Chapter 2 Too light

In the Catholic church in Qinglong Mountain, Andong City, the believers sang the song of welcoming God's recovery and felt relaxed and wonderful. On the construction site outside the church, the roaring sound of piling and the noisy sound of homework intermingled with it, which really made people confused.

At the end of the construction site, there is also a small three-story foreign building, which looks like an oriental building in the 1930s and 1940s. The whole building gives people a feeling of returning to pseudo-Manchuria. Only what can give people a sense of modernity is the wooden plaque in front of the door, a black on a white background - the Manchurian Historical Archives.

"Ah! I really can't stand it. Don't let us live!" An old but powerful voice shouted through the windows of the archives. At this moment, it seemed to stop the revival of God and the noise on the construction site.

Standing next to the window on the third floor of the archives, there is a middle-aged man about 50 years old. The long black beard should not have been cut for years.

Behind him stood a young man with a surprised face and a lot of archival materials in his hand. His expression flashed with disdain. He pouted and said to the middle-aged man, "Uncle Fang, what's wrong with you?"

Uncle Fang looked back at this person, as if he was angry and dared not say anything. Then he relaxed his expression, as if he was very disappointed, and his little eyes seemed to have tears hidden in his eyes: "Xiao Zhong, our imperial grain in the past few decades has come to an end, hey!"

"Imperial Grain?" Young people seem to be unfamiliar with this word.

Two people stood at the window, sitting seven or eight people in the whole room, one by one, and the middle position was empty. This is the position of the middle-aged man. He is the curator of this archive. Due to the transformation of the shantytown, the developer made this historical site, which is also one of the few Manchurian historical archives. For one of the development projects, they will soon be demolished, so they will also face layoffs.

And this young man's name is Qin Zhong, who has just graduated from college and came here to work. Unfortunately, he will face the crisis of being laid off and looking for a career again before the internship period has passed.

But in the eyes of this young man, it seems that this matter is not important at all. He just feels that it is taken for granted: "If you dismantle it, it will be dismantled. Anyway, the old building will disappear sooner or later."

"You!" At the time when the curator, together with several people sitting, threw an angry and unexploding look.

A sitting uncle with a wrinkled face stood up and pointed to Qin Zhong with his finger, but still did not burst out the anger in his heart. He took a long time to say, "If you hadn't been Qin Laoxie's grandson, I would have taken you..."

"Oh, stop talking." Curator Fang interrupted him.

Qin Zhongbai looked at the uncle holding a turtle shell in his hand and seemed to understand something in his heart: "I didn't expect you to always gossip here?"

"Ang, what's wrong? I'm not bragging. In the whole Andong City, all the working gentlemen, that is, my level is high. Except for your grandfather, I can be invincible all over the world.

Curator Fang came to the two and said, "Okay, let's not talk about it. Now let's study our respective ways. As the curator, the first thing to consider is our youngest Qin Zhong. His grandfather is our benefactor and the founder of this museum. His father also died in an accident for the construction of our museum. So..."

"Uncle Fang, where do you want to arrange for me?" Qin Zhong muttered casually, "I can't keep it anymore, cut."

"Oh, I'm ashamed. I've been here for decades, and there's no good place to go. You can't go to other archives. You're too junior. I'll arrange a factory or mine for you. I'm a little sorry for your grandfather. Therefore, I think it's better for you to go to the Catholic Church below to be a director."

Qin Zhong scratched his head and rolled his eyes: "You let me be a monk?"

"Stupid child, Catholicism doesn't need to be a monk. You can also pick up a religious girl. It is said that the priest's daughter is very cool!"

"Is it cool?" Qin Zhong was even more confused.

The old man couldn't help saying, "Your uncle, have you tried it? Just say it's very cool. I don't know when that unruly girl can get married, and who dares to marry her!"

"Shut up, okay, you don't have to worry about Xiao Zhong. Uncle Fang won't let you starve to death."

Qin Zhong still believes in Uncle Fang's words, because his father told him a long time ago that Uncle Fang is his best friend and can find him for anything. For Uncle Fang, Qin Zhong saw him when he was very young, so his uncle always answered the same sentence: "Fang Uncle, I believe you."

"Come on, don't waste everyone's time here. Anyway, they are going to be disbanded and waste everyone's time here. My gossip has told us that we only have a dead end here." The old ghost said.

As soon as everyone heard this, they seemed to be in chaos. Some of them muttered in a low voice, "This old ghost changed. Didn't he say that there was still life two days ago? How can he say that there is a dead end today!"

Uncle Fang slowly walked back to his seat and sighed: "Xiao Zhong, bring a stool. Although you have only been here for a while, you are also a member of our archives. This may be our last meeting. Let's talk about our future."

"Didn't you say that there is still life, Uncle Fang, you always sigh?" Qin Zhong felt a sense of regret for the cowardly Uncle Fang, but his words seemed to remind several people sitting, especially the old ghost who claimed to be invincible in the world.

The whole scene became very quiet. Everyone sat in their seats and threw their eyes at the old ghost in a blink of an eye.

The old ghost left his chair and sighed and muttered, "There is indeed vitality, but your eight characters are not good at all, and you can't take on the responsibility of revitalizing the museum."

"Eh? What do you mean? So you have counted all our eight characters? Uncle Fang asked.

The old ghost suddenly threw his strange eyes at Uncle Fang: "Yes, I have counted the people in our library. Your birthdays are written in our library system, but... Qin Zhong is not ours?"

"Of course, he comes here to work for a day. Why doesn't he count? Besides, the old Qin family is our founder, and even if he doesn't come, it has to be counted." Uncle Fang was outspoken.

The old ghost shook his head and scolded himself, "Your uncle, it's time to care about this. Xiao Zhong, tell your eight characters to your uncle."

Uncle Fang blocked Qin Zhong: "I'll tell you his eight characters."

In addition to the tacit understanding between Qin Zhong and the curator, they also listened to Qin Zhong's birthday, but the old ghost heard the most carefully. After he approved the eight characters for Qin Zhong, his forehead suddenly sweated and raised his eyebrows: "My mother, according to common sense, aren't you a dead person?"

When he said this, everyone present, including the curator, was stunned and turned pale: "Dead?"

Uncle Fang turned to the side, and Qin Zhong habitually held the file bag in his hand and took a step closer to Uncle Fang.

"No, don't come here. We've been haunted here. Don't be so close to me." Even if he is close to him, he can't escape the greed for life, and what Uncle Fang does is normal.

Qin Zhong threw the file bag in his hand on the table, frowned, and looked at the old ghost angrily: "Do you think I'm a ghost? Why am I still gasping and talking? At least I still have temperature on my body. Why do you say that I am dead? Believe it or not, I will turn you into a dead man.

"Don't be impatient. I said that he is a dead man because his eight characters are too light, and ordinary people's eight characters are too light. He is likely to be hit by some fierce ghost, and the probability is very high. If he dies, he will die. However, because his ancestors are virtuous, and he himself is also virtuous, so it is normal that he did not die."

The old ghost meditated for a long time, picked up the gossip he had just shaken, laughed after reading it, and then shook his head: "It seems that it's time for me to retire. I'll go home and set up a stall on the roadside. It's good for fortune-telling. This is not my place to stay. Well, don't worry. If you want to stay here, I Here comes our vitality.