Siheyuan: tomb robbing? I am serious about hunting.

Chapter 1046 Some Lines

On the first rainy night after the beginning of autumn, the sky seemed shrouded in a vast, heavy gray cloth, as if it would collapse at any moment. Fine raindrops wove into a boundless net, enveloping the entire old street. They pounded against the plastic awning of the wonton stall, making a rustling sound, as if someone was whispering something in one's ear. The halo of the streetlights grew hazy and soft in the rain and fog, adding a touch of mystery to the quiet old street. Lin Mo was wiping the dishes with her head down, her fingertips gliding across the smooth porcelain surface, leaving streaks of water. Suddenly, a gentle sound of footsteps reached her. Although light, it was remarkably clear in the silent, rainy night. She looked up and saw an elderly gentleman in a Zhongshan suit standing at the door of the wonton stall, hesitating whether to come in. The suit was dark gray, and the fabric looked a little worn, yet still smooth and crisp. The cuffs and collar were cleanly starched, showing the owner's care for it. His hair was gray, meticulously combed and held in place with a black hairpin. His face was etched with the wrinkles of time, each line a story. He leaned on a dark red cane, the tip of which was carved with simple patterns, clearly showing its age. "Old man, it's raining heavily outside. Please come in and sit down," Lin Mo said warmly, standing up. She could sense a faint, bygone era air about the old man, along with a touch of chilliness, which made her realize that this was no ordinary customer. The old man nodded and slowly entered, the clacking of his cane echoing through the small wonton stall. He walked straight to the window seat, where he could see the rain outside through the misty glass. He sat down carefully, resting his cane against the table leg, and then sat upright, his back straight, as if he were attending a solemn ceremony. Lin Mo brought a cup of hot water and placed it in front of him. "Old man, what would you like to order?" The old man didn't look at her, his gaze fixed on the rain curtain outside the window, as if admiring the scene, or perhaps lost in thought. After a long moment, he slowly shook his head. "Just give me a bowl of hot water," Lin Mo replied, turning to pour the water. When she placed the hot water in front of the old man, she found the table empty except for the steaming cup. The old man's hands were tucked into the pockets of his Mao suit, seemingly stroking something. He sat there quietly, saying nothing, only occasionally taking a sip from his cup, his gaze never leaving the window. The rain continued to fall, and time seemed to stand still at that moment, with only the sound of the rain and the old man's occasional sips mingling in the air. After an unknown amount of time, the old man finally pulled something out of his pocket and placed it on the table. It was a brown paper envelope, the edges frayed and the paper yellowed, clearly showing its age. His fingers gently caressed the envelope, as if caressing a rare treasure. Then, he suddenly looked up at Lin Mo. His voice, thick with a rural accent, was a little hoarse, yet brittle. "Young lady, can you read?" Lin Mo paused for a moment, then nodded. "Yes, I can." The old man seemed relieved at this, a subtle hint of satisfaction crossing his face. With trembling hands, he pushed the brown paper envelope toward Lin Mo. Lin Mo looked down and saw neat brushstrokes on the envelope: "Section 3, Roosevelt Road, Zhongzheng District, Taipei City." The handwriting was vigorous, a scholarly air permeating the strokes. The stamp had long since yellowed and become brittle, its edges still showing traces of rainwater, revealing varying shades of brown. "What is this..." Lin Mo looked at the old man in confusion. The old man's gaze fell on the envelope, a distant and profound look, as if he had traveled through time and space, back to a distant past. He spoke slowly, his voice choking with sobs. "I wrote a letter fifty years ago, and I never sent it." He paused, gazing out the window at the rain curtain, his cloudy eyes welling with tears. "My son was studying there, and we've lost contact since then." Lin Mo's heart trembled. She recalled the local chronicles: in the turbulent late 1940s, many young people left their homes for Taiwan, separated from their families on the mainland and forever losing touch. Some of them may have spent their entire lives longing for their homes and loved ones, never to set foot on their homeland again. The old man before them must have been one of them. "Don't be too sad, old man," Lin Mo soothed softly, a wave of sadness welling up in her heart. The old man shook his head and gave a wry smile. "What's the point of being sad? It's been fifty years. I don't know if he's still alive. Even if he is, I don't know if he'll even receive this letter." His voice was filled with helplessness and despair. Lin Mo looked at the old man's pained expression and made a decision. She picked up the envelope and carefully examined the address. "Don't worry, old man, I'll help you look. Although it's been so many years, the address may have changed, but maybe we can find some clues." The old man's eyes suddenly lit up, as if he had seen a glimmer of hope in the darkness. He stared at Lin Mo intently, his eyes filled with anticipation. "Really? Girl, are you really willing to help me?" "Yes, I'll try," Lin Mo nodded firmly. Over the next few days, whenever she had free time, Lin Mo began searching for clues for the old man. She first searched online for information related to the address on the envelope. However, times had changed, the city had rapidly developed, and the road had long since been widened and renovated. The surrounding buildings had also undergone tremendous changes, and most of the old residents had moved away, leaving her with no useful clues. Undeterred, she went to the local library and consulted Taipei City's map records. She carefully compared the yellowed maps, one after another, hoping to find some clue. However, the city had changed so much over the past few decades that she searched for two whole days but still found nothing. The aunt next door saw Lin Mo buried in searching for information every day, looking tired, and couldn't help but ask with concern: "Xiao Mo, what have you been busy with recently? You look tired." Lin Mo told the aunt what happened. After listening, the aunt sighed: "Alas, things in that era were difficult. However, you can