The Lost Tomb Vol. 7

Chapter 3: Handwriting

Damn it. My scalp was tingling and I started shaking all over as I thought, what's going on? A university in Changsha has a seal from 1990 with my handwriting on it?

No! I had to be wrong!

This can't be happening. But I knew very well in my heart that when it came to handwriting, I had a professional instinct that had been honed by looking at tens of thousands of rubbings. I could never be deceived.

It had to be a coincidence. I had studied Shou Jin Ti  [1], so maybe that person had also studied this kind of font, which was similar in verve.

I wracked my brain and gave a hundred reasons, just like a man trying to find an excuse for himself after cheating. At the end of the day, I felt ridiculous, because I knew I could never fool myself with these excuses.

I looked at my watch and saw that it was already midnight. It was unrealistic to call Du Juan Shan out at this time, but there was no way I would be getting any sleep tonight. Besides, the door was outside the archives and could be opened without a key, so I tidied up, called Wang Meng, and set out to the university again to have a look.

After taking a taxi, the doorman wouldn't let me in without a work permit from Du Juan Shan. Those who had studied at universities were used to this, so I went back to the nearby canteen and bought a bag of Chinese food. I easily got in after mixing in with the other students and went back to the old auditorium, recalling the route from memory.

The school's lights were out and only the street lamps were lit, which made the surroundings extremely dark. But I was in a hurry and didn't care at all. I walked all the way to the underground archives and went directly up to look at the words on the seal.

Of course, the seal hadn't run off, and was right there.

My heart was pounding like I was taking a peek at the women in a public bathhouse, and I hurriedly shined the flashlight:

July 6, 1990, XX University Institute of Archaeology Sealed.

This time, I could see clearly and my mind wasn't bogged down. Every character and every stroke were vivid, and I could feel the cold sweat slide down my cheeks.

It was really my handwriting.

I was so stunned that I almost collapsed.

Ordinary people could recognize their handwriting as long as the interval wasn't too long; not to mention the line of work I was in. There was no doubt about it, this was definitely my handwriting.

How old was I in 1990? Thirteen? Fifteen? Did I know about Shou Jin Ti at that time? Hell, I probably didn't even know about Shou Hou Ti  [2]. What was going on here?

"For me, it's all over, but for you, nothing has started."

Uncle Three's words rang in my ear, and the long-lost feeling of a splitting headache began to hover at the back of my mind again.

I took a deep breath, wanting to dispel these things so I could start reorganizing these fragments in my mind. Previous experience told me that it was useless to be depressed at this time. It was difficult to calm down once you were agitated, so you had to calm down first.

I also remembered that in the video Wen-Jin sent, there was a man very similar to me crawling on the floor in the nursing home in Golmud. But Wen-Jin didn't have time to explain it to me at that time. "They are not simple," Uncle Three had said. I thought he was just being emotional at the time, but now it seemed really suspicious.

What happened to me, and how should I explain it? On the surface, it seemed like there was more than one me in this world. This kind of seal was written in this place twenty years ago, and at about the same time, "I" was filmed in the old house in Golmud...