Beside the pumping station, wheat seedlings in earthenware pots breathed silently in the night, as if they were the only living things in this abandoned land.
The roots that seeped out from the cracks in the clay were no longer the faint, shimmering threads they once were. They had become more resilient, like a spider web woven from light, clinging firmly to the old cast iron pipes, drawing nourishment from the depths of the earth.
Lin Yi's daily morning record has never stopped.
In his notebook, data and sketches intertwine, outlining an ecosystem that defies common sense.
He discovered that this unassuming earthenware jar seemed to have its own miniature climate field, with the water at the bottom evaporating much slower than any of the control containers he had placed next to it.
Even more bizarre are the dewdrops that condense on the edges of the wheat leaves. These are not ordinary water vapors. In the fleeting glimmer of light a few minutes before sunrise, they briefly refract the outlines of blurry words on old letter paper, flashing by and impossible to catch.
He didn't make a fuss, but calmly marked it in his notebook with code: "Plant-based memory carrier, suspected to be of the same origin as the interlayered letter."
In the misty morning air, a figure silently appeared at the edge of the pumping station.
It was Chu Yao; her very existence was like a dream of this land.
She didn't walk towards Lin Yi, but went straight to the pottery jar, her pale fingertips gently touching the cool jar wall.
In an instant, the dew on the wheat leaves condensed into a fine frost pattern. Within the frost pattern, a blurry, dynamic scene flashed by: a thin child huddled in a mottled corner, his small hand tightly clutching half a sheet of unfinished letter. Outside the window, the red glow of gunfire stretched his shadow on the wall like a ghost.
Chu Yao's breath hitched slightly. She withdrew her hand and whispered in an almost inaudible voice, as if speaking to the wheat seedling, or perhaps to the ground beneath her feet: "These walls are never just shelters. They are silent containers, turning the words that can never be spoken and the longings that can never be sent into roots."
Lin Yi heard her whisper, which confirmed his suspicions.
He immediately returned to the temporary base and pulled up a map of the city's underground pipe network.
As the ancient blueprints overlap with the modern digital model, a startling fact emerges: this abandoned pumping station is located at the confluence of underground water veins in what was once known as the "Silent Shelter," a massive air-raid shelter, seventy years ago.
The placement of that pottery jar was exactly the same as the extension line of the main drainage well of the shelter on the ground!
Nothing is accidental.
Lin Yi's pupils suddenly contracted, and a bold deduction took shape in his mind: this wheat seedling was not a product of natural growth at all.
It is a concrete manifestation of a kind of "memory reflow".
Deep underground, the obsessions suppressed by war and despair for seventy years have never been extinguished. With the help of these interconnected waterways, they have found an outlet and, using this plant as a medium, are trying to break through the soil again and see the light of day once more.
Late on the third night, something unexpected happened.
The earthenware pot suddenly emitted a slight humming vibration, as if something was awakening underground.
Immediately afterwards, a crisp cracking sound rang out, and a hair-thin crack appeared on the side of the jar.
Lin Yi's heart tightened, and he was about to step forward when he saw an unbelievable scene.
On the seemingly fragile wheat seedling stem, a few drops of amber-colored viscous resin were secreted.
The resin slid slowly down the stem, precisely seeping into the crack, and hardened rapidly upon contact with air, perfectly sealing the crack.
It's repairing itself!
Lin Yi's heart skipped a beat.
He suppressed his shock and carefully scraped a tiny sample from the healed scar with a sterile scalpel.
Instead of going through any official channels, he sent it to an underground laboratory for anonymous testing.
Twenty-four hours later, an encrypted email appeared on his computer.
The result was just one line, but it struck him like a thunderbolt: "The sample composition contains trace amounts of radioactive carbon isotopes, and the dating result is... seventy years ago."
Lin Yi stared intently at the screen, his fingertips icy cold.
This wheat seedling is not only repairing itself, but it is also using substances from the past!
Those obsessions, those memories, are transforming from an ethereal form of energy into real matter!
Just then, Ivan's signature whisper, seemingly emanating from the depths of the earth, came through the miniature communicator in his ear. This time, his voice carried an unprecedented clarity: "Eighty-ninth node... Energy reaction confirmed. Begin... Feedback."
Giving back!
This word made Lin Yi instantly understand everything.
He immediately set about designing an even bolder experiment, the ultimate upgrade to the "load-bearing sandbag" project.
He contacted twelve volunteers who had participated in night watch in dilapidated houses and had the highest rate of spiritual alignment.
That evening, twelve precisely calculated observation points were set up around the pumping station.
Each of the twelve volunteers held a specially made oil lamp, the oil of which contained trace amounts of powder extracted from the interlayered letter paper.
This is the "light array resonance" designed by Lin Yi. He wants to use these twelve lights to simulate a "spiritual signal tower" magnified countless times, to see what secrets he can pry out from this wheat seedling.
At midnight, Lin Yi gave the order.
"Light up!"
Twelve oil lamps were lit simultaneously, their dim yellow light blending together to envelop the small pumping station in a solemn and mysterious atmosphere.
At the moment the light resonated, the wheat seedlings in the earthenware pot reacted violently!
The amber-colored resin seeping from the cracks in the jar suddenly increased, like golden blood, giving the entire pottery jar a strange luster.
Those few wheat leaves defied the laws of plant growth, suddenly unfurling like a peacock spreading its tail or a folding fan, casting twelve crystal-clear shadows under the illumination of the twelve lamps.
Each shadow, like a black pointer, pointed precisely in a different direction on the city map—and without exception, those directions were all the long-forgotten ruins of the old city.
Lin Yi's breathing became rapid.
He slowly took out an empty photo frame without any pictures from his backpack, walked step by step to the wheat seedling, and placed it steadily in front of the pottery jar, with the mirror facing the strange plant.
Time passed second by second, and the light array burned steadily.
Suddenly, as if an invisible hand had brushed across the glass surface of the picture frame, a thin layer of mist condensed on it, and then, a blurry child's face slowly emerged from the mist.
It was the same face Chu Yao had seen in the frost pattern. His eyes were empty, and his lips moved slightly as if he were saying something, but no sound came out.
All the volunteers' eyes were focused on that face, and the air seemed to freeze.
Lin Yi stared at that face for a long time, then slowly reached out and made a move that surprised everyone.
He gently flipped the photo frame over so that the glass was facing down, and placed it on the ground.
“The name shouldn’t be seen yet,” he said softly, as if to soothe the silent soul.
Just as the picture frame flipped over and touched the ground, a very soft yet incredibly clear "click" sound came from the bottom of the pottery jar.
The sound was like a key turning a lock that had been sealed for seventy years, or like a seed buried deep in the ground finally breaking free of its shell.
Ivan's whisper entered Lin Yi's mind almost simultaneously, carrying with it an unprecedented sense of awe and vigilance.
"It's going to grow eyes."
Lin Yi suddenly raised his head and looked around at the city's silhouette, cut by lights and darkness.
At that moment, he felt an indescribable change.
The vibration from that "click" seemed to extend beyond the small pottery jar, subtly resonating with the pulse of the entire city through some medium he couldn't comprehend.
This thing that has just "grown eyes" seems to be connected to something that is no longer just the "silent sanctuary" of seventy years ago.
It connects to the present.
It is this moment.
It is every sleeping or awake soul in this city.
A completely new and unpredictable variable has been activated.
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