Peking Opera Cat: I Became A Zi's Brother

When Mo Yun stopped at the end of the stone steps, even her fingertips felt cold.

The bluestone slabs underfoot were polished to a shine, with fine chisel marks visible on the edges, as if they had been stepped on by countless generations of cats, and the edges had been smoothed out by time.

The vibration wrapped in the wind became stronger and stronger. It was not the rustling sound of grass and trees rubbing against each other in the woods, nor the faint noise of the distant town. It was the extremely faint but persistent hum left after the metal was struck. This sound was so special, like a rusty needle that pierced the thin shell of memory without warning.

"How did we get here..."

He looked at the half-collapsed attic in front of him, and his Adam's apple rolled slightly.

The broken wall was covered with dark green vines, the edges of the leaves tinged with red, as if someone had accidentally splashed some rouge on them.

The highest beam was propped up at an angle, covered with bird droppings and dead branches, but the cloud patterns carved there could still be seen, though they had long been blurred by wind and rain.

Under the beam, a huge bronze gong was covered with spider webs, and the patterns on the edge were faintly visible in the mottled light and shadow. It was the "revolving pattern" unique to the gong in the early Yuan Dynasty, which circled around the edge of the gong, like a road that would never end.

It was a gong tower from the early Yuan Dynasty. But this was definitely not the one in Dongqiang Town.

Although the gong tower in Dongqiang Town is also old, it always exudes a sense of vitality nourished by the atmosphere of fireworks. The wind chimes hanging on the eaves will jingle with the footsteps of the cats.

The one in front of me was so dilapidated that it seemed to have been forgotten by time for a hundred years. Even the sound of the wind passing through the hall had a stale and muffled sound, as if someone had blocked their ears with old cotton.

He took two steps forward, and suddenly there was a clear vibration on the bluestone slabs under his feet, which climbed up along his ankles and suddenly collided with a noisy afternoon in his memory - at that time he was standing under the gong tower in Dongqiang Town, and when he looked up, he could see Bai Tang climbing up the railing, and his little claws made a "creaking" sound on the wood.

Later, the child really climbed to the top floor, raised his claws with all his strength, and the moment he hit the Yuanchu Gong, the sound shook the whole town, and even the hair behind his ears numbed.

When Chaos was dispelled, he saw Bai Tang cheering with his paws raised. The sunlight fell on his furry head, brighter than the light reflected from the gong, so bright that it hurt his eyes.

But later, the troupe's mother-in-law sat on the troupe's old wooden box, wiping the silver thread on the costumes with a handkerchief, and whispered:

"The power of the Yuanchu Gong decreases with each strike. I'm afraid the sound over there in Dongqiang Town will never come back."

At that time, Bai Tang was squatting nearby counting copper coins. Upon hearing this, he suddenly looked up, his ears drooping.

"Wouldn't it just be a piece of scrap metal then?"

The owner's mother-in-law didn't say anything, but just stuffed a piece of freshly baked sesame candy into his hand.

Mo Yun stood by and watched, knowing clearly that the Yuanchu Luo, which had exhausted its power, was like a burnt-out brazier, with only a pile of embers left, which could no longer warm anyone's hands.

At this moment, Mo Yun walked to the broken gong and raised his hand to tear off the spider web covering it.

The spider silk stuck to my fingertips, feeling a little damp and cold, like someone's frozen tears.

The surface of the gong was covered with a layer of dust, but it emitted a cold light in the sunlight. The light was not dazzling, but rather like jade soaked in water, exuding a rich and moist feeling.

He tentatively touched it with his fingertips, and the buzzing sound suddenly became clearer, making his fingertips numb and his heart beat faster.

This wasn't right. The Yuanchu Gong, drained of its power, should have been like a dead object, producing only a dull "puff" sound when struck. How could it have such a vibrant vibration?

A fragment of a blank moment suddenly flashed through his mind - when he woke up for the second time, he was lying in such an attic.

At that time, all the bones in his body seemed to be falling apart, his rhythm was as disordered as a tangled mess, his throat was dry and painful, and he could only make a "ho ho" sound.

There was also the same buzzing sound in my ears, but it was much weaker at that time, like a mosquito flapping its wings next to my ear, appearing and disappearing.

He struggled to get up, but his elbow hit something hard. When he looked down, it was the corner of the gong.

The sunlight came in through the hole in the attic, casting a bright spot on the gong surface, swaying in the wind, like someone's eyes blinking, or like the crooked sun that Bai Tang always likes to draw.

"So... I woke up here for the second time."

He murmured, his fingertips unconsciously rubbing the gong surface.

The dust was rubbed off, revealing the shiny copper underneath, reflecting his own vague shadow, as well as the grass debris that had stuck to his temples at some point.

He suddenly remembered that when he woke up for the second time, there seemed to be something next to his hand, soft and with a sweet smell. However, his consciousness was confused at the time, and it fell apart when he grabbed it. Now thinking about it, it was like a piece of crushed candy.

The wind blew the vines across the gong, making a rustling sound, as if someone was sighing.

Mo Yun looked at the gong and suddenly remembered that after Bai Tang finished beating the Yuanchu gong in Dongqiang Town, he pulled his sleeve and shook it again and again.

The child had just run down from the gong tower, his paws were still burning, and his eyes were shining:

"Brother Mo Yun, do you think this gong will be sad? It helped us drive away the bad guys, but it can no longer ring."

At that time, he just thought that the child had a strange mind, raised his hand and rubbed his head, saying:

"Silly cat, objects don't have feelings."

But at this moment, standing in front of the still vibrating gong, Mo Yun suddenly felt a tightness in his chest.

He looked down at his hands. The tremor spread along his fingertips and gradually became in sync with the warmth in the rhythmic space in his chest, like two long-lost friends silently greeting each other.

Perhaps the Yuanchu Luo will never truly "die", just like some people who leave, they always meet you again at some unintentional moment with familiar warmth and similar sounds.

He raised his hand and pressed it on the gong, his palm touching the cool copper.

The buzzing sound suddenly rose in pitch and then slowly became lower, as if it was telling something.

A few bird calls came from the distant mountains and forests, as crisp as broken jade falling to the ground.

Mo Yun closed her eyes and suddenly realized that it might not be a coincidence that she came here.

This Yuanchu Luo hidden in the mountains has remembered his breath since he woke up for the second time, as if guarding a secret. It has waited for so long and finally waited for him to come back.

The vibration of the gong surface continued, neither fast nor slow, as if someone was gently tapping on his memory.

Mo Yun opened his eyes and looked at the light coming in from the attic. He suddenly thought, maybe the gong has not yet exhausted its power. Maybe it is waiting for someone who can understand its lingering sound.

Just like Bai Tang always says, “No matter how small the fire is, it can still start burning.” Even if there is only a little spark left, it can rekindle the warmth.

He withdrew his hand, the coolness of the gong surface still lingering on his fingertips, but strangely he didn't feel cold.

The wind started up again, blowing a few dead leaves past his feet and into the depths of the attic.

Mo Yun looked at the darkness and involuntarily took a step forward. He wanted to know how many unspoken words this Yuanchu Gong, which held so many stories, still held.

Mo Yun looked at the darkness deep in the attic. When he stepped inside, the bluestone slabs under his feet suddenly vibrated again, more rapidly than before, as if urging him to do so.

He stopped and looked down. The moss growing out of the cracks in the stone steps was stained with dust from his trouser legs, making the green look particularly vivid.

Turning around, he looked at the Yuanchu Gong again.

The pale blue light that had just been rubbed bright by his fingertips had not completely faded, and it was like a thin layer of frost condensed on the copper surface.

He hesitated for a moment, then stretched out his hand again. This time he did not touch the gong surface, but just let his palm hover an inch above it.

Just as his fingertips were about to touch the gong surface, the rhythmic energy in his chest suddenly became agitated with a buzzing sound.

It was not the usual gentle flow, but an urgent collision, surging along the arm to the fingertips - the feeling was too familiar, like the moment when the rhythm power was entangled with the power of the companions when fighting side by side with the Xingluo squad.

"Ok?"

Mo Yun frowned slightly, watching the light green power overflow from his fingertips, condensing into a thin line in mid-air, and gently falling onto the gong.

There was no earth-shattering sound, even the vibration was as light as breathing, but the gong surface was like a lit wick, following the rhythmic force, emitting circles of rippling light, and the ancient spiral patterns flowed in the light, as if coming alive.

This time, he felt it clearly.

It was not a one-sided response, but the gong surface was "responding" to him.

A certain power buried deep in the heart was awakened, and surged back along with the rhythmic force, carrying the coolness of time, but also hiding a very faint warmth - just like the second time he woke up, lying on the stone steps, and felt a little warmth in a daze. At that time, he thought it was sunlight, but now he realized that it was this gong that was quietly supporting his rhythmic force and preventing it from completely dissipating.

"turn out to be……"

Mo Yun's fingertips gently descended, finally touching the gong's surface. Light patterns climbed up through his fingers, wrapping around his wrist and completely merging with the rhythmic energy within him.

The warmth in my chest was no longer a gloomy mass, but like a flame blown by the wind, swaying gently and becoming brighter.

He suddenly remembered that not long after he woke up for the second time, he had stared blankly at the empty woods, feeling as if he had forgotten something important and felt empty in his heart.

It wasn't until one day when he passed by Zhang's dumpling stall and smelled the aroma of shrimp dumplings that the emptiness was filled a little - it turned out that he hadn't forgotten it, but something had been properly stored away somewhere else, hidden in the lingering sound of the Yuanchu gong, hidden in the familiar smell, waiting for him to find it back bit by bit.

The light from the gong gradually dimmed, but left a faint mark on his palm, like a half-opened flower.

Mo Yun withdrew his hand, and the mark quickly faded away, but the power in his chest became incredibly stable, and even his breathing became lighter.

The wind passed through the attic again, this time without the stale and stuffy smell. Instead, it seemed to be wrapped in the smell of fireworks outside the mountain, mixed with the heat from Zhang's dumpling stall, and... the sweet smell of white sugar.

Mo Yun looked at the gong and suddenly realized that he had not taken the wrong path just now. It was this gong that was leading him here - leading him to have a good look with his past self and the people hidden in his memory.