C1 Wedge

In 1992, 56 kilometres west of Santa Rosa, at the site of Copamaya.

The stronghold of the research institute happened to be located on the east side of the Maya ruin. Under the cover of the dense forest, countless archaeological work was being carried out with great intensity. Gold haired and blue eyed workers could be seen coming and going everywhere.

There are very few Chinese people here. The stooped body of an old man with white hair and black eyes trembled, his hands hidden behind his back in the loose sleeves of his overalls. Sweat ran down his orange face.

The old man walked quickly until he reached the tent. It was only then that the skin of his face relaxed, and with a long, unmarked sigh, that he trembled as he stuffed the contents of his hand into the green compartment of his army bag. He then sat on the wooden board and inhaled deeply, but his pale face never recovered.

That night, a Chinese professor of archaeology fell into an emergency, and the institute's team of doctors were unable to detect the cause of the disease. Helpless, he gave permission for the professor to return to his home country to recuperate. Unexpectedly, just over a month after his return, the professor suddenly died of an illness, and even after his death, no one was able to find out the reason. His only son returned to his hometown of Jiangnan overnight after the funeral with his grandson, refusing the state subsidy and disappearing completely.

On the National Day holiday in 2016, I carefully removed the brick from my grandfather's box.

The tightly packed brick wrapped in the old newspaper was not light at all. It was as heavy as a stone instead of a notebook. It almost slipped out of my palm when I touched it.

His grandfather's belongings were in this box, mostly archaeological notes and materials from his youth. These things are difficult to keep, and every few months they have to be exposed to the sun. My father had been doing this job all along. He was on a business trip to the National Day, and I was the only one who could do the tedious work.

This is the last note, and the bag is especially tight. I unwrapped the layers of old newspapers that had been wrapped in several layers with a digging pin. A strong smell of damp assaulted his nose.

"I am also an archaeologist, so I can't be more familiar with this smell." Damn, is dad so unreliable? "How long has it been since I've basked in the sun?!" I thought.

But then I realized something was wrong. The other notes were all right, or at least I didn't smell such a strong damp smell when I opened them. Could it be that he was so unreliable that he just left this book behind after drying everything else?

I picked up the last layer of the newspaper with a sense of confusion. What entered his eyes was not just the yellowing pages of a book. Instead, it was a smooth black stone with strange engravings on it.

I was stunned. Damn, isn't that the Mayan script?

The Mayan characters were actually not words. Instead, they were images. The available Mayan information is particularly scarce. A few years ago, Spaniards made it a "devil's work" and burned it to make it even more scarce.

My breathing unconsciously became heavier, and the things in my hands seemed to weigh as much as a thousand pounds.

In the past, my grandfather was involved with the Sino-American Cooperation Association's investigation of the Copanmaya ruins, but he returned home with a serious illness not long after, and he died a few months later. Could it have something to do with this? Why did Grandfather live a clean life and then hide something from the Duke's family in the end? Why did he bring this stone tablet back?

Something like how he passed the security check at the time was something I didn't care about. I called Dad and was ready to "ask" him what the hell was going on.

I had just unlocked the screen when I heard a sharp knock on the door.

I wrapped the stone in cotton and put it back in the box. Then I wiped my hands and went to open the door. He was wondering who would come at this time.

Although the surrounding area is our old home, but my family has been a sole disciple for several generations, this area only has us, the Zuo family. The only reason I'm not close to my neighbors is because I don't want to borrow things from them.

I opened the door and was startled.

With their high beaks and sunken eye sockets, there was no doubt that these were three foreigners. The two men behind were both carrying black chests.

I immediately thought of my grandfather's stone tablet that could have been stolen. Cold sweat instantly flowed down his back. 'Crap, don't tell me you want to capture me and investigate right now? You're slashing me at such a time! What a coincidence!'

The man in the lead had a two-inch centipede scar on his forehead, which made him look extremely ferocious. Adding to the 1.96 meter tall centipede, the 1.86 meter tall centipede wasn't even enough for me to look at in front of him. I secretly wiped off my cold sweat, but it was as though I didn't see the scar at all. I spoke in unstandard Mandarin, "Mr Zuo, can you let us in so we can talk?"

I thought to myself, if I don't let you in, you're not going to f * cking go in? Who was he fooling?

I was now certain that the four boxes behind were all weapons and I didn't dare to be unyielding, so I said, "At least let me know who you are? What are you doing here? Otherwise, we might as well rob the house! "

Scar smiled and said, "Mr. Zuo, the truth is, we didn't mean any harm. There are just some things I want to cooperate with you on. " He paused for a moment, glancing past me, and then quickly returned to my face, saying, "About the Mayan stone tablet that your grandfather took away."

I took a deep breath.

There's a saying, "When you know a word, a sentence, or something today. From that moment onwards, you will find that it will frequently appear by your side. "

I didn't expect to be seen this early.

Among the three men, he had the most scars, so it wasn't until he was sitting calmly on the sofa that I could clearly see the faces of the two people behind him. A complete passer-by, the kind you might see in the scenic spot for several strings. The other drew attention. It was not because of his temperament or appearance, but his pupils.

The dual-pupil was actually a disease. It sounded like a handsome pair of pupils, but it truly did look extremely malevolent. I've seen such pictures online. However, this man's' dual-pupils' were different.

Most of the double pupil symptoms were that the pupils were stuck up and down, to the point that it looked disgusting, like a gourd. However, this man's eyes belonged to the left and right halves, and there was a overlap between the two pupils.

I was very interested, but I didn't forget the main topic at hand. I looked at Scar, who had already savored a decent sip of tea, and said, "Tell me your purpose in coming. How do you want to cooperate?"

Scar took another sip before placing the cup down and looking at me. "The stone tablet taken by your grandfather is very important to our research. It's very valuable."

I thought, "It's not important. Why would that stubborn old fogey steal it?" "May I ask if you are here to retrieve this stone tablet?"

Scar smiled and shook his head. "No. We were not sent by the Institute. I just want to cooperate with you and accomplish a great deed. "

I felt relieved and tightened my heart, but I had already begun to react. "You can put it more clearly."

"Yes, we need your help, Mr. Left."

"Must?"

The smile deepened on his scarred face. "Definitely."

I sighed. "Mission requirements and rewards."

In one afternoon, I had a deal with Scar. Firstly, I must ensure my personal safety. Secondly, I must not threaten my family. Third, I must not violate the law. These three were all accepted without hesitation.

I consider myself to have guaranteed everything from my personal safety to my family's safety to my social safety. Only then did he slowly say, "Please tell me, what happened?"

"Would you please make another pot of tea? This is a very long story."

When I appeared with the thermos in my hand, Scar took another sip of the water. "Do you know Maya's prophecy pillar?"

"You mean the doomsday prophecy?" "Isn't that the past?"

"No," said Scar, "not the end of the world, but the new era. But what I want to tell you is not this prophecy, but another prophecy. "

I poured myself a glass of water. This foreigner's way of speaking Chinese is even better than my Chinese way of speaking!

"You mean there are other prophecies?"

"Yes," Scar smiled again, "The most important thing for humans is not only to live, but also to have money."

His words were not a metaphor, they could even be said to be lustrous. In my eyes, his eyes clouded.

"No, no," he said immediately, as if reading my mood. "You don't have to worry, I mean …"

I suddenly stood up. "No matter what you mean, I don't want it to become a reality."

His expression changed as he said, "This wealth belongs to the entire human race!"

I said mockingly, "Will you give money to all of humanity? Stop joking around! " I looked at him. "I'll donate this tablet to the museum," I said.

"That's fine," he unexpectedly nodded and smiled at me. "If you donate the stone tablet, we can get it back." He sat down gracefully and said, "We are an international organization and China is involved. To be honest, many of the participants in the event were related to the Mayan archaeology. Your grandfather was not very famous at the time. " I admit that at that time, China participated very little in the international research activities, and my grandfather often lamented that it was the wrong time to be born.

He changed the subject. "But his contribution is unquestionable. At the very least, he protected this monolith until now. "

I was stunned. Protection? Didn't steal it?

He smiled politely.

I heard him say that it was a bullshit story. My grandfather, who had discovered the "improper" behaviour of some of the archaeologists in the group, had secretly brought the monument back. Back then, he had reported this matter to the higher-ups after returning to the country. Now that the dangerous factors had disappeared, they came back to look for him.

I said, "Sure, I'll give it to the museum. You can ask for it yourselves."

"Of course you can," he said, "but in addition to the monolith, you must also participate."

I rolled my eyes in my mind. "Do you have a salary?"

"Yes." He nodded.

"You are the descendant of Old mister Zuo. Old mister Zuo was a hero."

I thought about it, "I will give the stone tablet to the museum. If it is real, please bring the stone tablet to find me. And I'll ask my father, and he'll let me go. "

After they left, I called my father first, and then I didn't say "weird." Instead, I honestly gave my stuff to the museum and went home to pack.

Because what my father said was, "It's true."

The next morning, the door of my house was knocked open. It was the same three people from last time, but the difference was that there was a little more respect in the leader's expression.

"I've thought about it. Let's go." I pulled up the trunk pole beside me.

I thought I would take me to a hotel or a hotel meeting, but in fact I went straight to the train station.

"There's no airport in Ningbo. We need to go to Shanghai first, then meet up there." After closing the door, the hook nose revealed a look of anxiety, "We don't have enough time."

I guessed that it was due to the delay of a day. I couldn't help but feel guilty, but I was also curious as to why my time card was so accurate.

"We did not have much time to begin with, but after receiving some guidance from the wrong people, we have already spent a lot of time and invested a lot of money. We do not have much time left." He spoke fluently without any signs of breathing.

After about ten hours, they arrived at the meeting point they had agreed upon, the Intercontinental Hotel. Get off the train and pick it up. And fucking Rolls-Royce. It was extremely eye-catching. I said to myself that I was a big shot, and that I deserved a little more money than I should have.

The stone was in my bag, wrapped in layers of sheepskin paper, the least damaging to the writing.

When he got into the car, he was obviously relieved, and his expression was no longer anxious.

"In addition to you, there are two other Chinese people." he said. "Have I not introduced my name to you? Really rude. "You may call me Ike," he introduced the other two. He looked at the man with the heavy pupils. "Achilles."

Achilles? The name of the Greek god? A God whose entire body was once soaked in God's Water, a God who had no flaws other than his ankles?

When he thought about the so-called Achilles heel, he could not help but sigh. This man with a godly name looked really handsome. Although he couldn't compare to me, his double pupils looked very different.

After sending me to the hotel, Ike and Su Huali took the stone away and sent it to who knows where. Achilles led me to the room. It was a double room.

He led me to the door and left without looking back. I pushed open the door and heard the sound of running water in the bathroom, mixed with the muffled sound of singing. There was a copy of The Three Bodies on one bed. I went over and sat on the other and fiddled with my cell phone.

When the sound of the running water died down, the bathroom door was pushed open and the person inside walked out.

When he saw me, he was stunned, but he wasn't surprised. "You're from the left?" I nodded, wondering why my name seemed to be known.