Chapter 1306 Historian Chen Mo

Time and space are changing, like the wings of the jasper cicada, flickering.

And a certain flashing light spot reflects the Apocalypse continent located in another time and space.

The Great Spirit Dynasty.

Outside the History Museum, it was late at night and the autumn was strong.

In the History Museum, Chen Mo's hand holding the pen was hanging above the bamboo slips, and the ink condensed into the ink.

The sound of autumn cicadas outside the window was broken, and the light of the bronze lamp on the desk reflected the old yellow of the classics in the room, like the old tea soup soaked in time.

He stared at the newly sent "Hequ Zhi" and was commenting, but now the tip of his pen stopped on a line of records.

"In the ninth year of Yuanguang, Wang Yan, the commander of the river embankment, recruited people to put gourds..."

As Chen Mo's pen pauses, the ink falls and a ball of ink stains spread on the bamboo slips.

Like his mind at this moment.

This is the 35th time he has discovered that records are doubtful in recent years.

The bamboo slip clearly states that "In the ninth year of Yuanguang, Wang Yan, the commander of the river embankment, recruited people to subsist the gourds", but last year he saw the folk monument he rubbed in Chenliu County, which was engraved with "In the ninth year of Yuanguang, Li Ping, a river manager, dug a canal and diverted the flow."

The two names appeared alternately in different historical books, like the overlapping foam in the river, making his eyes hurt.

What's even more strange is that in the third year of Yuanguang, the water level records of the Linghe River in "The Book of Tai Shi Gong" and "The Book of Han Jiuyi" are three feet apart, as if the same river was split into two parallel waterways in the historical writings.

"Sir, are studying the river affairs again?"

The clerk on the night came in with the newly collected bamboo slips, and the candlelight shook the ink marks on his cuffs.

"The Taifuqing said the day before yesterday that the water officials are in charge of the matters of rivers and canals. Our historians just need to record the imperial court documents." Chen Mo did not look up, and his fingertips rubbed the marks of different depths on the bamboo slips.

The little official smiled and put down the bamboo slips and left.

Looking at the other person's back for a while... Chen Mo was about to continue, but the pen in his hand could not put down again, and finally sighed softly.

Turn around and find a roll of parchment from the mountain of records.

That's "The Great Spirit Disaster"

After unfolding it, Chen Mo looked at the skewed arc formed by the ink marks on the parchment paper, and finally his eyes stopped on a line of handwriting.

"For seventy-nine years, Ying Huo guarded his heart, and the red star fell to the ground."

Looking at these cinnabar characters, Chen Mo fell into deep thought.

This is the last time he found a history error.

The Ling Mansion has been 79 years, more than 500 years since now. However, he searched all the historical books and found that this incident did not happen for seventy-nine years in the Ling Mansion.

The musty smell of parchment mixed with the fragrance of pine smoke and ink drilled into the nose, while the copper leak in the history museum ticked, as if cutting time into equal pieces.

Chen Mo suddenly remembered another strange thing he discovered in the Sutra Pavilion three years ago.

At that time, he was proofreading the "Biography of King Mu of Zhou", but found half a piece of silk from the summer and winter period between the gaps of the bamboo slips, which were written in tadpole text:

"The year is in the fire of quail, the river is exhausted, the mountains are collapsed, and the ancestors are gone and the ancestors are gone in Xuanhuang."

In the earlier "The Legend of Lingluo", the same disasters were repeated nine times in different words.

It seems that the same song is sung by people from different eras, but the lyrics are distorted over the years.

But in more historical records, there are coherent and no disasters exist.

It's like someone is joking about future generations in history.

Thoughts fluctuate.

After a long time, Chen Mo rubbed his eyebrows, got up and walked to the window, looked at the first snow outside, and murmured.

"What is the truth of history?"

Chen Mo, silent.

Time passes, ten years are coming in a blink of an eye.

During these ten years, Chen Mo is still a historian, and he is not an elderly person. His white hair and wrinkles have far surpassed those of his peers.

Because in the past ten years, he could not help but look for answers in the vast number of classics.

So in "The Biography of Chenwu Nei", he found the record that "the Emperor's mother gave the medicine for immortality, blooming every 3,300 years", while the same story in "The Record of Taikang of Jin" became "The Prince of the East teaches the masterpiece of immortality, and bears every 500 years"

The "Shui Jing Zhu" of the Southeast Dynasty and the "Guo Di Zhi" of the 19th Chronicles of the Earth and Heaven and the "Guo Di Zhi" of the same mountain are thousands of miles apart, but they both mention that there is a stone box engraved with a perpetual calendar hidden in the abdomen of the mountain.

The most amazing thing is that when he arranged the time of the demise of each dynasty in Jiazi, he found that every 1,800 years, there would be a overlap of "five-star pearls and kingly spirits".

He also told his colleagues, but his colleagues seemed to have been caught by evil, saying that he had been caught by evil.

Even the bachelor of the Academy took pictures of the historical pictures he had sorted out and scolded them.

"Historical books are mirrors of the dynasty, so how can you use evil sayings to confuse the public!"

Only when his wife put on clothes for him late at night would whisper at the timelines on his desk.

"I once saw you pick up half of oracle bones in a abandoned garden, and the cracks on them were the same as the jade pendant pattern unearthed from the imperial tomb last year."

"Maybe the story of this world is the old song that is played again."

"I know your ideals, and if you have the determination, I will support you."

Her words reminded Chen Mo that when he first met, the texture of the wooden hairpin on her temples seemed to be exactly the same as the dry tree rings he had seen when he was young.

So Chen Mo was confused.

He also thought he was in a mess.

So late at night, lying on the bed and unable to sleep, he looked at the dark night and the roof, and a sentence that the teacher said when he first entered the History Museum twenty years ago.

"The historical pen should be like a river lantern, illuminating the stones in the mud."

He didn't understand at that time. Now he recalled the conflicts flashing in the shelf of classics, and only then did he realize that there were layers of water plants buried under the stones, entangled with the lamps that shined the river.

So in late winter of this year, Chen Mo resigned from his post and embarked on a journey of travel with a box of rubbings.

This is the thought that has always existed in his heart over the years.

Years of doubts, the teacher's words, and the wife's support made him make up his mind.

Time is like a song, even this song is played in a loop.

Amid the singing, Chen Mo once found a mural that was about to disappear in a cave at the foot of Kunlun Mountain. The flood totem on it was exactly the same as the Spirit Holy Emperor in the Second Book of the Book of the Second Book.

In the genealogy of Beihai Fishing Village, he also saw the legend that this place was once hanging in a huge boat and had an ancestor who fled on a giant boat.

But this is three thousand years away from the records in the Great Spirit Sutra.

The theory of destruction, the theory of reincarnation, and the theory of disaster were incomplete, but he sorted it into the accompanying record in a thousand ways.

Until he dug out half a stone tablet in the quicksand of the southern region, after the text on it was translated, it was almost the same as the Great Spirit Sacrifice to Heaven.

At this moment, Chen Mo had some enlightenment.

"If there is really destruction of different civilizations, then they are all similar elegies written under the same starry sky."

So in the thirteenth year of traveling around, Chen Mo ended his journey and started his return journey.

But he was already prematurely aging and now he is old, and finally fell ill on the way and it is difficult for him to return to Beijing.

He could only lie on a simple wooden couch in the inn, banging blood while watching the books he had drawn and sorted out along the way.

"Civilization Reincarnation Picture"

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Chapter completed!