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墨書 Inktalez
The next morning, she returned to the red-brick building with a Baroque-style pointed roof: the Moses Synagogue. She bought a ticket for fifty yuan and walked inside.
Upon entering, a small path made of uneven square stones greeted her, with moss and green sprouts growing in between, seemingly symbolizing the difficult circumstances of the Jewish people, as well as the challenges of world peace, yet filled with hope. This corridor may have seen countless anxious Jews passing through, leaving their fears behind on one side and the luck of life on the other.
The building before her had a red brick slanted roof, with white window frames adorned with blue arches that extended outwards, creating blue patterns on the red walls.
The synagogue welcomed her through an ornate iron gate. Directly in front and to the left were two dark brown wooden doors, leading to a stone-arched porch reminiscent of Baroque style. The left side led upstairs, while going straight ahead led into the Chapel.
There were only a few visitors in the Chapel on the first floor.
A solemn hall came into view, with solid wood stairs and windowsills largely preserved in their original state, allowing one to imagine the scene of Jews gathering and praying here in years past. The entire synagogue was quiet, with only the Star of David and long benches arranged neatly within. She felt somewhat dazed, reflecting on the century-long journey of life as time slipped through her fingers.
In the center of the Chapel was a curtain that read it was a gift from the Israeli Consulate in Shanghai, made with British gems, Indian silk threads, and handcrafted in China. It bore an inscription in Hebrew: "God is before me."
Judaism does not practice idol worship, so there were no statues for veneration here. In the center of the Chapel stood the Ark. The Ark once housed parchment scrolls containing texts from Judaism's classic work, the Pentateuch.
As she became absorbed in her surroundings, she suddenly remembered her purpose and hurriedly left the first-floor exhibition hall, heading towards a small door on the side.
The second floor was originally designated for women worshippers; Judaism strictly separates male and female congregants. The second floor used to be a spacious corridor but had now been divided into several rooms for photo exhibitions showcasing images reflecting the lives of Jewish refugees from Central Europe in Hongkou.
The exhibition hall was empty.
She pushed open a door decorated with Jewish-style motifs and stepped inside. A grave-like atmosphere enveloped her. Music played softly, air conditioning hummed quietly, and dim light filled the space, as if she had entered a moment buried in time.
She walked towards a room, instinctively standing there, which should be the place where she had seen her Great-Grandparents play the Piano Piece in her dreams.
Why could she accurately find the spot where he played the piano among these rooms? She didn't know; it was as if some ancient memories were rooted in her mind, even though she didn't understand how these memories existed. It might be like a kind of instinctive knowledge residing in her subconscious. As she approached this hall, they began to surface.
Groups of photographs adorned the walls, depicting Jews who once lived in Shanghai—their past, their present, their works. There was no pain on their faces, only a sense of being worlds apart due to the passage of time.
With each photograph she looked at, Qiluo Ling felt another fragment of memory being stirred within her. An increasing number of unusual memories left her feeling somewhat bewildered; time could pass, but it could not erase memories. In a certain sense, her memories overlapped with those of her ancestors here.
She stood there in a daze for an unknown amount of time until she regained her senses and glanced around. The surrounding walls and columns had also been painted. This place for hiding things should indeed be within the Chapel before her; specifically, the One-Armed Elder had told her that the item should be behind a painting.
Was that dream real? After so many years, was that painting still there? What kind of painting was it? As she pondered these thoughts, her heart began to race.
She reached a wall where several paintings hung, all portraits of prophets from Judaism, including the Portrait of Moses the Prophet and portraits of thirteen other prophets.
She stopped in front of a portrait named Uriel. Inside the frame was an ancient man with enormous red wings; the inner side of his wings was golden. He wore a black and red long robe on his upper body and a white long skirt on his lower body. He held a yellow booklet in his hands, with the sun, leaves, and fields behind him.
Below the portrait was an annotation: Uriel (Hebrew: uriel), meaning "Divine Light," is the name of an Archangel in Judaism and Christianity. Uriel means "Divine Light" and "the flame of God," and he is the angel who governs the fires of hell. Some mystical sects also believe this angel governs poetry and music.
So it turns out that the devil's messenger called himself Uriel; it was indeed this angel. She observed carefully, feeling a strong intuition rising within her that the Sheet Music should be behind this painting. She glanced around; for now, no one else had entered the second floor.
Qiluo Ling attempted to remove the portrait from the wall, but when she pulled, it wouldn't budge. The top of the portrait seemed to be firmly nailed to the wall. She had no choice but to pull hard on the bottom of the frame, barely revealing a small area of the back wall through a narrow gap.
She held onto the frame with her left hand while using her right hand to tap around on the wall behind the portrait. Indeed, a hollow sound echoed from somewhere in the middle of the wall. That hidden compartment should be right behind this brick; she secretly rejoiced at this discovery.
Next, she traced her right thumb's nail along the seam of the brick. As expected, the seam felt different from the hard brick body; it felt much softer. Her heart raced with excitement as she traced a circle along the seam with her long nail, causing thick layers of wall plaster to flake off, one layer after another. More and more plaster fell away, slowly revealing the side of the Azure Brick.
However, it wasn't long before her nail broke, and her fingertip was left bleeding. Qiluo Ling gritted her teeth and continued to push harder, but the deeper she went, the sturdier the plaster became, and her nails were no longer up to the task. She had no choice but to give up, feeling somewhat discouraged. In frustration, she struck the tile hard.
Relying on her bare hands wouldn't work; she needed tools to pry that brick loose. As she thought this, she quickly restored the Portrait to its original state, cleaned up the wall plaster on the ground, then washed her hands in the restroom before calmly walking out of the Moses Synagogue.
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