Chapter 40 Mo Kingdom 1 Stillness and Movement
"What happened between you and Xiaoming?" Xiaofang quietly asked you while Xiaoming went to the bathroom and Xiaola was taking pictures by the window.
Upon hearing this, you turned your gaze back from the window.
Inside the restaurant, the aroma of spices mingled with the salty, damp scent of the sea breeze, making one's stomach tingle, while the refreshing fragrance of mint tea seemed to permeate the very air of every diner.
You lower your head and use your fork to pok at the candied nut cake on the plate, looking at the white sesame seeds sprinkled on its surface. The sweet aroma is not bad at first taste, but after the overpowering sweetness sweeps over your taste buds, you have to give up on this dessert.
“…It’s nothing really.” The metal scraped against the porcelain plate, making a piercing noise. Xiao Fang hissed, and you stopped, slowly saying, your gaze still fixed on the window, “It’s probably just…a difference in our perspectives.”
Looking through the glass at the boundless sea, the blue surface was unusually calm, with only a slight breeze rippling the water, shimmering under the ever-fierce midday sun. In the distance, passenger sailboats were slowly returning to port, their white sails fluttering in the breeze.
Further away, where the sea meets the sky, a thin mist is faintly visible, like the edge of the world. Blink, and you'll see that the boundary of your eyes is, in fact, the boundary of the world itself.
"Different ideas?" Xiao Fang repeated your words. "So you two really had a disagreement, didn't you? You're not usually the type to hold things back." Xiao Fang is closer to you, so naturally she chose to talk to you first.
"You two were listless when we gathered this morning, and you didn't react much when we were visiting those beautiful temples. Besides, didn't you notice that you didn't walk with us all morning?" Xiao Fang seemed to want to ease the tension between you and Xiao Ming. Even though she noticed your avoidance of the topic, she still caught up with you to have a deeper conversation.
"If it's just a misunderstanding, it's good to talk it out. We shouldn't fight amongst ourselves in a place like this. But if you two have found out something behind my and Xiao La's back and aren't telling us, then I'll be angry," Xiao Fang joked.
"Discovery? We didn't discover anything. As for the misunderstanding..." You shook your head with a laugh, recalling what happened after returning from Ke Island.
Whether the ghostly encounter with Napoleon was accidental or inevitable, the guide and monks didn't look too happy when they saw you were safe and sound, but their change of expression after receiving the tip was quite entertaining.
You went to the casino for a round of games that night, and with your statue-like figure, you naturally wouldn't lose.
Xiaoming has probably been observing you since around that time.
Sigh, you should have acted more naturally, but maybe that's the rule of the casino—to get gamblers deeply involved, more and more obsessed, oblivious to the world around them, with only the desire to win.
You used your sculpting abilities to check beforehand, and the casino poses no other dangers. Just be mindful of the time and don't get too caught up in the game and go home too late. Since it's so safe, you can confidently lead everyone in playing without worry by giving the personal attendants a small tip to keep an eye on things.
Unexpectedly, while the timing was perfect and he returned home laden with chips, making the two silly girls, Xiao La and Xiao Fang, happy, he aroused Xiao Ming's suspicion.
While you were redeeming gifts with points at the cashier, Xiaoming stood to the side with his arms crossed, staring intently at you.
She stared at you so intently that it made you uneasy, and this gaze lasted for an entire day. No matter how hard you tried to understand her thought process, you couldn't help but feel a distance between you and her.
You were also very upset, so at night, when you and she hid in the closet together, you kept thinking about finding an opportunity to talk things out with her.
The wardrobe is still as comfortable as ever; curling up in it makes you feel exceptionally relaxed.
Xiao Ming wrinkled his nose and said, "It smells a bit fishy here too, and it's a bit damp. I don't know how long it can stay safe."
Damp? Is it? You sniffed hard, maybe. But this damp smell is more like mold that has been hidden for years mixed with the sea breeze that rushed in during a storm, not the kind of ominous smell that can be smelled everywhere on a cruise ship.
You reach out and casually trace the grain of the solid wood. You hadn't looked closely before, but now, in the dim light, it looks like the undercurrents of the deep sea.
"Tell me, what have you been hiding lately?" Xiaoming suddenly spoke. His voice was soft, yet carried an undeniable force.
Your body stiffened slightly, and your fingers tightened involuntarily. You thought you would initiate and lead this conversation, after all—Xiao Ming had chosen your opposite side, hadn't he?
She observes you, is wary of you, and her eyes are always on you. How could she possibly take the initiative to send you a signal to make peace?
—Don't think like that, Xiaoming, you're not that kind of person. The fact that she asked you first proves that the small misunderstanding between you two isn't serious enough to cause you to become enemies.
"What are you hiding?" you replied calmly, but the hesitation in your voice betrayed you. Judging from the expressions of those other people you were hiding at the banquet, you weren't a perfect actor.
"Stop pretending." She stared at you, her eyes filled with too many complex emotions. "You've been behaving so strangely these past few days. You don't want to explore, you seem to handle everything with ease, you've stopped talking, and you're always following behind alone. Do you think I wouldn't notice these flaws?"
Xiaoming straightened up slightly due to the agitation in her voice, then sighed and lay back down in her corner: "I don't see anything you did that was detrimental to us, but you're acting very strangely. Was it because you looked outside? What did you see? You, were you still you?"
Her words pierced your calm like a blade, and you subconsciously touched the sculpture in your pocket. The cold touch gave you a strange sense of comfort.
But Xiaoming, on the very first night you planned to tell her the whole truth: she couldn't hear you, she wasn't chosen.
After a moment of silence, you lowered your head and prepared to try again. You still considered Xiaoming your best friend, and you hoped she would hear you this time: "Xiaoming, actually, I got..."
The sea breeze, which seemed to have come from nowhere, rustled and swallowed your words.
"Tired?" The sea breeze whispered in Xiaoming's ears, sounding like something else entirely, and she replied in a completely different way. She raised an eyebrow and sneered, "You can fool others, you can fool Xiaofang, but you can't fool me. What's making you act so strangely? Tell me, tell me, and maybe the trust will still remain." The last half of her sentence turned into a murmur. Her expression was somewhat dazed.
You were speechless, a wave of helpless frustration rising within you.
The sculpture seemed to grow even more intense because of her words, or perhaps it sensed what you were about to do. It was a touch that was a mixture of coldness and warmth, vibrating like a living being.
You hold up the sculpture and say directly, "Look for yourself. If you can't see it, don't blame me."
She saw nothing, not even your large arm movements; she just looked at you with a gaze filled with an indescribable sense of distance.
"Xiao Ming..." you began, your voice so low it seemed like a wisp of wind seeping in from all directions, "If I told you that some things are beyond our comprehension, would you believe me?"
"What is it?" Her tone held a hint of impatience, but more so, confusion.
You made one last struggle, your fingers caressing the sculpture you hadn't yet put back in your pocket—holding it offered solace to your heart, whether it stemmed from fear of the unknown or melancholy at the doubts of your companions.
A black, glossy circular pattern appeared in my mind, with the snake's tail biting its head, endlessly repeating, spiraling in the endless abyss of time.
You've given up struggling; anyway, no amount of explanation will help.
You look up and meet her gaze. She can neither see the sculpture nor hear your description.
"Stop beating around the bush." Xiaoming seemed utterly disappointed. Her foot, which had been resting beside you, was pulled back and pressed firmly against her body. "Believe it or not, I don't see you as one of those disposable teammates. It's not because we've been together for two consecutive dungeons, but because the qualities you displayed during those times of hardship were so rare."
“If you are no longer her, I will not hesitate to do it,” she said.
Now it's your turn to tilt your head in confusion.
Is she going to attack you?
You felt a sense of powerlessness, like a grain of sand caught in a storm. You didn't want to include Xiaoming as an obstacle to be eliminated; your goal had always been to protect everyone.
But if Xiaoming insists on seeing all your forced concealment as you being bewitched, or even as the ridiculous notion that "you are no longer yourself," then you can only protect yourself first.
"I'm sorry," you whispered.
"I know everyone is suspicious of those 'clones,' but please don't treat me like this. At least believe me, everything I do will only benefit everyone." You still want to change Xiaoming's already stated position.
"Did I say you were harmful to everyone?" Xiao Ming laughed.
“It’s okay if you don’t believe me,” you said calmly. “Anyway, I will protect everyone, and I will make sure everyone lands safely and leaves.”
Xiao Ming remained silent. Amidst the interplay of the stark white of flashes of lightning and the eerie green of the emergency lights, Xiao Ming seemed both unfamiliar and terrifying.
All right.
Xiaoming didn't say anything more. After observing that the storm had subsided, she stood up and walked out of the wardrobe.
Xiaoming refused to share the bedroom with you anymore, and instead prepared a sofa bed and spent the night in the living room.
"Do you think you can escape?" you whispered in the bedroom. You certainly have the right to be angry; Xiaoming's treatment of you is completely unfair. Or perhaps, Xiaoming's relentless questioning stems from a problem with her.
You look back and explore, but you can't see that Xiaoming did anything that was detrimental to everyone. What awaits her is a wisp of unknown black smoke.
You are fortunate that you did not witness Xiaoming's betrayal.
"Don't be afraid," you whispered to yourself, "We won't get hurt. Even if Xiaoming is a little confused for a moment, it's okay. We'll all be alright."
As you talked like that, you drifted off to sleep, and then today arrived.
Another port call has passed, and you've arrived in Casa de Morocco with your tour group. This is a famous port city, Morocco's largest city and economic center, with a history dating back to before Christ. After experiencing French colonial rule in the early 20th century, it underwent rapid modernization, a testament to the coexistence of historical depth and modern vibrancy.
Once on the bus, in addition to the cruise ship's guide, we also hired a local guide. Due to the special nature of the local religion, it is not allowed to enter and visit many places unless you are part of a specific guided tour group.
Our first stop was the iconic Wat Chakri, a landmark of Casablanca.
This Qing Dynasty mosque sits on the Atlantic coast, half-suspended above the sea, and appears extremely solemn from afar.
Upon arriving at Qing Temple, our local guide, Arthur, was a tall, slender Moroccan dressed in a simple but clean robe, with a warm smile on his face.
He took over the role of the cruise ship guide, stood in front of everyone and waved: "Good morning, everyone! Before heading to Qing Temple, I need to remind you of a few important things."
“The Mosque of King Nobunaga is a symbol of the Kingdom of Mo and one of the few mosques in the world open to non-Muslims,” Arthur said calmly. “But in order to respect the beliefs and customs here, everyone must abide by certain dress and etiquette rules when entering the mosque.”
He glanced around, his gaze lingering particularly on the girls: "Ladies, you need to dress appropriately and avoid exposing your skin as much as possible. You should wear headscarves to cover your hair; it's a sign of respect. If you haven't prepared any, I have spare scarves here that you can borrow."
As soon as those words were spoken, everyone, including the other female passengers on the cruise ship, looked at each other and felt somewhat uncomfortable.
Xiao La clicked her tongue, and Xiao Fang immediately gave a "I knew this would happen" look. Only Xiao Ming didn't react—she was busy watching you: "Wear a headscarf if you want. Since you're here, don't cause trouble."
You glanced down at your outfit; a long-sleeved t-shirt and jeans certainly wouldn't be considered revealing in the normal world. But the glances from the women in black robes entering the temple still made you uneasy.
Xiao Fang and her friends, wearing tank tops and shorts, attracted even more attention.
Your skin is currently very sensitive, possibly due to not being used to the Mediterranean climate. It gets dry and peels easily from sun exposure, so you have to cover yourself with clothes to avoid the sun, which inadvertently saves you a lot of trouble.
On the ship, you tried to use the power of sculpture to reveal the day's itinerary, but all you saw was a fog. You easily accepted this reality; after all, peeking through scenes with limited perspectives has more constraints.
Seeing the girls looking at each other blankly, you stepped forward and asked softly, "Arthur, do we really have to wear headscarves?"
Arthur nodded, took a step back to keep some distance, and smiled as he replied, “Not wearing a headscarf might be seen as disrespectful to the beliefs and culture here. Although the temple's management won't explicitly forbid it, I suggest everyone follow the rules.” His teeth were crooked but excessively white. “It's not just about etiquette; it also helps you better integrate into the atmosphere of this place.”
"Looks like I have no choice but to wear it." Xiao Fang sighed and took the scarf Arthur handed her. "But I don't really know how to use this thing."
“Let me demonstrate.” Arthur patiently demonstrated, folding the scarf into a triangle, then skillfully placing the pointed end on top of his head, wrapping the long side around his chin and securing it behind his neck, making a tucking motion with his hair, and then tucking the other side of the scarf behind his head.
“However…” After Xiao Fang and Xiao La, along with several other tourists dressed in even more revealing clothing, awkwardly put on their headscarves, Arthur handed them even larger shawls, “Please wear these over your shoulders and around your waists as well.”
As a professional guide, he had seen all sorts of people, so his gaze and tone were not offensive at all, but they did make the girls, who were experiencing this for the first time, feel a little embarrassed by being stared at.
—As if their normal, everyday attire were something shameful.
You should also wear your headscarf.
This is your first time encountering a "religious place" in the dungeon world. Logically speaking, even in a dungeon, since there is a realistic aspect to it, there should be no danger in this "place of faith" as long as you behave yourself.
"Miss, please don't bring your drink inside," Arthur said, turning back to you.
You were taken aback, then awkwardly chuckled and stuffed the huge water bottle you were holding, which you used to hydrate from time to time, into your backpack and handed it to the cruise ship staff member next to you.
Wow, so many rules! You scratched your throat; you've been getting thirsty easily these past few days, and your throat gets itchy if you don't drink water for a while. Hopefully, the tour will be over soon and we can leave.
After everyone was dressed, Arthur reminded them again: "Ladies, please be careful not to expose your heads or body parts. Gentlemen, please do not wear slippers, and please wear your shoes properly."
After the preparations were completed, you boarded the sightseeing bus to tour the outer area and gardens and finally head to Qing Temple.
Along the way, Xiao Fang couldn't help but mutter to herself, "Wearing a headscarf and being wrapped up like this, I'm about to fly away from the heat."
"They have a splendid culture, a splendid culture, a splendid culture..." Xiao La muttered to herself and Xiao Fang, trying to "brainwash" them and calm their emotions.
Xiao Ming smiled as he looked at them, and his gaze occasionally drifted to you, which made things a little awkward.
You only feel discomfort in your throat, so you look at the scenery to distract yourself.
The wheels rolled over the smooth stone road, and outside the car window, the spacious courtyard stretched out like a white carpet, inlaid with exquisite geometric patterns.
The verdant lawns surrounding the temple are dotted with colorful flowers, and swaying palm and olive trees gently dance in the breeze. Exquisite sculptures and fountains line the paths, their flowing water blending seamlessly with the distant murmur of the ocean waves.
After a quick tour, we soon arrived at the main gate of Zaiqing Temple.
Arthur checked everyone again, especially the girls' clothing, before leading them into this treasure of Islam.
It is indeed magnificent: the dome hangs high, and the openwork carved ceiling is as mysterious and beautiful as the starry sky. The walls are covered with delicate Arabic patterns and calligraphy, and the three colors of blue, green and gold are interwoven, as if the ocean, sky and desert are integrated into one.
The morning and afternoon sunlight streamed through the stained glass, reflecting off the shimmering marble floor, creating a dreamlike scene reminiscent of a kaleidoscope.
"This is the third largest mosque in the world. It blends traditional Moorish architectural style with modern technology, and even has an operable skylight," Arthur explained, showing everyone where they could and could not take photos.
Xiao Fang and Xiao La forgot their unhappiness at having to change clothes; after all, going out to play was still fun, so they happily took out their phones to check in. Xiao Ming watched you from a distance, while you always looked for an opportunity to sit down rather than stand.
It's hot! And I'm thirsty.
This makes you feel a little dizzy.
Xiao Ming stepped forward, blocking Arthur and the others' view with her figure, took a small bottle of water from her backpack, and fed it to you. Her voice was cold: "Drink it quickly. Even if something is wrong with you, I can't let you die like this before I'm sure."
You blinked and quietly took a few sips.
After feeding her the water, she stepped aside and continued her neurotic surveillance.
Just as you were about to say something, you heard a commotion.
Someone gasped, followed by a flurry of footsteps. Arthur rushed through the crowd, his expression panicked, as if something extraordinary had happened. Your intuition tells you that something taboo has occurred.
As the crowd surged, you were pushed to the center of the attention.
Two tourists who are not part of your tour group are being stopped by several security personnel from the temple. One is a young man holding a DSLR camera, and the other is a blonde woman clutching a headscarf she has taken off.
The latter was pale, clearly realizing his lapse in composure, but it was too late to salvage the situation.
"I'm sorry, I didn't know you couldn't take pictures here!" The man hurriedly raised his camera, trying to prove he meant no harm.
The security personnel simply stared at him coldly. In the shadow cast by their high, narrow, hooked noses, their deep black pupils, covered by thick eyelashes, seemed like black holes, intimidating the man's soul.
“This is not a place where you can take pictures,” a security guard said in a heavily accented slang, “especially in this direction.” He pointed to the area where the man had just taken a picture—a huge wall covered with intricate Arabic calligraphy, with an inscription inlaid in gold and turquoise in the center.
"This is one of the holiest areas in the mosque. The inscriptions are said to be the words of the great prophet, intended for prayer only. Even Muslims are strictly forbidden from taking photos here." Little La stood behind you like an announcer, reading out the information she had just found.
“As for you,” another security guard turned to the woman, speaking with utter contempt, “removing your headscarf before entering this sacred place is an insult to your faith.”
The onlookers gradually quieted down. Some muttered under their breath, while others turned away, distancing themselves from the center of the incident for fear of being implicated.
At this moment, a deep echo seemed to come from the dome of the main hall. The sound was elusive, like the wind passing through the corridor, or like the whisper of some unseen being.
A terrifying transformation was about to unfold.
In another corner of the temple, accompanied by faint footsteps, several elderly religious figures dressed in white robes slowly approached. They gave no instructions, but the security personnel automatically made way for them.
The elder at the head of the group was quite old, with a snow-white beard that reached down to his chest.
The young man tried to explain, "It's just a misunderstanding! We didn't know these rules!" The woman defended herself even more, taking out her passport and trying to call the police.
You should also crane your necks to see what happens.
The elder did not respond, but simply raised his hand, gesturing for them to be quiet. He spoke slowly, his voice deep and powerful: "The blasphemers must face the consequences."
The surrounding light seemed to dim.
You subconsciously look up, only to see the light on the stained glass windows fading rapidly, and the entire temple instantly shrouded in a dark shadow.
The punishment has begun.
The man suddenly screamed.
The camera in his hand seemed to become scorching hot, so he quickly threw it to the ground with a loud "bang".
Instead of shattering, the camera lens began to change rapidly. A viscous liquid, like ink or some kind of dark liquid organism, flowed from the lens, spreading across the ground and quickly forming an enormous eye.
With a blink, a ghastly white beam of light shot out, piercing the man. He was forced to retreat repeatedly, but the beam followed him relentlessly until he was frozen in place, unable to move.
The woman's scream rang out. The headscarf in her hand seemed to float freely into the sky. The woman raised her hand to grab it, but her hair seemed to come alive, quickly bursting out like a cluster of snakes on the back of her head, pulling her backward.
It then coiled tightly around her head, enveloping it completely, leaving only her two wide-open eyes visible. She looked just like a devout female believer.
Unlike the apathy shown by the crowds when other "locals" were punished for violating the rules, the onlookers here were truly like real people, letting out low gasps of surprise, followed by a deathly silence.
Those who witnessed the whole thing either covered their mouths or quietly lowered their heads and backed away. Perhaps it was because they were also "outsiders" here, and thus awakened a certain collective consciousness as human beings, rather than sinking into oblivion within their own society.
You don't seem to care about this at all—ha, you probably would have felt genuine pity for such "locals" in the past.
As long as I keep an eye on you, Xiao Fang, Xiao La—uh, and Xiao Ming, and make sure nothing goes wrong, that's fine.
Suddenly, the echoes in the hall began to transform from the dome into chanting.
The sound seemed to come from the sky, or perhaps from the depths of the earth.
The female tourist struggled in agony, tears of blood streaming from her eyes, while the man's body gradually lost its human form, as if being squeezed by an invisible force, until finally only a blurry and distorted shadow remained.
“Enough,” the elder said softly. His words were like a command, or a declaration.
Then, the man's shadow completely merged into the ground, while the woman's body seemed to be blown away by the wind, turning into countless tiny grains of sand.
Everything around returned to calm, as if nothing had happened.
You notice a strange mark on the ground—a complex pattern made of sand and dust, which happens to be the floor plan of this Qing temple, and the place where the woman disappeared is the center of the dome on the map.
The sun reappeared, and the entire mosque suddenly fell silent, as if the earth were holding its breath and even the wind had stopped moving.
A solemn atmosphere filled the air, but it was gradually replaced by another sacred atmosphere—a long and deep sound came from the top of the minaret and echoed in every corner of the mosque.
"Ah, time seems to have sped up. How come it's already twelve o'clock? Anyway, this is the time for the ceremony," Xiao La announced earnestly.
The elder who had been leading the group slowly raised his hand, palm facing upward, as if reverently receiving some unseen grace.
His movements were solemn and slow, each second carrying the weight of faith.
Under his guidance, the worshippers around him bowed their heads in unison and knelt on the white marble floor of the mosque, their postures unfolding like a tranquil wave.
Light streamed down again from the stained glass windows of the dome, illuminating the ground in a dreamlike, colorful glow.
At that moment, a low murmur of prayers filled the hall. The sound was initially led by an elder, his voice rising and falling like the tides of the deep sea, each word seemingly filled with reverence and praise for God:
"Arahu Akbar".
The prayer expanded from one person to the crowd, and the voices of the believers gradually merged into a harmonious chant.
The male voice was deep and resonant, while the female voice was soft and melodious, like a sacred stream filling the hall.
The prayers, containing the believers' most sincere requests and deepest praises, echoed beneath the dome until they reached the heavens.
Then, music began—the long, drawn-out melody of the "Naïd" (—Little Lacopdao) soared up the hall, accompanying the prayers.
The minaret bells rang again, intertwining with prayers and music to create a solemn and magnificent symphony.
The devotees touched their foreheads to the ground, expressing their utmost respect for the divine with the most humble posture. The entire process was quiet and orderly; their movements were uniform, sometimes kneeling, sometimes rising, accompanied by softly chanted prayers that echoed the music.
You tourists should quietly step aside and wait patiently for the worshippers to finish their prayers before leaving under Arthur's guidance.
"Actually, it's really beautiful inside, and very solemn and sacred. If it weren't for those changes, it would have really shattered a lot of my stereotypes about Islam." On the way back to the city, Xiao La, who was sitting in front of you and Xiao Ming, turned around and whispered to you.
“You’ll get used to it. Don’t try to match these to reality,” Xiaoming explained. “These landmarks and landscapes are replicas of reality, but the cultural atmosphere is distorted. The real Morocco is a relatively secular country, and the atmosphere of the mosques and believers here is still very harmonious. You have to understand that these replicas will seize on some minor flaws that might exist in reality and magnify them into horrific executions.”
Xiao Fang continued, "After you leave here, we can visit the real Qing Temple together. Only then can we truly experience the culture and scenery."
Xiao La nodded, daydreaming about the bright future after leaving, then took out her phone and looked at the pictures of the beautiful buildings that were allowed to be photographed.
Due to unforeseen circumstances, it was already noon, and we ended up only looking at Independence Square from the car, instead of visiting it before lunch.
This is the heart of Casablanca, where a fountain and an equestrian statue stand in the square, surrounded by Moorish-style buildings from the colonial era. Pigeons fly freely in the square, and street performers are playing traditional Moorish music.
Arthur explained with a smile inside the car: "This is the administrative center of Casablanca, and also an important place for citizens to relax. If you have time in the future, you can have a cup of rich Moroccan coffee at the nearby cafes."
Afterwards, you will continue to the Ha district, which is the traditional old town of Casa.
The narrow alleyways were crowded with vendors selling colorful pottery, traditional fabrics, spices, and handmade jewelry. The air was filled with the aroma of saffron and pepper, mingled with the smell of meat grilling over charcoal, making one's mouth water.
Arthur pointed to an old building and said, "This is the central market of the Har district. You can pick out souvenirs here. Be careful not to get lost; there are many alleys, and it's easy to get lost."
Xiao Fang and Xiao La excitedly selected many handmade shawls, but the stall owner dared to ask for an exorbitant price of 600 dirhams (more than 500 RMB)!
You were originally going to help negotiate the price, but the two of them figured it wasn't their own money anyway, so they went to the ATM, swiped their credit cards to exchange a lot of currency, and came back with a bunch of little leather shoes, shawls, exquisite oil lamps, and hookahs that they didn't even know what they were buying for. They practically packed up the whole shop and took it all away.
Arthur was even happier to see that everyone had bought a lot of things. He then asked for their opinions on lunch: should we eat at a small alleyway restaurant in the Harcourt area, or at a restaurant with a sea view?
Ultimately, everyone chose a restaurant with a sea view, and the group circled back to the coastal area where Qing Temple was located that morning.
We're having a meal in a traditional courtyard perched on a cliff edge—this is where you are right now.
This small restaurant is run by only one elderly lady, whose homemade Moroccan lunch is extremely plentiful and unique: soft couscous that tastes somewhat like millet paired with roasted lamb, tender chicken tagine, and served with olives and lemon sauce.
The dessert was this plate of candied fruit and nut cake that you were haphazardly shoveling with your fork—it smelled better than it tasted. Drinks included the local specialty mint water, and chilled orange juice made with freshly picked orange blossoms from the readily available orange trees. It was refreshing and helped cut through the richness; you'd down two glasses as soon as you sat down.
If you're wondering why we didn't order fish and chips as usual, it's because you've already seen it through the statue. You'll always have it in the evening, so why not take this opportunity to enjoy the local specialty?
Afterwards, after they finished eating, Xiaoming and Xiaola left their seats. Xiaofang noticed that Xiaoming was acting strangely towards you, so he came to ask you about it.
You said, "Don't overthink it. It's really nothing, I'm just a little tired."
You don't intend to, and can't, answer the question directly, but instead slowly change the subject: "Don't you feel that, excluding what happened at Qing Temple this morning, this trip has been much more peaceful than the one on Ke Island the day before yesterday?"
"Peace and tranquility?" Xiao Fang seemed surprised by your response.
"Hmm." You nodded gently, satisfied with the result. "Back on Koshien Island, even before anything happened, there were always clues laying the groundwork for what would happen later. Although there was a farce here this morning, it was ultimately just a special event under that particular circumstances."
“I feel like we’re going to get something out of this place. But so far, there haven’t been any clues.” You said, not finishing your thought: you’d tried using sculptures to see what would happen, but all you got was a black fog.
It's like it's preventing you from cheating; it can't be that something is restraining your power.
"As for other things, everything that's happening right now is too trivial, making it hard to know how to deal with it," you said with a faint smile, trying to suppress your excitement.
"That's why you and Xiaoming shouldn't have any conflicts," Xiaofang said, bringing the topic back to the present.
You take a big gulp of mint water, racking your brains for a way to stop her from investigating you and Xiaoming. Thank goodness, someone got into trouble, which diverted everyone's attention.
That was a guest sitting near the restaurant's main entrance.
A plate of food was overturned on the table next to him, and the scattered food covered the tablecloth. He was staring blankly at his hands, as if he hadn't yet realized what had happened.
A strange smell spread out, like the smell of damp earth mixed with decaying leaves.
Just as you were all staring at the guest, a low tremor suddenly came from the ground. Cracks appeared between the tiles, and then several thick roots burst out from under the floorboards, like gaping maws, and lunged at the guest.
"What is that!" the guest exclaimed, trying to stand up and run away, but the roots were much faster than him. They quickly wrapped around his legs, dragging him back to his seat. More roots, like tentacles, surged from the ground, climbed onto the table, and pushed the scattered food back in front of him in one go.
"No—stop! Stop!" The guest struggled desperately, but the roots only tightened around his limbs, fixing his body to the chair.
The people in the restaurant were so frightened that they fell silent. Xiao Ming, who had just come out of the restroom, stood frozen in place, watching the scene unfold without daring to react further.
The roots forcefully shoved food into the man's mouth, extremely roughly. Food overflowed, splattering across his cheeks. His struggles gradually subsided, and instead of curses, he uttered—
The sound of a baby crying.
The sound was sharp and piercing, carrying a discordant sense of helplessness and anger, echoing in the small, crowded restaurant and striking the eardrums directly.
You stop wasting the poor dessert with your knife and fork, and see your smiling face reflected in the silvery metal. No wonder Xiao Fang looked at you with disbelief just now.
Stop laughing. *cough cough*
You used the sculpture to see what would happen next and how you could avoid a dead end.
Black fog.
You really can't laugh anymore.
How could this be? Is there really something that can block the power of the sculpture?
The elderly woman who had been busy all along came out.
She wiped her hands on her apron, her body ramrod straight, wrapped in the most conservative robe. A black veil covered her hair and even her cheeks—even the believers in the Qing Temple did not cover themselves so thoroughly.
The only visible eye had completely lost its previous serenity.
She watched silently as the roots fed the man to death, then slowly retreated back to the ground. The cracks in the tiles gradually closed, and the wide-open gate for ventilation framed the lush olive tree in the yard within its square frame. The old woman then covered the olive tree.
She was all alone and couldn't even handle the body. You couldn't help but feel sorry for the poor old woman, and in full view of everyone, you got up and dragged the man's body out of the room.
Logically, his body would have disappeared on its own if he hadn't been dragged out, but perhaps you were acting out of a sense of justice, and your compassion had nowhere else to go, so you did this.
The old lady nodded at you with surprise and approval, and you happily returned to your seat. You were met with the stares of Xiaoming and Xiaola, who had already taken their seats. And then there was Xiaofang.
The three of them started looking at you with the same expression.
You turn your neck to look at the old lady, and she moves. This time, instead of a menu, she gives you a handwritten Arabic rules sheet.
1. Food should not be wasted.
2. No loud noises allowed.
3. Respect your mother. When ordering food, you must look your mother directly in the eye.
4. Changing seats without authorization is strictly prohibited.
5. The last dish must be served by the mother.
"Surround them, or you'll face the consequences!"
-----------------------
Author's Note: Good afternoon! I'll post another chapter today or early tomorrow morning, then it will be Friday for the next update, giving the giveaway a one-day buffer. I swear on my life I'll try my best to update every two days from now on, and I'm swearing I'll refuse to procrastinate. I'll start with myself QAQ
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
