mousepad-d2 Chapter 48: Words on the Well Wall
Chapter 48: Words on the Well Wall
By daybreak, Cheng Xiaojin's body temperature had finally returned to just over 36 degrees Celsius.
Tong Kexin stayed by his side all night, reheating the ginger soup three times. In the latter half of the night, she couldn't take it anymore and dozed off leaning against the stall frame, still clutching the handle of the enamel pot in her hand.
Cheng Xiaojin was awakened by the sunlight.
The first thing he did when he opened his eyes was to rub his fingers together.
He twirled the fibers of the blanket between his thumb and forefinger.
He still has a sense of touch, but it's not as good as before. He used to be able to tell whether a blanket was made of cotton or synthetic fibers, but now he can only feel its softness or hardness.
He didn't say anything and pulled his hands back into the blanket.
Tieguai Li set up a simple pulley and rope device early in the morning. Two thick hemp ropes were threaded through an iron pulley that he had salvaged from a junkyard and fixed to a cement post next to the well.
The safety rope was bought from a military supply store; it was nylon and could bear a weight of 300 kilograms.
"Are you sure you can go down today?" Tieguai Li squatted beside the well, tightening the nut on the pulley in his hand.
"We can get down."
"Your complexion hasn't recovered since the 'guiding evil spirits' last night, and your lips are still purple. Look in the mirror and see what you look like."
I know what I'm doing.
"You have no idea what you're talking about."
Tieguai Li slammed the wrench on the ground.
Cheng Xiaojin squatted down next to him.
"Old Li, Master Ma said there's something on the well wall. This well has been sealed for six hundred years. After it was washed last night, the mineral layer loosened. If we don't go down today, the mineral layer will settle back up and cover it again."
Tieguai Li stared at him for a long time.
"Wear something warmer, it's cold at the bottom of the well."
Cheng Xiaojin pulled out an old cotton-padded jacket from Tieguai Li's studio and put it on. Wearing a cotton-padded jacket in the middle of summer was definitely a first in Panjiayuan.
He had a safety rope tied around his waist, a flashlight in his left hand, and a small chisel and a piece of wire stuffed in his right pocket.
I didn't bring my canvas bag; it's too much of a hindrance.
He put his phone in the inside pocket of his cotton-padded coat and switched it to camera mode.
"After I go down, you pull the rope from above. When I say stop, you stop; when I say pull, you pull."
"understood."
"Don't let go."
"Shut your mother's mouth, stop talking nonsense."
Cheng Xiaojin grabbed the rope, climbed over the stone edge of the well, and, bracing his feet against the well wall, descended inch by inch.
The well was about 2.5 zhang deep. Tieguai Li lowered the rope very steadily, loosening it by half a foot each time.
The flashlight beam shone on the well wall, where water seeped through the cracks in the bricks, making it damp and covered with a thin layer of moss.
When he reached a depth of one zhang (approximately 3.3 meters), Cheng Xiaojin began to feel his way down the well wall with the fingertips of his right hand.
"What is it?" Tieguai Li shouted from above.
"No, it's just moss and water stains."
It continues to decline.
One and a half feet.
Two zhang (approximately 6.6 meters).
Your fingers still touch smooth bricks and mineral deposits.
When it was a little over two zhang (approximately 6.6 meters) long, Cheng Xiaojin's right middle finger touched a different surface.
Uneven.
He shouted, "Stop!"
The rope stopped.
Cheng Xiaojin held the flashlight in his mouth, freeing his right hand to touch the uneven area.
The sensation transmitted back to his fingertips was a beat slower than usual. He touched it twice more before confirming that the recessed parts were of uniform depth, straight and even, not natural rock texture, but too regular.
It was carved by hand.
He took out a small chisel from his pocket and gently tapped the mineral deposits covering the well wall.
The 600-year-old sediment layer was as hard as a shell, but after Xin Jin guided the evil spirits to cleanse it last night, the sediment layer near the inscription area was obviously loose, and it crumbled down when tapped with a small chisel.
The first character has been revealed.
He shone the flashlight on the word and looked at it for three seconds.
"town."
"What?" Tieguai Li asked from above.
"The first character is 'town'."
Cheng Xiaojin continued to knock, and the fragments fell into the well water with a soft pattering sound.
The second character.
"ocean."
The third character.
"iron."
His hands started to tremble, not from the cold, nor from being tired.
"Zhenhai Iron".
He raised his voice.
"The characters engraved on the bottom of the genuine article are exactly the same, with deep and powerful strokes, each one embedded more than half an inch into the stone."
Tieguai Li was silent for two seconds: "There's more to come?"
"Yes, wait."
He continued cleaning, tapping away little by little with a small chisel, careful not to use too much force for fear of damaging the characters.
The entire line of text appeared.
"Zhenhai Iron, the third of the nine piles."
When Cheng Xiaojin finished reading this line, the chisel in his hand paused for two seconds.
"Old Li, this well is the third of the nine pile positions."
Tieguai Li remained silent on the other side.
There's more below.
Cheng Xiaojin switched the chisel to his left hand and continued to trace along the bottom of the first line of characters with his right fingertips.
The second line is a little darker than the first line, and the characters are smaller, but the carving method is exactly the same.
He typed it out word by word.
"A total of one hundred and thirty-five items."
The number is exactly the same as the one on the fragment.
"Don't rush, continue." Tieguai Li's voice came from the well, muffled.
There is a third line below the second line.
Cheng Xiaojin tapped for five minutes, and his wrists were so sore they were about to cramp.
The characters in the third line are larger than those in the first two lines, each character being two inches square and carved very deeply.
"This is the key to locking the city."
When he read it aloud, his voice bounced back and forth twice between the walls of the well.
The key to locking the city.
Master Ma said on the first day that the Zhenhai Iron is the key.
The safety rope around his waist was digging into his ribs, and Cheng Xiaojin felt like he couldn't breathe, but he knew it wasn't the rope's fault.
There are more words after that.
He took two deep breaths of the cool air from the bottom of the well, tucked the chisel under his arm, took out his phone, snapped two pictures of the first three lines, and then put it back in his pocket.
The chisel had become dull, so he switched to a wire to remove the sediment layer. The wire tip made a screeching sound as it struck the stone.
The last four characters emerged one by one from beneath the 600-year-old mineral shell.
Eight.
arm.
Of.
bone.
Cheng Xiaojin hung the flashlight on the well wall with his hand in his mouth, took out his phone and took three more pictures, staring at the four characters without moving for ten seconds.
"Old Li."
"exist."
"Pull me up."
The rope tightened, and Cheng Xiaojin was pulled up inch by inch.
As he climbed over the well, the sunlight made him squint.
Zhou Banxian stood beside the well.
The old man didn't drink today; he was clutching an enamel mug, the water inside untouched.
Cheng Xiaojin took out his phone from the inside pocket of his cotton-padded jacket, opened the photo album, and pulled out the photos he had just taken on the well wall. He then handed the screen to Zhou Banxian.
Zhou Banxian glanced down.
I looked at it for two seconds.
Then he took a step back, and then another, until he sat down on the edge of the well, clutching the enamel cup in his hand, his knuckles cracking against the cup.
"Eight arms."
Zhou Banxian's voice changed tone.
"Cheng Xiaojin, do you still remember the City of Eight-Armed Nezha?"
Cheng Xiaojin took the phone back and put it in his pocket.
"I remember you told me that."
"It's not what I said."
Zhou Banxian stood up, supporting himself on the stone edge, his hand still gripping the cup tightly.
He pointed to the wellhead.
"These four characters were carved on the well wall six hundred years ago, right in the center of the Zhenhai Iron Stake. This..."
Zhou Banxian's lips were trembling.
"This is... the framework of the Eight-Armed Nezha City Formation."
He loosened his grip on the cup, spreading his five fingers to form a frame shape.
"That lump of iron you got from the old farmer in the city is not just any ordinary talisman; it's a bone in the entire formation."
Tieguai Li listened to the whole thing while squatting to the side, then stood up and patted the dirt off his pants.
"What happens to the formation if a bone is removed?"
Zhou Banxian did not answer.
He looked down at the enamel cup in his hand, the water swirling inside, just like the water sloshing around at the bottom of a well.
Cheng Xiaojin looked down at the four words on her phone screen.
The bones of eight arms.
The phone in the inner pocket of my cotton-padded jacket vibrated again.
A message from Mr. Ma.
come.