I loaded the Mysticism panel.

Chapter 468 A Surprise Awaits You

The two discussed these matters, deliberately avoiding mentioning Catherine.

Richard took notes of the knowledge the professor had just revealed, and then shared his own insights.

"The hunt for the moon requires both name and shadow."

"continue."

"In the past, people in the countryside only had their names written down for baptism, marriage, and burial."

All three times, he wrote it in the same parish booklet, and then locked it in the cabinet afterward.

"Things are different now."

He raised his hand to the south.

"Identity tags, quartermaster documents, telegrams, insurance policies, newspapers—they're all covered in them."

"A person is written down a thousand times more times in his lifetime than his great-grandfather."

McFaye remained silent.

Richard continued, "In the past, only moonlight could illuminate shadows."

"Now cameras, X-rays... the wax cylinder of a phonograph also preserves sound; it's the shadow of the sound."

"The machine is taking pictures of people all day long."

The hillside remained quiet for a long time.

"So the hunting grounds for the moon have moved from the valley to the registers and negatives."

McFaye finally spoke, rubbing his hands together.

"No wonder, I've been playing much more smoothly lately than when I first advanced to the Grand Master level... I thought I had improved."

McFaye opened his palm and then closed it again.

"The name is definitely easier to pronounce now."

Richard could roughly guess what he was referring to when he said "recent action".

McFee unscrewed the flat flask again and took a sip.

"But I'm not going to go any higher. Unlike Lao Mo, I was raised by my family from a young age."

I still have classes to teach, and a room full of books to sell to students, but one student won't even speak.

"My mother's family is in Dongpo, and my father's family is in Xigu. Some things need to be guarded."

He stood up.

"Kid, there are plenty of people watching from above, but few actually doing anything."

You're still a long way from that level, don't be too impatient, take your time.

………………

On the morning of the third day, Catherine drank a whole bowl of hot goat milk.

The old woman forced the milk down her throat, saying the young woman had injured her voice and needed to drink milk.

She finished drinking and sat by the door when she suddenly coughed up a small amount of blood.

Richard was startled, thinking that the guy had suffered some serious internal injury that night.

Catherine herself remained calm. After wiping her mouth, she folded her handkerchief and tucked it into her sleeve, then took out her notebook and wrote a line.

"normal."

"What's normal?"

"What I said that day was the first time I'd spoken in six months."

She turned the notebook over and continued writing.

"It's normal to need time to nurture it when it's the first time it's been opened."

Richard sat down on the stone steps next to her.

"Then could you use less of it in the future?"

Catherine wrote: We'll see.

"What's going on?"

She thought for a long time before putting her pen down again.

"It depends on whether it's worth it."

The two of them have been talking like this for the past few days.

Richard said that as she wrote, sometimes before she even finished writing, Richard would interrupt her.

Once, after he finished answering a question, Catherine threw down her pen, looked up, and glared at him.

His eyes clearly said: I haven't written it yet.

"Sorry, you go first."

She wrote: Never mind, you're right.

They both laughed after they finished writing.

Richard's laughter was rather restrained, while Catherine's laughter was silent, her shoulders trembling slightly.

In the afternoon, the rolled-up woolen cloth in the village dried, and eight women carried it out and spread it out on the slope to turn it over.

Catherine ran to help, but the girl driving the mail truck grabbed her hand, glanced at her, and immediately sent her back.

"She said you can't let your hands get wet," the old woman translated for her from behind.

Catherine had no choice but to return and squat on the doorstep, sulking.

Richard took the few strands of water horse's mane out of the frost branch box, divided them in half, and pushed them over.

Catherine glanced at it and wrote in the notebook: I don't want to.

"The binding spells of the Moon Hunter lineage should work better with this than with silver threads."

"I don't want to." She highlighted that line in bold.

Richard didn't argue with her. The next morning, while she was packing her luggage, he stuffed the half portion into the bottom of her bag.

As a result, at noon that day, an extra piece of paper appeared in his canvas bag.

The above is a receipt: Date, Product Name "Water Horse Hair (Half Portion)", Source, Purpose, and a small print line at the end:

"This document is for my personal use only and is not related to the donor."

Richard walked to the door, clutching the piece of paper.

Catherine was sitting on the stone steps, munching on a roasted potato, without looking up.

She swallowed the potato and pulled out her notebook.

"The accounts must be settled."

"Then next time I give you something, can I ask you to sign it first?"

Catherine thought for a moment, and then nodded seriously.

Richard couldn't do anything about her.

After comparing the last rubbing, Catherine suddenly wrote a line in her notebook.

Mid-June.

Richard's hand holding the pen stopped.

There was no one else on the hillside. McFaye was talking to an old woman in the village, but the wind carried their voices all the way to the east.

"Mm." He nodded.

Catherine turned the page and wrote: We need to be ready.

Richard looked at the line of text, and his previously relaxed state of mind immediately returned to normal.

That night, Richard kept the Sphinx lamp warm in the house.

As the breathing technique reached its third cycle, the lamp became hotter than it had been in the capital for several months.

He suppressed the condensing mirror technique, and the still water spread out to illuminate the vortex in the lamp.

The ether moved along the inner wall of the lamp, circling inwards until it finally settled above the forehead of the human face.

The new engraving has progressed nearly halfway forward and is almost finished.

Richard collected the still water and wrapped the lamp in a soft cloth, keeping it close to his body.

On the morning of the fourth day, the girl driving the carriage brought out two horses.

"It's windy on the road today, so those sitting in the back should wear their hats and preferably wear an extra blanket."

Not many people from the village came out to see them off.

The old woman came over carrying a cloth bag and stuffed it into Richard's arms.

"Eat on the way."

Richard opened it and took a look. Inside were six baked oat cakes, so hard you could hammer nails into them.

"Madam, this is too much."

"Not much. You people from the south don't eat much, and you have a long way to go back."

McFaye turned his face away and coughed.

"And this too." The old woman took out a small tin box from under her apron and handed it to Catherine.

"Salt, soak your hands to disinfect them."

Catherine accepted it with both hands and bowed deeply to her.

The old woman was taken aback by the bow and quickly waved her hands.

"Young ladies should not perform this gesture."

She turned around, took another roll of something from the door, and stuffed it into Richard's arms.

Richard unfolded it and glanced at it.

It was a piece of woolen fabric, cut from a whole roll that night, with the rough edges still showing signs of being hammered.

She sensed that Richard was about to refuse, and spoke up first:

"This is cloth from the village. Eight people worked all night to pound it, and it's enough to make a whole roomful of clothes."

"But if one side is missing, neither side will be lacking."

She wiped her hands on her apron.

"Make anything for your elders in the family."

The 91-year-old woman did not come out.

When Richard passed by her house yesterday, he saw her sitting in front of the stove, her hands clasped on her knees, staring blankly at that little red hair.

Before getting on the bus, the pastor chased after them.

He handed McFee a piece of paper with the page from the burial book copied on it.

"It's finished. I added a sentence to the last line."

McFee took the paper and looked at it.

Richard glanced at it from the side.

The last line is in Latin and reads:

"We do not know the faces of the people recorded here, but we know their names."

The mail truck traveled for most of the day before returning the two empty wooden crates to the town.

The three parted ways here, with McFee and Catherine heading north towards Gale Heights.

Richard went south.

The wind was strong on the platform, making the recruitment poster that had been up for half a year rustle loudly.

"Put your things away," McFaye said.

"I've put it away."

"Don't actually use that stone bowl as a regular bowl."

Richard couldn't help but laugh: "Professor, I'm not stupid."

McFaye chuckled and began sharing embarrassing stories from his younger days.

"When I was young, I used a strange object as an ashtray."

The train whistle sounded from the north platform.

See you at Beijing University next month.

"Are you here to teach a class?"

McFee wasn't sure either: "We'll see if we offer classes or not. There'll be a surprise waiting for you."

"What surprise?"

"If you tell me, it won't be a surprise."

"Professor, could you at least give me a clue?"

McFaye thought for a moment and said very seriously, "The direction is this: you'll find it useful."

"That's as good as saying nothing at all."

The white-haired giant laughed heartily, then turned and walked towards the platform to the north.

Catherine stayed where she was, took out her notebook, wrote a line, and held it up.

"I know what it is!"

"Then tell me."

She turned the page and wrote: I won't tell.

"Catherine!"

The red-haired girl was very pleased with herself, and added another line to the paper with her pen.

"Guess it yourself. If you guess right, I'll treat you to dinner."

"I paid for the meal you treated me to last time."

That's because you eat a lot.

She closed the notebook and stuffed it into her pocket, hesitated for a moment, and then suddenly cleared her throat.

It was too late when Richard realized what was happening.

"...See you next time."

The three words came out of her throat in a hoarse and soft voice, as if someone were calling her from afar through a layer of rain.

The wind on the platform dispersed most of the sound.

After Catherine finished speaking, she shut her mouth, coughed a few times, stuffed something into her mouth, and turned to run quickly towards the north platform.

After running a dozen steps, she turned around and waved in this direction with her left hand.

Richard stood still and raised his hand in response.