses along the roadside were low and messy, with old cables strung overhead, while several luxury cars passed by incongruously.
The small shops lining the street were mostly foot massage and leisure establishments. Just a short distance away stood modern high-rise buildings, starkly different from this area. Perhaps this place used to be a Jewish settlement area and is now preserved as a cultural relic, which is why it cannot be demolished. Looking at those low houses made her feel a bit dazed.
Following the bent arrow, she turned onto Changyang Road. After walking for a while, she suddenly discovered that the famous Tilanqiao Prison was right by the roadside. It was known for its grand scale and long history, once claiming to be "the largest prison in the Far East." In 2013, after welcoming its first prisoner 110 years prior, the prison was set to close. The original site would be preserved for development.
This place had once held Class A war criminals from World War II—such as General Gushoufu—who bore countless lives lost on their hands. Due to the prison's unique environment, cruel punishments had been carried out here, including executions by firing squad and hanging of revolutionary martyrs, traitors of Wang Jingwei's regime, and serious Japanese war criminals. She paused and couldn't help but steal a few more glances.
A middle-aged man who looked like a local approached her; she asked him for directions to the church. The man pointed across the street and said, "Isn't that it?"
As she walked toward her destination, an inexplicable fear and unease welled up inside her like water seeping through cracks in a tall dam—little by little, more and more.
Finally arriving at an old three-story building with the address: Changyang Road No. 62, she noticed a yellow bronze plaque on the wall at the entrance that read: Moses Synagogue Old Site - Memorial Hall for Jewish Refugees in Shanghai.
The building is primarily made of Azure Brick, with red brick strips separating each floor and running along the windows, creating a simple yet beautiful appearance. A white archway stands at the entrance, above which is a large Hexagram.
The tide of emotions within her was about to burst forth, causing her body to tremble slightly. Strangely, alongside the fear, there were other feelings flowing through her heart—somewhat familiar and somewhat hazy. She suddenly remembered the Jewish church from her hallucination during the car accident; wasn't it located at 62 Changyang Road?
Qiluo Ling tilted her head slightly. At the peak of the roof, there was a White Cross that, despite the passage of time, remained strikingly prominent. The moment she saw the cross, a flood surged within her, washing over every cell in her body, making even the tiniest nerve endings tingle with electricity.
Overwhelmed by intense emotions, she could no longer suppress herself and squatted at the doorway, crying uncontrollably.
"Hey, young lady, what's wrong? Are you feeling unwell or has someone bullied you?"
Hearing the voice, Qiluo Ling looked up to see an elderly man slightly bending down to look at her.
"Oh, I'm fine. Thank you for your concern," she quickly replied as she stood up from the ground.
Noticing the old man still looking at her with a worried expression, she smiled awkwardly and took out a mirror and some tissues from her bag. Indeed, her face was pale and covered in tears. She wiped away the tears with a tissue and thanked the old man once more before stepping forward.
After pouring out her emotions, she felt an incredible sense of lightness. The heavy fear that had weighed on her heart moments ago dissipated, while that tiny spark of familiarity and nostalgia magnified a hundredfold, a thousandfold.
Fragments of memories from the long river of history flashed before her like meteors across the night sky; she couldn't grasp anything clearly except for bright trails of light...
Before her, the Moses Synagogue suddenly felt so familiar, as if this building and this street had already merged into her very being. She suddenly realized that all her feelings stemmed from that Jewish man playing the Piano Piece. If he were to be considered one of her Great-Grandparents, could it be that human memories are hereditary?
She recalled an article she had seen recently in Nature discussing how modified genes could change the health of future generations. Similarly, could genetic material also carry human memories, accumulating in an unclear form within the brain structure of certain descendants and being awakened or activated under specific conditions?
According to today's genetic science, there may not be a clear answer yet; however, what was undeniable was that it was genuinely happening within her, even though she didn't know how.
Qiluo Ling stood quietly at the doorway for a while. The pale blue sky was pure without a hint of impurity; its soft color extended across the entire sky. The morning light bathed the building of the synagogue in a solemn yet gentle glow.
It seemed that today her emotions had been somewhat out of control and difficult to calm down. She decided to return another day to visit the Moses Synagogue.
That night, as usual, she went to bed at ten o'clock. In that moment when sleep began to engulf her, she realized she was entering another nightmare again; however, she could neither wake up nor stop it. The dark dreamscape moved like a slow-moving mudslide, carrying her forward...
In winter, warm sunlight poured down from above through white glass over wooden stairs; it lacked warmth and instead felt somewhat chilly.
A slender figure walked down from the wooden stairs with their head lowered. The heavy footsteps creaked loudly as they descended; the red stair railing had been polished smooth and shiny.
She couldn't see his face clearly until he lifted his head. She could see his high nose bridge, fair skin, and melancholic demeanor. Clearly, he was her Great-Grandfather Ebenezer, a Jew from Poland.
He walked into a floor above, then stopped, looking around as if no one was there.
It was an empty corridor. He moved carefully along the wall of the corridor, gently taking down a painting that was hanging on the wall, then bending down to place it in the corner beside the wall. Due to the dim light in the room, she couldn't make out the colors or content of the painting.
He stood up again and lightly tapped the spot where the painting had been with his bent index and middle fingers. The wall emitted a hollow sound, and he smiled. He carefully removed a loose brick, revealing a hidden compartment about fifteen centimeters long and seven or eight centimeters wide, which contained a small yellow wooden box.
He mysteriously pulled out a rectangular object from his pocket, wrapped in yellow silk with a bow on the front. He gently unwrapped the exquisite, smooth satin to reveal a golden-yellow rolled paper inside.
He did not open the rolled paper but caressed it for a moment before solemnly holding it with both hands and gently placing it into the yellow wooden box.
After completing all this without anyone noticing, he replaced the brick and hung the painting back up. Once everything was restored, he examined it carefully; everything seemed flawless, and he revealed a satisfied smile...
When Qiluo Ling woke up, it was bright outside. A damp breeze blew in through the window; it was clear that it had rained last night, and the air was filled with the fresh scent of wet earth.
A small unknown bird hopped around on the windowsill, chirping melodiously. She rubbed her sleepy eyes and smiled at it.
The bird happily took a few steps on the windowsill, peeking into the quiet room before fluttering away. She closed her eyes again, thinking about her own concerns.
[The 515 event is coming soon; I hope to continue to impact the 515 Red Envelope rankings. On May 15th, I hope for a rain of Red Envelopes to reward readers and promote my work. Every bit counts; I will definitely do my best!]
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