C57 (1/2)

Then, after racking my brains to figure out why, I put them on the table, one by one, and looked back and forth, a few times, still confused, and began to pull the drawers again.

There were some Qing Dynasty coins in the drawer, there were also some old coins and paper money, they seemed to be collection items, there were also a few Yuan Bigheads, a few Chairman Mao's medallions, a few copper boxes of cracking cream, underneath these things was an old calendar paper. Originally I was going to close the drawer, but after a while the drawer got old, and when I closed the drawer, it didn't go well, and I only pushed it a few times, but then the calendar paper was pulled by something on top, revealing some things on the bottom.

At the bottom of the page was a book. This book had no cover, it was just a stack of paper bound together, and this stack of paper was actually the page of an old account book.

The old account books that had been torn off at the front and back were once again bound together and made into a new book.

I couldn't wait to open the book. I had a hunch that the book would remember something.

When I opened it, the emotions were complicated, such as loss, surprise, bewilderment and deep contemplation.

The most surprising thing was that there were indeed some things in these books. The only thing that puzzled him was why there were some designs here, while the thing that made him think about it was that he didn't seem to be a stranger to these books.

I didn't graduate from architecture, so I definitely wouldn't be familiar with architectural designs. But why does this painting give me a sense of familiarity? I stood there for almost ten minutes, and finally understood that these blueprints were the blueprints of this shop.

First, each of the pages had been designed in detail, and then there were all kinds of blueprints. As I flipped through the pages, I kept thinking about why I tore open some old account books and made them into a book for my design. Normal people should at least take out an account book and use it for their own purposes, unless this person is abnormal.

Or maybe, I thought, the store wasn't designed all at once, maybe a person designed it every once in a while, and wrote it down at the same time, and after a while, when it was found that the design was complete, he would tear down the sketches and arrange the costs, which was a reasonable thought, but if that's the case, then the store was already a store when it wasn't, because the account book was designed at the same time as the design drawings, which was the store running while he was keeping accounts and designing blueprints for the later period.

In the end, I thought that this idea was very reasonable. Perhaps a hundred years ago, when I first ran this shop, when I didn't have any money in the village, I set up a shop in this courtyard to sell leather. Later on, when I made a profit and earned enough money, I planned to tidy up this place and buy this place and decorate it properly. Thus, I planned to keep an account book while designing the blueprints in my account book, and according to the time when I made a profit, I was even more certain that I would have to continue designing and renovating the shop.

When I think about it, I don't find it so weird to look at the torn parts of the old accounts. On the contrary, it's the hard feelings of intimacy.

But just as I was beginning to feel that all this had gone back to being reasonable, I flipped to the last page of the design blueprints.

This page was the complete blueprint of the entire store.

Something was wrong with that part of me, I couldn't say. Something was definitely wrong.

F * ck, it's the upstairs bedroom.

The bedroom of the design drawing was twelve, but the shop actually had thirteen rooms.

I went back and forth counting the number of rooms on the blueprint. Finally, my entire body went numb. It was absolutely true.

When I found this strange place, I didn't dare to look back at all. I just stood there, frozen in place. The whole shop was like a strange hell, while I stood alone somewhere in hell.