Artifact Report

Chapter 350 Mak Ming Ho: Thirty Minutes, Thirty Years, Twenty-Six Days
“…I had a very long dream yesterday,” Mak Ming-ho said carefully.

Seeing that she wanted to chat, Lan Zhui went over and turned down the TV volume before returning to the sofa and sitting down next to her.

"What dream?"

“I dreamt that we had no children, and that you got…you got sick,” she said, looking at Lan Zhui. “It was very serious.”

Of course, Mak Ming-ho knew that it wasn't a dream.

She simply didn't want to tell Lan Zhui directly, "You're dead," or "You're an illusion"—even if he was a creation of the Nest, he was still Lan Zhui; at least in her eyes, he was.

Therefore, she didn't want to use overly harsh words, nor did she want to disturb him or frustrate him.

After Lan Zhui's death, Mai Minghe, as if suffering from obsessive-compulsive disorder, repeatedly and uncontrollably recalled that day.

She imagined Lan Zhui lying on the hospital bed, unable to make a sound, completely still. He watched Mai Minghe's feigned ignorance as he repeatedly opened his mouth, straining to exhale, hoping his wife would notice, hoping she would turn and look at him…

She was so tired then. She knew it perfectly well.

If the River Maiming does not respond, Lan Zhui will have no other way to get a drink of water in this world.

Perhaps the nest also wanted to give her a chance to atone for her sins.

"I'm fine, I'm perfectly alright." Lan Zhui paused, sat closer, his hands still resting on his knees. He reassured Mai Minghe, "You can't even be sure of what's going on... Don't worry. How could I abandon you?"

“I’m sorry,” Mai Minghe said, turning his gaze away. Only when the eyes are busy can the tear ducts be distracted.

"What's there to apologize for?" Lan Zhui smiled, puzzled.

She turned around and looked him over carefully a few times.

Everything was just as he remembered, even the few soft, curly strands of hair at the back of his neck and in front of his ears were something Lan Zhui would subconsciously reach out and touch.

Mai Minghe didn't know if she had ever experienced romantic love in her life; but she loved him as much as she loved many other things in the world.

“I’m fine,” Lan Zhui said, looking at the baby monitor. “With the two of you here, I’m not alone.”

If Lan Zhui were alive, he would definitely think the same way.

As Mai Minghe thought about that disgusting baby, he hesitated to speak—in that sense, perhaps "Baby Ivan" did offer a reason for people to grit their teeth and bear it.

“We haven’t talked in a long time,” Mak Ming-ho swallowed, a lump forming in his throat. “I want to hear what’s happened in the last few years.”

It seemed inappropriate for Lan Zhui to say such things to his wife, whom he saw every day when he came home; but he did not question her.

He obediently leaned back on the sofa and spoke softly about work, about the unexpected pregnancy, and asked about Mak Ming-ho's health... The old television, with its volume turned down low, dutifully played its program in the corner, the black and white images flickering, casting waves of light and shadow over time.

This is her era, with her ocean and her canals, her path from which she came and her path back.

News of Nixon's actual resignation filled the screens; Vice President Ford took over as president, but few people talked about him. The newly released movie Jaws was a huge hit, and as the two chatted, Lan Zhui suddenly said that she wanted to go see it with her over the weekend. Mai Minghe laughed and said okay—only then did she realize that a year had passed.

When the Far East war ended, the two men repeatedly told each other, "We shouldn't have fought like this," and "The soldiers should go home."

When Elvis passed away, the television in the house had already changed from black and white to color; Mak Ming-ho pointed at the television and shouted, and Lan-zhui, who had just come over with a water glass, hurriedly sat down, spilling water all over his pants.

"How could he suddenly die?" Lan Zhui murmured. "He was so young. I loved his songs."

In remembrance of him, the radio played many of Elvis Presley's songs in a row. Those songs were like waves on a boat, taking them back to the economic recession of the early 1980s and then back out.

At that time, they both thought the newly appointed Reagan was good—handsome, charismatic, and full of hope. But Maming knew that when his grand words gradually lost their luster and the consequences of his actions buried an entire nation, he would be old and frail, with little connection to the world.

Yes, she always remembered that it was all an illusion created by the nest.

Lan Zhui lived out the second half of his life that he would not have otherwise been able to.

She watched time flow by in the apartment, half a century passing day by day; the television displayed major events of all mankind, advertisements for local stores, and television dramas. She watched Lan Zhui's movements become slower, his body gradually aches more, his skin sags, and the curls around his ears turn gray.

In the small apartment, her thirty minutes passed, and so did Lan Zhui's thirty years.

“…I’m getting old too,” Lan Zhui said softly beside her, “but you haven’t changed much.”

Yes, because of you and me, only I survived.

She is flesh and blood, living in the world, and her nest cannot change her appearance. Even if she occasionally feels as if she has lived through thirty years again, her appearance should always be fixed at its peak by "external telomeres".

Of course, she wouldn't tell the truth.

Looking at her husband, whom she had never seen before and who was beginning to age, Mai Minghe finally reached out and, for the first time in thirty minutes and thirty years, patted the back of his hand.

“You haven’t changed either,” she said softly. “You’re still as handsome as when I first met you.”

If their first physical contact meant that Mai Minghe had finally fallen for the trap, she wouldn't be surprised at all—she was just prepared to gently touch Lan Zhui before he disappeared, even if everything was about to be exposed, revealing a dark disaster.

However, to her real surprise, nothing happened.

Lan Zhui just smiled somewhat embarrassedly; this person hadn't changed at all throughout his life.

"Oh right, I'm so young, I should go take my blood pressure medication." He said, standing up and slowly walking towards the kitchen.

Mai Minghe looked at her palm. She had touched Lan Zhui, but there were no consequences.

What exactly does the Nest want? Does it really just want her to relive her past life? To give her thirty minutes to grow old with Lan Zhui?
Throughout all these "years," baby Evan never came out of the room; it was as if he had become a background character once Mak Ming-ho closed the door.

The baby monitor, at some point, fell silent, turned gray, and eventually disappeared completely.

Only through Lan Zhui's stories could she learn about Evan's recent situation, such as starting school this year, joining a team, working during the summer vacation, and leaving home for university... but he never showed up.

Surely it can't just be something I did to annoy her, right?

She looked up at the closed nursery—or had it turned into a storage room now?—and faintly, she could hear the sound of a toy wind chime being blown by the wind; it seemed that even after the baby grew up, it had never been taken down.

……and many more.

That one thing that felt off... when she went to the nursery and saw Evan, there was something very off, something that felt off more than anything else...

Toy wind chimes.

As soon as Mak Ming-ho entered the apartment, she heard its noise; it continued to make noise from time to time as she tightly closed the nursery door.

But what was she thinking about when she left the nursery? She clearly imagined Evan slowly crawling out of his crib in a room with the doors and windows closed, right?

The windows are closed, there's no wind, so what's making the wind chimes ring?

Mai Minghe herself didn't realize that she had already jumped up from the sofa and rushed towards the nursery with the door tightly closed; Lan Zhui seemed to be startled by her commotion and asked her what was wrong from the kitchen, but she didn't bother to answer - she turned the doorknob and crashed into the nursery.

There has never been a baby.

Evan, who looked like an adult, was curled up in a dilapidated crib with missing railings, his face gaping open with a long, dark hole, and he slowly turned his head toward her.

...She and Lanzhui had prepared a crib back then.

It never had an owner, so it was eventually disposed of by Mak Ming Ho along with the toy wind chimes.

The bed, the wind chimes, the clothes, the pair of glasses left behind by Lan Zhui after his death... whether they were disposed of or kept, they all existed together before my eyes.

Everything that once lingered in the storage room seems to have left its mark over time—leaving behind a scent.

She stared blankly at Evan's wide-open, deep mouth, then suddenly remembered her phone in her pocket. She quickly took it out and, following the method Hai Luwei had taught her, shone a beam of flashlight on it.

In the dimly lit room, the beam of light bathed the room in a pure white light; Ivan's face was illuminated by the bright light, but his eyes remained unblinking.

From his mouth, countless translucent particles were constantly drifting out—it was as if a small fan was running deep inside his mouth, blowing out gusts of wind that also scattered the particles; the particles slowly floated into the air, rose into the air, and when they became dense, they made the wind chimes ring slightly.

what?
Mai Minghe instinctively covered her mouth and nose tightly. Had she inhaled particulate matter?

Was the apartment, the old television, the dinner, and—and Lan Zhui—all formed from these particles?

"Are you a resident?"

“Ah, you found out. I’m not a resident.” Ivan’s mouth was still wide open, his lips and tongue not moving, yet he could speak as usual. “Don’t be afraid, I was planning to stop in a few minutes too. Too bad you found out too early.”

what?
Mai Minghe was filled with panic and confusion, but she reacted quickly. She took a few steps back, turned around and rushed to the apartment door, grabbing a bag from the small cabinet—thankfully, the gun was still in the bag.

Even though she didn't know if shooting at Evan would be effective, she still grabbed the gun and rushed into the nursery; she slammed the half-open door against the wall, the echo seeming to vibrate through time, and fragments of thirty years fell from the ceiling, revealing a corner of the storage room in 2026.

...The room was empty.

This time, the window was indeed opened, and the cold December wind blew into the apartment, gradually dispersing the past formed by particulate matter.

With great effort, Mai Minghe pushed and kicked aside various odds and ends, rushed to the window, and saw only a deep purple night outside. The people walking and coming under the streetlights were nowhere to be seen, and Evan was nowhere to be seen.

Why create this illusion on purpose?
He said he discovered it "a step ahead"—a step ahead of what?
Mai Minghe lowered his gun and walked out of the room in a daze.

She wandered around the apartment she hadn't seen in thirty years like a ghost, calling out, "Lan Zhui?"

There is no more Lanzhui.

...All that answered her was boundless emptiness and deathly silence, like the ruins that life inevitably leaves behind.

Mai Minghe slumped to the ground, her pistol falling a few steps away, but she had no energy left to care.

She buried her face in her hands and sat in silence for a long time; she couldn't tell whether she wanted to cry, sigh, or was comforted by the nest.

After a long while, Mak Ming Ho finally wiped his face and stood up.

She is not a fool.

The hive must have had a purpose in deliberately sending Evan to her side and staging this scene tonight.

Even though the idea of ​​"spending half a lifetime with Lan Zhui" may seem harmless, Mai Minghe doesn't really believe that the nest is just trying to soothe the guilt and regret in Geng's heart.

Thirty minutes... thirty years.

She hoped she wasn't overthinking it; but after much thought, it seemed there was only one answer.

Mai Minghe took out his phone and called Ai Meili.

"Could you come to my house now?"

Hunters who don't need to enter the den in the short term have plenty of free time; less than an hour after the phone call ended, a wary Amy knocked on the apartment door—as instructed by Maming River, she had brought the sea reeds as well.

As soon as Amy came in, she bombarded everyone with a series of questions, leaving no one knowing which one to answer.

"What happened? Are you alright? Did you run into danger? Where's that guy named Ivan?"

"I have something I'd like to ask you for a favor."

Mai Minghe sat on the sofa, trying to speak calmly. She was afraid that if she became emotional, she would break down in front of the two young people and frighten them. "I might not be able to do it myself... or rather, I'm afraid that even if I did, if something unexpected happened, it would be very difficult to go back to the way things were."

Aimee stared at her, then slowly sat down, seemingly realizing the seriousness of the situation. "No problem... what is it?"

“The snake belt I’m wearing,” she pointed to herself, “can you help me remove it?”

The moment her "in vitro telomeres" were removed was the moment she was dying; apart from the rapidly flowing, never-turning world, Mak Ming Ho felt almost nothing.

When the "external telomeres" were wrapped around her body again, she finally had the strength to get up again—no matter how many times she repeated this, she could never adapt to the gap between the two, or the gap in her entire life.

"How about it?"

Before she could finish speaking, she looked up and saw their expressions; she understood everything.

They saw it. It must be just as she suspected.

"I...I don't understand..." Hai Luwei covered her mouth tightly, her voice muffled and indistinct. "Could it be that Fu Tailan lied back then? But why would he lie?"

Amy looked at the two of them, and although she didn't understand what the sea reeds referred to, her expression was extremely unpleasant.

Mai Minghe let out a sigh of relief.

“No… Fu Tailan shouldn’t be lying.” She said softly, “The snake he saw at the time did indeed have nine months left on the countdown.”

"Nine months?" Amy couldn't help but ask, "Isn't that right? When we checked just now, the countdown only showed 26 days."

(End of this chapter)