Chapter 41 Morocco 2: The Olive Tree
Everyone gasped when they saw the list.
The old lady had no sense of martial ethics whatsoever; she only brought up these rules when she had almost finished eating.
Looking at the translation on my phone screen, I can only say I'm grateful to my parents for the upbringing that made you always look people in the eye when you talk to them and to use "thank you" as a common phrase.
So, are you going to keep eating now? You pick up your small spoon and sip the pastry, now crushed and soaked in honey and syrup, little by little. Otherwise, you'll end up like that guy.
Speaking of that poor wretch, his family member—another well-dressed and elegant gentleman—couldn't help but burst into wailing.
This is a private courtyard restaurant, similar to a farmhouse inn, and your group of tourists from the cruise ship almost filled the entire place. With so many "foreigners" present, the few locals who were alone quickly finished their meal, wiped their mouths, and left.
In other words, right now, all the unlucky souls still stuck here are people like you.
As for the cruise ship staff and local guides... they used the excuse that it was the rule not to eat with the guests to go to a nearby coffee shop to rest.
At this moment, apart from the four of you outsiders, the locals also seemed to sympathize with their companion's plight. However, seeing the old woman's gloomy face as she watched the man wailing, not a single one of them uttered a single word to offer him any help.
Everyone held their breath, waiting to see how the man would fare.
"Should we..." Only Xiao La said in a low voice, her voice trembling slightly.
"Ignore him!" you squeezed out of your throat, your voice sternly rebuking him.
Little La fell silent.
You nodded in satisfaction. That's more like it. This girl isn't much younger than you; she's still quite young, so it's only natural that you treat her like a little sister.
The younger sister, who has no ability to protect herself, should behave well.
Thinking this, you glanced at Xiaoming again.
I almost forgot, Xiao Fang is in the same boat as her now.
A sour and bitter feeling welled up from your heart. You wiped your dry eyes, picked up the last sip of mint water, and drank it all in one go.
And this sophisticated man didn't disappoint you either.
The floor shook again, this time much more violently than before.
The restaurant lights suddenly dimmed, and the photos hanging on the wall—presumably of the old lady's husband with celebrities who had dined there—fall silently to the floor with a rhythmic "thud."
The cutlery on the table was undoubtedly trembling, and the metallic clinking of the knives and forks was so faint as to be unsettling.
You quickly reach out and protect the snacks on your plate, lest they spill out, or you'll be considered to have wasted food.
The man noticed something was wrong, stopped howling, and stared blankly at his feet.
The spot where those exquisite, brogue shoes had been placed on the tiles now had tiny cracks, just like before.
A sticky, black fluid, resembling rotten resin, began to seep from the crevice, emitting a foul stench.
"What... what is this thing?" He leaned back in terror, the wooden chair embracing him tightly.
The soles of his shoes made a squelching sound as he stepped on the slime, a rather jarring sound, but don't worry, his movements were quickly abruptly stopped—
The olive tree roots burst forth from the ground once again.
This time, the roots were thicker than before, comparable to an adult's arm, and their surface was covered with dark red lines, as if they had drunk their fill of blood.
They quickly wrapped around the man's ankles, pinning him firmly to the spot. He struggled desperately, but the roots tightened more and more, and the brogue's leather creaked under the strain until it was completely torn apart.
"Let me go! Let me go!" His voice became hoarse from the incessant shouting, but who was listening?
Everyone watched him as the root, like a tentacle, slowly climbed up his legs, through his well-tailored trousers, squeezing and deforming the fabric and skin, outlining the well-developed muscles from years of fitness training.
When the power of the roots reached its peak, all the expensive and exquisite clothes on his body were squeezed and torn apart by the roots. The roots began to pierce into his skin little by little, wriggling like snakes. Underneath the dark brown skin that Mao had grown in the beauty pod, slender blood spots gradually gathered into bloodstains, and finally burst open.
He was completely turned into a fountain of blood. However, he still maintained the politeness of the Ying people and did not splatter on anyone else.
The man wailed in agony, desperately gripping the edge of the table with both hands, just to keep his balance.
But more roots sprouted from under the floor, coiling around his arms, taking root in his veins, and pulling him toward the dining table. His head was forced against the table, his nose almost touching the plate, and he let out muffled whimpers.
A sharp, bone-chilling crack came from the man's throat, and his screams ceased abruptly. He was dead.
Ironically, sighs of regret rose and fell. But their lamentation didn't last long; the olive tree roots didn't return on their own, and the cracks in the floor became even more pronounced.
The roots of the olive trees, soaked with blood, surged wildly from the ground like giant pythons, lunging at the people around them.
When people see a thrilling scene, they can't help but put something in their mouths to eat.
In a corner of the restaurant, a female tourist, dressed equally elegantly, was enjoying her dessert with relish, oblivious to all the changes that had occurred.
Her table was covered in crumbs, and honey sauce from the edge of the plate dripped onto the table as the plate shook. She paid no attention to it, focusing only on chewing and watching the man in brogues struggle, her face showing a mixture of fear and excitement.
“He’s so pitiful, but…” she whispered to her friend across from her, “thankfully it wasn’t us.”
However, right behind her, the olive tree roots were the first to reach her.
"No—this has nothing to do with me! I didn't do anything wrong!" Her screams echoed through the restaurant, her voice filled with fear and despair.
Meanwhile, a young couple in another corner were not spared either.
They were a sweet couple, chatting loudly the whole way, eager to spread their love story to everyone.
The boy, purely out of fear, grabbed a Capricorn from the table and unconsciously took a few bites. This crescent-shaped pastry, made with almonds, orange blossom water, and sugar, coated inside and out with honey and sprinkled with powdered sugar, had already dripped syrup all over the table and the floor.
He was completely unaware. Meanwhile, his girlfriend across from him, agitated by what had happened to her boyfriend, stood up abruptly and accidentally knocked over a glass of orange blossom water, the water dripping from the table onto the floor.
"Quick, we have to get out of here!" The girl whispered, pulling the boy along as they tried to escape.
It was too late.
As soon as they stood up, tree roots from under the floor rushed up with lightning speed, pulling them both back into their chairs.
“I didn’t…” The girl turned her head and tried to explain to the old lady, but the tree branch didn’t give her a chance.
The entire restaurant was no longer quiet. Tree roots spread to every corner with an almost frenzied speed, engulfing all those who "didn't follow the rules." Those who, out of nervousness, had carelessly placed their cutlery or left tables uncleaned were not spared either.
For a moment, the baby's cries were deafening. It made it hard to tell if you were in a restaurant or some haunted scene at a shady maternity hospital.
"I'm finished eating, I can go now!" Some people can always remain calm, like this lady.
While everyone else was in complete chaos, she remained calmly seated, swallowing all the food in front of her, even dipping her bread in the gravy.
Not satisfied, she watched as her tablemate dawdled, so she simply finished his food as well.
"I'm finished eating." She said in a trembling voice, wiped her mouth with a napkin with an air of composure, and got up to leave.
However, the olive tree roots still did not let her go.
—She managed to hold back from screaming.
The tree roots simply wrapped around her ankles, dragging her back to the seat and fixing her in place to prevent her from leaving.
"Quiet." The old woman finally spoke, and the tree roots quickly disappeared, leaving behind a mess.
The old lady looked at the pale-faced woman who was clenching her teeth to avoid making any unnecessary noise, and said with some displeasure, "What's the rush, guest? The main courses haven't all been served yet, how can you leave so early?"
Main dish?
The woman froze. No matter how much she ate, she was still just an average person. But in order to meet the deadline and leave with her companions, she had just stuffed herself until she was completely full.
Looking at his companion again, his lingering fear and smugness were so obvious that anyone with eyes could see it.
The undercurrents between the "locals" in these two instances were so tedious for you that you bypassed everyone and met the old lady's gaze.
Just now, you were the one who cleaned up the body of the first dead man.
And now, you'll have to take care of all these corpses lying, standing, and sitting on the ground.
"Don't go." Xiao Fang grabbed your hand.
"Don't be afraid, I'll come back safely. Just don't break the rules." You smiled and calmly pried Xiao Fang's hands off.
Xiao Ming stared at you intently, but you just raised an eyebrow and smiled at her, then stood up and, starting with the nearest person, dragged them out along with the old lady.
The old lady holds your hand, and you follow her across the courtyard and into the kitchen.
You'll always have one hand resting to the side, firmly gripping that sculpture.
————
"What...what's wrong with her?" Xiao Fang asked Xiao Ming, her voice trembling. She genuinely felt that Xiao Ming had been tricked or something, which was why the atmosphere between the two of them was so strange today. Who would have thought that the problem was actually with her?
Xiao Fang hugged her shoulders, her eyes fixed on your departing figure, her gaze as complex as a chaotic storm. Her face was pale, her breathing rapid, and her fingers trembled slightly with tension.
"When did this happen?" Xiao Fang seemed to be unbearably cold, his tone chilling.
Xiaoming didn't answer immediately. Instead, she looked down and fiddled with the fork in her hand, lost in thought. Actually, Xiaoming wasn't someone who easily shared all her thoughts.
"Do you really think she's... no longer the person we know?" Xiao Fang continued to ask, her voice slightly choked with emotion.
"It's hard to say." As if these words had spurred Xiaoming on, she finally spoke, her tone as steady as ever, but her knuckles were white from gripping the glass tightly. "She has indeed changed, but when did this change begin? Was there already a problem before that dinner party? We can't be sure."
Xiao Ming did not reveal what happened in the room on the night of the banquet.
Xiao Fang's emotions completely erupted: "Xiao Ming! You've known her longer than I have, aren't you worried at all? She's our closest partner! But now, can't you see it? Her eyes, her tone, even her movements... everything has become cold-blooded, numb, as if it's been eroded by something!"
Her voice gradually rose, her eyes reddened, and she almost couldn't help but stand up. This attracted the attention of some tourists around her, who looked at Xiao Fang the same way they had looked at the others before.
Xiao La, who had been silent all along, quickly grabbed Xiao Fang's clothes and pulled him down, whispering a reminder: "Xiao Fang, don't get too excited... the rules are still in place, don't break them for something like this."
These words were like a bucket of cold water poured over Xiao Fang's head. Yes, the rules. She suddenly fell silent, biting her lip as she sat up straight, her hands limply resting on the table, her eyes still filled with confusion.
"I'm sorry, Xiaoming, I'm easily agitated, you know that," Xiaofang apologized.
Xiao Ming put down his fork, looked directly at Xiao Fang, and softened his tone slightly: "I understand how you feel. We don't know what will happen to her. Perhaps those changes in her are what she uses to defend herself right now. In short, now is not the time for us to lament or blame. You need to understand that we must protect ourselves first."
“But what can we do?” Xiao Fang bit her nails, her voice filled with helplessness. “She’s already become like that—what self-defense? We’re all veterans. In this situation—are we just going to watch her be completely consumed?”
“We need to protect ourselves first.” Xiaoming’s tone was firm, as if he was suppressing his own inner turmoil. “Only if we survive will we have a chance to save her. Listen to me, no matter what happens, stay strong. I think she wouldn’t want you to lose your composure. I think as long as there’s a chance her consciousness can be brought back, she will definitely not give up and struggle to the very end. So, especially you, and Xiaola, let’s survive together.”
"We won't give up on her, and we can't give up on ourselves either." Xiaoming's voice returned to its usual gentle and peaceful tone. She smiled and raised her hand to give Xiaofang and Xiaola a high five.
Even with behaviorism, morale was boosted.
Xiao Fang's breathing finally calmed down a bit. He looked at Xiao Ming and asked in a somber tone, "So what should we do now?"
After a moment of contemplation, Xiaoming scanned the restaurant and reassessed the situation.
"First, as always, we need to figure out the rules here and how they work. Rules aren't set up for no reason; there are always reasons behind them, and they also have weaknesses."
“This is just a folk restaurant, and all the rules are based on the owner’s own words. So if we want to find the cause, we can only start with this restaurant.” After calming down, Xiao Fang put his mind to work and continued Xiao Ming’s analysis.
“But how can we challenge these rules?” Little La frowned, also lost in thought. “The rules here restrict our personal freedom too much. We can’t move around, we can’t leave, we can only sit.”
As she spoke, Xiao La seemed to have a sudden inspiration. She used her phone to shine a light and began to study and ponder the table in front of them: "I know! The answer is on the surface of the riddle. Since we can't leave our seats, the clue must be on the table, right?"
Xiao Fang responded enthusiastically to her idea, while Xiao Ming remained silent, only raising his head and fixing his gaze on the photo on the wall.
The content of those photos seemed to have undergone subtle changes; the originally clear images became blurry, and some figures seemed to slowly disappear from the photos, leaving eerie blank spaces.
“Those photos,” Xiaoming said in a low voice, gesturing for Xiaofang and Xiaola to look at the wall. “They seem to record something, or rather, replace something.”
“It’s those who were punished.” Xiao Fang took a picture with his phone, zoomed in when he came back, and instantly understood. His face turned pale. “The man in the brogues... and those people who dropped crumbs while eating dessert, they were all recorded in there.”
“That’s right.” Xiao Ming nodded. “This is probably the core of the restaurant’s rules—every time the rules are enforced, something will be transferred to these photos.”
“But that’s not right, their positions in the photo…” Xiao La said weakly.
"What?" Xiaoming and Xiaofang asked in unison.
“Look at this composition. They’re not distinguished by gender or age, and their positions seem random, but overall it looks like a family photo.” Xiaoming and Xiaofang nodded enthusiastically. Encouraged, Xiaola explained her thoughts in more detail, “But even though it’s a family photo, generally the mother and father should be in the middle. But look at this one.” She gestured with her finger on one of the photos.
“This person is clearly standing in the middle, but he is farther away from everyone else. The person next to him is making a movement, as if he is adjusting his posture to stand next to another person who plays the role of a mother or father.”
“Then in this one, two of the four people are looking down, while the other two are looking straight ahead. This is a standard dispersion of visual focus. If this were a painting, it would imply that the family members are not united.” Xiao La chuckled and changed the subject: “But we can also see this kind of copy as a deliberate design, so it’s definitely not accidental.”
"This one is even stranger. You see, the four people are divided into two more opposing camps, yet the composition is strongly symmetrical, creating an atmosphere of, well, forced harmony."
"Why is there only one person on the last one?" Xiao La's expression changed. "Does it mean there's only one family member left?"
They looked at each other and naturally thought of the lonely old lady who owned the business.
“Your analysis is correct, but it’s still too vague.” Xiao Ming straightened up and counted the number of people who survived in the room. “It’s also possible that there weren’t enough people assigned to ‘role-play’ in the photos.”
—Coincidentally, all the people in these four photos together represent all the people who were just executed.
"Okay." Little La said, a little discouraged.
"You've done a great job. We just need more evidence," Xiaoming said softly, comforting Xiaola. Xiaola smiled shyly and brightened up.
"So what's our next step?" Xiao Fang couldn't help but ask.
“We need more information,” Xiaoming said. “Next, we need to avoid causing any disturbances and pay attention to other unusual things in the restaurant—as for that old lady, she’s definitely the key to all of this.”
Xiao Ming's eyes dimmed: "I hope she's just gathering information in the kitchen, and at least she doesn't get herself involved."
Now it was Xiao Fang's turn to give Xiao Ming a boost of confidence: "She will definitely come back. Even if it's her, she would never be easily tricked. Now that some weird thing has affected her, she's even less likely to suffer a loss. I'm afraid that in the end she'll come out of the kitchen and bring Grandma up to us, hahaha—why are you looking at me like that?"
Xiao Fang brushed away Xiao La's disgusted expression.
"Alright, alright, let's get started now," Xiaoming said, then suddenly remembered, "You two were just rummaging through the table like monkeys, did you find anything?"
The two looked at each other and lowered their heads in shame.
"Sigh." Xiao Ming sighed deeply.
"But we can't move at all," Xiao Fang complained in a low voice, the journey to overcome the difficulties had returned to its starting point.
Upon hearing this, Xiaoming looked up at the swaying chandelier on the ceiling, a cold glint flashing in his eyes: "Then, let's take the seats with us. The rule is that you can't 'change seats,' but in practice, you can't 'leave your seat.' So, perhaps 'moving seats' is feasible."
“You mean—” Xiao Fang’s eyes lit up.
Let's get right to it.
The three of them tentatively got up, gripping the chairs tightly to lock themselves in place—if the solid wood table wasn't so heavy, and with so many dishes on it, they would have carried the table with them—and slowly moved to a different position.
A faint tremor came from beneath the floor, and the group stopped in their tracks. However, the olive tree roots did not sprout again, seemingly "tolerating" this behavior for the time being.
"It works!" Xiao Fang exclaimed softly, a glimmer of hope flashing in his eyes. "They're not reacting!"
"Continue," Xiaoming said in a low voice, signaling them to be careful.
She sped up and headed towards the empty table closest to the corner. It had once been the seat of a man who had been punished, and a few charred crumbs of dessert still clung to the table, emitting a strange caramel smell.
"Let's start here," Xiaoming said, sweeping the crumbs off the table, carefully wiping them clean with a napkin, and then meticulously inspecting the table legs and the floor.
Xiao Fang lay down, the beam of her flashlight sweeping across the floor. Suddenly, she pointed to a spot and exclaimed, "Xiao Ming, look here! There seems to be something dark under this floorboard!"
Xiao Ming squatted down and examined it closely. The cracks in the floor were deeper than in other places, and a thin layer of black ash remained in the cracks, like the marks left after some kind of plant was burned.
“It can only be burnt olive tree roots,” Xiaoming said in a low voice, his gaze serious. “Is it an indication that a fire occurred in the past?”
"The burned trees are coming back to life. What is this? Is it a cycle?" Xiao Fang frowned.
“At least it’s a clue,” Xiaoming said. The three of them, in a comical pose, bent over on their chairs and followed the closed marble floor, searching for charred ash and cracks.
The other tourists just stared at them blankly, like noch. At least they didn't cause them any trouble, which was good enough.
Over here, Xiao Fang noticed some subtle changes: "These cracks all seem to be heading towards the center."
“Really.” The three of them went to three corners of the room, each found new black ash, and then walked forward, meeting up in the center.
Strangely enough, they hadn't noticed before that there was such a small, completely "wasted" space in such a cramped little room.
"I thought the tree root would be the one outside." Xiao Fang gestured towards the olive tree outside.
"Maybe it's a trick of the trade, or maybe the old lady just loves olive trees and wants to plant another one if one is gone." Xiao Ming joked, but without saying a word, he took out an iron rod that he had hidden somewhere, stomped on the floor, and pried it open through the crack.
"This can cause direct destruction?" Xiao Fang exclaimed.
"If the rules don't say you can't do it, then you can do it." Xiaoming hid the iron rod again and called Xiaofang and Xiaola over to help. Each of them used one hand to move the entire floor tile.
—Below is a pile of stinking, mushy mud.
"A miscalculation?" Xiao Fang was greatly disappointed.
"Wait!" Xiao La whispered. "There's a little bit of white stuff in it. This kind of mud is very common when we do sketching; it's rotten mud. If it's in a completely isolated state, it won't have any impurities like pebbles in it."
As she spoke, Xiao La, undeterred by the dirt, reached out and scooped up an object that shone faintly in the light.
It was a small seashell with sharp edges and a cold touch.
The shell's surface is engraved with some blurry patterns, resembling the roots of an olive tree, but more like a snake coiled around the trunk.
"The key item," Xiaoming and Xiaofang said in unison again.
"But what is this for?" The seashell was passed back and forth between the three of them several times without any clue. Xiao Fang couldn't help but rub his forehead and mutter to himself.
"Maybe, look up and see?" Xiao tugged at Xiaoming and Xiaofang, her gaze fixed on the photos on the wall.
No one responded; they turned their gaze to the photos on the wall.
Xiao Ming moved a chair to the nearest wall. The images in the photos were even blurrier than before. Those who were punished by the rules had almost completely disappeared, but the photos covering the entire wall finally showed a full array of people.
“That’s…” Xiao Fang’s eyes widened as she pointed to one of the photos, “It’s her! It’s her! The old lady!”
The woman in the photo is definitely an elderly woman. Standing next to her are a man and two children, a boy and a girl; the four of them look like a family. The man should be the one in the group photo with guests that was originally hanging on the restaurant wall. It took Xiaoming several minutes to identify him.
Xiaoming frowned, squinting at the photo. Compared to her husband, the old woman, though wearing a headscarf and a black robe and otherwise unrecognizable, was instantly recognizable by her eyes alone.
Her eyes were brimming with emotion, but unfortunately, Xiaoming couldn't understand it. She was too old, and looked too young in the photo. Even after experiencing multiple versions of the story, feeling as if she had weathered many storms, Xiaoming still couldn't empathize with or understand the old woman, based solely on a single glance.
“So… the rules of this restaurant are related to her family,” Xiaoming said in a low voice, his tone revealing a hint of understanding. “What she lost may be the origin of these rules.”
Xiao Fang stared at the photo and analyzed, "If the rules are based on her story, then we are now being forced to participate in her cycle... or punishment?"
"But these intentions?" Xiao Fang couldn't understand.
Several people moved chairs closer to the wall, their eyes focused on the photograph.
Most of the images in the photos were blurry, as if forgotten deep in memory. Xiao La carefully observed every detail, not only because of the relationship between the changes in the photos and the rules, but more importantly, because these photos vaguely outlined the old lady's past.
Those blurry photos, based on their outlines, are roughly the poses and positions of the tourists who were previously captured.
There was only one photo, incredibly clear, showing a lovely girl smiling at the camera under an olive tree. She was holding a seashell in her hand.
Xiao Ming squeezed the seashell in his hand.
“At first, she had a happy family. She, her husband, and her children—a boy and a girl—lived a wonderful life.” Xiao Fang began to analyze, her finger moving to the second photo: “This shows some subtle changes. Her husband began to distance himself, and although he is still in the photo, it is clear that their relationship was gradually becoming distant, but the children were still very close to her.”
"Then, well, the son grows up and becomes estranged from his mother? And the daughter will always be her mother's little darling?" Xiao Fang couldn't continue making up the story.
“I think it’s a violent husband, a spoiled son, an obedient daughter, and a silent woman,” Xiao La also offered her guess.
Xiaoming also offered her own guess: "In short, the husband eventually passed away, and the son must have developed a rift with his mother. However, the son and mother were not that close, so he left the family. Only the daughter was left to accompany her, but the daughter eventually passed away as well, leaving her all alone."
“The seashell…maybe it’s her only keepsake.” Xiaoming opened her hand; the seashell was warm from being squeezed so tightly.
“Shell,” Xiaoming repeated softly, a hint of uncertainty in his voice, “It’s a symbol of her losing everything, and also the starting point of this restaurant’s rules.”
"And here's another question: what's the use of this thing?" Xiao Fang asked.
“Perhaps it’s the key to leaving here, or…” Xiaoming paused, his gaze fixed on the seashell, “it’s the key to unlocking the origin of the rules.”
-----------------------
Author's Note: Time for bed, time for bed, time for bed. I need to update that post-apocalyptic novel when I wake up... Goodnight.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
