Liu Mengwei was not good at searching for needles in a haystack, so he gave Ling Feng those paintings of Lin Xuerou and asked professionals to give him advice. Unexpectedly, there was new news soon.
But it's not about the girl in the painting. The mark on the corner of the right eyebrow, plus the name "Jasmine", shouldn't be difficult to find. What's more, we are in the era of big data, and almost everyone's identity information is recorded, but she just disappeared like a drop of water in the ocean.
Ling Feng asked Ma Xiaochao to cooperate with Liu Mengwei in searching for information in the archives room.
Ma Xiaochao tried to search the system using various keywords while frowning and excluding them one by one.
"No, it doesn't seem to match any of them." Ma Xiaochao rubbed his extremely short hair, looking anxious and helpless.
"I also tried several homophones and homophones, such as the unreasonable 'Mo', beautiful Li, and smart Li. I found a few people, but their appearance and features didn't match. Professor Liu, are you sure about these information features? Are they all correct?"
Liu Mengwei was also at a loss: "Is all the information in this complete?"
Ma Xiaochao thought for a while and said: "The more recent the data, the more complete it must be. If it is a file from decades ago, there must be many gaps. After all, there was no informatization at that time. Our country's household registration system is not It only started in the 1950s. For such a huge work, it is inevitable that there will be some mistakes during the actual operation, and some criminals will fish in troubled waters."
The real breakthrough was not the seemingly obvious mark and name, but the carriage parade picture.
Some local old comrades in the police force looked at the painting for a long time, communicated with each other, took pictures, and sent them to some of their old friends. After repeated confirmation, they said: "This is a float parade for the Flower Festival. Well, it was popular here for a while more than 20 years ago. I remember participating in it a few times when I was young, but then it gradually declined for some reason. Now no one here will hold this kind of festival celebration. "
The Flower Festival is a traditional folk festival that flourished in the Ming and Qing dynasties. Different regions have different celebration times and ways according to local customs and climate differences. It is recorded in "Yue Ling Guangyi" written by Feng Yingjing of the Ming Dynasty: "Nu Yi is the god of growth in spring and summer, that is, the flower god." The Huachao Festival is a time to enjoy flowers, go out in spring, worship the flower god, and dry seeds to pray for good harvests. season. In the north, when the flowers arrive later, the festival will be later. In the south, when the flowers arrive early, the festival will be earlier. There is no fixed date, but it usually falls in the second month of the lunar calendar. The Flower Festival in Yunhe City is based on the conventions of the local people. On the fifteenth day of the second lunar month.
But after all, the Flower Festival is not an official festival. There is neither a unified time nor a unified method. Therefore, it can only take root and sprout in small villages. Although it cannot grow into the flourishing peonies of big countries, it can spread with the wind like dandelions. Adapt to local conditions and grow freely.
Just like you can identify which village a person comes from through subtle pronunciation differences in the same dialect, you can also know which land he grew up in through the way he celebrates the same festival and customs.
There is only one village in Yunhe City that will hitch a white horse and pull a cart on the Flower Festival. The cart is filled with evergreen plants such as bamboo, pine branches, and evergreens, and is decorated with spring peach blossoms and cherry blossoms. , rhododendron, winter jasmine, crabapple, and unknown wild flowers and herbs on the hillside decorated the car and the horse with colorful colors and fragrance. This kind of dressing up is far from over. There is still one most important person missing from this carriage - the villagers will choose a girl under the age of 16 in the village to become the flower goddess maid of the Flower Festival. She I will get on this fragrant car and go around the village three times. At that time, the villagers will throw flowers to her, praying for a year of good weather and joy, and also hope that she can convey the villagers' wishes to the Flower God.
Afterwards, the carriage will stop at the Flower Temple, where the maid of the Flower God will stay for one night, hoping to communicate with the god in her dreams.
Liu Mengwei and Ma Xiaochao followed the clues and found this village. This village is southwest of Yunhe City, about ten kilometers away from the city center. The village here originally had its own name, but with urban planning and changes in times, people gradually no longer called it the original name "Xibao Village", but classified it into a larger area, forming a Unified administrative district. As a result, this village was like countless isolated islands on the sea, being eroded by the sea water little by little and sinking into the deep sea little by little.
Xibaozhuang is a village that celebrates the Flower Festival with a float parade. In contrast, Dongbaozhuang has a river next to the village, so it adapts to local conditions and adopts the form of a flower boat parade.
"What happened next? Why didn't anyone celebrate this festival anymore?" Liu Mengwei and the others found an old man who used to live in Xibaozhuang.
The old man recalled: "There are still young people in the village now, and they don't want to celebrate the festival. We can't expect us old arms and legs to run around. Even if we manage to organize it, no one will participate and no one will watch. , then what’s the point? Besides, not to mention small local festivals like this, I think big festivals like Mid-Autumn Festival and Spring Festival are becoming more and more boring as time goes by!”
Festivals are the tentacles of a national culture. They are arcs of light emitted from the passing time and history, shining on the ancients as well as today's people.
"Moreover, something happened the year our village last held the Flower Festival. After that, everyone was no longer willing to celebrate this festival." The old man said the key factors that determine the life and death of this festival. Liu Mengwei's spirit was shaken, and he was keenly aware that they seemed to be close to the core.
Twenty years ago, a murder occurred in the sacred Flower Temple, and the girl who was selected to be the maid of the Flower God died.
"I told you that you are an old fool and you still don't believe it!" The old lady who had been sitting aside and listening to them suddenly interrupted them. She kept working on her hands and looked capable and agile. She spoke in the middle of the sentence. Full of anger: "It's confusing, she obviously killed someone, how did it turn out that she was killed?"
The two old men said something to each other. Liu and Ma could hear their mouths opening wider than the other. Unexpectedly, they followed the painting to the village and discovered an old case from twenty years ago.
Even for things that happened right before our eyes, our memory may be biased. What's more, after so many years, the noise and noise in the torrent of memory have subtly eroded the original melody, turning a waltz into a sonata, and turning a bold lyric into a graceful song. If you want to restore the whole picture through the most recent version, I'm afraid you will be wrong.
Liu Mengwei listened to the argument between the two of them and did not intend to ask about the details. Knowing that this incident had happened was enough for her. Because, since it involves a murder case, even if twenty years have passed, there is a high probability that the police archives still contain the information from that year. Those things written on paper are what they were before and are what they are now.
"So, there will no longer be a Flower Festival in your village?"
The old lady said: "The Flower Temple has seen blood, who would go to a place like that? To pray for blessings or misfortune!"
"What about the Flower Temple?" Liu Mengwei asked.
"Flower Temple?" The old lady looked at the old man, as if confirming the information with him: "Demolish it? No one wants to go there anymore, and it gradually becomes deserted. It doesn't matter if it's demolished, it's a place where people have died. Okay, bury them all in the soil!”
"Yes, it was demolished." The old man also nodded: "Later on, we started developing houses, building roads and bridges, and they were all gone. If you asked me to look for that place again, I might not be able to find it either. That's it. Even here, where we have lived for decades, has changed a lot. Everything has changed. Nothing in this world remains the same."
The old lady snorted softly: "You are obviously suffering from Alzheimer's disease and can't remember things."
The old man was not to be outdone: "What's the use of remembering so much? I remember everything about my son and daughter, and which way the door is open. That's enough. How can you be a bunch of gossips like you who have to listen to the excitement of every household? Once you hear it, you have to write it down and tell it to others.”
"Where is the Flower Temple?" Liu Mengwei asked. .
"It's about ten miles east of our village." The old man gave a vague answer. The old lady added for him: "Yes, there is a big pine tree at the door. I heard it was planted the same year when the Flower Temple was built. If it is still there, it would be about a hundred years old now."
"It's gone long ago. If it were there, I would still recognize that place. If the house collapses, it can be rebuilt. If the trees are cut down, it will never be found again."
