My father went to an antique shop before and stayed there for a long time. When he came back, he held a cannonball in his arms - and then he solemnly placed the cannonball in the best position on the antique shelf, and kept doing so at regular intervals. Just go and wipe it carefully.
Every time she thinks about this, Heidi is very worried about her father's mental health.
"Seriously, you don't know how weird it looks," the psychiatrist lady couldn't help but sigh, "He treated it like a treasure and said it was a very, very special antique. He didn't wash his face every day. You have to clean the cannonballs first - my mother just didn't care about anything. I said a few words to the side, and she said, 'Your father only has this hobby of collecting, don't disturb him.'"
Fanna didn't know how to evaluate this matter. After all, she knew nothing about antiques. The most profound close encounter with antiques in her life was when she used a toy sword to practice jumping chops when she was a child and smashed her uncle's vase. That was a fat beating. The memory was still fresh, so she held it in for a long time and could only come up with a dry sentence: "... Mr. Morris is a highly respected historical scholar and collector. I think he must have a special vision in his collection."
"I have never heard of someone holding a cannonball as a treasure - even if the cannonball is real," Heidi sighed, "The cannonball must be real, at least it is solid and heavy. .”
Vanna didn't speak for a while. She seemed to be thinking about something. After a while, she suddenly said: "Let's talk about the amulet. Mr. Morris got you an identical amulet again?"
"Yes, that's it." Heidi nodded, reaching out and pulling out the "crystal" pendant from the clothes on her chest. "You have seen it. I had an exact same one before, but in the previous 'disaster' It was destroyed. The monk who registered me at the time analyzed that it might be an item that was accidentally contaminated with extraordinary power, but usually concealed its own special characteristics..."
Vanna looked at the "crystal" pendant that Heidi took out with a thoughtful expression.
"Do you think something is wrong?" Heidi couldn't help but ask.
"...After the disaster, the cathedral was short of manpower, but we still sent people to investigate the situation of the antique store. The result was that everything was normal. There were no problems from the store's purchasing channels to the identity and background of the store owner. In the urban area It is clear in the file that the pendant thing seems to be just a coincidence," Vanna said slowly, her eyes always falling on the pendant, "But I always feel a little concerned... Heidi, do you still remember, I I went to that antique shop with you.”
"Of course I remember," Heidi nodded. "To be honest, I really have some fate with that shop - the shop owner saved my life in the museum, and the shop owner's niece is one of my father's students. , and my previous pendant happened to come from that shop... But as you said, the church conducted a secret investigation and found nothing wrong."
Fanna didn't answer anything. She just thought for a moment and then stretched out her hand: "Can you show it to me?"
Heidi didn't think much, just took off the pendant and handed it over: "Of course, here you go."
Vanna took the crystal pendant, which still had a hint of body temperature, and looked at it carefully in the sunlight. After a long time, she said as if talking to herself: "It doesn't have any extraordinary aura."
"Yes, it's just an ordinary amulet, even made of glass," Heidi said, and then looked at her friend in front of her seriously, "Fanna, you are a little too nervous, I know you are doing this as a It’s an occupational disease for the inquisitor, but I think… that shopkeeper is a really good person, and you shouldn’t doubt him.”
"I was paying attention, not suspicion. I always felt that something was wrong with that antique shop, but I didn't look at it with the attitude of an inquisitor looking at heretics," Fanna said, returning the pendant to her friend. , "But you are right, I may be a little nervous."
Heidi put the pendant back on, and then glanced at the mechanical clock hanging next to her: "Ah, it's already this time?!"
"Are you leaving?"
"I have to go," Heidi said as she stood up and picked up the small suitcase that had been placed next to her. "I have another appointment this afternoon - the one who has been quarantined and observed in the cathedral for several days. That captain."
Fanna frowned and recalled, and quickly found the corresponding memory: "The captain of the White Oak? I remember his name was Lawrence... Is he in trouble?"
"For a captain who is running around on the boundless sea, and at that age, it is normal to need the help of a psychiatrist," Heidi said, seeming to have thought of something, her expression was slightly complicated, but soon He shook his head and said, "But compared to most captains of the same age, Mr. Lawrence's condition is actually not bad. I can't say more, because it is the patient's privacy."
"Well, good luck with your work."
…
The first thing Morris did when he returned home was to hug and kiss his wife, and the second thing was to carefully wipe the cannonball placed on the antique shelf.
Although he felt a little weird when he came back with this thing, he knew that this seemingly weird "collection" had a special meaning.
It represents the connection between himself and the Lost Home, and also represents Captain Duncan's "goodwill" to his family members.
The incredible ghost captain always conveys his goodwill through various strange ways, including but not limited to soup stewed with the descendants of the deep sea, cannonballs with steel seals from a century ago, and tutoring the low-educated among his family members. Morris thought it was a bit weird to learn Chinese characters at first, but now he has perfectly adjusted his mentality.
What Captain Duncan said was right, and what Captain Duncan did was normal.
Maintaining this mentality, Morris feels that he has fully adapted to the atmosphere of the new team.
Footsteps sounded from behind.
Morris knew it was his wife without looking back.
"You've almost wiped it until you can see the human figure," the graceful old woman smiled and looked at her husband, "Didn't you say before that antiques should not be wiped too frequently."
"But this is no ordinary 'antique,' Mary," Morris turned to his wife and smiled. "That's part of the miracle."
The old woman raised her head and looked at the two special collections on the antique shelf - a dagger and a cannonball. After a moment, she suddenly spoke: "Will you tell your daughter some truth later? About this 'miracle' ', about...that new 'identity' of yours."
Morris stopped what he was doing.
There are some "miracles" that can be hidden from others, but not from those who have experienced the miracle itself.
As the product of an incomplete "subspace prayer", my wife has been lying on the bed in the form of human ashes for eleven years. She is very aware of this. Now she has truly survived due to the influence of the Lost Home. , will naturally have doubts about his own survival.
This is unavoidable.
So after getting the captain's permission, Morris told his wife about the Lost Home, but he didn't tell Heidi.
"...It's not necessary yet," Morris said. "Heidi doesn't have to come into contact with this matter yet, and whether to say it or not... depends on the captain's intention."
At this moment, the doorbell suddenly rang, interrupting the conversation between Morris and his wife.
When the old scholar was about to open the door, his wife stopped him with a smile: "Let me go - I haven't walked around for many years, and now I need to exercise more."
After saying that, she turned and went to the entrance. A brief conversation came from the direction of the door. After a while, she returned to Morris.
"It's the postman," the wife handed over a letter, "it's for you."
"A letter to me?" Maurice was a little surprised. He noticed the large denomination stamps and several special stamps on the envelope at first glance, and couldn't help but frown, "I have written to a few friends far away. I wrote a letter, but I shouldn’t have replied so soon… huh?”
He suddenly stopped opening the letter, and his eyes fell on the first stamp on the envelope that represented the place of origin, with a strange look on his face.
"Where did it come from?" My wife's curious voice sounded next to me.
Morris was silent for two seconds and whispered: "...Frost."
"Hanshuang? That's a very far away place," the wife said, recalling it for a moment, then said uncertainly, "I remember that you had a friend in Hanshuang, named Brown or Bren?"
"Brown Scott," Morris said slowly, his tone becoming extraordinarily low and serious for some reason, and his movements with the letter opener becoming extra hesitant, "like me, he is a scholar of history. He is also obsessed with the field of occultism.”
"Oh, yes, Brown Scott, I remember him as a very thin man, giving off a meticulous look." The wife suddenly realized, "He still keeps in touch with you? I remember he moved there many years ago. Hanshuang, but his relationship with you before moving was indeed..."
"He is dead," Morris said suddenly, "in a shipwreck six years ago."
As soon as the words fell, the room suddenly became quiet.
(End of chapter)
