Book Synopsis
Book Tags
Donation Rankings
Comment
0 Comments
You May Also Like
墨書 Inktalez
Xiao Guolin was transferred to work in Dongxing, which I didn't know about. However, I had participated in the archaeology work in Guangxi, where the climate was humid and hot, with poisonous insects and miasma constantly threatening the archaeology team. At his age, it would be really difficult for him to adapt to that environment. But I couldn't help; all I could do was sigh and silently pray for his safety.
I tore open the envelope and pulled out the letter. I didn't open it but glanced up at Fatty. He wasn't sitting in the rattan chair; instead, he turned around, his big eyes right next to my ear.
"Wow, are you trying to scare me to death?" I snapped angrily.
"Read the letter, read the letter," Fatty urged me without a care.
"You're invading my privacy," I complained.
Fatty chuckled, that annoying kind of laugh. Back in school, his nickname was "Agent," which was a derogatory term at the time, so you can imagine how irritating that laugh was. "Have you gone through puberty yet? If not, don't talk to me about privacy; I know all about your little hairs."
I was furious with him but... whatever, I couldn't beat him, so I let it go.
The letter was short, written in Xiao Guolin's unique scrawl, the characters strong and vigorous. The first sentence nearly made me faint.
"I'm going down again. I hope this is the last time; if not... I'll do my best to prevent such an 'if' from happening."
In just this brief line, the ink varied in depth several times. It was clear he had thought long and hard about writing those words; each character had been carefully considered, with long pauses between some of them. From the first sentence of the letter, I knew where he was going. For someone who had experienced that event, "going down" carried a special meaning—a deep pain that could not be diluted by any river.
I could understand how he felt writing this letter; revealing such a secret to outsiders, especially to me, must have been a tremendous psychological burden. But what I couldn't comprehend was why he chose to tell me? I had already left that circle and was no longer part of the system; I had absolutely no right to know about this matter. My first explanation for his actions was that he might be worried or distrustful of a colleague. Perhaps he wanted someone to confide in, just as I did with Fatty. Regardless of what the truth was, all I could do was remain silent and keep this secret safe.
At that moment, a finger poked at the letter paper. "What does this mean?"
I turned around and glared at Fatty, "Be polite, I'm reading a letter."
Fatty grinned shamelessly, "What does it mean?"
I was completely at a loss with someone as thick-skinned as him. This was the second paragraph of the letter, just a short line.
"Do you remember the password story? I think your idea is interesting. If modified, two rounds and three skips would make it harder to crack."
This was a story we had come across during our time in Desert Archaeology, in a book. It described a method of sending messages by delivering a line of meaningless words. The recipient could read the message by taking every other word, and after one pass, they could read the remaining words in the same manner to eventually uncover the complete information.
At the time, I thought this method was clever but too easy to leak. If someone with ill intentions saw it, they could immediately decipher the message. I envisioned a double encryption setup where the first pass would still yield a meaningless string of text. It would require two rounds of decryption to reveal the true message. This idea received unanimous praise because while skipping words for encryption was easy to understand, determining how many words to skip was crucial. Double encryption significantly increased the difficulty of cracking it; if the first pass yielded only gibberish, it would severely undermine the decoder's confidence. Even if someone guessed the double password, the time and difficulty involved in deciphering it would increase exponentially.
"This is a game of skipping words," I said to Fatty.
"Boring," Fatty dismissed it with disdain. "Are you going? Well, go ahead."
I shook my head with a wry smile. "You're thinking too simply. This isn't something anyone can just decide to do. After the last incident, they will be much more cautious this time; their preparations will be thorough, and the success rate will be significantly higher. As outsiders, we won't know even a shred of information; how could we possibly join them? Besides, I want nothing more than to avoid this matter altogether; I wouldn't even want to think about it." I stated firmly.
Fatty stared into my eyes for a moment. "Qiangzi, you're better at pretending than before; I can't see any flaws in your expression. If someone didn't know you well, they'd definitely be fooled. But I know you too well; after reading this letter, you're undoubtedly anxious and restless." He straightened up, flashed that annoying grin again, and turned to walk away. After taking a couple of steps, he turned back and stood still: "You must really want to go down there; your curiosity is too strong—there's a cat in your heart."
This time, Fatty walked away.
I felt at ease inside. Being seen through by Fatty was expected. I wasn't worried about him figuring out my thoughts; instead, I felt a bit of anticipation.
After the Desert Archaeological Activity concluded, I fell into a period of silence following my narrow escape from death. Even though I was not under surveillance, I lacked the motivation to do anything during that time. I simply locked myself in my home, playing games online and drinking heavily, trying to drown out any thoughts or memories, foolishly hoping that time would erase those recollections.
Reality is harsh. When I awoke from another nightmare, three and a half years had passed since my escape from the desert. I realized that I could not rid myself of this nightmare or the haunting memories, so I decided to abandon the futile struggle and face the reality instead. I resolved to unravel the mystery and allow the buried bones of the wronged Vengeful Spirit to find peace.
From that moment on, it felt as if I had become a different person. I was immediately revitalized, regaining my sense of order and logic.
However, I never believed this task was something I could accomplish alone, nor did I consider returning to that dark world by myself. My plan was to conduct a systematic investigation into the matter, ultimately relying on official channels to see it through. At that time, the authorities had seemingly ceased their involvement in the case, but as one of the few survivors of the incident, I possessed very detailed firsthand information. Although this information had been reported accurately to a Military Group shortly after our rescue, that operation yielded no substantial physical evidence; all data was conveyed verbally. Any misunderstanding could lead to countless variations of this information. Only those of us who experienced it firsthand could truly grasp the details of the report.
The urgency of my task weighed heavily on me.
Comment 0 Comment Count