Tomb robbing: only one person can do it

Zhang Qiling could only feel his mother's steady breathing slowly returning to normal, and her pale face regained a slight color, but in the blink of an eye it turned barren again.

The mother whom others said he didn't feel gave him a hint of connection with the world——

Qinghuai silently held the little brother's hand beside him as if to comfort him. He could feel the little brother's confusion and panic at the moment, but he didn't know what to do.

Pema woke up from her long sleep. Now she had lost any chance to open her eyes, but she knew that when the lamas asked her to wake up as agreed, her son would be by her side.

Pema knew that he must be a kind-hearted, flesh-and-blood child who experienced the joys and sorrows of the world. Pema could feel the warmth emanating from her son.

His breathing, his heartbeat, he was really coming.

Her Fulin tried every means to buy three days for herself. Although it was not enough, it was far from enough. She was greedy and wanted to see all the fragments and moments of Xiaoguan's growth. However, these three days of silence, with only the sound of heartbeat and breathing for company, were all she could do.

Zhang Qiling slowly squatted down and gently grasped her slender hand with his left hand, while his right hand was gently grasped by Qinghuai. He felt the weak pulse in his palm, and an inexplicable emotion surged into his heart.

Zhang Qiling grabbed her mother's hand. He didn't know why he did this. He felt that all this... was too hasty. He felt emotions he had never experienced before, as if he was holding on to the last trace of himself in the world, the last trace of something he was willing to think about.

No sound entered the room, only breathing and heartbeat.

Soft, weak; powerful, slow.

mother and son.

Two days later——

The temperature of Zhang Qiling's palm gradually passed, and the temperature of her fingertips returned to normal. He quietly felt the temperature of her fingertips.

Zhang Qiling began to have expectations. If she wakes up, will she call me? What does her voice sound like? What will you call me again? What should I tell her?

silence--

Zhang Qiling could not imagine that not only the room, but also his mind was filled with silence.

"Mother……"

Zhang Qiling called her over and over again, longing for a response.

Baima's heart hurt very much. She really wanted to hug her little official. Want to see what her little official would look like when he grew up?

Baima thought that her junior officer must have a pair of eyes as gentle as obsidian like his father. Her junior officer was not a person without emotions. He could feel love and longing.

I'm sorry, Xiaoguan. Mom can only imagine what you look like. Mom misses you very much. Mom wants to hug you, talk to you, and hear about your growth over the years, but mom can't do it.

Xiaoguan, the happiest thing for my mother is to be able to see you again and hold your hand.

Baima felt the slightly rough palm at her fingertips, and her heart felt so sour that she couldn't breathe. Her little official must have suffered a lot...

Zhang Qiling kept calling softly, but the only response was silence.

It shouldn't be like this——

The third day-

Zhang Qiling became a little anxious. He held her hand and stared at his mother's face. Watching the blush gradually disappear, he seemed to sense that something was leaving him.

"You have to learn to think and miss that the first and last gift your mother gives you will be your heart that is obscured by those people."

The master's words kept swirling in Zhang Qiling's heart, and time passed by unconsciously. Zhang Qiling subconsciously exerted a little force, and then realized that his mother's slightly cold hands could no longer be warmed...

"Mother……"

Zhang Qiling realized that there was not enough time, and also realized that the word mother is not only an identity, but an emotion and a period of time. This is the precious time they missed and an emotion he has never experienced before.

It was the last thing he wanted to 'think' about.

It begins in silence and eventually returns to this silence again.

Zhang Qiling knelt in front of Baima for three full days. When the door was opened again, his body was so stiff that it was difficult to get up.

The blush on her face also disappeared, and she seemed to be no different from the dead at this moment.

Zhang Qiling called her three thousand times, but got no response from her.

She truly died, she left, completely gone with all the questions.

Three days of no sleep and silence.

When the door opened, it was like waking up from a dream, the wind and snow poured into the room, and the cold chill announced the end of everything.

Zhang Qiling walked straight to the courtyard. What he saw was a scene he had seen frequently for more than a year. Looking at the familiar gravel, as if nothing had happened, he slowly walked over and sat among the gravel.

Just like in the past, he picked up the chisel, and the sound of tapping woke him up. Listening to the reverberating sound of "dong-dong" in his ears, Zhang Qiling stared blankly at the chisel in his hand, and suddenly realized what he was doing.

In an instant, the sound of howling wind and snow on the plateau, the sound of stones being chipped, the sound of heartbeat, breathing and three days of time intertwined together to form a force called pain, which suddenly struck.

The consciousness finally becomes one with the body.

Mother--

In the heavy snowfall, he couldn't help but sit down and huddle up in the snow, letting the snowflakes fall on him.

On the white snow, Qinghuai hugged her little brother silently. Zhang Qiling held Qinghuai's hand tightly, feeling the familiar touch, and tears flowed silently in the silence.

"Dong dong..."

Zhang Qiling started chiseling out of habit. His hands that fell outside were red from the cold wind, but he still kept chiseling with persistence.

The arm was raised and lowered, and the stone chisel collided with the stone, making a constant clanging sound. Zhang Qiling didn't know what he wanted to carve, or even what he should 'think' about.

Zhang Qiling suddenly thought of what the craftsman said, and his brain began to rotate slowly, like a gear that had been rusty for a long time and was restarting. He couldn't help but wonder, is the process and feeling of the heart the same?

Three days was too short, and he didn't have time to figure it out.

Time flows away in the collision of stones.

At noon, the sun passed through the thick snow clouds and fell in the courtyard. Zhang Qiling knocked on the stone in his hand, thinking about his master's words.

His eyes wandered around, and when the shadow came into view, Zhang Qiling couldn't help but be startled. It was the figure he had stared at countless times.

boom--

That is the most vivid and direct proof of my existence in the world——

Zhang Qiling opened his lips slightly, and he understood what his "thinking" was. He wanted to truly live, and he wanted to prove that he really existed in this world.

He looked at his own shadow and gradually stretched out his hand.

The same posture, but just an illusory shadow with only an outline.

Clouds gathered in the sky, the warm sunlight faded, and his shadow faded, finally blending into the ground.

The proof of his existence was erased so easily.

Zhang Qiling finally understood that his "want" was to leave traces of his existence in this world. He hoped that when others saw it, they would know that he had truly appeared here and truly walked in the world.

After thinking about it, Zhang Qiling placed the stone chisel on the ground, walked into the house and sat next to the fire pit, rubbing his hands to keep warm.

Qinghuai squatted opposite the younger brother. He looked at the younger brother quietly. He always felt that there seemed to be something different about the younger brother, but he couldn't tell what was different.

When his hands were no longer cold, Zhang Qiling stood up and walked to the courtyard. He picked up the stone chisel and his eyes were no longer empty.

This time, he was not aimless.

He wanted to record proof of his existence here.

A simple carved stone statue appeared in the courtyard. It was very crude and had no details, but its overall figure was very similar to Zhang Qiling. If you look carefully, you will find that the most delicate part of the stone statue is the face.

The face seemed to be...crying.

Qinghuai stared blankly at that face. In his impression, the little brother never showed any obvious expression, including crying. Even when he was injured before, he never showed any trace of pain.

Qinghuai stared at the stone statue, and his heart seemed to feel the same torment as his little brother.