I was anxious to know what was buried in the soil, and the shovel in my hand was turning fast. Perhaps, the people who buried things here at that time did not expect that someone would come to this place, so the burial was not too deep, and after digging for a while, I saw a corner of the clothes turned out of the soil.

At the same time, an indescribable smell wafted to the tip of the nose. The smell is like a smoky stench that has faded over time and becomes less pungent, but it is mixed with moisture and musty smell in the earth, making people feel very uncomfortable after smelling it.

Seeing the rotten mottled corners of my clothes, and smelling the strange smell coming from the soil, my head buzzed a little bigger.

The four men who burned the gangue, saw something they shouldn't have seen, were killed, and buried on the spot......

The story told by the fourth uncle in his dream is likely to be true!

I shook my head and slowly dug again. Immediately after, a tattered and unshapedly garment, wrapped in a complete skeleton, appeared in front of him.

Intact human bones, slightly curled, lying on their sides under the soil layer. There is an old saying in our hometown, it is called three years to turn into a corpse, and seven years to become a bone. It means that after a person dies and is buried, all the parts that can decay will be rotted out in three years, and then the corpse water will slowly evaporate or penetrate, and after about seven years, the buried person will completely become a skeleton.

If you look at it this way, the people buried here have been dead for at least seven years.

A skeleton, I can't see what the deceased looked like before he was alive, and I don't know the identity of the deceased. I stayed for a while, and then dug somewhere else.

Ominous speculation, completely true. As the excavation deepened, three more ossified corpses were dug up one after another. There were four corpses in total, and I had to believe that these were the four burners who disappeared in the back mountain.

They had a little stuff with them, skins for gunpowder and iron sand, and rusty kettles of unrecognizable color. Looking at the four corpses, I can seem to imagine what happened back then: these four young men finished their work in the gangue kiln, and came out to shoot rabbits with rabbit guns, and at that time, this abandoned temporary field hospital may not have been blocked by stones, they accidentally found it, and then they were killed.

I didn't have any other clues, so I subconsciously took the story told by Sibo as inference evidence. If four people see something they shouldn't see, kill them and bury them on the spot, then it means that what they saw that shouldn't be seen is in this place.

I don't know why, I panicked again. I'm not afraid of the scene in front of me, for ordinary people, the dead curled white bones may indeed be very scary, but I saw the dried corpses in the Danmeng Basin and the old road of the Huyang River, and the dried corpses I saw were more penetrating than these white bones, and the skeleton could not scare me, what scared me was, who was the murderer who killed these four people?

In the story of the fourth uncle, the murderer is called Liandu, my father.

Sweat trickled down my cheeks, and I sat here for a while, feeling like the bones had to be buried again.

I took a shovel and backfilled the excavated soil, and while backfilling, I accidentally saw a skeleton skull with radioactive cracks.

This is a terrifying scar, and the murderer must have killed with a hard object such as a hammer or a stone. The attack was too heavy and too ruthless, and the skull cracked.

As you can imagine, as soon as the murderer made a move, he had no intention of letting the other party live.

The story told by the fourth uncle is like a shadow, which has always hung over my heart. When backfilling, I was always absent-minded. The only thing that gives me some peace of mind is that I can't find any evidence of who the killer is.

I backfilled it in and straightened up and looked around. As I did before, these four people were silenced because they saw things they shouldn't have seen.

What's here?

I began to look slowly, very carefully, without sparing any details. This is a very cumbersome thing, although this hole is not very big, but those artificially dug out of the cave, at least a dozen, full of sundries, every cave, every sundries, must be carefully looked.

I spent at least two hours looking at the caves, but I didn't get anything. All that mess of clutter is decades old and worthless.

Several forks in the road finally converged in one place, and at the end of the road, there were two earthen caves next to each other. These two earthen caves are relatively large in area, and may have been used to store medicines and offices at that time.

The dust on the floor was an inch thick, and when the flashlight shone in, I saw two large shelves, and a few crooked wooden tables. The stuff here has been emptied, and what is left is bulky and useless.

The same is true of the earthen cave next to it, except for the mess and the thick dust, you can't see anything else.

I came out and took a spin and felt that this should be the end, and there was no way out.

What did those four burners see back then? If what they saw at that time was taken away, then it would be equivalent to me and Lao Wang doing several days of useless work.

I was not reconciled, and I planned to look for it again when I turned back.

I walked into the dirt hole on the left, and walked very slowly, and if my steps were fast or heavy, a foggy cloud of dust would rise. In the corner of the wall, I saw three wooden boxes placed side by side, and with a shovel gently patting the dust, a cotton mattress on top of the three wooden boxes appeared in front of me.

I think this place seems to have been inhabited, and three wooden boxes make a very simple "bed", and you can sleep on a mattress.

If anyone had lived here, there must have been something else, but it was all taken away.

I walked slowly and watched carefully, and when I reached the other corner and took a step, I heard a bang. A newspaper left in the corner of the wall, peeking out of the thick dust.

I picked up the newspaper and looked at it, this is a People's Daily more than ten years ago, a very ordinary newspaper, it is estimated that it was left out here at that time. There is nothing noteworthy about the newspaper itself, the only thing that can be said, which is my previous guess, is that the place was inhabited for a while later.

However, since there were newspapers left, there might be other things left, so I crouched down and shone a flashlight while carefully picking up the thick dust with a shovel.

Sure enough, close to the corner of the wall, there was a plastic notebook, and the notebook was full of dust.

For such a book,I still keep a little memory.。 When I was a child, this kind of plastic diary was still quite high-end stationery, and at that time, children had little pocket money, and they had to save money for a while to buy such a diary.

The diary was clinging to the corner, probably something that had been left out at the time, and I dusted it off and flipped it open, revealing two lines written in a pen on the title page.

Tianxingjian, a gentleman strives for self-improvement.

This is a sentence from Zhou Yili, which is very common, and later generations use this sentence to encourage and encourage themselves. However, when I saw this line on the title page, my eyelids suddenly jumped.

I feel that the handwriting of this line is a bit similar to my father's handwriting. But with only a dozen or so words, I was not completely sure, so I immediately turned to the title page to see if there was any other handwriting in the notebook.

When the title page was turned, a whole page was full of pen words. This book is a diary, and the content written in it seems to be similar to a diary, but there is no specific time.

I was dizzy, and the dense handwriting was easy to read for me. If I'm not mistaken, it must have been my father's handwriting. When I was in college in Zhengzhou, my father always insisted on keeping in touch with me by paper letters, and basically wrote a letter every week. I told him at the time that it was very troublesome to write and reply, and it was not as convenient and intuitive as making a phone call. But my father told me that if I made a phone call, after a few sentences, I would feel a little lost when I hung up the phone, and every word of the letter may contain my own emotions.

Sometimes I reply, and sometimes I forget about it. However, my father's handwriting has been imprinted on my heart.

Looking at the dense handwriting, the sweat that had just been wiped off for a short time seeped out of his forehead unconsciously.

His diary is here, what does that mean? Does this mean that the father used to live here?

If he had lived here, then would it really be him who killed the murderers of the four burners?

I don't believe it, I resolutely refuse to believe it, my father's person, I know him very well, he is very kind, he never argues with anyone, and he can't even quarrel, can he kill people?

An irresistible feeling of trance and dizziness instantly hit my mind, and I felt lightheaded, a little unsteady on my feet, and hurriedly leaned against the wall behind me. It took a while to get over the momentum.

However, my father has passed away, who else can I talk to about these things?

I took a light breath, sat down on a wooden box, and flipped through the notebook. About fifty or sixty pages were written, and the words were neatly written, stroke by stroke. There is no date between each paragraph, but there is a space in the middle to separate each diary, and it is still possible to distinguish it.

I slowly looked at it, and it was probably my father's usual record for his own viewing, so the content of the record was very varied, from daily household hours to some situations that I had never known before. Whatever the content is, I read it word by word.

As I turned to the second page, there was a passage that caught my attention. This passage is like this.

"Recently, there were two transactions with Bao Weigong, and Mao received three hundred thousand yuan. Bao is a slippery and old man, but the money transaction is never in arrears, and he acts extremely cautiously, which can ensure that both parties have no worries. ”

When I saw this, I froze. This diary must have been more than ten years ago, more than ten years ago, my father made two transactions, and he was able to earn more than 300,000 yuan?

Moreover, the Bao Weigong who traded with him was a very famous person in the ancient industry.