Date 1984 Beginning of Spring

Location: University of the Northeastern Province ❌❌

My name is Mu Feng, I am a college student, majoring in archaeology, and the place I went to the most in my college years was the school library. The library is located in the most remote part of the school, and it is said that the old house was there before the school was built. Different from other buildings, this library has no traces of reinforced concrete, and is a two-story small building made of blue bricks layer by layer, covered with green tiles on the roof, and slightly warped at the four corners, like an ancient building. If it weren't for the fact that I lived in modern times, every time I entered the library, I would have thought I was living in ancient times.

In the last semester of the university, other students began to go out for internships to lay a foundation for entering the society in the future. I, on the other hand, still go in and out of the dormitory and the library. College life can only be described as boring. I'm glad I sometimes have a hobby of reading, especially books on archaeology.

Recently, I don't know what day I started to have the same dream every day when I went to sleep. In my dream, I dreamed that I was in a dark cave, and in the dim light, I could faintly see a sarcophagus as black as ink hanging in the middle of the cave. Every time I tried to open my eyes to see clearly, I would be woken up by external factors.

I am an amorphist and do not believe in the existence of ghosts and gods. I don't guess what I dreamed about in my dreams, whether it was true or not. I know that people, in addition to thinking during the day and dreaming at night. There is another explanation, which is that when you have the same dream over and over again, it is no longer because you think about what you dream at night, but because you have a residual unknown memory under your cerebral cortex. That is to say, a certain person, a certain thing, a certain thing that you dreamed of, at a certain stage in your past life and this life, you have encountered, done, and visited. It's like everyone usually dreams, dreaming of a place, and when you wake up, you always feel that you have been to that place......

"Mu Feng, are you still going to the library today? Why don't you go and go out for dinner together?"

"No, I'm fine" I don't like the hustle and bustle of the environment, I like to be quiet and alone. It's been okay for the last few days, and the dream that I have been having so often hasn't happened again, as if it never happened.

The person who asked me to go to dinner was Hu Jianjun, who was fat, not tall, dark-skinned, and his family was rural. Usually don't talk much, but the people are very nice. My roommate often nicknames me crazy, what about him, he was born on Army Day, didn't there be a tomb robber named Hu Bayi in the past four years, so everyone jokingly called him the eighth master.

He lives in the countryside, his parents divorced when he was a child, and he lives with his grandfather, and the conditions are average. He is very sturdy, and he has taken care of some chores in the dormitory, which is also deliberately done by a few of our roommates, and every time he finishes his work, when it comes to dinner, we will take turns to invite him to dinner.

Boring studies, boring life, a boring group of people waiting for the day of graduation.

Finally, we ushered in the dawn of graduation.

But unexpectedly, that dream began to appear in my life again.

"Brother Feng, something is wrong with you in the past two days, you often talk in your dreams at night" The eighth master got up early in the morning and began to pick up blind. We all know that I sleep very hard and never talk in my sleep.

"What did I say?" I asked, confused.

"What do you say......... "Who are you?" "Why am I here?"

Let's be honest. I myself don't believe I'm going to talk in my sleep. Moreover, although there are dreams these days. But it's still the same, it's still in a cave, it's pitch black, and you can't see anything. I didn't feel like anyone was talking to me. I didn't take it seriously in my heart, and I was about to graduate, so it was the right thing to think about how to go in the future.

On this day, I went to the library as usual after eating and taking advantage of the break. It was a little dark and looked like it was going to rain.

Even the rain couldn't stop me from coming to the library. Because, I always feel that the dream I have is not an ordinary dream, and it must have something to do with me. Even if it doesn't have anything to do with me, it should have an impact on my future life. Maybe I'm too sensitive, so I want to go to the library and check if there are any clues.

The area around the library is still very dark, and the viewing trees that shade the sky set off the library like another world. A few classmates sat in all corners of the library, immersed in books. Seeking what they crave. And I, aimlessly, walked around every corner of the bookshelf, hoping to find what I was looking for.

The hard work paid off, and when I was almost looking through all the books, in an inconspicuous corner, a few small traditional characters came into my eyes - [Dreaming]. Without a signature, the author no longer knows who it is, and the extent of the tattered nature of the book proves how long the book has been stored, and no one knows.

When I open the book, I find that this book is different from modern books. The format of the text is more like that of an ancient book. As we all know, since modern times, books have been written in a left-to-right format. Ancient books were written in the opposite format. And this book is precisely the format in which ancient books are written.

The paper is yellowed, and the handwriting is so small that it is almost impossible to read if you are not close to it. With the dim light overhead, barely able to see clearly, I found a seat under the light and slowly flipped through the contents of the book: dreams are projections of the spiritual world, and what you dream in your dreams is not just what you think. If you want to follow your dreams, why not enter the dream realm?

I whispered these words, isn't this nonsense? We all know that dreams are projections of the spiritual world. As I continued to look down, suddenly all the words on the book disappeared, and my eyes widened, and an incredible picture slowly appeared on the page. In the picture is a coffin as black as ink, exactly the same one I dreamed of in my dream. I was surprised to make a sound, but found that I couldn't speak. The body stiffened at that moment, and only the eyes could move. Looking around the library, I don't know when it started, and I was the only one left in the library. I closed my eyes coldly, and the incredible scene appeared in my mind, it must be an illusion, it must be an illusion......

"Classmate...... Schoolmate...... What's wrong with you?" suddenly a voice came into my ears. At that moment, I tried to open my eyes like someone who was about to drown and grasped a life-saving straw, and found that I didn't know when I fell asleep on my desk.

I woke up with an old man in his sixties who was guarding the library. I opened my eyes, and strangely, the book in front of me was gone, replaced by an ordinary book of psychology. Maybe I was dazzled, and I turned my head to look outside, and it was already raining outside.

"Little brother, it's not early, it's raining outside again, let's go back to the dormitory early" The old man patted me on the shoulder. I smiled gratefully at the old man and asked casually, "Old man, how long have you been here?"

"Alas, I don't have a good memory, I can't remember how many years I've been when I'm older, anyway, I was here when this school was built" The old man shook his head and smiled bitterly.

After chatting with the old man, I got a few messages. First, the old man was here when this school was built, and this school was built when it was four years old. Second, the old man is an authentic Northeasterner, and his ancestors have lived here for generations. Third, the old man was injured in the foot, a gunshot wound, and I don't know how he was injured. Fourth, the book I just saw was something that the old man had never seen before............

In June 1984, it was very hot, and it was so hot that it made people think that there was actually summer in Tohoku. The Tohoku in my memory should be cold all year round, but this year's summer is exceptionally hot. I'm not from the Northeast, but I've lived here for a few years and have more or less feelings for it. So, after I successfully graduated, I successfully stayed in an archaeological team in the Northeast through my father's network. The salary is not high, but the things I am exposed to are something that I like, so I cherish this job.

After graduating from the eighth master, he went out to look for a job, and I think that a person like him, who is honest and willing to endure hardships, will definitely find a good job. In fact, two months later, one day, I received a call from him that his grandfather had passed away. As a good friend, I had to ask for a leave of absence from the office to go to him for a few days. It is said that there is no time to see each other after graduation. Actually, no, I cherish this friend, he is honest, he has no heart, and he knows who is good to him.

So, I went. When I saw him, he was much haggard, probably due to excessive sadness, and his only loved one had left him. I didn't speak much, so I comforted him softly. At this time, the countryside was buried, because the family really didn't have any savings, and no one was invited, and the strong men in the village and the older generation helped to bury the old man. I supported him who was sad and wanted to cry without tears, and followed behind the coffin step by step, I don't know if I hadn't eaten for a few days, plus I was sad, when I was about to get to the cemetery, he knelt on the ground and cried and fainted, I could only accompany him and wait for him to wake up. There was no solemn ceremony, and the crowd paid no attention to the poor child. He set up a grave for the old man, planted a willow tree next to the grave before leaving, and left a few steamed buns.

I don't know how long it took, the eighth master woke up and wiped his snot and tears. He pulled two crumpled cigarettes out of his pocket and handed me one. He didn't speak, and was silent for about an hour, and the sky was getting dark.

"What are your plans for the future?" I asked, breaking the silence, taking a sharp puff on my cigarette and frowning. "Why don't I ask the prison to see if I can get you into my house too?"

"Can it be done? madman" The eighth master turned his head to look at me, turned his head and continued to smoke.

"I'll do my best, you don't have any work anyway, if you can, just go to me first, and then you can think about it when there is a good place to go." I snuffed out my cigarette, stood up, and patted him on the shoulder.

Death is great, and burial is peace. Sending the old man away is also a matter of concern.

In the following days, I spent all day in the house doing nothing, and mushrooms were about to grow on my body. I can only work out with a few colleagues, play cards, and pass the boring time.

Until one afternoon, I received a phone call......