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墨書 Inktalez
"Damn, can you speak more clearly? Are you trying to mess with me on purpose?" I said to Huang Hai, feeling a bit irritated. "Since I'm not here, don't let anyone in. Just close the shop."
Huang Hai shrank back, and instead of closing the door, he swung it wide open. A tall Caucasian man with brown hair walked in. He was almost an inch taller than Fatty. With blue eyes and a chiseled face reminiscent of Brad Pitt, his thick body hair was particularly noticeable, and a bushy beard obscured half of his face, making it hard to gauge his age.
I didn't recognize him, but that didn't matter; I knew who he was, and that was enough. The American sponsors would come by periodically to check on the use of funds, much like the Olympic Committee's surprise drug tests. They wouldn't give advance notice, and I had to comply unconditionally. This was also why I preferred running a shop selling replicas to make a living rather than using the funds for personal expenses. I had no complaints about their conditions; while they were somewhat strict, they provided ample funding and rarely rejected my applications, making our collaboration relatively pleasant.
What troubled me was communicating with the American. My spoken English was terrible, and I couldn't rely solely on written communication for everything. Right now, I wasn't in the mood to negotiate with him. Recently, the expenses for producing the Sand Table Model had been significant and scattered; explaining this mess of accounts to him wouldn't be a quick task—at least not today. But I knew how Americans worked; they wouldn't wait around. They thrived on spontaneity and would jump into action as soon as they found someone, even if it was midnight.
The bearded Caucasian scanned my face and Fatty's before settling his gaze on me. "Hello, Mr. Zhang. My name is Jack."
Fortunately, he spoke Chinese, albeit with a slight Henan accent. Fatty chuckled mischievously and said, "He's an American from Henan."
Jack turned to Fatty and nodded. "Song Gang, Mr. Song. My Chinese teacher is from Henan; it's unfortunate that I only found out later."
I was taken aback. How did this American know Fatty? That seemed strange. But there was no time to ponder that; I had more pressing issues to address. I shrugged at Jack and said, "Sorry, not today. I've got things going on here. I can get Bill for you; we'll discuss any issues later."
Jack's face shifted slightly; his thick beard made it hard to read his expression, but he resembled a big monkey smacking its lips. He didn't respond to me but turned to Xiao Ting instead. "Sister Xiao Ting, I'm sorry to hear about your father's disappearance."
That statement sent chills down my spine. This guy couldn't possibly be sent by my funding source; they were a private archaeology exchange organization—how could he know so much personal information? Who was he? What did he want? If he were a representative of my funding source, I could understand him knowing Fatty since Fatty had been here conning for half a year; it wouldn't be hard for them to find out about him if they were curious. But how did he know about Xiao Ting being here? Her presence was unexpected for me as well. Moreover, his tone suggested familiarity; he even knew about Xiao Guolin's disappearance—my first instinct was that they must know each other.
Despite my shock, I managed to maintain a calm demeanor on my face. I glanced at Xiao Ting and felt uncertain about my assumption because her expression showed even more disbelief than mine. After hesitating for a moment, I decided not to dwell on this mystery; ever since she appeared, she had been a mix of truth and deception like an act in a play—someone as self-assured as me had been thrown off by her antics. I couldn't tell if her current expression was genuine or just an act.
However, Jack's enigmatic presence suggested he wasn't here just to show off; he would reveal his purpose eventually. I dropped my polite smile and looked at him seriously. "Yes, I am Zhang Jianqiang." Then I stared at him blankly without any expression on my face.
At that moment, Jack turned his face towards me, revealing an expression. Beneath his thick, monkey-like beard, I couldn't tell if he was crying or laughing; from my angle, all I could see was his beard moving slightly. "I am a representative of AE, sent by Mr. Mai. I have a handwritten letter from Mr. Mai for you. My mission is outlined in the letter; I am here to cooperate with you."
Jack handed me an unsealed letter. AE is the abbreviation for the American institution providing funding, and Mr. Mai is the head of this organization, whom I refer to as Old Mai. I had never doubted AE; this institution is well-known in the field of Archaeology and frequently publishes Archaeological Reports in international Archaeology journals. Particularly in Asian Archaeology, they have participated in many archaeological discoveries across various countries and have produced Archaeology documentaries.
However, this man named Jack made me question AE. If it were merely an Archaeological Institution, why would they have so much personal information about people? Moreover, Xiao Ting was just a university student; even if they were interested in talents in our country's Archaeology, they wouldn't be concerned about a college student. The only reason they would pay attention to Xiao Ting would be through Xiao Guolin, which raised questions about their intentions.
The project that Xiao Guolin participated in was classified at the highest level; I believed very few people could uncover its secrets, and even those involved knew little of the true core secrets. Just like the last mission I participated in, I still knew nothing about its core secrets. AE's keen interest in Xiao Guolin made me suspicious of their motives. Furthermore, their substantial support for my project was quite surprising; now that I thought about it, they likely had ulterior motives as well. It dawned on me that I hadn’t considered these things before; it seemed I needed to be more cautious moving forward. However, at that moment, I had no time to deal with him; the pile of troubles right under my nose was enough to keep me overwhelmed.
The letter being unsealed indicated it wasn't anything urgent. Without reading it, I directly dismissed Jack: "Alright, I'll take the letter. Where are you staying? I'll find you for further discussion."
Seemingly unfamiliar with this subtle way of dismissal in China, Jack replied in surprise, "I’m not planning to leave; you must read this letter immediately; it's important. It relates to what you were just arguing about—I think you'll find it interesting and helpful."
"Did you eavesdrop outside?" I retorted angrily. Jack shrugged: "Was there any need to eavesdrop? Your voices were so loud that the whole street could hear."
Damn Huang Hai—was he eavesdropping too? I rushed over and yanked open the door; the yard was empty with no one in sight. If he had been eavesdropping, who let Jack in? With so many sudden incidents today, my mind felt muddled, and my judgment was rapidly declining. I needed to calm down and sort things out.
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