(Note: The English version follows the Chinese text below / 英文版内容在中文下方)
放学的钟声在校园里回荡,夕阳斜照在教学楼的窗户上,泛着温暖的橙光.校门口渐渐热闹起来,学生三三两两地往外走.
千齐张背着书包,和林墨并肩走在人潮之外的小道上.两人谁都没先开口,空气里似乎还残留着课堂上那股说不清的怪异.
"你刚才..."千齐张终于打破沉默,侧头看着林墨,"听见了吗?那声音."
林墨怔了一下,眼神有些闪烁:"听见了."他顿了顿,又压低声音,"可我...从没学过那种语言啊."
"可你明白它的意思,对吧?"千齐张追问.
林墨皱起眉,沉默片刻,点了点头.
他们脚步慢了下来,边走边小声讨论.课堂上那段突兀的声音,清晰地钻进他们耳里,像是远古遗留下来的低语.陌生,却又莫名能理解.
"这不可能是幻觉."千齐张语气笃定,"至少我们两个人同时听见了."
林墨心里一阵混乱,低声说:"可是,那种感觉太奇怪了,好像我只知道意思,却说不出来,也写不出来."
"明天再查查资料."千齐张想了想,"说不定能找到线索."
林墨抿唇点头.尽管心里没底,但他知道,这事不能轻易放过.
夜晚,林墨的房间.
书桌上堆满了课本与资料,唯一的光源是台灯,投下一圈孤零零的亮光.林墨打开电脑,反复敲下搜索词汇,试图找出那段神秘文字的蛛丝描迹.
然而,屏幕上跳出的只有寥寥几条资料:"远古时期的遗失文字,现今无从考证."
林墨盯着屏幕,心中一阵发凉.他明明没有学过,却能理解意思.可矛盾的是,他既写不出,读不准.他内心的焦躁逐渐蔓延.为了平复情绪,他下意识闭上眼.就在这一瞬间,一道模糊的画面猛地闪入脑海——
昏暗的灯光下,他似乎正坐在某个陌生的课堂里,面前摊开着泛黄的书页,上面密密麻麻全是那些诡秘的符号.一个低沉的声音在耳边缓缓讲解,而他当时正专心聆听.
林墨猛地睁开眼,心口怦怦直跳.他明明记得自己从未学过这种语言,可为什么会有这种清晰的画面?
头痛再次袭来,他捂住额头,呼吸急促.脑海里又闪过另一个片段——灰白的石壁,昏暗的光影里,一个少年背对着他,低声念着那些古老的符号.
短发,背影清瘦,气质温柔得不可思议.
林墨心口猛地一震."小千...?"
他脱口而出,却不敢相信.可是,他明明从未真正见过这个人.记忆像水面上的涟漪,一闪而过,却让他整个人都乱了.
他慌忙拿起手机,手指几乎在颤抖,拨通了千齐张的号码."我...我刚刚,好像看见了小千.他在教我那些文字."
电话那头顿了顿,千齐张声音明显低沉:"你说什么?"
林墨艰难地重复:"我看见他了.他在教我那些文字."
空气瞬间沉重下来,像一层无形的阴影,压在两人之间.
Chapter 2: Blurred Scripts
The after-school bell echoed through the campus. The setting sun cast a warm orange glow against the windows of the academic building. The school gates gradually grew crowded as students began to drift out in small groups.
Qian Qizhang slung his bag over his shoulder, walking alongside Lin Mo on a quiet path away from the crowd. Neither spoke first; the air still seemed heavy with that inexplicable strangeness from the classroom.
"Just now..." Qian Qizhang finally broke the silence, glancing at Lin Mo. "Did you hear it? That voice."
Lin Mo froze for a moment, his gaze flickering. "I heard it." He paused, lowering his voice. "But... I've never studied that language before."
"But you understood what it meant, didn't you?" Qian Qizhang pressed.
Lin Mo knitted his brows, remained silent for a beat, and then nodded.
Their pace slowed as they discussed in hushed tones. That abrupt voice from the classroom had pierced their ears with clarity, like a whisper left behind from ancient times. It was foreign, yet inexplicably comprehensible.
"This can't be a hallucination," Qian Qizhang said with certainty. "At least two of us heard it at the same time."
Confusion swirled in Lin Mo's mind. He whispered, "But it feels so strange. It's as if I know the meaning, but I can't speak it, and I can't write it down."
"Let's look into some records tomorrow," Qian Qizhang suggested after a thought. "Maybe we can find a lead."
Lin Mo pursed his lips and nodded. Though he felt uncertain, he knew this wasn't something they could simply let go.
Nighttime, Lin Mo's room.
His desk was cluttered with textbooks and documents. The only source of light was a desk lamp, casting a lonely circle of brilliance. Lin Mo turned on his computer, repeatedly typing in search terms, trying to find any trace of those mysterious scripts.
However, only a few scant records popped up on the screen: "Lost scripts of the ancient era; currently unverifiable."
Lin Mo stared at the screen, a chill creeping into his heart. He clearly hadn't learned it, yet he understood its meaning. The paradox was that he could neither write it nor pronounce it correctly. His inner anxiety began to spread. To calm his emotions, he instinctively closed his eyes. In that instant, a blurred image flashed violently into his mind—
Under dim lighting, he seemed to be sitting in an unfamiliar classroom. Before him lay yellowed pages, covered in dense, cryptic symbols. A low voice murmured explanations in his ear, and he was listening intently.
Lin Mo snapped his eyes open, his heart pounding. He distinctly remembered never having studied this language, so why was this image so vivid?
A headache struck again. He clutched his forehead, his breathing shallow. Another fragment flashed through his mind—a greyish-white stone wall, and in the dim light and shadows, a boy stood with his back turned, whispering those ancient symbols.
Short hair, a slender silhouette, and an incredibly gentle aura.
Lin Mo's heart jolted. "Xiao Qian...?"
He blurted it out, yet he couldn't believe it. He had never truly met this person. The memory was like a ripple on water, gone in a flash, yet it left him in utter turmoil.
He scrambled for his phone, his fingers nearly trembling as he dialed Qian Qizhang's number. "I... I think I just saw Xiao Qian. He was teaching me those scripts."
There was a pause on the other end. Qian Qizhang's voice was noticeably low. "What did you say?"
Lin Mo repeated with difficulty, "I saw him. He was teaching me those scripts."
The air grew heavy instantly, like an invisible shadow pressing down between the two.