It started raining at midnight.
It's not the kind of pleasant downpour, it's the drizzle wrapped in cold air, like countless thin needles pricking the mottled walls of the old building, and also pricking the back of Chen Yan's neck. He held the bunch of rusty keys in his hand and aimed it at the keyhole for the third time - the "302" engraved on the key handle had long been worn away, and the burrs on the edges made his palms ache.
The moment the door opened, a smell mixed with musty smell and dust came out, choking him and making him take half a step back. By the light of the mobile phone flashlight, you can see a thin layer of dust on the floor of the living room. The sun has not visited this place for probably more than ten years.
"Is this here?" Xiao Lin, the assistant behind him, was holding a portfolio and his voice was floating. "Did Professor Wang really live here before he disappeared?"
Chen Yan did not respond. His eyes fell on the old clock in the corner. The pendulum stopped at three-seventeen, and the glass on the clock face cracked, like a solid flash of lightning. He remembered his mother saying that his grandfather's most precious clock during his lifetime was wound on time at eight o'clock every night, and it had not missed a second for decades.
Until my grandfather disappeared one rainy night thirty years ago.
"Teacher Chen, look at this." Xiao Lin's voice was trembling. She pointed to the sweater draped on the armrest of the sofa. The dark red wool had faded, but the pattern embroidered on the cuffs could still be identified - it was a long-lost "Twinkle Lotus", with petals entwined like countless hands twisted together.
Chen Yan walked over and heard a soft "click" as soon as his fingertips touched the sweater.
It's the sound of a clock.
He turned back sharply
