Shakuma

It rings every day in the city. Excavators, subways, square dances, and drunkards smashing bottles at three in the morning. It's noisy. So noisy that no one heard what was going on underneath. There is a sound down there. Old voice. Built in the cracks of the wall, pressed under the floor tiles, and soaked in the mud of the river bank. They are traces of a person's life. It can't be dispersed, and it twists itself into knots. That lump is called echo. Those who can hear, listen to the old saying. It's not superpowers, it's just my ears that are too soft. Fang Jue is a person whose ears are too soft. Twenty-six, urban village demolition investigator, monthly salary of 4,000. There is always white noise playing in the headphones to cover up what should not be heard. He thought he could live like this for the rest of his life. Until I pushed open the door of an old building, my mind exploded - a child's voice, stuck in the wall, stuck in the wall for sixty years. The ground listening is divided into three layers. Listen, touch, and remove the cage. The person who opens the cage uses a ruler. Fang Jue had twenty-six years' worth of copper coins hanging around his neck, which was half a ruler. It was polished until only the last word "" was left. The other half was in his father's hand. Twenty years ago, my father took the half ruler into the abyss under the Baihe River and never came out again. That city will ring at night. Everyone who entered heard the same sentence. Fang Jue went to Baihe. He wants to complete the ruler. Listen clearly to the half of the sentence that is stuck in the abyss.