There is a harbor outside the window, and the gray and gloomy weather leaves only the outline of Rodster Harbor.
The chimneys in the industrial area have been out for many days, but the haze still shrouds Belfast strangely.
Pressing his palms against the dirt solidified on the floor, a figure climbed up from the dark room.
The cold, damp and salty sea breeze poured into the room through the missing window frame, and left through the gap in the broken door with suspicious signs of gnawing. The hanging rusty wind chimes swayed silently. They were piled on the scattered wooden chairs and wrapped around the skeletons.
The dirty, blood-stained coat has been drying for a long time. The foul mold stains climbing on the walls are stuck with mold and larvae corpses.
It was as if the old room covered with gauze curtains evoked Lu Li's long-buried memories.
The hems of his windbreaker and the knees of his trousers were inevitably stained with dust. Lu Li ignored them and stood in front of the window.
The dark world shrouds the dead and ruined city, and the leaden ocean is the only moving thing in this sketch.
There is no place of light, no dark age.
Lu Li sensed his cursed title.
No dreamer, no tree whisperer, no beacon, no cursed title he ever held.
Touch your palms to your waist.
There is no psychic gun, no stomach bag, and certainly no doomsday book.
Lu Li lowered his black eyes slightly and looked at the back of his extended left hand.
There are no devilish curses, no scars with buried fragments of redemption.
Leaving the window, Lu Li approached the only corpse in the room and pulled out a pen that was half exposed in his pocket.
The once valuable handmade pen is now surrounded by dust and rust, with small words written on it: Featherley???.
The surname was not clear due to the scratches, and the sharp objects that left the scratches also tore the fabric on the pocket, so the exposed bones showed the same gnawing marks as those on the door.
A certain monster broke into the psychiatrist's office an unknown amount of time ago and killed the unprepared doctor, but did not eat him, at least not the part wrapped in his clothes.
The pen that could no longer be used was put back into the skeleton. Lu Li walked to the door and pushed it against the broken door. Unable to withstand the force of the push, the door fell backwards, and a loud noise that could be heard on the street was heard on the dusty cobweb-covered door.
The old corridor echoes.
After remaining quiet and listening for a moment, Lu Li walked out of the room without any other sound.
There are no strange footprints in the dusty corridor, and this building has been neglected for a long time.
Lu Li came to the empty street. There was no trace of any living creatures here either.
Looking at the stretching buildings on Sugard Mountain, there is no Agate Lake Camp or the Whirlpool.
Walking along the nameless streets towards the port, nothing happened on the way, as if Belfast had been lost and abandoned for a long time.
Abandoned by humans, abandoned by weirdness.
Arriving at the seaside street blown by the sea breeze, Lu Li walked into the Andres Brothers maintenance station that had been faded by wind and rain. He walked past the collapsed and rotten wooden frames and reached the deepest part.
Faded murals were looming in the darkness. This wall blocked Lu Li's path.
I groped and knocked on the wall, but I couldn't find any holes, and there was a solid muffled sound coming from the wall.
There is no investigator base.
Walking out of the dim maintenance station, the sea breeze blew from the vast bay, and the anchored ships outside Rodster Harbor drifted lonely on the sea.
Where have all the people here gone?
Lu Li walked from the coastal street to the top of the mountain. He encountered no survivors and no strange things. Along the way, he passed the Prince's Academy. Lu Li stood outside the rust-covered fence and stared at this ancient building with a long history.
No Oliver and JoJo.
Stopping briefly outside the crumbling gates of Kelsuth Cathedral and the Lost Cemetery, the surface building of Belfast, we walked through the bustling commercial streets of the past, climbing through the bustling commercial streets that were like the pencil sketches of a decadent painter, and walked through it like a sketch by a decadent painter.
The hill that Fast people affectionately call "Little Macdonald Mountain" stands on the second peak of Sugard Mountain and overlooks the boundless ocean.
After finding his location, Lu Li came to the Belfast Library a block away.
The fire burned this temple of knowledge to the ground, and politicians' evasion left the sad wreckage untouched.
Leaving footprints in the charred soil, Lu Li climbed into the dangerous ruins and pushed open the dusty iron door. The dust fell, and several stone steps extended into the darkness that was invisible to the eye.
Lu Li threw the charcoal he picked up from the ruins into the darkness. There was an echo from the depths of the darkness, but there was nothing else.
There is no Ophelia.
After leaving the ruins of the library, Lu Li came to No. 23, Da Vinci Street.
Mrs. Anlei Art Gallery is located here...
That's how it should be.
In front of me, the building that should have been Mrs. Anlei Art Gallery has become the office of a shipping company.
Lu Li walked into the office through the collapsed door, walked around the crooked and collapsed desk, and reached the deepest room.
Ignoring the locked safe at the corner of the desk, Lu Li looked at a document pressed under the glass panel of the desk.
The fonts printed on the typewriter were unreadable, and only the scrawled handwriting in the lower right corner could be identified as a person's name. Lu Li lifted the glass plate and tried to take out the document, but the moisture surging under the glass plate tore the paper into pieces.
A piece of crumbs.
Water destroys words but also preserves them.
Lu Li walked out of the office, walked along the street, and saw a gallery at No. 25 next to the shipping company.
The iron door at the main entrance of the gallery was locked and rusted. Lu Li rolled up his sleeves and climbed into the gallery through the broken window sill.
Peng
The sound of the floor echoing in the corridor, the leather shoes drying up after stepping on the mud, and the dust stains caused by the broken sculptures, Lu Li stepped into this art gallery that has nothing to do with memory.
Works of art that in the past required artistic attainments and knowledge to appreciate have now returned to dust and become companions with plaster.
The precious oil paintings were hung crookedly on the walls and lying on the ground. Without exception, they became distorted and turbid due to rain and moisture. They became unrecognizable and resembled melted wax statues.
Lu Li came to the place in his memory. A picture frame was stuck on the floor and he opened it.
Due to the sealing, this oil painting is well preserved. A farmer standing in front of the farm holding a farm fork.
No Anna.
Lu Li lowered his eyes slightly, put the picture frame back to its original place, and continued to move forward along the quiet corridor where his footsteps echoed.
No statues, no Dracula.
At the end of the long corridor, Lu Li returned the same way. After pausing for a moment, he climbed out of the unnamed gallery from the window sill and walked to the open intersection. He looked up at Sugard Mountain and there should be no Baron Joseph there.
Now, there is only one last place left to go.
Sailor's Quarter.
The place with the most memories.
As evening approached, Lu Li arrived in front of a long, low house.
The doors and windows were boarded shut, but due to moisture, the boards had long since rotted away.
Lu Li easily broke off the wooden board that sealed the window and let a faint light peek into the room.
When Lu Li broke off the third wooden board, he stopped and looked at the bright room.
The old and unfamiliar layout appears before your eyes.
