bit stealing game

Chapter 58 The person who returned to the village twelve years ago

"Don't worry." Li Yuan patted my shoulder gently.

I twitched my lips.

He went back to study the altar, and I turned around and walked out. I would suffocate if I stayed any longer.

I rushed out of the corridor in one breath, and only took a breath when I stood outside.

Seeing me running up in a panic, Rhea asked a rare question: "Are you okay?" She was chatting with Expert Luo just now, and He Rongchuan, who was originally here, disappeared.

I shook my head: "It's okay, it's just a little stuffy down there, come out and get some air."

Lou Shiqi also followed me out. Ruiya glanced at the two of us, said nothing, and went down from the cave entrance with Expert Luo.

I hurriedly glanced at the murals on the stone walls and pillars, and saw the villagers guarding not far away, and I had a vague guess in my mind.

Since the locals who led the way were not surprised when they discovered this entrance, and the altar was also engraved in Arabic, this at least shows that they knew the existence of the Temple of Set. They might even know some other things.

Lou Shiqi followed me all the way, afraid that something would happen to me. I also knew that my face must be ugly enough. After all, I am not Li Yuan, so I can stay calm. In the past, it was okay to watch small movies, but now I am almost possessed by someone.

, a bit too much.

"Where are you going? Are you planning to build an underground palace behind everyone's back?" Lou Shiqi buzzed in my ear.

I knew he meant well. But I was busy with the lawsuit right now, and I really wasn't in the mood to make jokes with him. Fortunately, I bumped into He Rongchuan after walking a few steps, and Lou Shiqi was called away to continue drawing the map.

Another villager who led us here was sitting on the broken ancient Egyptian wall behind the mosque. When he saw me coming out alone, he smiled at me and didn't say much. I smiled and nodded as a greeting.

.

It seems that they did not regard me as the focus of tracking. This is for the best.

This village is inextricably linked to the French archaeological team 60 years ago and the group of people 12 years ago. It is indispensable to go back and ask the locals.

I thought about it, and Meng Weiqing and the others naturally thought about it too. On the way out, I saw him talking to Buswell, and the villagers must have been staring at them.

Speaking of Buswell, he is also interesting. Could it be that he is more interested in the personnel arrangement of twelve or sixty years ago than in the ancient Egyptian temples? This is not like an archaeologist. After all, Jacqui

Lin and Patrick were already enchanted and were still trapped in the Temple of Set.

But Meng Weiqing was worried about Busville, so I thought about going to the village to find out the news while no one was paying attention.

But I was dumbfounded as soon as I walked into the village. Even the locals who were accustomed to the weather, few were walking around on the road after two o'clock in the afternoon. Most of the people I met occasionally were curious when they saw me, and just looked at me from a distance.

Ichiban. Even if they met face to face, they would just smile at each other. My little Arabic is really not up to the task of communication.

After walking around in the scorching sun, I found nothing and returned to the villager's house where I had lunch.

Because tourists don’t come often, the local living habits are maintained here. And they are not afraid of the sun, so there are only a few pieces of cloth outside the house for shade. At this time, many people also came out of the Temple of Set.

Sitting under the simple shed of a fellow villager, drinking tea and enjoying the cool air.

As soon as I sat down, Laila also sat down opposite me. But she didn't speak to me, and turned around to chat with the hostess of the house.

Arnuo, who was standing by, saw the hostess appear and walked over with a smile, gesticulating and asking if he could buy another cup of herbal tea.

When the old woman went in to make him tea, Arno sat down next to me.

"It's extremely hot out here, aren't you hot, Yu?" Arno pulled his collar and kept fanning himself.

Under the sun, I discovered that Arnold was very white. Even after being exposed to the sun for several days, his skin was only red and not tanned.

"Remember to wear sunscreen in the desert, otherwise you will easily get skin diseases. Your neck will be red from the sun." I said casually.

Arno touched the back of his neck uncomfortably with his hand, and then smiled. He moved towards me and deliberately lowered his voice and said, "I didn't expect Yu to be so interested in my body."

I looked at his face that was coming towards me and patted it with the back of my hand. "There's no need to apply it on your face. UV rays won't hurt you anyway."

Being thick-skinned, I haven't lost yet.

Laila, who was sitting across from us, laughed.

I turned around to look at the girl who had just performed a blood sacrifice. She glanced to the side sheepishly, and then showed me a timid smile.

"What does it say in Arabic on that altar?" I asked.

Laila replied: "Then it says let us sacrifice with blood."

"What else?" I frowned.

Although Boswell and Patrick also translated it this way, I always feel that it is not just this. What's more, there is no mention of blood sacrifice in ancient Egypt. Isn't that Maya's skill tree?

"Also, there is an erased sentence under the Arabic sentence." As soon as Laila said this, Arno and I were stunned. "Although I don't know what is written below, but at the end

There was a vague logo with a gold seal. Hassan also did what he was told when he saw that mark."

"Wait a minute." Ya Nuo pressed his eyebrows. "Why did you act according to the words of the person who erased the gold seal after seeing the traces of it?"

Laila opened her eyes seriously and looked at us directly: "That's because the erased sentence should also be [use your blood as a sacrifice]. The Arabic sentence after it was just filled in again."

Arno and I didn't believe what Laila said.

Lou Shiqi's judgment was correct. If this was what the original inscription wanted to express, then why would the Arabs write it again in their own language?

I wanted to go to the Temple of Set and take a look at the inscriptions on the altar before I left. But just as I was about to stand up, a glass of hibiscus juice appeared in front of me.

I raised my head and saw an old but strong woman smiling cautiously. She was the hostess of the house.

I quickly took the cup from her hand, but I didn't expect it to be burned. I didn't hold it firmly and the juice spilled all over me. She quickly put the herbal tea that Arnold asked for on the table and wanted to help me wipe it, but there was no one around.

tissue.

While I was annoyed that I was careless, I waved my hands tightly to indicate that it was okay. The old man was saying something anxiously, but I couldn't understand it.

Laila translated for me and said she wanted me to come into the house and find me something to wipe myself with.

I said no, but I couldn't stand the kindness of others. Besides, it was okay for me to have wet clothes, but it was really inappropriate in a closed village.

It was too hot during lunch, so I didn't come to visit. Now when I entered the house, I found that this typical Arab room has quite a feel.

Although the house itself is built of mud bricks, the beams and other items are still made of wood. The roof is quite high, and debris is piled on the thick beams. Colored cotton cloth used for heat insulation hangs down from the beams, making the space compact.

It's a little bit thicker, and it also has a little more vitality.

After a while, the hostess opened the curtain from the inner room and came out, holding a floral cloth top and passing it to me.

I quickly declined and shook my clothes to indicate that I would do it immediately. However, the purple juice of the hibiscus flower lay on my clothes, which was still very conspicuous.

Laila said: "Just put it on. These are her granddaughter's old clothes. She said she won't need them when she goes to school anyway."

I couldn't refuse, so I had no choice but to go ahead. I thought I still had some Egyptian pounds in my trouser pocket, and I would just keep them to buy some souvenirs.

There was no barrier in this room, so I could only walk to the wall, turn my back and change my clothes. By coincidence, I happened to see some photos posted on the wall.

Originally, I didn't want to offend people's privacy, so I just scanned it without taking a closer look. But after just scanning it, I found that there were several foreigners and even a child in the rather dated photo.

So after I changed my clothes, I asked Laila to help me ask the hostess when the photo on the wall was taken and who was on it.

In fact, I already have the answer in my mind.

Sure enough, I heard the old man say: "This was taken by a foreigner who came to the village when my husband was young."

The photo I just looked at should have been developed from ordinary film. I asked her: "Is there a photo development place nearby?"

The old woman shook her head.

"Not to mention back then, not now. My husband said that those people left after taking the photos, but left behind the negatives. This was developed after my husband ran to Cairo. He said the people in the photos were very

Okay, so I want to keep a souvenir. If that person comes back again, I can show him the photos from that time."

It seems that old Blake is quite likable.

"Have the people in this photo come back?" I asked casually.

"I haven't seen him since I got married," the old woman said.

"Can I go see the photos again?"

After getting permission, I walked to the corner and looked carefully at the three photos.

In the first picture, there are about a dozen Westerners standing in a row. One of them puts his hand on the shoulder of the shorter boy next to him. There are many Egyptians dressed as workers standing or squatting around these people. Although they can’t see clearly

The face, but it should be the French archaeological team and Blake's uncle and nephew; another photo is of a young Egyptian and a well-dressed European smiling at each other. This should be Blake's uncle and the owner of the house; and another photo

The same young man pointed to a mural on a high wall and was saying something to the Egyptians around him.

Although the photos at that time had low resolution and had been washed away by the years, the young man standing among the Egyptians in the photo could still be seen as high-spirited. He must have been an amazingly talented person at the time. No wonder whether

Lord Black, Mustafa, or the owner of this family all want to see him again.

It's a pity that he may not have the chance to grow old and will always stay in the desert.

However, for such a topical person, except for some official records such as titles, A Tian found no reports about him in the media or tabloids.

I opened Bruce Black's notes and found records about this village. This village was his last stop in the desert.

Sir Black also mentioned that he got clues here about the temple where his uncle went last. Since this is the only way to the temple that appeared once in sixty years, no matter who comes back from there, he will definitely pass through this village again.

.

So I asked the old man if he could remember anyone coming back from the desert.

She recalled for a while and said: "I heard what happened in the photo from my husband after we got married. I don't know if anyone came back at that time. There probably wasn't. At least he didn't wait for the person he wanted to see." I was a little disappointed.

The old woman continued: "But someone did come back twelve years ago. He was a middle-aged white man. At that time, we all moved to Aswan and we didn't live here often. But my husband's health is getting worse and worse.

From now on, I have to come back because I’m afraid the people in the photo won’t be able to find their way.”

A middle-aged white man came back twelve years ago? My head buzzed, wasn't he Lord Black?

It seems that Lord Black did say that he was rescued by nomads in the desert. Unless there was a fifth person who went there, the person who came back could only be Alex's father. Is it possible that he is still alive?

"Who is that white man? Is he the man who entered the desert at that time?" I asked eagerly.

"I don't know. Because my husband rushed back from Aswan after hearing about this, but the people had already left by then. People in the village didn't know the specific situation. Those people didn't let them go when they entered the desert.

The villagers led the way and I brought my own guide."

Speaking of guides, I asked again: "Do you know if your husband accompanied those people into the desert sixty years ago?"

The old woman looked at me warily: "How do you know that was sixty years ago?"

I was stunned.

I thought she called me in just to let me see the photos and raise these questions. Can everything be treated as a coincidence now?

But since she wanted to pretend, I had no choice but to give in: "Actually, I am a member of the archaeological team. Because I know the Egyptian environment better, I am here to assist the inspection team in the inspection. It just so happens that the French used to work at our archaeological site.

Excavation, so I know some of their excavation experiences back then. That team happened to be here sixty years ago, so I am a little curious after hearing what you said."

After listening to Laila's translation, the old woman became less wary and showed a simple smile again.

"Yes, I heard from my husband that an archaeological team came here sixty years ago. Although no one seemed to have come back at that time, he helped send something away."

"Then can I ask your husband some questions?" I asked hurriedly. Sir Black said that his uncle's notes were sent back. If it was sent by the male owner of the family, then maybe he could ask where his notes were sent from.

Where did it come from.

The hostess said awkwardly: "But he is very old."

This made me feel uncomfortable asking any more questions.

When Laila saw this, she said something to the old woman. After hesitation, the hostess nodded to me and led us into the inner room.

A dying old man was lying on the bed.

Hearing someone coming in, he turned his head with difficulty to look. The hostess walked over and explained our purpose in his ear.

After hearing this, the old man moved his hand on the bed. This was to call me over.

Seeing this situation, I also understood that the old man was just holding on with one breath, fearing that he would be irritated by what he said. But when I thought of the different versions of the story and the messed up timeline in the past few decades, I still gritted my teeth and started from now on.

He took out the notebook from his pocket and handed it to the old man.

Although the old man could no longer speak, his originally chaotic eyes were ignited with life and became clear.

He recognized the notebook.

The old man raised his hand with great effort, touched the casing of the notebook, and smiled. He looked at the notebook, then at me, and nodded in confusion. Then he suddenly started breathing rapidly.

I wanted to ask him if he had gone to the desert with Old Black, but his physical condition could not force him to do anything. Seeing that the old man was getting more and more difficult to breathe, I asked Laila to stay here and hurried out.

Fortunately, I saw Alex at the door. After hearing what I said, she didn’t ask any questions. She asked Arno to get the first aid kit in the car, turned around and ran in. Fortunately, the old man was just agitated and nothing serious.

Seeing that the old man had regained his composure, I didn't disturb him any more, thanked him and prepared to leave.

The old man's eyes kept chasing me, or the notebook in my hand. He couldn't express what he wanted to say, but I understood something.

Before leaving, I hugged my notebook and nodded to him.

I sat back under the villagers' arbor with only cloth strips, hoping that the day would pass as soon as possible.

The Egyptian afternoon is scorching.

It's a pity that in this desert, we can't wait for a timely rain.

(End of chapter)