I call it "bone mirror" because it carries the last face of the deceased.
Some secrets in this world are not meant to be discovered, but meant to be buried. But human beings have a kind of nature - the more taboo something is, the more they can't help but want to touch it.
It took me twenty years to understand this.
Twenty years ago, deep in the northwest desert, a tomb that had long been forgotten by history was accidentally exploded. A bone fragment engraved with strange symbols was unearthed from the tomb. No one knew what it was. They could only vaguely feel an indescribable chill wrapped around it.
The piece of bone wandered around, and was finally put into the warehouse of the Provincial Museum, where it was sealed and no one cared about it ever again. People think that as long as they don't look at or think about it, things that shouldn't exist will quietly rot in the darkness.
They are wrong.
Some things wake up on their own.
And I wrote these words not to expose anything, nor to warn the world. I just wanted to record it - record a story that I experienced personally and that I still can't fully explain. The story contains the greed of the human heart, the madness of obsession, and echoes from the depths of the earth that should not be alarmed.
If you are reading this, I have only one suggestion:
Close it and forget about it.
But I know you won't listen.
Just like me back then.
